Chapter 9
Alexander was starting to make steady progress with his novel. It was no work of literary genius but he felt it had sufficient merit to be worth persevering with. Aided by his newly discovered muse, they were bringing the vague story line that had been fermenting in Alexander's mind for so long, into a solid and believable narrative. There was still a lot of work ahead of them before the book would be finished but his own efforts were being matched by those of his ghostly companion who had found a new purpose to her strange existence in the pages of her companion's work of fiction. Her ideas were usually in accordance with his own, as Alexander would expect if, as he still thought, she was a projection of his own mind. If her ideas did not exactly match his own, he found a symmetry of meaning that gave the combination of ideas an impact greater than the sum of their parts. Alexander found it surprising how quickly he had got used to the presence of a disembodied woman about the place. In fact, not only was he now unworried by her presence, he was starting to enjoy their exchanges and miss her cheerful companionship when she was not there. Each day made it feel increasingly more normal to be holding in-depth conversations with a woman that, on the balance of probabilities, did not exist outside his fevered brain. He remained determined to tell no one about his muse just in case the legendary men in white coats were summoned to take him away for his own safety.
Suzanne continued to make regular phone calls to "Ensure that everything in the cottage was all right." Alexander found it a little unusual for her to take such an interest in the welfare of a rental property and wondered if there could be an ulterior motive; he was unable to deduce a reasonable one however. Alexander found Suzanne to be a pleasant woman and they were now firmly on first name terms. It was her friendly voice again this morning as he answered the call.
"Hello Suzanne, yes everything is still fine here, as always."
"No more poltergeists?" she asked. Alex laughed and, in an act that almost felt almost like an act of betrayal, determinedly denied the existence of his muse.
"No, I think that must have been an over active imagination, we budding novelists are known for that."
"So I'm led to believe Alexander."
Alexander heard a sniff on the end of his line.
"Is everything OK with you?"
"Yes I just have the start of a head cold." she lied, and then changed her mind when the need to confide just a little of her worries overwhelmed her.
"Well, actually I have some family troubles that have been getting me down a bit and my son is not supporting me as I would wish... but I don't want to burden you with my problems."
"Well, Suzanne, I know I'm still just a stranger, but if you want to talk anything over..."
"No, no. I appreciate the kindness, thank you Alexander but I have to work through this myself."
"OK Suzanne, but if you find yourself in the vicinity, drop in for a coffee any time."
"Thank you I will, I certainly will. So if everything is fine there, I'll let you get on." Suzanne ended the brief conversation and Alexander was left none the wiser for why she had actually called. Not that it was a problem for him, he found the woman with the subtle French accent to be easy to talk to, affable company for a man who had none save for the musings of his troubled mind. But on consideration, he suddenly realized that if Suzanne did come to the cottage, she would either see his apparition if it were real, or if she saw nothing, it would be another nail in the coffin of his sanity. Despite his desire for Suzanne's company, he suddenly started to question the wisdom of the invitation.
"Who was that?" It was the voice of his muse echoing from across the room, she had been silently watching him for some time, caught in a dream world between her present reality and her uncertain future. Alexander smiled at the sound of her voice, and turned to look at her, still only the shadow of a person but with recognizable features that Alexander was starting to appreciate.
"And good morning to you too."
"Sorry, my sweet stranger... good morning. Now... who was that?"
Alexander took a bite from his slice of toast which he had allowed to get cold and washed it down with the last of his morning cup of Earl Grey taken with a splash of milk rather than the proscribed lemon.
"Oh just a woman I know, we talk on the phone from time to time."
Emily felt a strange emotion, not exactly jealousy, but she rather took for granted that she had her stranger to herself. It was odd to feel that he had another woman in his life. As Emily mused on this thought, it became apparent to her that she did indeed see herself as a woman, not as a ghost or anything remotely like that. Her self-image, she realized held scant connection with how she was now manifested in the world. The contradictions made her head spin, gave her aching nostalgia for something that she could no longer remember.
"Stranger," she said "how do you see me? As a person, or something less than that?"
The question was one that had troubled Alexander since first encountering his muse, and he still had no satisfactory answer.
"Does it matter? I feel that you are real, and treat you that way, the truth is I have no idea what you are. I'm not sure that I can separate my ideas about your reality from my hopes." It was an honest answer but not one that gave Emily any greater understanding of her situation.
Her ability to hear through the membrane was improving all the time and she felt it was only a matter of time before things started to make sense to her. The writer and his muse had got used to their unlikely alliance surprisingly quickly and had developed a good working relationship with each other. Alexander would type and Emily would read what he was putting down and had developed an uncanny ability to see where he was going with an idea. She would often interject with suggestions or alternative threads that Alexander usually found to be an improvement. At other times when the writing had dried up, he was able to discuss the hold up in the plot with his muse and they had always managed to get the story back on track. In fact if Alexander were honest he would have to admit that the novel owed as much to the apparition as it did to his own struggling efforts.
"Have you remembered what your name is yet?" He asked her. "I'd like to be able to call you something, Muse seems a little impersonal."
"No, not yet, but I expect that it will happen at any time, I can hear quite a lot of what people are saying across the membrane now and they are bound to use my name soon. But now you have raised the subject of names, you haven't told me your name either, why is that?" Alexander looked thoughtful but he already knew why.
"It's because, if you are not real, if you are a part of me, then you will already know my name because it will be our name. I was waiting for you to use it without me having to tell you."
"I don't know your name. What do I have to do to convince you that I'm real? Maybe YOU are just a figment of MY imagination." The frustration in her voice was clear for Alexander to hear. She was growing to form an affection for her stranger but his lack of belief in her felt like treachery. Alexander truly regretted distressing her by continually questioning her existence. Her suggestion that he could be a figment of her mind, with all the arguments he could bring to counter it, suddenly gave him a perspective on his muse's situation. What she had just proposed could in theory be true; he could equally be her figment; a creation of her mind. But he knew he was not and now he saw that his muse, equally, knew that she was not a figment of his imagination. Alexander lifted his hands in defeat.
"OK you're making my brain ache now; let's declare a truce on that issue shall we?"
"You mean if I stop thinking of you as a figment of my imagination, you will do the same?"
"I'll try if you will."
"It's a deal... This might sound odd, but why don't we think of a name for me until I discover my true identity. We could choose something that fits with your novel."
Alexander had never had to name a friend before and it opened up all sorts of possibilities, and potential pitfalls.
"I think it's time we sta
rted calling the book "our" novel," he said "but to answer your question, I suppose giving you an invented name sounds just about mad enough to fit our situation. Do you have any suggestions?"
"Well... yes, there's the implication in the novel, that the main characters are linked in a mythological way to the Sun and Moon. How about calling me Artemis, she was the Greek moon goddess."
"A goddess no less, talk about a big ego... So do you think I am worthy of befriending a goddess?"
Emily let her gaze rest on her stranger for a long moment before answering.
"Oh yes I think so, especially if I am the goddess in question."
Alexander had never been flattered by a ghost before and was not sure how to take it. He knew that he was not displeased. This woman, real or not, was becoming more important to him than he dared admit.
"My name is Alexander." he said, finally yielding his secret to her. It was a leap of faith for him that she was real, he wanted to believe that.
"Alexander... yes I like that, it's better than what I've been secretly calling you."
"You have a secret name for me?"
"Well yes... of course." There was a coyness wrapped with humour in Emily's reply.
"Well, what is it?"
Emily chuckled and then revealed the name.
"Bozo."
Alexander feigned a hurt look before bursting into laughter.
"Where did that come from?"
"Actually I don't know, maybe it was the name of someone I was fond of in some past life."
He shook his head not sure what to make of it.
"Are you sure Artemis is the name of a Moon goddess? Are you sure it's not Bozo."
Emily was pleased that Alexander shared her sense of humour and laughed as she replied to his question.
"Look it up if you don't believe me, when I was a girl I had a fascination with Greek mythology." Emily stopped suddenly. "How did I know that? The memory just came out of nowhere."
Emily was suddenly excited that the prospect of discovering who she was could be getting closer and the words she spoke ran from her ghostly heart.
"My memory's coming back, soon I'll know who I really am and soon you'll know that I'm real... my darling Alexander."
It is interesting how a relationship can pivot on the unintended slip of a single word. One that betrays feelings that have gone unexpressed. Alexander took the word darling and kept it safe, as a gift. The gift held promise but was not ready to be unwrapped yet. Maybe it never would be.
They worked on the book together for most of the day. Alexander was tiring and decided he needed a break. Emily watched him preparing his evening meal. She would have helped but her ghostly form prevented any real physical interaction with the material world. At best she could feebly push things around over short distances but she had very little control. She was quick with her opinion however on the best way to prepare a pasta sauce, but would not be able to share the meal. Emily never felt hunger but the missing pleasure of eating and enjoying a meal, was felt as a loss. She told Alexander of all her inner feelings and it was impossible for him not to develop a deep empathy with his strange Artemis and her troubled existence, devoid of corporal reality.
As the sauce was simmering, Alexander took a moment to check the internet for references to Artemis. There it was: The Greek Moon goddess, she had been right. Alexander was certain he had not known that, there could only be one explanation: she must be real. It was a pleasure to at last have some hard evidence that she may not be a creation of his own mind and not only because it meant his sanity was intact.
"What are you looking up?"
Emily was peering over his shoulder.
"Oh just looking up a reference to "Bozo", it seems he was a mighty Greek warrior, who captured the moon goddess and kept her locked away for his own pleasure."
Once the laughter had subsided, Emily became more serious. She found she needed to know more about the man she lived with.
"Alexander, you once told me that someday you would reveal your past to me, I think we know each other well enough. Now you've told me your name, tell me who you are."
As he sat at the table eating his pasta and sipping a glass of New Zealand Savignon Blanc, Alexander revealed, in précis, his life story. He told his newly named Artemis of being orphaned, of growing up in foster homes, of study and work success and of Jane and how he had loved and lost her in such a short space of time.
"Do you remember your parents at all?" Emily asked, becoming drawn readily into Alexander's world.
"I have an impression of my mother; I remember her eyes, big and brown and there was the smell of her hair that sometimes still catches me unexpectedly. I was so young; nothing much remains. It may sound crazy but I still miss her."
"No that doesn't sound the slightest bit crazy to me." She said softly seeing that Alexander had lived a turbulent life with more tragedy than most and yet he had come through it all as a decent and kind man. She wanted to hold him, but for that she needed real arms.
Alexander steered the conversation back to the book, he felt his life story was running the risk of becoming overly sentimental a little too emotional.
"There's something in the death scene that we need to get right..."
"Yes go on."
"Well, I've been trying to think of a way to express the feelings our two lovers are going through when Kalista is lying close to death, it needs to express the tragedy of the situation obviously, but also have a glimmer of hope concealed in there somewhere."
Emily nodded.
"I know, I've already been thinking about that. It needs to express a hope that might be fulfilled after an eternity... I thought, as Andrew held her close on that quiet night, he might say, as she faded into the arms of death:
I can't say goodbye to you, tell me there's a hope for us.
Then then she whispers her last words... this may be too sentimental but we can work on it... something like:
Believe me, as the stars continue to forever shine in the heavens, we will meet again... but not until the Sun and the Moon kiss over the misty mountains.
Emily paused for a moment to gauge Alexander's reaction. Alexander considered the imagery of the impossibility of the Sun and the Moon kissing and yet in a future reality as the gears of the universe turned... it held the prospect of hope. Lovers could wait for an eternity to be reunited, if there was hope.
"I like it... " He said futilely holding his hand out for her to take. "It suggests that they can and will wait an eternity to be reunited and it does tie in rather well with the working title we've given the novel. It has a real mythological feel to it, as if we are part of a cosmic pattern that even death can't defeat. It's just what I wanted to express."
Emily allowed a smile to cross her face.
"Good, maybe we can massage the exact words a little, but I think the sentiment is right." She was pleased that he had liked her suggestion, somehow it was becoming important to her to have Alexander's blessing. She looked into his eyes and then studied his face trying to read his thoughts. It was a thing she liked to do for quiet moments when he wasn't aware that she was there. Although there could be no physical contact, she could imagine herself enfolded in his arms safe and happy.
"I think you look tired," She said. "I'm going to listen at the membrane for a while and see if there's anything new to discover, I'll see you later... Get some sleep Alexander."
Emily disappeared and Alexander realized that she had started to fill a void that he thought would remain with him forever. It was a good feeling to know that she would be there in the cottage when he woke in the morning. He knew that he would always love Jane and could never forget her, but he had discovered that he could also care for another, even if she was a woman who did not exist. The question that he could not answer was why was he falling for a creature that was so inevitably unattainable? How could he express his feelings for a ghost, how could he quench his desire to kiss her when she had no body. How could he t
ell her that although Jane would always be in his heart, so was she? It was madness, but such a sweet madness.
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