Feelings that I never felt
1250 Words
It was a very risky idea. At one time in my life, I was fully responsible yet uncompromising in my attitude. But today, I transgressed all my rules as if they didn't matter.
I sighed, and I slipped behind another tree, even closer to her. I could not ignore the flicker of her auburn hair when I approached. My jaws clamped shut. I imagined the fright she would have if she opened her eyes and saw me behind her. I was about to leave, but she turned on her stomach without opening her eyes and an idea flashed through my mind. Quietly I approached, crouched and put my palm gently over her eyes. She shuddered, but did not struggle.
"Vera, have you missed your subway?"
"You're miles away from the truth," I replied, grinning.
"Heck!" she sighed.
I felt her face stretching into a smile. Her hands rested gently on my own. I began to breathe, and my nose noticed the change affected by the sun and fresh air in her scent. The heat would make her perfume even more intoxicating. I was burning with desire. After two days away, the feelings that I had rejected during my mission resurfaced. I took a moment to concentrate and control the sensation of her offered hands.
"Estrange?" Her voice was a melancholic whisper.
My joy was reflected in my voice when I answered. "You're not afraid? It could have been anyone!" She drew me toward her, forcing me to lie down beside her. "What were you thinking?" I asked, devouring her with my eyes.
How had I given leave to my feelings for her during this mission? I did not know. Why had I decided to save only one person? My subconscious had decided. Hmm. And this decision resulted from my desire to keep her. To make every effort to keep her with me. I wanted them to leave me alone. And I hoped they would. That's why I did it - once would not hurt – I followed my orders to the letter.
"I was just thinking about you!" she said and her cheeks changed color.
"Oh? Tell me more?"
"I keep wondering who you are, where you came from, where you will go, when you will leave—" Her voice weakened when uttering the last words. She stretched my hand out in the grass and, with her finger, followed the lines that twined in my palm.
Feelings that I never felt roamed my body, I was afraid I would start to tremble. I decided that the best thing was to continue our conversation: "Before we expand on this subject…" I said, laughing.
"You're not supposed to laugh." The idea that she could figure out who I was made me laugh, despite myself. I clenched my lips. "I'll end up by guessing," she promised. Her fingers went up along my arm and I put my head in the grass, without taking my eyes off her.
And when that time comes, what will she guess?
"I'd rather you didn't." I said seriously.
"Why?" Her fingers were now at my neck and her fragrance enveloped me. I owed it to her to be honest. I smiled and tried to make my words as little threatening as possible.
"What if what you find you don't like? What if I'm not the one you hoped I would be?"
Her eyes widened and her lips parted. "I knew you would try to hide yourself!" she exclaimed.
And it starts! Has she finally understood? Her fingers reached up to my chin, drawing the outline, then went up to my mouth. "Really?" I asked, nearing agony. I closed my eyes with a sigh.
"Yes, you have something to hide. Something strange," she guessed. Her breathing quickened and her heart suddenly panicked. My own ceased. I stopped my breath, waiting. "Estrange is your real name?" she whispered so close to my ear that I could not answer.
Were these my last moments with her? Would she take her hand from mine and run away? If so, could I proclaim my passion to her before she leaves, or it would that make it worse? I looked at her beautiful eyes.
"That's my name. My mother chose it. She knew that my life would be as strange as my coming into this world was."
"Yes, she was right," she whispered, "You are strange." I could distinguish no trace of fear in her eyes. "But I don't think you're wicked."
"Well, what if you are mistaken?" I said in one breath. Obviously I was as nasty as strange. Her hand fell on my lips to stop me from continuing. Her eyes melted into mine and she smiled.
"I know you're not a villain."
How had she guessed my thoughts?
"Perhaps, I do not have your gift, Mr. Estrange, but I have an instinct that I listen to, and it has never let me down."
A gift? Where had she found this idea? I'd never told her anything whatsoever except an allusion about my mother. Hmm.
Was I not happy, now that I knew that she regarded me more than I deserved? I reached my hand up under the pretext of removing a strand of her hair and passed it behind her ear. She did not pull back at all. Truly, she was not afraid of me. Not yet anyway. I took her wrist and kissed it while still looking at her. My thoughts were confused.
"Tell me what you're thinking," she whispered, staring into my eyes.
"I think I don't deserve you." I drew her wrist against my cheek, looking deep within myself to find the secret of my attraction to her. "And you?"
"I think I would like to know you better. Why do you think you don't deserve me? Am I so perfect compared to you? Why are you afraid you'll scare me?" It was time to return to the scary story. "You know, after what happened in the perfume shop, the firefighters put me in the hospital and I was hoping to find you there, but they told me that you had been released only three hours after your arrival. It seemed odd, three hours for all your wounds."
"And?" I got up halfway, leaning on my right arm.
"And I met the fireman who had accompanied me."
"The one who was flirting with you?"
"Yes, the same. And I asked him if he knew where you were."
"Always convenient! These firefighters! Always where you need them when you need them!"
She looked at the grass, suddenly ashamed. I waited until her blush passed and she continued. "He said that you were gone before they had even administered a treatment. When the doctor on call arrived, he had nothing to do but sign release papers. He said he had never seen a case like yours - as fast a recovery - and that you had waited three hours for this signature."
"Yes, but I did not wait for their piece of paper. I tried to reason with myself and not go and search for you. And I see," I pressed her hand "that you were more direct than me. Does that put you on track?"
"No," she said. "Nothing adds up. I've only speculated thus far. And after…" she paused again, and I heard her jaws close.
"What?" I asked. What had she supposed? Had this nightmare held meaning for her?
"I decided that it did not matter."
- Writer
