by Lola Swain
“His name, my lover, was Luca,” she said and sat down next to me on the side of the bed. “He was very handsome and extremely rich, of course, and wildly kinky.”
Céline took a sip of her coffee and licked her full, red-stained lips and giggled as she looked across the room. I could tell she was thinking of Luca and his cream fetish. Céline seemed the type of person who gave you one hell of a story whenever she opened her mouth to say something.
“What did he do?” I said.
“Well,” she said and moved close to me, “Luca was most obsessed with all things tactile. He loved, more than anything, the feel of things. So, every night before we made love, he set a large, red bowl filled with cream at the far corner of his bedroom in front of his stone fireplace. He undressed me completely and pushed me to my knees on his stone floor. Crawl, little kitten, he commanded.”
“And he watched you crawl naked across the floor to the cream? Weren’t you embarrassed?”
“Embarrassed? Oh no, Sophia. It was a real turn-on. The power this man possessed to make me do this was something to feel. I was no shrinking violet, obviously, but as soon as Luca said crawl, crawl I did. And I crawled not because I had to because he was my lover, but because I wanted to, because he was my lover. Do you understand the difference?”
“Yes,” I said after a moment. “So what happened once you got to the bowl?”
“When I got to the bowl, Luca stood beside me and gripped the back of my neck and pushed my face toward the cream. He ordered me to lap at it as a kitten would. Then, he pulled me up by my hair and poured the cream down my naked body. He rubbed my skin, really feeling it. His cock got so hard by the sensation of his hands gliding across my skin, wet with the cream,” Céline said and smiled.
“And that was it? He just wanted to feel your cream-covered skin?”
“Oh, that was never it,” Céline smiled and bit her bottom lip. “Then came my prize.”
“Did you love him?”
“Love? Well, I supposed I loved him as much as I could. I had a great many lovers, you see. Tell me, have you loved many men?”
“Me? No,” I said and looked down at the pillow James slept on. “Just one.”
“Only one?” Céline said and wrinkled her nose. “But James said you were a model. I would think you travelled and saw many things.”
“It wasn’t like that for me,” I said.
“What was it like for you?”
“I thought it was a waste of time. I never saw it as a career, but something I hoped would make my parents proud. When I think about it now, I realize I did not appreciate the opportunities. I didn’t make the most of the experiences.”
“You are very lovely, Sophia,” Céline said and slipped her shoes off, revealing her perfect, manicured toes painted in glossy scarlet. “In what way did you not make the most of things?”
“I just wanted everything to hurry up and be done,” I said.
“You did?” Céline said. “Why?”
“Because I needed to find a husband,” I said. “I thought that would fix me.”
“Were you broken?”
“Oh man, was I ever,” I said and laughed. “Shattered, really.”
“And the husband was the glue,” Céline said and took my empty coffee cup and set it on the bedside table.
“Exactly. I thought that if I only had a husband, I would be fixed. I wanted the modeling to hurry up and be done because the faster I was stationary to find said husband, the sooner I felt I would be fixed. Silly, huh?”
“Yes,” Céline said and frowned, “and sad.”
I stared at Céline as she rested against the quilted headboard and closed her eyes. Everything about her, her makeup, her hair, her body, was perfection. She looked as if she was drawn; created by a master artist in a castle workshop in Milan.
“I bet you never felt the need for a man’s approval,” I said as I leaned back.
“Me?” She said and opened her eyes and turned her head toward me. “I learned when I was a little child, never to confuse sex with sentiment. It may have hardened my heart in life, but it also protected me from one or two tragedies.”
“I’ve never been that courageous.”
“And now?” Céline said and stretched her body down the bed.
“Now, I’m learning to be brave.”
“Good, you will be fine,” Céline said and smiled.
“How did you come to be here?”
“Ah, the big question,” Céline said and giggled. “I came to be here on December 12, 1954. I was, I am, twenty-eight-years-old and I flew to Boston from Paris to meet a man, Adrian Costa. He was the closest thing to mortal love I ever knew.”
“And he did this to you?”
“Oh no, love, I did this to myself,” Céline said and turned her palms up and exposed her wrists.
“You—”
“Slit my wrists?” Céline said and grinned. “Yes. I didn’t follow my own rule and confused sex with sentiment. I came to Boston because I loved Adrian Costa and I thought that he loved me too. Do you know why I felt this?”
“Because he told you he did,” I said and stared at Céline’s wrists.
“Exactly…because he told me he did. But, he did not. At least that’s what his wife told me when I showed up to surprise him at his Beacon Hill brownstone as she held their child.”
“What a rat.”
“Yes, a great, big rat! So, I ran down the sidewalk and jumped into a cab, the scene would have been made more tragic if it was pouring rain. I was a sobbing mess. I told the cab driver to take me to Cape Cod because of its relationship to Marilyn Monroe and Joe DiMaggio.”
“Wait, back up,” I said. “What in the world does Cape Cod have to do with Marilyn Monroe and Joe DiMaggio?”
“Oh, it’s so embarrassing,” Céline said and covered her face with her hands. “Well, at the time I was obsessed with the relationship between Marilyn Monroe and Joe DiMaggio. It was during this time I was involved with Adrian Costa. Marilyn Monroe was the quintessential sex object, no? And DiMaggio, well, he was a brute, but strong and commanding. I saw myself and Adrian as similar figures to Marilyn and Joe.
“I read in Life magazine that after a particularly nasty argument, Joe DiMaggio chased Marilyn to Cape Cod. The silly girl in me felt that if I was on the same hallowed ground, Adrian would chase me as Joe did Marilyn. I wanted him to chase me, you see?”
“As crazy as it sounds, that makes perfect sense to me,” I said and smiled.
“We are cut from the same romantic cloth, I suppose,” Céline said and rested her head on my shoulder. “Of course, it would be better had I known that Marilyn divorced Joe not nine months after they married, but alas, I clung to the ideal of them in my starry-eyed way. So, I told the cab driver to take me to Cape Cod and he told me the Battleroy was the only place on the Cape open in December.”
“And, had they not had a room, you would still be—”
“Now, I don’t know about that, Sophia,” Céline said and smiled. “Maybe I would still be alive and maybe I wouldn’t. I only know one thing for sure. On that night, I did not wish to die.”
“Then why did you slit your wrists?”
“Because, I just wanted to get Adrian Costa’s attention,” Céline said. “When I took the razor blade out of the shaver in the bathroom, I thought that I would just make little scratches, deep enough to get me hospitalized, but certainly not deep enough to make me dead. I dressed in a beautiful robe and did my hair and make-up perfectly so I would look beautiful when they found me. What I did not count on was losing all of my blood so quickly, the cuts I made were just too deep.”
“It was all a mistake?”
“Yes, it was all a mistake. When I awoke and rose after the life left my body, I was so scared. I did not understand why I could see my body, as if watching a movie. I thought it all must have been a terrible nightmare but, when I pinched my arm, I felt it.”
“I know how that feels,” I said and sighed.
“Of course you do. But then Patrick came for me and soon I understood what happened. And that’s my story. And now, you must tell me yours. Your husband did this to you?”
“His lover struck the blow, but he was right there next to her,” I said and twisted the sheets around my wrist.
“I’m sorry, do you not want to talk about this?”
“It’s okay. I just get embarrassed when I think about it. Like, how could I be so stupid, you know? I forced myself to fit into Brandt and I forced Brandt to fit into me.”
“Yes, when we do that when we are desperate.”
“I was. I hadn’t just aligned myself with the idea of making Brandt my husband, I was reliant on him as if he were my host or a Siamese twin. I was so desperate, I didn’t see the biggest lie of all.”
“What was the biggest lie of all?”
“That it was all a trick,” I said and smiled as Céline’s eyes got wide. “He never had any intention of fixing me. He only wanted to break me more.”
“Look, Sophia,” Céline said and slid off the bed, “no one knows men more than me. No one knows different types of men more than me. A man like that would never have been able to fix you even if that bastard wanted to.”
“I suppose, but I still should have seen it.”
“And would you have believed it if you had or would you have made excuses, once again trying to fit something that was too big into a hole too small?”
“Probably,” I said and closed my eyes. “Yes, you are right.”
“Of course I am. Now, it’s time for your special bath,” Céline said and walked to the table by the window. “We have rose water and lavender oil and vanilla and honey and champagne.”
“Sounds like a cake,” I said.
“It’s a special concoction that everyone bathes in the night of their Ceremony. It is very magical.”
Céline drew warm water into the large claw-foot tub in the master bath. She poured the contents of each vial slowly into the water while she whispered a prayer or incantation I could not understand and held my hand as I stepped into the bath. She massaged my scalp until it tingled and washed my long hair with a mixture of vetiver infused olive oil soap and ylang-ylang.
“Just relax and breathe,” Céline said as she massaged my shoulders with lavender oil.
“Céline, will I ever be at peace?”
“Is that what you want…peace?”
“Yes,” I said and tried to calm my breathing, “peace and revenge.”
“Then it shall be,” Céline said and kissed the back of my head. “Sophia will find peace and will be imbued with the courage to get her revenge. So mote it be.”
“I hope so,” I said and took Céline’s hand as she helped me out of the tub.
“What are you thinking so seriously of now?” Céline said as she dried my body with a large bath towel.
“I was just thinking of your story, Céline,” I said as I looked into the bathroom mirror. “It’s really a tragedy.”
“All of the stories are tragedies,” Céline said as she dried my hair with a black chenille towel. “The Universe is full of tragedy and irony.”
“Like the irony of a chef dying of food poison?”
“Exactly like poor, grumpy Heinrich,” Céline said and frowned. “But it is nothing new. Greeks, Romans, the English all entertained one another with tragedy. Look at the tragedy of you being killed by someone you tried to force into loving you and finding the love here you should have demanded for yourself in life.”
“Yes, true,” I said and smiled. “What about Patrick, do you love him?”
Céline smiled and wrapped her arms around herself.
“Oh, boy, I love Patrick more than I ever thought possible. Yet another one of the Universe’s ironies.”
Céline dressed me in a beautiful blood-red silk robe and placed a wreath of poppies on my head.
“Lovely, Sophia,” Céline said and kissed me once on each cheek. “Nyx is here and it is time.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“You will have many sisters and brothers soon. You are no longer alone, Sophia.”
“I feel very nervous,” I said.
“Don’t be,” Céline said as she picked up a large, glass curio box from the side table by the front door of the suite. “Everyone is there for you. Come.”
Céline and I ran down the hall and slipped behind the side door as we walked down spiral flights of stone steps from the top of the tower to the basement of the hotel. We stopped at a door that led out to the rose garden and she hugged me.
“Don’t be scared, little one. Hades is your Father now,” Céline said.
“One moment your life is a stone in you, and the next, a star.”
Rainer Maria Rilke
Céline opened the side door from the basement and the cool night air washed over my body as she led me toward the garden. James met us at the wrought iron gate and opened it for us. Céline walked ahead and placed the curio box on top of the stone altar. She kissed the top of the box and stood with the others.
“You look beautiful, Sophia,” James said and kissed me on the cheek.
“You’re here,” I said and threw my arms around his neck.
“Of course I’m here, silly,” James said and wrapped his arms around my waist. “I’m not some teenager who is going to stand you up for prom. Come now, I will present you to Adelaide.”
I scanned the crowd and looked at the others. They wore all different styles of dress and looked like cast members starring in a production about the history of fashion. They all looked back at me with kind eyes and love.
A handsome man dressed in a very old-fashioned suit walked up to me.
“Hello, Sophia, I am Jonas Dashiell. Welcome.”
Jonas took my hand into his and bowed. He pressed his warm lips to the back of my cold hand and I shivered. When he stood, he pulled a long knife from the inside of his suit coat and walked over to the table and placed the knife on top of the curio box.
Adelaide stood before us looking milkier and more beautiful than she ever had. Deep fissures cracked their way along her stone as she smiled and blinked.
“Good evening, everyone,” Adelaide said.
“Good evening,” they said in unison.
“We gather here tonight to commit our sister Sophia’s soul to our sacred land. Who presents Sophia Pearson-Therrault to us?” Adelaide said.
“I do,” James said and led me toward Adelaide.
“Sophia,” Adelaide said, “are you ready to accept us as your brothers and sisters?”
“I am,” I said.
I smiled as all the others clapped.
“Sophia,” Adelaide said, “are you willing to accept Hades as your father and Thanatos as your new God?”
“Yes.”
“The book, Jonas,” Adelaide said.
Jonas Dashiell grabbed the knife off the top of the curio box and held it up over his head as the others extended their arms to the sky. He brought the knife in front of his face and kissed the blade. Then he opened the curio box and pulled a thick, leather-bound book from the box and walked back me. He opened the book to a specific page, its place held by a thick strap of black leather and pointed to a passage with the tip of the knife. The words looked as if they were carved into the heavy, dingy parchment with a chisel.
James released my hand and walked a few steps away from me. I turned to face him and he smiled.
“It’s okay,” James said. “I’m right here, but you must do this alone.”
I turned back and looked at Adelaide. She smiled at me, encouraging me to read the passage as Jonas tapped the book with the blade of the knife.
“Sophia,” Adelaide said, “read the words and proclaim your commitments to us, your Father and your God.
“Okay,” I said and cleared my throat. “Sorry, I’m a little nervous.”
The others murmured words of encouragement as I studied the words before me.
“Go ahead,”
Jonas said and smiled. “He is waiting.”
I looked into Jonas’ eyes and then around the garden. I looked over my shoulder at James and he winked at me.
“Hades, Father of the Underworld,” I said as I read the passage, “it is you who watch over the spirits of the deceased. It is you who are the liberator of justice, you who have kept the peace. We spirits are at your mercy and your word is Law.”
I paused and looked up at Adelaide and her stone cracked as she looked down at me.
“On your knees, Sophia,” Adelaide said.
I sunk to my knees and Jonas knelt in front of me and placed the book in his lap. He stabbed at the earth with the knife and brought the blade out of the soil. He touched the tip of the blade to my forehead and ran it lightly down the center of my face to my chin.
“Continue now, Sophia,” Adelaide said as Jonas stuck the knife in the dirt and held the book up.
“The angrier you become, Father,” I said, “the more dangerous you are. I plead to thee, bearer of sorrow, aid me in my journey with all the darkness of my heart.”
“So mote it be,” Adelaide’s voice boomed as more of her stone chipped off and rained down atop Jonas and I. “Long live Hades, the God of the Underworld!”
“Long live Hades!” the others said.
Jonas bowed his head and rested his forehead on the pages of the book and James came up behind me and picked me up and held me in his arms.
“Long live Hades and long live Sophia,” James said and kissed me.
James carried me over to Adelaide and held me up to her face.
“He is the fire within your heart, Sophia,” Adelaide said, “for it is He who stands in the darkness bright. He is the untamed wind, the fury of storm and the passion in your soul. On swift night wings, it was He who laid you at His feet to be reborn and return. It is He who teaches you the secrets of death and peace and it is He who will support your revenge. Now, go forth and dance and sing, live and smile, for this is your life.”
“Thank you,” I said.
James carried me to the stone altar and laid me upon it.
“Is it time for cake and ice cream?” I said.
“Almost,” James said and chuckled as he stroked my hair. “The Gods will come into you now, Sophia.”