Mortal Desire

by Alexander Bryn

  ‘Do you wish to spend your life as an artist Sarah? Or, do you have other dreams and plans?’ I asked, cupped my hands under my chin and looked into her eyes.

  She looked away from me and tilted her head to the side in thought. ‘Hmmmm ... for now I am happy painting, dreaming, creating, exploring the beauty in the world. I don’t have any long term plans. I like to think of life as an adventure and see where it takes me,’ she said, now playing with the spoon on the table. ‘What about you Liam. Are you going to be an Elevator Operator for the term of your natural life?’ she asked, oblivious to the fact that the term of my natural life had no end at this point in time.

  I looked at my tea cup and smiled crookedly. ‘You would be amazed by the people that I have met, by the connections I have made, and by the satisfaction that I get from driving Elevator Thirteen. It is about the journey through life. It is also about caring for other people, being kind to other people even when they are not, and helping them when they feel that their situation is hopeless,’ I replied.

  She placed both of her hands, one on top of the other, flat under her chin and narrowed her eyes. ‘So, you are saying that you are implicated in using psychological practices on others, is that correct?’ she asked, now running a finger over her bottom lip, distracting me.

  ‘How does that make you feel?’ I asked in the tone of a psychologist, my face deadpan.

  As my answer to her question was with a question sunk in, she let out a glorious giggle, and placed her hand over mine. I felt the zap of electricity as our life forces melded together, and then the warmth of her soft hand on my skin. Our eyes met and locked in a moment of connection of our souls, and time slowed down.

  I was high on the love potion again. The red thread was unbreakable.

  The arrival of our breakfast plates broke our moment of eye-love. I smiled coyly at Sarah before I looked at the food presented on my plate.

  It was French toast with a miniature jug of maple syrup with fruit salad on the side. This was a first for me. I had never had French toast before. Sarah had ordered the same.

  ‘Pain grillé français Mmmm, je vous remercie - French toast, thank-you,’ I said.

  She widened her eyes at me. ‘You speak French Mr. O’Connell?’ she asked, frowning at me. Her voice was full of surprise.

  ‘A little … nothing to jump over the moon about though!’ Actually I am fluent in five languages, acquired from living in diverse places around the globe. But then that comes with being four hundred years of age.

  I devoured half of the French Toast relishing in the eggy sweet flavour that danced with my taste buds. Stopping to take a mouthful of my tea, I watched Sarah cut her French toast into mouth size bites, and then place them into her mouth piece by piece.

  ‘What do you believe in Sarah?’ I asked.

  ‘Oh? How about ... what is your favourite colour, or what was your first pet?’ She looked at me with a wry grin. Then she looked out the window in though and breathed out heavily. ‘I believe in happily ever after, family, love. I believe in having convictions. I believe that our walk upon the Earth is ridiculously short as compared to eternity. I believe in black jelly beans. What do you believe in Liam?’ she asked with her hands resting under her chin once again.

  ‘I believe my favourite colour is cerulean and that your question is far too deep for 7:45am. Voulez-vous du thé?’ I asked while gesturing towards the teapot between us.

  ‘Wee?’ she said, uncertain whether that was the correct French word for yes.

  I nodded and smiled gently at her. She returned a smile that lit up the entire café while I poured more tea into her teacup.

  ‘Where did you go to school Liam?’

  I sucked in a sharp breath. I had never been asked where I went to school before. ‘Nowhere ... I was home-schooled,’ I replied, hoping that home-schooling would be an adequate answer.

  ‘By your parents?’

  ‘No, by my uncle!’ I responded raising my eyebrows. ‘And you?’

  ‘I studied Fine Arts at an Art School and paid my way by working at the Museum.’

  ‘Ah, history—I have a particular bent towards all things historical. I haven’t visited the Museum for eons,’ I mentioned.

  ‘Then we must go to the Museum after breakfast Liam … that is ... if you have time?’ she asked.

  Her face was full of hope. How could I say no? Besides, I was going out with her today to cure the “halo effect” that she seemed to be suffering from. ‘Sure, why not. I’m up for a history lesson today,’ I answered her.

  I finished eating, then watched Sarah devour her food with gracefulness. I had never watched another human eat with so much intensity before, and it fascinated me. Once breakfast was finished, I stood up from the table and walked around to her. I held out my hand for her to take. When our fingertips touched, I brought her hand to my lips and brushed them over her skin, before I kissed it with the softness of a feather. ‘Thank-you for my charming breakfast Sarah,’ I said, while I looked directly into the depths of her eyes. ‘Let’s head to the Museum. I want to know what you know.’

  She stood and curtsied to me with a gentle smile on her face. Her eyes were full of life. I pulled out my wallet to pay for breakfast, but she already held money in her hand to pay.

  ‘I asked you out Liam, I will pay,’ she said, looking at me from under her long black eye lashes.

  ‘No. I will pay. I believe in old fashioned manners,’ I said to her, pushing her money away. Besides … I have four hundred years of savings …

  ‘Thank-you then old fashioned one,’ she answered, and shifted her weight onto her other foot before she hooked her arm through mine.

  We left the Café and stepped onto the pavement under the Jacaranda tree once again. Automatically, I started to adjust my collar to cover my neck. Old habits are hard to break.

  But then Sarah stood in front of me. She pulled a blue scarf out of her handbag, and began to arrange it around my neck. It felt comforting.

  ‘There Mr. O’Connell.’

  She was so close to me that I could feel her warm breath on my chin. I wanted to reach out to her and run my finger along the side of her face and devour her lips with mine.

  But I didn’t.

  ‘Thank-you for my scarf Miss Flynn. I will cherish it for always,’ I said in a low voice, remembering the hurt that she showed on her face when Elliot McEwan gave away the tie that she had chosen for him.

  ‘You are very welcome Liam. I chose the colour to match your eyes,’ she replied as the windows of our souls locked together. She stepped back from me and started to walk in the direction of the Museum. I watched her as she as she put some distance between us, soaking in the sight of her very shapely human form. She turned around and smiled at me, walking backwards. ‘Are you coming Liam?’ she called, and tilted her head to the side.

  I looked down and smiled before I tucked my hands into my pockets and caught up with her. Then I put one arm around her shoulder. I had never done that before; another first.

  The granite steps leading up to the museum were epic. As we passed through the Greek columns we stepped back in time. Sarah hurried ahead of me and then spun around and looked at me. ‘So, where would you like to go Mr. O’Connell?’ she asked, looking at me through her eyelashes again.

  ‘What tickles your fancy today Miss Flynn?’

  ‘Some sort of art I believe,’ she replied.

  ‘I was thinking the same thing. I am feeling a little European today. Guide me there please,’ I instructed.

  ‘I’d be delighted to Mr. O’Connell.’

  She led me to the west side of the expansive museum where the European paintings were housed, and talked in great detail about each painting.

  ‘Sarah, who is your favourite painter?’

  ‘Without a doubt Liam, it would have to be Sir Frank Dicksee. He was such a romantic painter. His work of Romeo and Juliet is my favourite.’

  ‘Ah, the tragic love story. Is it here in the mus
eum?’

  ‘Unfortunately no, who is your favourite painter?’ Sarah was talking to me face to face, walking backwards again. My hands were behind my back, and my eyes locked into hers.

  ‘Hard to choose, there are so many. I particularly like Renaissance, and some Impressionism. My favourite piece though is The Creation of Adam by Michelangelo.’

  ‘Have you been to the Sistine Chapel?’

  ‘Yes, when I was younger—you?’ Actually ... I lived there for one hundred years, one hundred years after Michael Angelo finished “The Last Judgement” on the wall behind the altar of the Sistine Chapel.

  ‘No,’ she replied, her voice low.

  ‘You must go one day and be divinely inspired. Hmmm ... does the museum have Van Gogh’s Piece called “A Pair of Shoes?”’ I asked to change the subject away from my vast knowledge of the Sistine Chapel.

  ‘I believe so Mr. O’Connell, this way,’ she answered in her guide voice again.

  As we arrived at the painting, Sarah stood with her back to it. She spread out her arms with her palms facing upwards. ‘Mr. O’Connell, I present to you, A Pair of Shoes, by none other than Vincent Van Gogh. You will have to tell me about this one as I never worked in this section,’ she explained.

  I bowed slightly to her, smiling towards my feet. ‘Well, if you stand about here,’ I placed my hands on her shoulders, turned her around, and stood behind her closely, ‘you can see that there are two hidden pictures in his painting,’ I said quietly into her ear, inhaling her human scent, and bathing in the high that her proximity gave me.

  I wanted to expand my blue energy around her to form a bubble; our very own bubble. I wanted to keep her safe, keep her happy. I wanted her to be forever surrounded by my love.

  I need the love potion antidote now Albert …

  ‘I can’t see them Liam. What do they look like?’

  ‘On the right shoe is the face of a lamb, and on the left shoe is the face of a fox.’

  She placed both of her hands on top of mine on her shoulders. ‘You have a very good imagination Mr. O’Connell. I am sure that you are making it up,’ she said.

  ‘Oh—so you do not have permission to see it then! You should ask for permission someday,’ I said joking around with her.

  ‘Are you sure that you don’t have contact lenses on today Mr. O’Connell?’ She was facing me now.

  I laughed at her comment, and pulled her into a hug.

  ‘What am I going to do with you Miss Flynn …’ I ran my hand through her hair in a slow manner. It was so soft and smelled of apple blossom.

  ‘You are the one who is seeing things Mr. O’Connell. What am I going to do with you?’ She stood back from me slightly, lifted her hands and placed them on either side of my face.

  She caressed me with her eyes, lingered in my eyes and then on my lips.

  Nervous energy bounced around inside me, so I took a deep breath to calm myself. ‘I’m starving Sarah, let’s eat,’ I finally said to extract myself from our close proximity, and the feeling that I was spiralling out of control.

  ‘Definitely. I know what I want to eat, and it is not food,’ she whispered into my ear.

  ‘Then we should get some food into you before you decide to help yourself to other things,’ I whispered back into her ear.

  She sighed. ‘Liam …’ she whispered.

  I looked into her eyes. She was in a dreamy state. Was it my blue energy force, or the halo effect?

  I grabbed her hand and took her to the cafeteria. Coffee would fix her for sure. We sat at a table by the garden overflowing with spring flowers, creating their own painted canvas. Sarah looked over the colourful display and then wiped a tear away from her eye.

  ‘Sarah?’ I asked concerned for her.

  ‘It’s not working Liam,’ she said with a soft voice.

  ‘What is not working?’

  ‘Spending some time with you to make the “halo effect” vanish,’ she replied.

  ‘It will disappear as our day wears on Sarah. You will see,’ I said, not wanting the “halo effect” to vanish either. I wanted her to love me. No-one on the Earth sphere had ever loved me before. Or, more succinctly—I had never allowed a mortal to love me before.

  I reached over and placed my hand on top of hers. I was tempted to send my amnis under her skin and help her to feel better, but I didn’t. That would be cheating.

  I ordered our lunch and returned to Sarah at the table. ‘Penny for your thoughts,’ I said, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

  She smiled at me. ‘I just had a vision of a painting that I want to create. Just give me a second to commit it to memory and I will return to you,’ she said, and touched my hand.

  I smiled coyly at her. She closed her eyes. Her face became the picture of serenity, and of beauty that shone brighter than the sun. I wanted to grab her and hold her against me again.

  But I didn’t.

  When she opened her eyes, I took her hand in mine and brought it to my lips and kissed it with the gentleness of a paintbrush.

  ‘Tu sei bella signorina Sarah,’ I said in a quiet voice.

  ‘Thank-you to whatever you said. It sounded nice ... it wasn’t French was it?’

  I shook my head, smiled and looked over at the flowers. I needed to stop charming her so that she could get over me. I had to stop playing this game with her. She was forbidden.

  ‘What is your favourite colour?’ I asked her as our lunch arrived.

  ‘Blue,’ she answered.

  ‘What type of movies do you like to watch?’

  ‘Oh, vampire flicks, horror movies, anything with immortals in them,’ she said.

  I sat back in my chair. I could feel the blood draining from my face.

  ‘I am kidding Liam. I like chick flicks, romance, some comedy,’ she explained.

  ‘Oh. That is more comforting. I thought that you were about bite my neck and suck the blood from by body for a moment then!’

  Her giggling voice sang to my soul.

  What would she think if she knew that immortals did roam the Earth ... and what would she think if she knew that I was one of them?

  ‘What is your favourite food?’ I asked.

  ‘Raw red meat,’ she answered.

  I nodded my head. ‘Drink?’

  ‘Blood,’ she answered.

  ‘Figures. I’ll do well to remember that for when I order for you next time,’ I said.

  Sarah smiled at me. She leaned over the table towards me and kissed my forehead, the side of my face, and then my lips.

  I drew back from her and placed my hand over my chest. My heart was beating fast and my head had begun to spin. ‘That will not help your plight Sarah,’ I said to her when she sat back down.

  ‘You never know ... it depends on what my plight is of course,’ she replied and looked into my eyes for far too long.

  We finished lunch and I indicated to the waiter to bring the bill. Again Sarah produced her money.

  I looked at her and raised my right eyebrow. ‘Old fashioned remember,’ I said in a low voice.

  She was just about to protest when I placed my finger over her lips.

  She grabbed my hand. ‘Thanks Mr. O’Connell, but times have changed. I am picking up this bill!’ she said between gritted teeth.

  ‘I believe we should duel it out with scissors, paper, rock,’ I commented.

  She giggled at my suggestion. ‘Challenge on,’ she replied.

  Without further ado, we broke into scissors, paper, rock. I timed my delivery slightly later than hers to ensure that she won, and so could pay the bill, just to make her feel better about our “date”.

  ‘Well Sarah, we have done something that I wanted to do today. What do you want to do this afternoon?’

  She looked over the flowers while she thought. The colours of the petals reflected on her irises creating an absolutely stunning display.

  ‘Let’s go and climb some rock walls!’ she replied.

  I blinked hard and r
aised my eyebrows at her before I ran my fingers over the table in thought. ‘Okay …’ I said with uncertainty. I stood, pushed my chair in, and waited for her to join me to leave the cafeteria.

  The streets were crowded. We seemed to be walking against the flow of people and became separated more by the overcrowded walking space a number of times. I had to stop and look for Sarah. We I found her I took her hand in mine. That way we couldn’t be separated. She looked down as we started to walk.

  ‘What?’ I asked her, frowning.

  ‘Holding hands is ... I love the feel of your hand around mine,’ she said.

  ‘Or, it is a way of stopping you from falling behind as we walk Miss Flynn,’ I suggested and cocked an eyebrow at her.

  ‘Point taken,’ she replied.

  We went different ways when we entered The Rock Club to change into suitable climbing attire. I waited for her at the viewing deck as soon as I had changed. I turned around when I felt a light punch on my arm. Sarah wore a snug white lycra tank shirt and fitted black shorts. Her body was toned and she appeared very comfortable in her own skin. My breath hitched and she hit me on the arm again. ‘You can stop looking at me now Liam. You are making me feel self-conscious,’ she said, and she rested her hand on my shoulder.

  ‘You just ... you surprise me Sarah. I never took you for a sports chick. Which room are we entering?’ I asked, changing the subject.

  ‘Well, I’ve done the wall, the boulder cave, the roof climb. I have never done the team event. What about you?’

  ‘None. I have never rock climbed.’

  ‘And yet you agreed to come here with me?’

  ‘Yes—why not. You only live once.’

  ‘Okay, let’s hit the wall since you are a novice.’

  ‘Yes Ma’am,’ I said.

  We entered the Hang Dog Stadium. An instructor wrapped me in a harness.

  ‘Mmmm, wish I could harness you up Mr. O’Connell. Which gym do you go to?’

  ‘I don’t.’

  Sarah looked hard at me and blinked several times. The instructor finished checking over the harness and then broke into a spiel of instructions.

  ‘Let’s climb,’ I said, when the instructor had finished, and walked off towards the wall.