by Leila Adams
Benjamin had never asked to be exclusive before. Sure, we were crazy about each other, and yes, it was getting serious, but we both realized living on opposite sides of the country made it difficult for a normal relationship. Now he wanted to change things. He loved me. A soft, whip of exhilaration ran through me, and I closed my eyes, recalling the many ways he showed me this weekend. I wouldn't deny it any longer; I loved him, too. Though the words felt foreign and stirred a sense of white-eyed panic in me, I knew it was true—even if I didn't want it to be.
If I followed my heart, which one of us would do the packing? From a practical standpoint, Benjamin's business needed to stay in D.C. With his frequent trips to Europe, moving West added another five hours onto his travel. I, on the other hand, might be able to relocate to the East Coast. The restaurant industry flourished in D.C. Relocating Design Dimensions was a possibility. Or maybe I would expand. The other enterprise, BAPlasma, would be more problematic to move. It took years to establish the reputable name, make the arrangements and contacts, and acquire the mobile unit. I went in only once a week, but the family depended on me. It would take months of planning, phone calls, and research to locate new facilities. And then finding new staff was a nightmare. I ran significant risk every time I hired a new technician.
As for the living arrangements, I shuddered at the thought; I couldn't live with Benjamin. I would lose my privacy. I’d feel like someone was watching over me my shoulder every day. I wasn’t ready to share my secrets with him yet. My blood pressure spiked. Just the thought of cohabitation made me break out in a cold sweat. We had never even gone on vacation together because I was afraid he’d want to share a room. Hell, he'd only been to my house once. It had become a running joke. "What's going on at your place, Liv?" I'd make up some lame story—the house was tented for fumigation; I had remodeling going on; the painters were there, and once skunk roadkill had driven me out. The truth was I couldn't handle him in my home. It was too threatening.
Anxiety returned in full force. Slow down. Don't get ahead of yourself.
I didn't really know what Benjamin expected. Did he hope I would move in with him? Or would he be satisfied if I moved to the same city? If that was acceptable to him, I might agree. Living in my own apartment, I wouldn't need all the answers right away. Yes, that would have to be a condition of the move. I'd have to have a separate living place, something private, safe.
Was there a possibility we could make a life together? What if I told him what I was, could he deal with it? Could we find a way to make it work? What would it be like to come home to him at night? To wake up in the morning and see his smile? I envisioned lazy weekends, and family events, and holidays. I imagined spending time together doing simple things couples do. I bit down on a smile. Would we marry one day?
I shook my head, discarding the fantasy. Hope was like a thin ribbon of smoke, if you reached for it, the delicate stream broke apart and it faded away. Reality, on the other hand, was like a cold, hard slap in the face, shocking you out of your reverie.
If this was something I seriously consider doing, the only way it would work was for me to find the courage to open up. If I didn't, I would have to continue living a double life. That meant so many lies, a constant struggle to keep up the pretense. At some point, things would unravel. I could only imagine how Benjamin would feel if he discovered I had lied to him for so long. The betrayal would be too much. I could see him walking away. If things went wrong not only would it end our relationship, but it might have far-reaching consequences. This thing between the two of us had spun out of control. I was in way over my head.
Lost in a maze, I could find no way out. Every time I tried to imagine what life would be like I faced more questions and possibilities for disaster. That's why I had resisted the conversation. I just couldn't conceive of a life together without catastrophe. I wished Benjamin would be happy with the way things were.
This time, I feared Benjamin wasn’t going to let the conversation go without a fight. What was I going to do? Benjamin was out of patience. His parting words still rang in my ears. "Olivia, I love you. This is important to me. I can't keep doing this. We need to decide where we go from here. No more running." It was an ultimatum. I couldn’t imagine my life without him. I missed him already and we'd only separated a few hours ago. I didn't want to lose him. I just wished things could stay the way they were.
With no answers, I settled in for the long flight. Over and over again my mind continued to return to the questions I asked myself, but I found no resolution. With a heart that felt like it was breaking, I drifted off into a resting state.
Chapter 10
I DISEMBARKED and headed toward Customs. I waited in line and stepped up to the glass cage confidently when it was my turn. "Bonjour," I said as I slipped the newly forged passport through the little window.
"Bonjour," he replied. The agent asked what the purpose of my travel was, and I said I was here on vacation. He flipped through the pages in my passport, stamped it and handed it back to me. I pocketed the little blue book and headed toward the exit. I hadn't been particularly concerned about the passport passing inspection. Lizzie had purchased it from a reliable contact, but as always with the initial presentation, there were risks involved. A book with blank pages was scrutinized more carefully than one bearing stamps from neighboring countries.
Breathing a sigh of relief, I followed the signs to baggage. As I stood watching the conveyor belt circle and snake around I calculated the time in D.C. It was early in the morning, but I knew Benjamin would be up. I called to let him know my plane arrived safely. He sounded sleepy, so our conversation was brief. I was now free to concentrate on the holiday.
Rolling a luggage cart, I headed out to the terminal. I spotted Terra and Lizzie long before they saw me. The girls had called me last month and told me I wasn’t the only one with a new look. Terra had a new appearance and taken the name Myrna. I smiled at how beautiful she was. She looked like an African princess. Standing over six feet tall, her dark skin was sleek and smooth like the coat of a panther, revealed lean, strong muscles. Her long brown braids, accented with colorful beads, swayed with the graceful movements of her body. Her carriage was different, her posture upright and posed for action. Lizzie looked just as incredible. Her long blond hair, the color of spun moonbeams, was pulled back loosely framing the delicate features of her porcelain face. One could imagine her as a marble statue posed high on a pedestal in a beautiful woodland. She looked like a modern day Aphrodite in jeans and t-shirt. Individually either one of them would have attracted attention; together they were unavoidable, both for their beauty and dissimilarity.
Lizzie was talking to Terra and suddenly stopped. She stood motionless for a moment with a faraway look in her eye. Then a smile spread across her face, and the two of them turned to look at me directly. I wondered how long it would take them to feel my presence. With eyes wide, they laughed and waved.
The girls rushed to greet me. Lizzie threw her arms around me and kissed me on each cheek. "Oh my God, look at you," she squealed. Taking me by the shoulders, she spun me around. "You look amazing! The blond is fabulous. I'm so excited you're here, Madison!"
"I'm glad to be here. I missed you, Lizzie," I said as I gave her a hug.
Terra approached, and we kissed. “Wow. You really did it. The new you is spectacular.”
I laughed. "I can say the same about you, Myrna. You look beautiful."
"And almost as shocking as you. What a change. I love the hair color, too."
"From the bag, not the bottle," I said, and we all laughed.
Terra’s eyes sparkled. "We have so much to talk about. I can't wait to hear how you did it!"
"Looks like you have a few stories to tell yourself. How was your trip?" I asked.
"Great on so many levels! Let's get out of here, so we can catch up."
Lizzie and Terra each grabbed a suitcase and we walked out of the airport. In the car ride home, Terra recounted deta
ils of her trip to Nairobi working at the preserve and the data she collected on her project. Because of her extended stay, she was able to visit a number of wildlife parks and had taken several safaris. Lizzie talked about her job at the Louvre and her new friends. The girls were hesitant to bring it up but asked for details and an update on the Market Street incident. I filled them in with the information Ethan last gave me. Once we covered the important questions, they asked about my weekend with Benjamin. I gave them a few highlights, skirting the issues I wanted to discuss at length with them at a more appropriate time.
Traffic was horrible, and it took us an hour to get to Lizzie's place. We pulled up to the creamy limestone fortresses, and Terra jumped out to unlock the tall metal doors that opened to the interior courtyard. Parking at the end of the narrow cobblestone driveway, we dragged my luggage out of the trunk and went inside.
Lizzie’s home was no starving artist's studio. She lived in a classic Haussmann apartment, on the second floor, (which Americans would have called the third.) It was open and spacious, full of glass and light, where old and new merged in balance and harmony. High ceilings layered with ornate plaster moldings, century old oak hardwood that creaked with age underfoot, and an elaborate over-sized chandelier greeted guests as they entered. Lizzie followed me in and placed her keys in the crystal bowl on the cabinet in the hall. We removed our outerwear and hung them on the coatrack in the corner.
Adjacent to the foyer, draped in boughs of thick evergreens, was the entrance to the combined living and dining room. I walked in and my eye immediately attracted to the vivid red splashes of color outside the French windows. Potted geraniums, abundant and intense, danced along the black iron balcony, brightening the gloomy weather. Similar to other Paris apartments, tall, double windows ran the length of the room. Full-length exterior shutters were thrown wide to let in the dim winter sunlight. Long, heavy royal blue drapes flanked the windows, pulled to the sides by satin ropes. The furniture was a mix of French Rococo and sleek contemporary. A modern, ivory sectional curved around the room and faced a tall walnut armoire.
I moved to the fireplace and gazed up at the portrait of a young girl with auburn hair, contemplative green eyes, and a bouquet of blue Forget-me-nots. "I always loved that painting. When did you get it back?" I asked.
"Just this month. Let's get you settled. You can stay in the bedroom you usually do,” Lizzie said, grabbing a suitcase and rolling it down the hall.
The room was good sized, painted a warm sun-drenched yellow, and full of Parisian charm. I set my purse on the small poudreuse dressing table beside the door as Lizzie plopped into the high-backed chair next to one of the two French windows. Terra placed a bag on the antique wooden luggage rack in the corner and then sprawled across the hand-carved bed dressed in traditional fabrics of Provence. The girls watched as I unpacked.
"You must be famished. Can I get you something?" Lizzie asked as I stowed the last of my items.
"Yes, please, I'm starving. I haven't eaten since yesterday," I answered.
"What about you, Terra?"
She shook her head. "No, I'm good."
Lizzie got up and stood in the doorway as she talked to me, "I thought you might be hungry, so I took a bag out for you already. I'm guessing it's yours; it has your name on it."
"Yeah, that's mine, thanks. But you don't have to serve me. I can help myself."
"Don't be silly. Relax. Let me do it," she said. I followed her into the small, albeit well-appointed, American-style kitchen. Along one wall was a full-size cooktop, oven, and dishwasher under the counter. Opposite, was a small refrigerator, combination washer-dryer, and upright freezer. The large kitchen table had me stumped. I knew Lizzie wasn't doing any cooking in here unless she cooked for someone else. Using a pair of scissors from the basket on the counter, Lizzie took the cocktail out of the warm water bath, snipped off a corner of the plastic bag, and poured the contents into a cup.
The two of us found Terra in the dining room. Packages were arranged under a decorated Christmas tree "I see my Christmas gifts arrived," I said, walking in sipping my drink.
"You went way overboard," Lizzie said, kneeling beside Terra, helping her rearrange the presents. She had that excited gleam in her eye.
"And we're so glad you did," Terra laughed.
I smiled. "You're worth it."
***
The following morning the girls were up early getting ready for Christmas Eve. Traditionally on this day, I stayed in my room to meditate and didn't come out until the evening. This year things were different because we had to pick up Ethan at the airport and I didn't want to miss that.
The roads were backed up with holiday traffic, so we headed to the airport early. Snow showers threatened, and the sky turned gloomy. It seemed fitting for the day.
The Lizzie, Terra, and I waited eagerly in the terminal for Ethan. Finally, he emerged carrying a sport coat over one arm and rolling a suitcase behind him. His muscular physique was apparent in the black ribbed sweater and charcoal gray slacks. His short haircut set off the features of his dark brows and intense eyes. As one would expect, he looked like a cop. He was clean-shaven, though overnight stubble covered his face, exaggerating his square jaw. No one would ever describe Ethan as a pretty boy. He was handsome, yes. But the hard edges of his face lent an intimidating appearance.
Ethan scanned the area for us. He walked with a confident gait other men recognized and women found irresistible. I smiled at the taunts Terra would throw his way now that she stood a half-inch taller than him. I knew she would use every excuse to bring it up. He finally caught sight of us and ever so slightly tipped his head and raised an open palm in our presence.
"He thinks he's so cool," Terra joked.
Ethan stepped out of the gate, and Lizzie ran to him. He picked her up in a big bear hug and swung her around in a circle. "Hey, Lizzie!" he said as she squealed in his arms.
"It's been so long. I missed you, E," she said kissing him on each cheek. He set her down and reached for Terra.
"Hey, Mr. Cool Guy. Glad you could make it. Missed you, bro." Terra pulled him in for a hug and kissed him on the cheek.
He kissed her back and said, "Hey, Terra, um...Myrina. Man, you look great. Africa went well?"
"Yes, it did. I can't wait to tell you about it," she whispered to him.
Ethan turned to me and his eyes iced over. “Hello, Madison.”
“Doesn’t she look fantastic?” Terra interjected when the temperature dropped a few degrees.
Clearly, he didn’t approve of my appearance. I knew he wouldn’t. He was always tense this time of year, and I seemed to bring out the worst in him.
“If you’re asking me, I don’t like it. And I can still smell Benjamin on you.”
“Ethan!” Lizzie hissed.
When he looked at me, I knew bad memories flooded his mind, so I was willing to ignore his hostility. I stepped up to him and kissed him on the cheek. “I’m glad you’re here.”
He gave me a sharp nod. Turning to the girls, he asked, "Is everything ready for tonight?"
"Yep." Lizzie hooked an arm around his waist. If anyone could change his mood, it was her.
"Great," he replied sarcastically.
Lizzie pulled him in tighter, and he let her. "Then let's get out of here. We're attracting attention." She was right, people no longer watched for luggage or long awaited family members. Instead, they stood staring at us.
Walking into the apartment the atmosphere changed immediately. While it was still early, the significance of the evening weighed heavily on us. With each passing minute, we grew more somber and withdrawn, escaping into our worlds. By early afternoon, the house was quiet. Isolated from one another, we waited for darkness to descend.
Part 2
Reality
Chapter 11
WE HAD PERFORMED the cleansing ritual every year for a century now. Dreading the emotional trauma and physical pain that awaited, the four of us sat alone in our rooms
contemplating what was about to happen. As the clock struck eight, I lifted the hood of my lily-white robe and placed it over my head. I would be the first to enter the circle.
The living room was barren of furniture and all evidence of the holiday removed. The heavy velvet drapes were drawn tightly across the windows and layers of white, gauzy linen covered the walls. Rows of black tapers suspended in tiered brass candelabras lined the room. Now visible, inlaid in the hardwood floor was a large compass rose. Around it in concentric circles 100 tiny red votive candles flickered, separated by four passageways to the points. At its center stood a tall Carrara pedestal and font. Chiseled into the cold, hard stone les Dames Blanches danced around the base, their pale beauty hypnotic and thrilling.
