Ever since I had seen Alfred Hitchcock’s eerie and suspenseless 'Vertigo' as an adult, I had been aware that it is not the mere human being that we obsess on, but the idealized image that we have of them. Looking at the photos from the Gala in the Venice News, I could see all these other people who looked so conventional and uninteresting. They seemed to be milling about and posing in some kitschy vacuum, going for a sexy look, and chasing after some stereotypical idea of success. In the end, they all looked alike, except for Bethany. But was she really that different from them? How would I know? I hardly knew her, except for this wonderful gift of herself for a couple of hours one night in Venice, California, when she happened to be needy and probably curious.
Then one day, I happened to be driving down the hill at sundown, listening to the radio in my car, that last bastion of privacy. They were playing a song that I had heard only a couple of times before. I loved the song, and could not help but start singing along full blast.
As I was singing and driving, the clouds suddenly opened up onto a patch of purple sky with a giant moon reflected in the waters of the San Francisco Bay.
It was not dark yet, but the streetlights had come on, responding to the splendid moon with glitter while the giant tsunami of fog rolled over the hill.
The thought of Bethany, loving, tender as she had been that night in Venice, wove itself into the music and came back to me, so real and intense that my heart started beating faster. It dawned on me that whatever her original motives might have been, she had given of herself without fear, without defences and with a real purity of intent.
Then I heard the words of Francesca, my friend, my long lost love, whispering right next to my ear: “if it stays with you, amore, you know it was good. You know it was true”.
For an instant, I was able to grasp the possibility that what Bethany and I had given each other might not require repeated encounters in order to remain. It would last because it lived in each of us, it was our own, and we had opened that door for each other. Maybe it was the circumstances, or the spirit that we both harboured that night; perhaps it was just one of those unworldly connections that happen sometimes between strangers, but we had inadvertently shared a moment blessed with a view of a world beyond our selves.
At least, it was like that for me, and I can only hope it was the same for her. I have never read the 'Ultimate Orgasm', but I could see clearly for the first time that the magic and mystery of sex could at times offer us - if we are open and mindful - a miniature glimpse into the essence of life itself.
My infatuation with Bethany remains to this day, albeit in a more restrained, almost spiritual way. I still grieve for any kind of link between us. It would be good and settling to know how her life is going, share in her happiness, or be there for friendship and comfort when needed.
As things stand, I will never know who she really is, whom she chooses to be in her life of every day, and maybe it is better this way.
When I look back at our brief moments together, I see nothing but love. She found it again where she wanted to find it, and I found it deep within myself … to keep. My new mission is to nurture it and finally create within and around me the good life Francesca had lived and talked about.
The first step was to recognize that my attraction to this young woman who was beautiful, brave, and probably a representation of a self I would have liked to be, was not about despair or death.
As it turns out, it was all about life … Aschenbach be damned!
For me, it is just beginning …
THE END
Travels Through Love and Time Page 14