Promised Soul

by Sandra J. Jackson

  “Wait!” I called out as much to his surprise as my own.

  “What's the matter?” he asked. His face registered both concern and desire at the same time; I didn't even think that was possible.

  “We can't.” I reached under him and tried to pull my robe together. “I mean, it's not that I don't want to it's just… we shouldn't.”

  Aaron rolled over on to his side and looked at me, his arm tucked under his head and a crooked smile on his face.

  “May I ask why not? You certainly didn't resist all those times last night…” He smiled seductively, tracing his fingers down my arm.

  “You are making this difficult,” I sighed and smiled at the memory.

  “Yes, well you didn't make it very easy for me last night, as I recall. In fact, I'm pretty sure it was you who seduced me into staying.” He propped himself up on his arm.

  I reached over and ran my fingers through the front of his hair, brushing it back a little. He grabbed my hand and began to kiss each of my fingertips; he was trying very hard to distract me and it was working. I closed my eyes enjoying his light kisses as he traveled up my arm. When I opened my eyes again, he was hovering inches from my face.

  “So are you going to tell me why,” he whispered.

  “I need to sit up.”

  Aaron moved out of my way giving me the room I needed. I sat cross-legged in front of him as he lay on his side, his body now completely exposed. Just another sly tactic to distract me; I kept my eyes glued to his face.

  “We can't because we have no…” I hesitated. My face began to flush unexpectedly. We had a perfectly good reason not to, especially when we were still just getting to know each other – again. Luckily, for once, my transparency must have given away what I was thinking because Aaron saved me.

  “Ohhhh!” He reached down and pulled up the crinkled white sheet, covering himself. “I guess you're right about that. We did use them all.”

  I laughed, relieved. “Not to mention your aunt.”

  “Oh! What about my aunt?” Aaron asked slightly puzzled.

  “Well, I met her out in the garden earlier, and she knows you spent the night.”

  “Oh! Don't worry about her. She's pretty liberal minded, that one.” With that, Aaron swung his legs over his side of the bed taking the sheet with him.

  I laughed. “I thought people only did that in the movies.”

  “Yeah well, in light of things… Besides I don't want to make you feel bad knowing what you're missing.” A sly smile spread across his face.

  “UH!” I grabbed a pillow and threw it at him, hitting him squarely in the head. He laughed bending down to pick it up and tossed it back on the bed.

  “I'm going to take a quick shower,” he said as he moved toward the bathroom door.

  “Don't use up all the hot water,” I called out, as he closed the door behind him.

  The door opened back up again, and he stuck his head out laughing at me. “Don't worry, I don't think I'll be using any hot water.” He closed the door, leaving me rolling on the bed with laughter.

  Forty-Five

  Love – an emotion so strong it can make us feel invincible. It can drive every thought, make us do things we normally wouldn't do, and cloud our judgment. It can drive us crazy. We say 'love at first sight', 'madly in love', 'love is a drug', 'blinded by love', or 'love is blind'. It is not until we are truly in love that we can relate to any of those expressions.

  For the first time in my life, I was truly in love. I knew it the moment I sat down at the computer, the minute Aaron left – as a result I changed my departure date. It wasn't by much, only a few extra days. The very idea of leaving terrified me, and yet it was inevitable. As much as Bourton had become a part of me; my family, my friends, and my career were back home – my heart, however, belonged to Aaron. I was torn, and every second that ticked by, brought me closer to leaving. I couldn't bear to think about it, and instead of figuring something out, something that could work, I chose to push the thoughts from my mind. I would deal with it when the time came.

  I rose from the desk, content with my decision, and ready to spend the day in the apartment reading, or whatever else would occupy my time. By late afternoon, I was restless and anxiously waiting for the end of the workday – anxiously waiting for Aaron to call. Occasionally, my thoughts shifted to the inevitable, but as quickly as they emerged, I pushed them back.

  When the phone rang, I jumped in anticipation, almost knocking the phone to the floor in the process.

  “Hello!” I could barely hear my own voice over the sound of my beating heart.

  We spoke for hours, neither one of us wanting to let the other one go. It was as though we'd been apart for weeks instead of hours. By the time our conversation ended, we made promises to call or e-mail daily, until we saw each other again. It was going to be a long five days without him, but I had no choice.

  The days passed slowly, and after two days of longing for Aaron, two days of only hearing his voice, and two days of pushing away thoughts of my departure, my mind cleared. As much as I wished for time to stand still, it wasn't going to. Ideas circled around in my head, but no matter how I tried, the outcome was always the same. I had responsibilities that couldn't be overlooked. It appeared that being in love had completely clouded my judgement.

  How could I be so irresponsible by falling in love with someone who lives in a different country? How do I say goodbye without destroying the one thing I was destined to find? How can I leave the one person I love more than anything in the world? How can this ever work? I repeatedly asked myself these questions both aloud and in my head. Even in my dreams, these questions and many more, haunted me. There never seemed to be an easy answer. I began to panic as I realized history was going to repeat itself once again.

  By mid-week, I had made my decision and waited patiently for Aaron's call. My anxiety built as each minute passed. When the call came an hour later than usual, my head was about to burst. By the third ring, I reached for the phone with a shaky hand.

  “Hello.” My voice was monotone, my stomach churned. I plunked myself down on the couch, and tried sounding distant – aloof.

  “It's me.” There was something different in his voice – distraction maybe? Whatever it was the sound of his voice on the other end drove a knife into my heart. My promise to Peter was about to get broken. Not only to Peter, it suddenly occurred to me, but to everyone: Aaron, Peter – Mary.

  “How come you're so late?” I whined. I didn't intend to sound that way, or maybe subconsciously I did. If I sounded bitchy, he'd be glad to be rid of me. Our relationship really only expanded one weekend – a few weeks – another life. We could chalk it all up to a summer fling, simple – nothing more. You can always come back! The thought flitted, once again, through my mind. It was true, but I couldn't ask him to wait. I didn't know how long it would take for me to settle things at home. He could come with you! I would never ask. His family, or what remained of it, was here.

  “Sorry, but I do have a job.” He sounded defensive.

  “Well, you had one last night, and the night before that, but you managed to call on time those nights.” I felt a pain in my throat as it tightened with emotion and my eyes began to well. What are you doing? I screamed silently, or was it Mary's voice? I rested my head back on the couch feeling its coolness on my neck and closed my eyes. What about us? He doesn't remember us, I replied silently.

  “Look, I don't want to argue.” Aaron's voice calmed to the one that made my heart melt.

  “Sorry, me neither. It's just…” What am I going to say? “Can we talk?” Those three tell all words spilled from my mouth when I really wanted to say the other three words – I love you.

  “Yes, I think we should.” Was he going to make this easier? Easier, I almost laughed, nothing about it was easy. “About Friday…” he continued, “I think it's best that Peter take you on your last excursion.”

  My mouth dropped, and I had to cover the mouthpiece of the
phone as an audible gasp escaped. I took a deep breath, unable to speak, the tears already pouring out of my eyes, the pain in my throat lessened as I gave in to the emotion.

  “Krista! Are you still there?” His brittle, worried voice asked.

  I cleared my throat and sniffed before removing my hand from the phone. “Yes,” I managed to choke out.

  It was his turn now to be silent. My chest ached as bits of my heart chipped away. Neither of us spoke for ten minutes.

  “Krista!” Aaron cleared his throat, “Krista, I'm sorry. It's just that…” he paused.

  “I know,” I said quietly. “Please, don't say it okay.” I let my voice break, wanting him to know that I was hurting too, that he wasn't alone in his pain.

  “Okay,” he coughed. More silence followed before he spoke again. “I'll get in touch with Peter. I'll tell him, don't worry.”

  I half laughed and cried at the same time. ”He's really going to hate me now!”

  “No, he won't,” Aaron said quietly. “How could anyone hate you?” His voice broke again.

  “He will.” I paused. “I promised him I wouldn't – hurt you.” The last words reduced me to tears again. I covered the mouthpiece as I tried to regain some sense of composure. All I wanted was to be in his arms.

  “It's what you need to do.” Aaron assured me.

  I gave a slight nod. “It's just that I've never lo –”

  Aaron interrupted, “Don't say it, okay? It'll only make it worse, but for the record – me too.” His voice sounded raspier each time he spoke and he continuously had to clear it.

  “Okay, I won't.” I sniffed, wishing I had more tissue.

  “Krista, I'm so sorry.” I barely heard him.

  “Yeah, me too,” I whispered back. “Promise me one thing?” I asked, knowing that it was too much.

  “Anything.”

  I wondered if he really meant anything. “Promise me not to blame yourself for any of this?” I was starting to blubber. I took a deep breath and contained myself again.

  I heard him sigh and afterwards a long pause; dead air. Finally he spoke. “Only – if you promise me first.” His voice was soft and so very sad.

  I laid down on the couch, resting my head on the armrest and closed my eyes, squeezing out more tears. They slid down my cheeks and in my mouth; the saltiness of them no longer bothered me. I was a complete mess.

  “But it is,” I said. “It will always be my fault because I remembered. I didn't have to say anything and should have left things alone. If I had, none of this would be happening now, and you wouldn't be hurting.” I raised my arm and crossed it over my eyes; the darkness was welcoming.

  “You're hurting, too,” he said, “and if you hadn't said anything, you would never be at peace.”

  “Neither of us is at peace now though, are we?” My voice had returned to its monotone state.

  “Not now, no, but with time –”

  “What, another one hundred years – in another lifetime?” I sat back up, crossing my legs on the coffee table in front of me.

  “If that's what it takes, then I guess so. Perhaps next time, I'll remember too. Perhaps that's why this is happening” Aaron's voice sounded stronger.

  “Maybe.” I laughed nervously, though nothing was funny. “I've waited this long already, what's another hundred years.” I wiped away the remaining tears from my cheeks and dried my hands on my shirt.

  We sat in silence, listening to each other breathe, neither one of us wanting to let go.

  “I should go,” Aaron finally said, breaking the silence. “I'll talk to Peter, and don't worry he won't be angry.”

  “Hmph.” I hoped he was right.

  “Goodbye, Krista.” Aaron's voice came as a whisper as he spoke my name.

  “Goodbye.”

  The familiar click seemed louder than normal, thundering in my ear. It signified the end of our conversation, the end of our relationship, the end of our promise. I hated that click.

  I crawled into bed fully clothed, makeup on, my teeth not brushed, and I cried myself to sleep. When I awoke the next day, it was two o'clock in the afternoon. Sleeping in so late was a good thing; it meant only having to endure the day for a short while until I climbed back in bed and allowed sleep to comfort me.

  The day dragged on and by the time evening arrived, I was grateful. As I got ready for bed, earlier than usual, Peter called. I tried talking him out of taking me on the next day's outing. I didn't want to go – I didn't want to do anything but sit around and wait for the day I could leave. I regretted changing my departure date, but the drive wasn't in me to try and change it back. Instead, I considered it my punishment for being selfish or stupid, or both. If I had to wallow in self-pity for a few extra days than I would, after all it was my own fault; there was no one to blame but me.

  Peter arrived on time the next morning, though I wasn't ready. I was still wearing my robe and drinking my coffee.

  “We've got time,” he said, as I let him into the apartment. Aaron had been right about one thing though, Peter wasn't angry with me.

  “Yeah, sorry about that, I guess I slept in.” There was nothing animated about me in any way. Though I was still breathing and moving – I felt dead.

  “That's fine. Can I help you with anything?” Peter looked around the apartment. I saw the look on his face and for the first time noticed that I hadn't cleaned up after myself the last couple of days; a small stack of dishes sat on the coffee table. I turned, almost embarrassed, and started grabbing the dishes, tears immediately filling my eyes as I did.

  “Here, I'll get that.” Peter's hand was warm and comforting on my shoulder as he stopped me. “Why don't you go and get ready, and I'll clean this up. It's not that bad – really!” He smiled, but behind that smile, I could see the pity he had in his eyes.

  I nodded and then headed for my bedroom. Somehow, I'd managed to get ready in a decent amount of time, though surely on auto-pilot for I barely remembered showering, let alone getting dressed. My wet hair was pulled up into a ponytail, either due to laziness or uncaring, I suspected the latter.

  When I came out of my room, Peter was putting the last of the dishes he had washed away; the kitchen was back to a more recognizable state.

  I smiled. “Thank you, Peter.”

  “Is that a smile I see?” he kidded.

  I chuckled, shaking my head.

  “Oh, and a laugh too – bonus points!” Peter took me by my hand and led me into the cleaned-up living room.

  “Did it really take me that long to get ready?” I asked, looking around the now much cleaner room.

  Peter sat on the couch and patted the seat beside him. “I told you it wasn't that bad.” I sat, sinking into the couch. “Are you feeling any better?” he asked, the concern easily read in his eyes. I shook my head, knowing that speaking would be the end of my fragile composure. “I'm sorry you are both going through such a hard time,” he said, his sincerity obvious.

  I looked down at my hands. My nails were picked away as short as possible, they looked awful. I curled my fingers into my hands, embarrassed by their appearance. “I changed my departure date.” I stared blankly at my hands. I hadn't told Aaron that, wanting to surprise him.

  “You what?”

  “My departure date, I was supposed to leave on the thirty-first, now I'm leaving on the fourth. Stupid – huh?” I looked up at Peter. Why am I telling him this? What does it matter anyway?

  The next three days were the last of my sightseeing tours. After Sunday, I wouldn't be seeing Peter anymore either. I would have to spend an entire week waiting to leave. It wasn't that long ago when the thought of leaving left a heavy feeling in my heart, now I couldn't wait. It wasn't that long ago when it felt like the apartment was my home, now it was like a prison holding me back from where I belonged. Though in truth, I wasn't even sure anymore if Nova Scotia was where I belonged. In fact, it felt like I didn't belong anywhere. I only belonged with Aaron.

  Forty-Six
r />   My dreams were back, and each time a new memory or an old one surfaced; I forced myself to wake-up, not allowing the dream to take hold and sink me deeper into sadness. By mid-week, I was exhausted, but my ability to wake-up just as the dream began was almost perfect. Every memory I'd ever had of Mary and Thomas was pushed away as far as possible, never allowing them to get even the slightest grip. I was determined to go back to the life I had before the dreams began.

  Each day seemed longer than the next and as the expression goes 'a watched pot never boils' the same holds true for the days of the week when checking the calendar every day. Though it was only four days away, Sunday wasn't coming fast enough. So on the eve of Thursday, I planned to get out of the apartment and get back to the routine I'd established. In doing so I hoped the time would go faster. Moping around certainly wasn't making the time pass.

  My eyes fluttered open to a bit of sunlight streaming in through my window, the first in days. I hopped out of bed, putting my plan into action before I could change my mind. I grabbed my robe from the back of the door and headed out into the kitchen. With the last bit of coffee used up the day before, I settled on a cup of tea and the last English muffin, toasted with jam, and forced myself outside.

  I slowly made my way over to the stone bench and silently hoped that Jane wouldn't see me and come running out. It had been sometime since I'd been out in the garden, not since I'd been with Aaron, not in the last week. It would be awkward if Jane were to come over, even if I did miss her. Right on cue, I heard the back door open, but I didn't bother turning around.

  It seemed to take her a long time to reach the bench and so finally, after what must have been ten minutes, I turned around and faced the back of the house. At first she was nowhere in sight, but then her head popped up from behind one of her many shrubs covered with dead and dying flowers.

  “Good morning!” I tried to say in my most cheerful good-morning-voice, but it was lifeless at best, just like those withered blooms.