Molly
I thought the
gods had ignored my petitions… that all the spells I’d conjured
had failed. Ignored vengeance ripened in my heart and the battery
acid inside me began to cook to a boil. By the time my prayers were
answered, I thought it too late. I had long convinced myself that I
wanted nothing to do with Molly. Certain that I was being demonized
by a femme fatale, my heart had atrophied. No longer my salvation:
love was replaced with corrosion coursing through my veins.
Three weeks had
passed since the taxi cab incident in the rain. I was so terrified of
running into Molly that I began altering my routine just to avoid
her. Fearing an ambush I stopped frequenting that café where I had
previously encountered her and began spending time in Mile-End, at
Historico, a café I had never frequented before.
How
she managed to find me there, I don’t know. But that morning when a
shadow passed across my Globe and Mail, my nose began to twitch. I
detected hesperidia
and a bouquet of jasmine, rose and sandalwood. Her irresistible
fragrance: her alluring nectar of pheromones. As I looked up desire
and antagonism pulled me in opposite directions. Backlit,
she was a silhouette surrounded by a sun-kissed aura of morning
light. Without waiting for an invitation, she placed her latte on the
table and glided into the seat beside me. Smiling contritely she
placed her left hand on top of mine.
Blind I couldn’t
see that I was already standing on Ithaca’s shores. My heart began
to race, terrified of her machinations.
Her
confidence startled me. Poised and graceful as a 21st
century Louise Brooks: she was a true blue Lulu. Calm as a cat, she
sat gazing into my eyes; a regal predator with unblemished skin and a
long blonde mane.
Imposing her
sweet delusions upon me with a smile, I pulled my hand away.
I
believe that I owe you an apology.
Still a spell-conjurer, she spoke with the silky hush of a hypnotist.
But
I was still determined to wage war against that force of fate that
was determined to bring us back together... I quashed the commands of
my heart. You
think so…
An apology, I was going to tell her exactly what I thought of her
apology.
I’d
rehearsed this speech a thousand times. Well…,
I
was going to belittle her into the realization that she had never
meant anything to me. A quick verbal assault, then I was going to
walk out the door before she had a chance to reply. Well...
I stuttered again. I’d been waiting for this moment for so long,
I’d memorized every line. But the words… they just wouldn’t
come out.
I
don’t blame you for hating me. Molly
was cutting off my line of attack with guile and gentleness.
I had to laugh
despite myself. The cold, reptilian role I was determined to play was
slipping away. With just a couple of sentences Molly had undermined
my character.
Artful
in speech she charmed. I
haven’t stopped thinking about you since I went away.
Don’t you
mean disappeared?
She
nodded. Disappeared…
I
don’t think I want to get into this.
I put my hands on the table and began to stand.
Molly
sighed.
I really want to make things right with you.
She touched my hand again. Please…
sit down.
I couldn’t do
it. Gripped by paralyzes I couldn’t walk away. Although I thought I
had convinced myself that I didn’t require closure: suddenly my
heart and soul were craving answers. The years that I had lost to her
horse latitudes, in Molly-limbo, it had ruptured something sacred in
me. After so much internal bleeding, it was finally time to heal.
You can’t
undo what’s been done.
Her
face was a portrait of contrition. Her upper lip trembled. You
can’t believe how much I missed you.
I
had to steel myself. Don’t
patronize me. You could have picked up a phone and called?
Pensive
and slow with grief, she drew in a deep breath. You
have to believe me. I wanted to, but…
She didn’t complete her thought.
But?
She
rolled her eyes.
It’s so complicated.
As
far as excuses go, that’s about as convenient as it is cliché.
The sharp edge in my voice conveyed my impatience.
It
was her Louise Brooks moment. Right on cue, she raised hand to her to
her face and brushed away a tear with her fingertip. It
wasn’t supposed to happen. Hurting you wasn’t my intention.
I
shook my head and dismissed her with a vigorous wave of my hand; she
was such a Lulu.
Who said you hurt me? It
was such a stupid thing to say. The wounds were so obvious. Tearing
myself away from her azure gaze, I began to stand up a second time.
I
would dream about you all the time. The
sound of desperation in her tone compelled me to sit back down. Two,
three times a week… you’d haunt my sleeping.
With
the light of the sun shining on her profile, her eyes took on the hue
of a northern lake at sunrise: filled with shimmer and sparkle. I’d
wake up so many mornings with the sensation that I’d spent the
night with you. She
brushed a golden stream of hair off her forehead. It
was maddening. I tried to dismiss it as a guilty shadow. But the
dreams would break through with such frequency… I tried to push
them down, but there was no containing them.
Damn
the dreaded emotions that once tied us together, I shifted in my
seat. I
suppose we could sit here and reminisce about dreams, but it won’t
undo what’s been done. I’m through with dreams.
Molly
stared at her hands. Her voice was such a soft feathery whisper I was
forced to lean forward.
I
should have told you I was engaged.
The hammer blow
to the chain that had enslaved me resonated through my body.
What’s his
name?
She
lifted her head and looked right at me, Ian.
So, let me
guess. You and Ian had a little spat and now you’re looking for a
foil to make him jealous.
No!
Ian and are divorced. The
wells in her eyes, no longer contained, were spilling over with
tears.
Divorced?
I handed her my serviette. She
took
a deep breath and looked skyward. I’ve
fucked everything up haven’t I?
Halleluiah!
I wanted to summon the heavens and call the gods to hear! That’s
a bit of an understatement.
Five
years without a word; that’s a pretty fucked up thing you did to
me.
She
sagged in her chair… defeated. Her voice was beginning to crack. I
had to block you out. I couldn’t be in love with two men at the
same time.
My
voice was spiked with nails. So
why did you even start something with me?
She
stared at me with those Scandinavian blue, ice cold vampire eyes:
Fate.
Fate:
it was a one-word sucker-punch that knocked the wind out of me. Then
she smiled and delivered the second part of a one-two combination.
Following the body blow a head shot rolled off her tongue: Destiny.
I
raised my hand. I
don’t
want your platitudes.
Her
eyes tunneled into mine. As remote and alluring as the moons of
Neptune: gaseous, electric blue poetry. At
the start of my relationship with Ian my heart turned into a pretzel.
Love and compassion were twisted into a tight little knot. She
frowned:
I
couldn’t distinguish between the two. It was an affliction, fooling
me into believing he was the person I was supposed to be with.
I’d been living
through an ice age and now I was finally experiencing the thaw.
She
shook her head. Although
I don’t regret what happened between you and me, I wish that I had
been more honest. She
tilted her head upward and staring at the ceiling she struggled with
her words. It
was cowardly not to tell you the truth. But I didn’t think that we
would fall in love with one another.
That
sure is reassuring. I
shook my head. Angst
and empathy were struggling for control. Emotions, more fierce than
giants, more than giants strong, battled for my heart.
A
couple, sitting two tables to our left, glanced in Molly’s
direction as she fought back tears.
This isn’t easy for me either, she
whispered. I’ve
probably lost you, but I need you to hear the truth.
For the next few moments we just sat in silence while Molly composed
herself. The tug-of-war between the colossuses inside me was grinding
into a stalemate. She took a deep breath.
Initially
you were just supposed to be a gift to myself. A fling: something
that would sizzle hot and fizzle fast.
Her fingers knotted into mine: Before
we slept together I’d hoped that you would turn out to be an
asshole.
I
filled in the blanks: Someone
who’d leave you with a case of post-coital regret.
She
nodded. It’s
easy to forget people you don’t respect.
We both laughed
nervously.
I hate to say
it, but you were the only asshole.
I
know. Boy do I know it. She
was staring at me with those blue lakes summoning me out beyond the
shallow waters. I looked away.
I liked the
fact that you were a runner.
Me
too, we
probably ran fifty times together during the three months we shared.
But
it sure was a challenge for me to keep up with you.
Her frown
brightened.
Do you
remember the first time we met or have you blocked all that out?
I
shook my head:
I’ve tried to forget it, but fear I never will.
A
veil had been pulled back. Molly
enhanced my recollection with her perspective of that perplexing and
beautiful afternoon. There
was deja-vu in the air. I felt it stirring inside me. Do you
remember?
I
nodded my head. We
were walking past the Bragg crypt. We had just kissed. You’d
stopped dead in your tracks. You shook your head and said: ‘Whew,
déjà vu.’
Molly
laughed. You
were the sly fox weren’t you? You reached for my hand and told me
it was just the cemetery talking.’
You laughed
and asked me if this was where I took all my first dates.
Then
you shook your head and pulled me towards you. Molly
wagged her finger at me.
You didn’t
seem to mind.
I kissed you, didn’t I?
You did. I
remember your mouth tasted like ice-cream.
And you were
all salty and sweaty; my knees went weak.
We both laughed.
There was no
turning back after that was there?
Luckily no one
was around.
We
were in a pretty secluded spot.
I blushed.
You made sure
of that, didn’t you?
I nodded my head.
Molly’s
expression turned sorrowful. It
was in the cemetery that I first lied to you.
I
remembered the exact moment. When
you told me why you were in Montreal.
Molly
looked at her watch. I
have to leave for work.
I stared at her.
Can I see you
again?
I frowned.
Please.
Shrugging:
I
don’t know… maybe.
Molly tilted her
head, imploring.
I nodded.
