Infinite Loss (Infinite Series, Book 3)

by L. E. Waters

  “Please do.” I wish she wouldn’t. It’s going to be hard enough to leave her now. I must get out of Richmond as soon as I can. Why did I ever come here?

  “George, what are you doing here?”

  I turn around to see a man stepping up on the front stoop behind me. I move out of the way and bow to him graciously, but once he sees my face, his empty, dull eyes narrow upon me. Her fish-faced brother. His soaplocks hang so long you could tie them.

  “Am I interrupting something?” He studies the distance between our bodies, checks the blush on Elmira’s face, reddening as he stares at us.

  I straighten, knowing I have done nothing that his eyes accuse me of. “I stopped in to say hello to an old friend.” I don’t even acknowledge his receipt of my visit but turn to bow again to Elmira. “Elmira, it was so nice to see you. I hope it will not be years before I am fortunate enough to bump into you again.”

  She struggles to find words for a moment. “It was good to see you too.”

  Her brother only nods to me and continues into her parlor. I step down to move away and she doesn’t close the door immediately. How do you say goodbye to someone you knew so well once? Knowing you won’t see them again for years.

  We force our muscles and bones to obey our heads and not our hearts and say our goodbyes like folk who have met at the market. She begins to shut the door, but her shining eyes watch me, smiling until the very close.

  ∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

  The steamboat chugs by, backing and filling. I follow the river down to a young girl splashing in the water, the sun so bright I can only make out a faint shape.

  “Edgar! Come swim with me,” Elmira calls.

  I run into the water with all my clothes on, frantic to reach her again. The water is warm and my hands remember the ease with which they wrap around her delicate frame. She squeals as I hug her close, but then dive with her under the water. I hear her laughter underwater and we both come up smiling. No one could look more beautiful with the way the water streams down her perfect face. Her eyes mirror the sea-green of the river, so happy to see me. She is mine again, my maiden, untouched by years, untouched by men, untouched by life. But her smile fades with the sun and I look up to see a legion of dark clouds overhead, pulled by an army of angels. A hurricane wind blows from the frigid north and sends scattering dimples across the water to us.

  “What’s happening?” I reach out to Elmira, but she is entranced by the sudden storm and walks out deeper and deeper with the wind.

  “Come back!” I try to swim to her, but large fish circle me, impeding my passage. Three of these fish demons surge toward Elmira, who disappears beneath their fins without even a scream.

  “Elmira!” I yell, kicking the fish and diving into the depths. Through the faint green light, they pull her down to a tomb at the bottom of the river. I swim with every burning breath, but the door is sealed before I can reach it. I pound on the unyielding rock, and scream with my last breath underwater, “Don’t take her again from me!”

  I lie down on top of her tomb and fall asleep by her side.

  ∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

  The next couple of days I bury with spirits beside people I care little for. No one can be company when I long to be with only one other. How cruel life is to play these tricks on me. Some torturous mastermind bored and toying with fragile souls, tempting us constantly to either disgrace ourselves or end our own pain. Gaining little and losing everything.

  Chapter 39

  A few, long months later I venture back to Providence, this time neglecting the laudanum and preferring continual, but moderate, drinking to keep my tremors at bay. I arrive at the Whitmans’ estate holding bouquets of the finest roses I can find for Helen and her mother, but forget them once I see who sits with them in the parlor.

  Helen is streaked with tears and her mother’s stiff face is struck with disgust as Mrs. Ellet’s smug grin triumphs under absurd half-shingled curls.

  I stand there absorbing the moment when Mrs. Whitman says, “You both need no introduction.”

  Helen runs from the room and into the library. Mrs. Whitman calls, “Remember your condition.”

  Mrs. Ellet stands with a gloating smile. “I have given Helen my warning as only a friend can do. I should make my way home now.”

  Helen’s mother pats her bony knee. “You are a good friend, Elizabeth, and I thank you for your concern.”

  I drop the flowers on the ground and hurry to Helen. She lies on the floor, leaning on the edge of the serpentine-back sofa, head buried under her folded arms. Her sobs are wet and sputtered.

  I kneel beside her and stroke her back. “She is a vile, slanderous woman. Trust nothing that she says.”

  “She is one of my oldest friends, Edgar.” She picks her head up and is in need of my handkerchief. I wipe her nose and she rests against the sofa.

  “My heart is heavy, Helen, for I see that your friends are not my own.”

  “Mother has canceled our wedding.”

  “We don’t need her approval. We can take care of everything ourselves.”

  She stares, as if asking herself important questions.

  “I will take care of you, not in the likes of this.” I sweep my hands in the cavernous library, filled with gold-engraved books two stories high. “But we will have our poetry, and enough.”

  She dabs her eyes and hugs me with fervent need. “You must promise me something.”

  “I have learned nothing good can follow that.”

  She laughs but continues, “You must put an end to all these rumors of intemperance.”

  “I would like to.”

  “The only way to do that is to pledge your sobriety.”

  I guffaw. “Complete sobriety? Why does it have to be so severe?”

  “It is the only way.” She lifts her chin in the air and calms her breathing, in the absence of ether.

  I get up to pace. “This is all the fallout of a rumor-mongering busy body. Speak to my friends, those that will testify to my character and disposition.”

  “It is not just Mrs. Ellet’s many accusations. Your problems precede you, wherever you go. Whisperings and measuring, too varied to ascribe them to a single meddlesome person.”

  “Well, I have no problem, and I will prove it to you by simply and abruptly abstaining.”

  A wide smile spreads across her face.

  “Anything to please you.” I help her stand and make our way out. “Let’s leave by the garden. There is too great a chill in the parlor.”

  ∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

  Of course, I don’t abstain privately; it’s only publically that I withhold the compulsion to fill my hand. It’s the reputation I must uphold, and only Muddy knows I still take liberty of the bottle in front of the fire. Muddy is at least happy I contain my drinking to the home and feels Helen is a good influence and blessing since she worries when I return late or don’t come home until morning. She prefers I fall asleep mid-sentence in my chair as she packs for the nearing nuptials and move.

  A letter arrives with the usual handwriting that normally brings a smile to my face, but this time it’s too short:

  Edgar,

  You must come to Providence immediately. Something has come up that needs to be discussed in person.

  Helen

  No dearest, or my darling, Edgar; no fondly or yours, Helen. I hurry through my responsibilities as quickly as I can and jump on the last train to Providence. Their servant brings me to Helen, waiting in the parlor. I go to hug her at once but she puts her hands out to keep my distance.

  “Have a seat, Edgar.”

  I can’t sit where Mrs. Ellet sat, so I decide to stand. “What is this all about? Has your mother—”

  “It is not Mother, but this.” She flaps a letter at me.

  “What?”

  “A letter. Passed to me in the library of all places.”

  “What of this letter?”

  “Rep
orting your insobriety in a most public display.”

  “Who said such a thing? I will battle them myself.”

  “Anonymous, but signed a friend.” She releases the letter and lets it drift to the floor.

  My arms cross as I fight the urge to tear up the letter. “Mrs. Ellet, no doubt.”

  “Have you broken your vow?”

  I choose my words carefully, so I can continue looking her in the eyes. “I have ceased all public drinking.”

  She guffaws. “Is that a confession that you continue to drink privately?”

  Damn her cleverness. “What harm would it do if your greatest concern is of my reputation?”

  “You vowed to abstain completely. You have broken your promise.”

  I sigh. “This is silly, Helen.” I go to her, but she steels herself.

  “And what is this of your rendezvous with your childhood sweetheart?”

  “Elmira?”

  She scoffs. “So you admit to it!”

  “Hold on here, you are spinning in circles so that I cannot keep up with you. What are you accusing me of now?”

  “This letter also informs me of the inappropriate private meeting you and married Sarah Elmira Royster had in Richmond, at a gala of all things, right under the nose of her poor husband.”

  I’m relieved she hasn’t heard of the latest visit. “That occurred long before I meet you, while Virginia was still alive for heaven’s sake.”

  She guffaws, having to sink behind her ether and takes some time before she can reply. “All the worse…How could you pursue a married woman while your wife was perishing?”

  She can hardly look at me. I try to calm down. What was happening here? “No, there was no pursuing. We bumped into each other. It was a surprise to both of us. No wrong doing occurred.”

  “Funny thing how slander seems to swirl around you wherever you go.” Disdain is thick in her graying eyes.

  “That is not my fault. I have no idea why others make me the point of their malice. I have made some enemies it appears along the way.” I attempt to console her once more and she gets up to step away from my advance. “Have faith in me and my truth.”

  “Even though you admit to breaking my promise?”

  “It was a misunderstanding.”

  “It matters not the reason why you broke the promise, only that you have broken it.” Silence circles the room, finding no safe place to land.

  Finally, she spits, “Do you have feelings for this, other Sarah?”

  I open my mouth but find no words. How can I explain Elmira?

  She crumples into her handkerchief.

  “I didn’t even say anything!”

  She screams, “Your hesitation speaks volumes!”

  “Allow me to explain—”

  “Goodbye, Edgar!”

  Her mother, waiting at some doorjamb nearby, rushes out with two of her largest servants. “Get out of here immediately.”

  “I am not leaving until I can sort things out!” I stamp my foot, wishing I can plant it deeply in the cherry grain, but her goons lift me under my flailing arms and drag me to the front door, nearly slamming it on my fingers.

  I bang my fists against the mahogany, caring little of the pain, slinking down with my forehead on the wood, tears running down the neck of my shirt. Helen never comes.

  Chapter 40

  I wait until I get back to New York to drink; the last thing that I want is to content them with reassuring rumors. At least New York is packed with so many like me after hours—I don’t stand out here in such a miserable crowd. I don’t remember walking home, but by some miracle, I wake up in my bed. By the shadows under her eyes, I deduct the miracle is no less than to Muddy’s efforts. She serves me eggs and beaten biscuits in silence, but I can tell questions are on the tip of her tongue.

  “The engagement is off.”

  She slinks into her chair. “I feared it was such.”

  Strange. “Don’t you want to know why?”

  “Why?”

  But I read through her attempt. I push back from the table. “Do you think I have a problem as well?”

  “It isn’t for me to say, but maybe the doctor—”

  “The whole world is against me.” I get up and reach for my hat and bag. I don’t even bother unpacking.

  “Where are you going? It’s freezing outside.”

  “If everyone thinks I’m a drunk then I might as well be one.” I open the door, but she catches it before I can slam it.

  “All I want is for you to check with the doctor, is all,” she calls after me, as I try to pull my hat down as far as I can over my stinging ears.

  I soon stare into the bottom of my bottle, after the last skinny drops run out, wishing I can crawl inside, be put up on a shelf, and forgotten about. I sit at an empty table, in an empty bar in and empty city, festering in an empty world. There is more beyond the veil than remains here.

  The months pass without my permission. All of my energy goes to dragging myself to work every day, doing my duties as the headaches decrease and the tremors increase, until I warm my usual chair in my usual corner of the bar. Muddy quits discussing the problem and I only return for breakfast in the morning, although the color fades fast from the hair around her face and the faint lines I’m used to sink further. It’s hard to tell if my drinking causes my illness or if it cures it. The moment I’m sober, shakes, fevers, chills, and stomach ailments return until I assuage them again with the bottle.

  “Sartain sent you a letter a week ago, and I decided it was my obligation to such a friend to open it for you.”

  “Oh, yes. The letter.”

  “He insists on you visiting him in Philadelphia with your latest work.”

  Work? I pull my journal out from under my coat, astonished that I do in fact have a few pieces I can sell to him.

  “I think a trip to Sartain would be good for you. Do you feel up to it?”

  I’d rather rush to Elmira in Richmond, but I can’t in this condition. What would she think of this? I pick up Virginia’s old looking glass off the table and see the gaunt, faded shadow of me stare back. She studies me closely and jumps when I say, “Of course, I’m up to it. Why on earth should I not be?”

  She knows better to question further and sweeps up the plates for washing.

  Feeling guilty that I scared her, I soften my tone. Even though my head throbs fiercely, I forget she can’t hear it. “I’m sorry, Muddy. I detest upsetting you and I hate to be your burden. I wish I could be a better son for you.”

  She turns with the look I’m sure my mother would have given to me, had she still been here. “You are all I could have ever hoped for.”

  Compliments are only valuable if you believe them.

  “I will go to Philadelphia at the close of the day and I will return much improved.”

  She seems to accept it and happily packs my valise for me to take to work.

  ∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

  It’s a hot early June day, made all the hotter by trying to keep away from my flask. The train is suffocating with the smells of sweaty men in woolen suits and even with all the windows open, there isn’t sufficient air.

  “Blasted heat,” I say out loud, drawing a few quizzical looks.

  I sweep the hat off my head, wishing I could remove the summer coat and pull out the forbidden refreshment. I will only have a few sips.

  ∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

  I reopen my eyes to a stone-walled room—cell, more likely by the bars on the windows. What happened between the drink and now? My head aches, not the usual throbbing ache, but with an added heavy bruising pain on the exterior. My sight blurs once again with a sensation I’m fainting. A darkness covers my sight.

  ∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

  I call through the bars. “Help! Please help me.” It’s minutes before someone returns in uniform, a policeman. He grasps his baton in one hand and questions me without words, giving me a cold look as if e
verything in this place annoys him.

  “Please, tell me where I am.”

  “In jail.”

  “Where? Which state am I in?”

  I obviously humor him. “Pennsylvania, for Pete’s sake.”

  “Philadelphia?”

  Now he goes back to bothered. “Yes, and keep quiet until someone comes for you.”

  He walks away, but I beg. “Who? Who will come for me? What have I done?”

  The door slams and I hear coughs and chatter down the jail cells. My clothes are dirty, as though I’d stood in the rain and they dried. I’m horribly thirsty. I look around for water and find a small pitcher beside a commode, filled with watery stool. Mine? I don’t even remember going. The smell makes my already queasy stomach turn and I get sick in the corner. Men yell out profanities down the hall in response to my retching. Did I hurt someone? What could I have done to end up in this hell?

  ∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

  A prim-looking man wakes me with a quiet clearing of the throat. “Edgar Poe?” he reads from a file. “The poet?”

  I must have fallen asleep again. I clamber to my feet. “Yes, that’s me.”

  His nose turns up at the smell as I near. He takes a handkerchief from his breast pocket to cover his nose. “I’ve been sent from the mayor.”

  “Please tell me why I’m here. I have no memory.”

  “Public drunkenness.”

  “That is impossible. I only had a drop.” He gives me the look that so many seem to give me lately.

  “Police found you unconscious, bleeding, and reeking of alcohol, eight days ago.”

  Eight days ago?

  Then he softens considerably. “Although, due to your…fame, the mayor wants to see this matter quickly and quietly taken care of, without the usual fine.”

  I release a stale breath. “Thank you. Will you also locate my valise for me?”

  He nods, ignoring my handshake through the bars, and goes off to track down its whereabouts. The tremors begin and set me to quaking. My thoughts go in out of dream and waking, I lose track of which is reality. Memories of the horrible visions flash through my fevered brain. I curled up in a ball on the filthy mattress, trying not to lose my mind but feel it slipping away between my fingers.