Aris Returns

by Devin Morgan

  “Sarah, we’ve talked about this in session. I don’t think you’re afraid to love. I just don’t think you know what it is. You sure weren’t in love with Jeff. He was so crazy about himself that there was no room for anyone else to really care about him. He didn’t need it. Or you.”

  “So, am I afraid to be needed?”

  “I don’t think that’s it either. Your clients need you.”

  “Yeah but that’s different. There’s no two-way intimacy. There’s a professional wall that protects me from that.”

  “Look, you’ve spent most of your life trying to please other people. Your mother, for instance. Anything she wanted, you did. Ballet. Gymnastics. Anything she asked you to do whether you liked it or not, you did without ever saying a word. And then we have your father. A good provider but I wouldn’t say he was the most loving man in the world. Little girls need their father’s love, their assurance. All he did was tell you everything you did wrong. If you got an A he wanted to know why it wasn’t an A+”

  “Not really . . . “

  “Come on, I’m not saying he didn’t care for you. I’m sure he did but he didn’t instill you with a whole lot of self-confidence. You’ve built that all by yourself and you should be proud. When you married Jeff, you just married your father in another body. Many, many women do that, just like men marry the embodiment of their mothers. It’s just what humans do.

  “What I’m saying is you have never really felt love. To be loved and to give love in an adult relationship is something that is foreign to you.”

  Sarah began to speak but Bonnie raised her hand to silence her companion. “I know you love your friends but it isn’t the same. So the answer to your question is no, I don’t think you’re afraid of love. I simply don’t think you’ve found it yet.”

  The chimes rang and the lights of the theatre flickered to announce the beginning of Act II.

  Bonnie leaned closer to Sarah and whispered, “Don’t worry, you just have to find the right man and love will come to get you.”

  CHAPTER 7

  “Where are you?” She flipped on the recorder. She forgot to turn it on at the beginning of the session and she didn’t want to miss a word.

  #

  CARLOS HAVARRO, transcript, session 4, March 5

  I am in a tavern in a poor part of London with George Boleyn. His drunken friends left us to stagger back to court but he was not about to leave while there was still ale in the cups. I stayed his companion to watch him as I was bid by Lady Anne. The fire burned low and all of the tables were empty save for the two of us and a few laughing men in the back of the room.

  He spoke to me. “So Aris, it seems you are intrigued by the cousin of Thomas Wyatt. Is that so?”

  I toyed with my cup of ale resting on the battered table before I answered. “She is lovely.” Unable to tell the truth of my affection for her, I hoped to evade any further questions.

  “Is that all, you just find her lovely? I see you staring at her at court. And,” he chuckled, “she seems quite taken with you.”

  “I find her wit as well as her face appealing, nothing more.” I downed the amber liquid in one large gulp.

  George raised his eyebrows and leaned forward to speak. The door of the tavern opened and banged against the wall, caught by a gust of wind. We turned to see who entered. I was surprised to see a pretty young woman of common stock with an infant in her arms step from the cold night into the dim room. It was very late and unsafe in that part of London, quite unusual for a woman to be in the streets alone.

  She stood still as her eyes adjusted to the light. She seemed to recognize George who abruptly stood as she began to move toward our table. In his drunken stupor, he knocked the bench on which he was seated to the floor.

  His voice was soft and vicious. “Remove her. I do not wish to speak with her.”

  She moved to stand in front of him. “Your child, your son.” She held the babe to him.

  “Not my child, you whore.” He pushed her and reeling from too much drink, made his way from the tavern.

  The woman sat, holding the babe close in her arms; her gentle sobs were muffled as she buried her face in the blankets. Her clothes were tattered yet clean and her hair combed. As I approached her, I noticed her fingernails were trimmed and her hands were scrubbed.

  “Madam?”

  She stifled her tears and as she looked up at me I could see the moisture on her cheeks shimmering in the light of the single candle resting on the table. She was very young and fragile.

  “What is your plight, madam?” My question was driven by my promise to Mistress Anne to protect the name of Boleyn but as the maid told her story, my heart opened with compassion for her ordeal.

  She was silent for just a moment. When she spoke, it was in a whisper. “I was a serving maid in a tavern much like this one. Master Boleyn and his friends came into the tavern often and were always generous with those of us who served them.

  “And then,” she paused as if in physical pain, “there came a night when they lingered until almost dawn drinking much more than usual. They were hardly able to stand to walk when the proprietor finally bade them leave. Laughing loudly, they staggered to the door and made their way into the earliest light of daybreak. I cleared their table and began to scrub the dark stains of the spilled wine as the barkeep bid me goodnight. He left the tavern and I was alone.” Her eyes became frightened as she recalled the memory.

  “Go on,” I gently placed my hand on her arm as I spoke.

  “The door slammed open and Master Boleyn stood in a silhouette, the rising sun behind him. His laughter was frightening as he lurched across the room toward me.” She clasped the child closer to her breast and hid her face in its blanket. “He ripped my bodice. I tried to cover my bosom with the tattered cloth but he pulled it away from me. His laugh was cruel as he jerked me to him, his rancid breath vile on my face. A horrifying awareness came over me as I knew his intention. He was blind to my struggles and my strength was no weapon against his assault. He cursed as he struck me then tore my skirt to bare my thighs. His weight was heavy on me. He… he violated me.” Sobs overtook her and her small shoulders trembled as she fought for control. When she had silenced her weeping, she raised her eyes to meet mine.

  “This child is his. My beautiful son is the descendent of Master Boleyn.”

  “And what do you want of Master Boleyn, madam?” I realized that this woman and this babe were of no import to the Boleyn family yet my heart was sore at her trouble, little more than a child herself.

  “I cannot return to work in the tavern. I feel terror in the presence of men who are loose with drink.” Again, a moment of silence, she inhaled a deep breath as she gathered her courage. At last, she spoke. “I ask for nothing more of Master Boleyn than assistance in finding a position so that I am able to feed and clothe my child, yet he shuns me.” She spoke through her grief, “I must find a way to care for my child.”

  I felt revulsion at the actions of the young lord and vowed to assist the pitiful mother. “No longer fear for the safety of your child. I will find a position for you. The royal kitchen is always in need of scullery workers. You will have food and shelter and a small wage. You will have a post for as long as you choose.”

  Her eyes shone with gratitude. “Thank you sir.” She looked at her baby then met my eye. “I am forever indebted to you.”

  I assured her she owed me no debt. I asked where she lodged. She answered she had no permanent refuge but moved from place to place, working for a night’s shelter.

  “No more,” I said. “You will return with me to court tonight. We will find a place for you and the child to sleep and on the morrow, I will speak with one who will assure you a position.” I would call on the Lady Anne to make it so. She would do anything to keep the Boleyn name safe from Cardinal Wolsey. He despised the Boleyns and vowed their ruin using any means he could find.

  And so, the mother and child were made safe and I stepped up in the est
imation of the Lady Anne. I enjoyed her recognition and the elevation of my station in her eyes. So unlike the rest of my kind, I relished the life and notoriety of a courtier. I surmise it was a fancy brought from my life as a human.

  My human family was prominent, holding vast lands and a fleet of merchant ships. I was a boy raised without want. All I desired was mine. Riches and finery were the only life I knew. Is it any wonder that the royal court was a place of comfort for me?

  He ceased speaking. The afternoon light grew dim and a gentle rain began to fall outside the office window. “Please, go on.”

  The court housed many beautiful women and many of them presented themselves to me yet I saw only one. Time and again I wondered how much George Boleyn really knew of my affection for Thomas Wyatt’s cousin. It was at a royal banquet I first cast eyes on her.

  That night, at the end of the meal, the King rose from the royal table. He laughed loudly as he ordered the musicians to play a pavane. Those who wished to dance took their places as the music began.

  It was there I saw her. Her hair was without decoration or hood. She needed neither. Thick, blond curls shimmered in the candle light shaming all those who resorted to jewels for their sparkle. Her eyes were the color of molten gold surrounded by the clearest blue sapphire. Her neck was long and graceful. She tilted her chin in such a way that I longed to hold her, to protect her from any harm.

  A thousand thoughts ravaged my mind. Who was this beauty? Why had I not seen her before? How could I possess her, make her my own?

  Suddenly, I remembered and for the first time in my living death, I hated what I was. A beast. A savage. If she knew my true self, she would flee. I hurried away from the music into the cool dark of the palace rose garden.

  The pleasant evening air was a respite after the heat of the dance. I breathed more slowly, more deeply. Although I have no need to breathe, it seems to soothe the body which I inhabit. The sound of laughter reached me as I sat among the blossoms. I heard voices. I recognized Thomas Wyatt but I had never previously heard the voice of the maid.

  I stood to move from the shadows to greet them when I saw her hair radiant in the moonlight. I stopped still. It was the angel. I watched as they walked and chatted amiably much as a brother and sister would. I vowed I would give Thomas no rest until he told me the name of the love of my existence, which I had found at last.

  I hurried to his rooms and there, outside, I waited for him. The sun was rising when he returned. His dark hair was disheveled, his doublet thrown carelessly over his shoulder. His sleepless, red-rimmed eyes opened wide at the sight of me. He yawned.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Where have you been?” I did not wait for him to answer. “The maid in the garden with you last night, who is she?”

  Thomas stopped walking. He stared at me, then broke into laughter. “There is no need for accusation, sir. You speak of Bess, Elizabeth Wyatt, my cousin.”

  “Your cousin? Why have I not seen her here before last night?”

  “She is new to court. Do you wish to meet her?”

  “No. No.” I paused. I lied. “I thought I knew her, but I was mistaken.”

  We entered his rooms. He poured sweet wine and chose a piece of hard cheese from the plate on the table. “I worked up quite an appetite with one of the Queen’s ladies last night.” Again he yawned. He bit into the cheese. As he chewed, he stretched his arms over his head then flopped in a chair by the fire, his muscular legs sprawling out before him.

  “Here, sit.” He motioned me to join him. The crackling flames caused our shadows to dance on the stone walls. We sat quietly, listening to the sounds of burning apple wood, two men lost in their own thoughts.

  At last he spoke. “Aris, Bess serves Queen Katherine.” He rose from his slouch and leaned forward toward me. “What is your interest in her?”

  “Thomas, I cannot lie to you further. I saw her and I loved her. I see her face before me even now.” I rose and paced in front of him. “I must meet her.” I turned to meet his eyes. “You must make it so.”

  “All right.” He laughed, then became serious. “I will introduce you to my cousin but never forget, she is my family. I am sworn to protect our name.”

  “Never fear, Thomas. My intentions are only honorable.”

  Later that night as I sat quietly in my rooms, I questioned just how honorable could the intentions of a vampire be.

  #

  Sarah sat in silence wondering at his words. There it was again, the reference to being a beast, a vampire. Not needing to breathe. What could it mean? Slowly she brought him out of the hypnotic state. She waited patiently until he was ready to speak.

  “Wow. What was that all about?”

  “What do you think it was about, Carlos?”

  “Aren’t you the one who is supposed to have all the answers?”

  “Carlos, we are just beginning this journey. We’ll have to define the pictures you are being shown in your sessions, what the images mean to you. Then we’ll be able to relate them to your present life.”

  “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” He sat up quickly. “All this psycho mumbo jumbo doesn’t make any sense to me and I don’t get how this bullshit history lesson has anything to do with my life anyhow.” His eyes narrowed as he stood looking down at her. “How is all this fairy tale crap going to help me stay out of trouble, you want to tell me that?”

  Her heart raced at the anger in his expression. She smoothed her skirt, taking a moment to regain her composure. Forcing a smile she didn’t feel, she rose from the chair to stand facing him. He was tall, muscular and intimidating.

  “Each session will lead us closer to the answers that you are looking for. It’s one step at a time. I won’t tell you I have any idea right now what this sixteenth century vampire regression is about, but I do believe that it is important that we continue to pursue this.” She turned, moving to sit in the chair behind her desk, putting space between them before she continued. She spoke as she made a note in his file. “Unless you would rather stop right here.” She looked at him. “What do you want to do, Carlos?”

  He stared at her a moment, then shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know, you’re the expert. If you say we need to keep this crap up, then we’ll do it. I just don’t want to end up in trouble with the law again.” He sat across from her, leaning forward as he spoke. “I want a better life for me and I’ve got a kid brother. I don’t want him doing what I’ve done. He deserves better than that. I guess I’m willing to do whatever it takes to protect him.”

  “Alright. What can you tell me about your brother?”

  “I’m done talking for the day. My hour is up.” He grinned and stood. “I’ll see you next Friday at the same time.”

  Sarah stood to walk with him to the door. His palms were cold and clammy as she shook his hand. She closed the door behind him wondering if he was really as confident as he appeared or if he was as nervous about their work together as she was.

  CHAPTER 8

  The music was blasting and the four televisions on the wall in front of her were all on different stations as she plodded along on the treadmill. In the summer she did cardio in the park but it was still far too cold. She hoped all the noise and energy of the gym would take her mind off Carlos but so far, no such luck.

  “What is it about this guy?” Her thoughts just wouldn’t leave the question alone. “I’ve met men just as handsome, a lot more mature. Not so troubled. And never have I experienced this kind of obsession with anyone. What is it about this particular guy?”

  “Hey Sarah.” Bonnie stepped onto the empty elliptical next to her. She was dressed in baggy gray sweats and a white T-shirt with a gray Tai Chi symbol on the front. A few light brown stray hairs sneaked out of the rubber band holding her pony tail in place and gathered around her face. “How you doing today?” She made adjustments to the machine before beginning to walk slowly. “You look a little stressed.”

  “N
o, just thinking about work.” Sarah honestly enjoyed her new office space however she still missed the daily contact with Bonnie and the rest of the therapists from her old co-op. Their weekly meetings to discuss issues had always been a great aid in diagnosing her clients. She wondered just what they would think about Carlos. She laughed. “Isn’t that what we are always thinking about?”

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Bonnie picked up her pace as her legs warmed up. “How have you been? I haven’t seen you since the opera. Have you had any insights about our intermission conversation?”

  “Not really but otherwise, I’ve actually been feeling a lot better. I honestly haven’t had one of those deep waves of self-doubt since the last regression you did on me. I know we didn’t get past infancy but somehow, I feel more settled. And I’ve been so busy since the opera I haven’t had much time to think about love and romance, but I do want to find some answers about that for myself.”

  “Honey, I didn’t think it would take more than a couple of sessions to give you some resolutions on the self-doubt thing. The romance thing?” She laughed. “That might just take a little bit longer.” Her legs stopped their perpetual elliptical motion as she spoke seriously to her friend. “I know you dealt with Jeff and your divorce in therapy a long time ago, but it took you until recently to really deal with yourself. How long have I been saying physician, heal thyself.”

  “I know. I knew it then but I didn’t want to confront it. Sometimes I think therapists are the worst ones for dealing with their own issues. The divorce just made me question myself and my decisions. I hadn’t questioned myself like that since I was a teenager living with my parents and it was frightening. Anyway, I’ve felt so much more confident lately. It’s as if I’m finding that assured part of myself that’s been buried for so long. I owe it to the work you’re doing with me.”

  Bonnie looked embarrassed. She interned under Sarah and it felt a bit strange to have their roles somewhat reversed. She changed the subject, “what’s new with you? Anything going on?”