Slowly wrapping her arms around me, she kissed me softly on the lips. Closing my eyes, I held her a little tighter, melting in the warmth of her embrace. For a moment or two, my pain and disappointment slipped away, like sand in the top of an hourglass.
Her arms slipping from mine, I opened my eyes, the gentle evening breeze brushing the cheek that a moment before had pressed against hers. She disappeared like she never existed at all.
“Hey Kat … wait,” I murmured with a sob, “If I am free, why do I feel so lost?” But the only answer was the sound of the sand rustling softly in the breeze. Wiping the tears from my face, I gazed heavenward in the twilight darkness as if I might find her hiding in the stars.
But the evening had cooled since the setting of the sun, so I wrapped my shawl over my shoulders to ward off the chill. Not knowing what else to do, I began to walk into the night.
In high school my nickname was Miss Runner Up. Not surprisingly, the boy who took me to the senior prom was rejected by two other girls before inviting me.
I am the woman that men settle for when the women they really want won’t have them. I’m the one they marry and have children with – Mrs. Second or Third Best. I’m the one they will cheat on because women like me will always take them back.
But it’s no easier to run away from my circumstances than to run away from myself. When the night grew colder, I began to wonder if I made a mistake. I don’t know what I will do if this fails.
The day seemed so promising when it began. Although I had not heard from Orfy in more than a month, he called to tell me he had planned a surprise for my birthday.
I’m thinking maybe a fancy dinner in downtown Minneapolis, Murray’s or Jax Café, but instead he had paid in advance for a private séance with Madame Hekatos.
Postings on Facebook gushed – an evening at one of her group sessions was exhilarating, jaw dropping, terrifying. Best entertainment value in the Twin Cities. But a private one? How had he scored that?
It hardly matters now that I have disappeared. But still, I wonder fearfully if he reacted the way Hey Kat promised once the smoke in the room cleared.
It began innocently enough. The receptionist led us into a dimly lit meeting room where he seated us at a small table with a crudely woven lace covering.
Half hidden by shadow, faces peered creepily from dark paintings as a grandfather clock chimed the hour in the gloom. Although I was already spooked, it soon got a lot worse. Before long I wished we had eaten at Murray’s instead.
When Madame’s Hekatos entered, she carried a single candle that she placed on the table. As the candle sputtered and popped the weak lighting grew even darker, her eye color turning from a golden amber to black, her heavy white mane making her seem more ghost than human in the gloom.
The intensity of her frank gaze felt like a violation, as if she was looking into me rather than at me.
The receptionist entered the room with a steaming pot and placed saucers and cups on the table before pouring tea and leaving again.
Lifting her cup, she sipped with a sigh of pleasure. Following her example, the tea surprised me. It tasted mildly sweet, its pleasant fragrance lingering in the air. As I returned the cup to the saucer, I noticed that with the lights dimmed the design on the lace now appeared almost three-dimensional.
Towers of foxglove woven amongst unspooling fronds of fern shimmered like a tiny mirage, the lace that had seemed so plain when I sat down now ornate enough for white gloves and high tea.
Continuing to regard me with her hard stare, she did not speak, and I grew more and more uncomfortable till she turned her gaze to Orfy. When she finally said, “Shall we begin?” I finched with surprise.
“Sometimes people pay me for a thrill or a scare, sometimes because they can’t let go of their dead, and sometimes because the dead won’t let go of them. Why are you here?”
Though she turned to me when she said it, Orfy answered for both of us. “Since the last two don’t apply, I guess we’re here for the thrill.” Continuing to thoughtfully gaze at me, I stared mutely back.
Just because the dead won’t let go of me did not mean I wanted to do something about it. At that moment, my only interest was in getting it over quickly.
“So … when do we start?” Orfy said, mildly irritated.
“Can you hold that thought?”
“Excuse me?”
She pushed her chair back and picked up a large display case resting behind her and turned on the lamp within it. “Do you know what this is?”
“An old sword?”
“An Iberian cavalry sword. It’s over two millennium old … very rare.”
“Not very impressive now, is it?”
“Maybe you should look a little closer.” He leaned forward with a sarcastic squint. She did not seem to care or notice.
“I want you to travel with me into the deep past,” she said in a husky voice, “see the sword freshly forged, it’s edge so finely honed that it would cut to the bone with the tiniest flick of your wrist.
"Imagine gripping its hilt in your hand, its blade gleaming brightly in the sun. You’re a wily old warrior atop your steed on the flank of a phalanx of infantry, your face and arms scarred by many battles, your shield on your left arm and this sword unsheathed in your right.
"Feel the terror of the endless waiting, your adrenaline helplessly flowing in anticipation of the frenzy of combat.”
But he did not reply, his mouth open just enough to form a small ‘o.’ Grasping his elbow I murmured “Are you OK?” but he continued to stare silently at the sword. After turning off the case’s light and quietly returning it to the floor behind her, she turned back to him.
“Can you hear me?”
“I can hear you,” he answered in a whispering moan.
Facing me she smiled and said – “Have another sip of tea, my dear.” My hand trembled violently when I lifted the cup to my lips.
“What’s … what’s happened to him?” I finally stammered.
“He’s in a hypnogogic state – between awake and asleep.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to talk to you not him.”
“What?”
“Now … where were we? Oh yes, I asked you why you are here. So why are you?”
“He brought me.” I gestured unhappily at Orfy. It took a genuine effort on my part to keep from bolting from the room. “I didn’t ask to come. A surprise birthday present.”
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