Twinkle

by Skyler Steele

  “Slow down mother, one thing at a time. I am fine”.

  A small lie or, better yet, a hiding of the truth about my fainting would not harm anybody. On the contrary, a revelation of it would upset her.

  I have met some people and the classes, from the few things I saw in one day, look interesting. “How are you two?”

  “Fine, fine. Your father sends his love.”

  “Thank you. Tell him I do too. But mum, I have to go now; I have a lesson in a while.”

  “Alright baby. We will talk again.”

  “Kisses, mum.”

  As I was getting dressed I was thinking about my excitement before I arrived at Oxford. How sorry I was for leaving my home and my parents. And yet, yesterday I did not think of them even for a moment. I did not carry on with my thoughts; I knew very well what had absorbed my mind.

  When I got out, a light rain was smoothly falling and once again I admired the cleanliness of the area. Hastily, I arrived at the building for my classes just before the professor entered. This class was a little boring but I tried to concentrate and take some notes. I met a few more students and the time went by smoothly until noon. I was waiting for lunchtime with anxiety. I guess I was really hungry, I justified to myself.

  When I entered the dining room I saw Sam and the rest of the group waving at me. I went near them and, with a quick look, I searched for Camen. But, he was nowhere. A sudden tightening in my stomach came to verify the concealed reasons for my previous anxiety.

  “Hi!” I said, trying to look calm.

  “Come on Adrian, we held a seat for you”, Tomas said and he made some room at a chair next to him.

  Then, I noticed there was no other empty chair, which meant that either Camen was sitting somewhere else- and I automatically lifted my eyes to search the area- or he had notified that he was not coming.

  “I see that we blend together from the first day”, I said indifferently.

  “Whether you like it or not here, you become friends with your colleagues”, Adam said laughing. “Not that I do not like you but, that is the way it is.”

  “You are right, I guess. What are we doing in the afternoon? Are we meeting at the library?” I said and thought that I should find Camen first, in order to study; together with the rest of them.

  “Calm down, Adrian. We have not opened a book yet. You know, these things take a little time”, Sam laughed “Unless you already did…”, she wondered.

  “Friday is better, Sam. We can get together in the afternoon to study”, Tomas remarked.

  Then, I jumped at the chance.

  “So, I must find Camen. Do you know where he is?”

  “Camen urgently left last night. Something happened and he had to go home”, Tomas informed me.

  “Home?” I said wondering.

  “Yes, in Wales. His parents live there?”

  “Ah!” I said stupidly.

  I had to learn more.

  “And when is he coming back?”

  “Nobody knows”, Tomas said making a gesture.

  Nobody knows, Christ! This can not be happening…

  “What about the project?” I said confused.

  “We will see. For now, study your part alone. Will you be able to?”

  Tomas’ face became puzzled.

  “Yes, sure!” I said and continued my lunch.

  The rest of the time I tried to be pleasant and seem interested in the conversation. Yet, my thoughts were running far away. Why did he leave so urgently? Did anything bad happen? When would he be coming back? And, what about his brother? Did he leave too?

  I turned and looked at the crowded dining room but I did not spot him anywhere. Surely, this whole situation was strange.

  The afternoon moved along calmly. Christine had lessons and the rest of them were studying. I wearily opened the book with the frescoes but soon Michael Angelo’s excellent works of art draw my attention. The colours, the harmony, the expressions, all these were accredited extraordinarily…

  I was observing the illustration of the Second Coming of Christ and I noticed a strange detail…The Saints and the martyrs are surrounding Christ who stands at the centre, forming a semicircle. At the foreground, Saint Andrew is distinct, with his cross, forming an X shape in one hand, while the other is extended towards a female figure with a green cloak and a white scarf on her head… She is looking at the opposite direction to Christ while all the rest are looking towards him. Andrew looks like he is trying to stop her as she is making a move to leave, and she looks thoughtful, with her finger on her cheek, ready to leave.

  Who is this woman? I wondered. I searched at the reports of those who studied it but there was nothing. Also, I could not think of anything. Nothing, except from what Camen had said: “Do you see beyond what you see?” No, I was not seeing anything.

  I looked through the pages and stopped at the expulsion from Paradise and at the female figure of Lucifer…Why did Michael Angelo give a woman’s figure to an archangel when all the rest were presented as men? Was it an artist’s originality? One thing was certain. During the Renaissance, its representatives were people deeply intellectual, who were studying the texts, sceptics and certainly people against obscurantism. So, they knew. I am not sure what exactly.

  I decided that one of the following afternoons I would go to the library to study the books of Genesis. Perhaps, they would enlighten me, in relation to the female figure of the archangel.

  I fell asleep with mixed thoughts, from the study of the frescoes and Camen’s memory.

  The next morning, I got up early and I quickly got ready. Yesterday’s disappointment was still there during breakfast. Christine was sleeping and I quietly slipped out of the room. I would take a walk before classes.

  Outside, absolute silence was prevailing and everything looked clean and orderly. I walked around aimlessly, sunk in my thoughts. Did really something serious happen to Camen or it was an excuse to run away from me? Did I scare him so much with my behaviour? But is it possible for a man to run away because a girl that he barely knows, being almost unconscious, tried to kiss him? “Impossible”, I said loudly.

  “What is impossible, Adriana?” I heard Eric’s voice and at the same time I saw him standing gracious in front of me, in his black coat, looking at me with interest!

  “Oh! I was thinking aloud…”

  “And very intensely, if I judge from your style”.

  “Were you observing me?”

  “No, I happened to see you and came to say good morning”.

  I looked at him questioning.

  “Weren’t you supposed to be in Wales?”

  “Why?” he derided. “Classes have just started and I do not like Wales at all”.

  I was completely confused.

  “But Camen left, something happened… He went to your parents. I thought you knew”.

  “Camen left?” he yelled astonished. “When?”

  “The night before yesterday. After our meeting at the library”.

  “This is unheard-of!”

  “Why?” I asked surprised.

  “Because he ought to be here!”

  “The rational thing would be for you to be with him”, I said obviously annoyed by his behaviour.

  “They are not his natural parents Adriana. He is adopted by some Welsh people while I grew up, in some way, in another family.”

  “I am sorry”, I said apologetically, while I was thinking how stupid I was to behave so indiscreetly to a stranger.

  “Well, now that the misunderstanding is over, what would you say I buy you a cup of coffee?” he said and his style became cheerful.

  “Ah! So you know about the existence of coffee?” I said smiling, imitating his cheerfulness. “I thought you only drink tea.”

  “Are you kidding? I drink tea only when I am sick. But, aren’t you English?” He looked at me questioning.

  “The truth is that I am only half English. Even so, I hate tea”.

  The only exception wa
s Christine’s aromatic tea, I thought.

  “I know where you can drink the best coffee in town”.

  “Really? Where?”

  “In the college’s pub, of course!”

  “Is there a pub? I have not noticed it!” I wondered.

  We headed towards there and took our coffees to drink them at one of the benches in the garden.

  “Eric, you said before that Camen ought to be here. Why?” I asked trying to be indifferent.

  “Because he never leaves his place”.

  “What place?”

  “Whatever it is, nothing would make him abandon it”.

  “What? I do not understand you. The fact that something happened to his parents is not enough for him to go?”

  “No”, he answered even more mysteriously than before.

  “No?” I wondered.

  But what kind of man is he that he would not leave his place even if something serious had happened to his parents. But, it was not important since he had already left.

  “Why does it concern you so much, Adrian?”

  He turned and looked at me curiously.

  “It does not concern me. I am just impressed by your words”.

  “Uh!” he answered abruptly while his eyes showed that he did not believe me.

  Was my interest so obvious? I guess…

  “Where did you grow up?” I changed the subject.

  “In Prague”.

  “The Florence of the North”.

  “That is how they call it”.

  He did not seem to be in the mood to continue the conversation so I stopped and looked around.

  “What are you doing in the afternoon?” he said seriously.

  “I was thinking of going to the library for an assignment.”

  “The one you were studying with Camen the other day?”

  “Yes”.

  “Now, you are going to do it by yourself. At least until he comes back”.

  If he comes back, I thought sadly.

  As if he had heard my thoughts, he said calmly: “He will return, and very soon”.

  “What did you say?”

  “That he will return. And very soon, indeed”.

  “But, I did not ask you”, I said astonished. “I just thought about it…” I said unintentionally.

  “I did not answer to your thoughts, but to mine”.

  So, he was thinking about Camen’s return for his own reasons.

  “That is to say, you are thinking about his return?” he asked me.

  Of course, since he caught me admit to it so stupidly…

  I made an effort to convince him.

  “Absolutely, since we are working on the project together, isn’t it normal?”

  “I guess”, he replied ironically and he stood up suddenly saying it is time for the lecture. He greeted me politely and left.

  What a strange man, this Eric…

  I did not have the time to think of anything else. Samantha came across me at the entrance of the building and started a conversation. I was hearing but not listening to her.

  “You know we are family friends with the Christies. My parents are at their cottage, the same as the Ariels”.

  Who are the Ariels, I wondered. But, of course! His parents. This is his name, Camen Ariel. But then, why did he leave for his house when they are apparently having fun at the Christies’ cottage?

  “I do not understand, Sam. Then, why did Camen leave?”

  “Tomas said something happened and he had to go home. He said nothing about his parents neither did he clarify to whom it happened”.

  It did not matter, though, since his parents were alright, it means that soon, as Eric correctly predicted, he would return. Unless he left because of me, I thought once again but immediately I got rid of the stupid assumptions.

  Entering the Philosophy of Religion classroom, I vainly searched for him. It was silly, since I knew he was away. That day the lesson seemed very boring and the professor dull. I was overexcited from the last events and revelations to be able to follow anything.

  Besides that, I felt nothing had a meaning here anymore, nothing to beautify my days, nothing to keep my interest continuous for any action, learning, work, studying or anything.

  It is funny, how fast people change their positions and their convictions from an insignificant event, while until recently we considered them solid and we were defending them passionately. As much as I did not want to admit it, as crazy as it seemed, I was terribly missing a man I knew very little; less than two days.

  And even worse, the worst of all, in such cases you feel alone, desperately alone, even if you are surrounded by thousands of people.

  Oxford lost its glow in a moment. The moment Camen left. As much interesting it seemed the first day, today it looked casual. The buildings were ungraceful, the trees naked, the sky dull, the green fainted, the students shadows, the lectures indifferent. And I was living the emptiness: not creative, with no dimension, point zero- that is what I was. No other word could fit in my empty soul. And only one word was enough to describe its afterglow. Camen!

  The week rolled this way, somehow; classes in the mornings, at noons with the group at the dining room, the afternoons in the library to study and the evenings either with Christine or alone. Alone!

  On Thursday afternoon, while I was studying at the library the books of Genesis, Eric came.

  “Adriana, melancholy suits you but you look even better when you smile…”

  “Hi, Eric!” I said reluctantly.

  “How is studying going?”

  He sat facing me and placed a pile of books on the desk.

  “Not so well”, I admitted.

  “It looks like my brother is conspicuous by his absence”.

  “The truth is, Eric, that the project is difficult, the subject specific and the bibliography enormous.

  “It was not so appropriate of him to leave you alone”.

  He smiled.

  “Maybe I could help you. I have a little free time. What is your subject?”

  “The creation of man”.

  “Very pertinent”.

  “And very difficult”.

  “Not that much. If you manage to see beyond what you see”.

  “Is that a kind of riddle?”

  I looked at him trying to find something on his face.

  “Why?”

  He seemed to mean what he said.

  “Camen had said the same thing”.

  “Hah! Don’t forget we are brothers so we have a lot in common”.

  “I am sure of that”.

  “Well, what exactly are you working on now?” he said and bent towards me.

  “The creation of the First humans through Michael Angelo’s frescoes”.

  I pushed the book in front of him and showed him the picture of the expulsion from Paradise.

  “Do you see the woman he illustrated as Lucifer? I cannot understand why, since all the other angles are presented with a male figure”.

  “Because, maybe, he does not illustrate Lucifer but some woman”.

  “But there is nowhere in the books of Genesis a reference of a woman who tempted Eve”, I said confused from the new point of view.

  “Too many things have been lost in translation or they have been paraphrased. Do not forget that they are books written thousands of years ago and they were handled by too many hands”.

  “You are right. But if this is true why hide her and place him in her place?”

  A mysterious smile appeared on his face.

  “To manipulate”.

  “Who?”

  “The believers, Adriana. Everybody is afraid of the demons and the responsibilities are easily loaded to them, since they are bad by nature”. And yet I wonder, how an archangel- in fact, the brightest of all, as his name states, who had already had an outstanding place in god’s community and was knowledgeable, almost equal to him- was able to make such an impropriety”.

  “So, you mean he was
unfairly accused by writers or translators?” I remained looking at him with surprise and also fear.