by Merry Brown
I could see this principle working at school. At first I didn’t want to share Lizzy with anyone, I wanted all her time to myself. But since that wasn’t going to happen, I resigned myself to sharing her with others.
As I watched her love all those around her, I realized that the thing about this kind of sharing was that it didn’t take away from me or how I felt for her, but it actually caused it to grow.
Chapter Twenty-Two: Break
Mary Kate went off to Rome on her travel study and I moved into her very girly bedroom. It didn’t really bother me, I was glad to be out of the crypt.
I was busy with work and a few school projects that took up too much of my time, like finishing my part of the iBaby research and a Spanish II assignment. I was supposed to write a song in Spanish. I thought it was going to be easy – but not so much. I finally finished it and the semester came to a close.
Christmas was a week away and I’d done zero shopping. The only presents I usually bought were for Michael’s family. This year I would buy something for Lizzy, but what? What would she like?
I’d never heard her mention something she wanted that she didn’t have. I had no idea where her money came from, but she seemed to have plenty and didn’t need a thing.
I searched online for girlfriend gifts. The suggestions were standard and predictable, all of which were axed from serious consideration:
Perfume – it would only detract from her perfect scent.
Candy – she didn’t care much for sweets.
Lingerie – yeah right.
Jewelry – maybe . . . but what? A ring? A necklace? I was sure she’d wear what I gave her, but would she like it?
I asked her to help me shop for the Richardsons. With Lizzy’s help I’d not only get them gifts they’d enjoy—for a change—but maybe I’d discover what she’d really like.
We went to the mall the Saturday before Christmas. Big mistake. Was everyone in Bakersfield there too? Didn’t they have zoning ordinances about how many people can occupy the same building at a time?
I wasn’t a shopper, and this was why: I’d wait to the last minute because I didn’t know what to buy, and then, because I waited, the stores were jam-packed with people and all the cool stuff was picked over.
Lizzy steered me to Macy’s for Mrs. Richardson. Apparently Mrs. Richardson wanted a new waffle maker but couldn’t bring herself to buy a new one while hers was still, barely, working.
We headed over to Sears for Mr. Richardson. He was a weekend-contractor and had every tool imaginable, but he was lacking, Lizzy told me, fancy grilling tools. He was the person in the Richardson family in charge of grilling the fish and chicken, but he never got around to getting the tools of the trade.
I always felt slightly uncomfortable getting something for Mary Kate. I knew she once had a thing for me, and I hated the idea of leading her on. She wouldn’t be with us on Christmas, but Lizzy thought she’d enjoy a gift certificate to Bath and Body Works, so that’s what I got her.
And I knew what to get Michael. He was easy. iTunes.
How did Lizzy know all of this? Since I moved in with the Richardsons she’d spent a lot of time with them too. I half thought if we ever broke up – unimaginable – they’d dump me and add her to their family.
Since Lizzy basically did all the shopping for me, I intended to put “From: Will and Lizzy” on the tags, but she had her own plans.
I assumed, then, she’d be spending Christmas with us.
“Sorry Will, but I need to spend Christmas in The Garden.”
The Garden? Huh. I didn’t realize she ever went back there. I remembered the story of the banishment from the garden and kind-of assumed once you left you didn’t, or couldn’t, go back.
“You go to The Garden?” I was shocked.
“Yes, rather often actually.”
“Uh, when were you there last?”
She started playing with her hands, twisting them back and forth.
“What is it?” I asked, really curious now.
“Last night. You know I spent most of the day at the Women’s Shelter. I was particularly exhausted. I find I heal faster, can breathe easier there, at home.”
“I thought you considered wherever you currently lived to be home?” I didn’t like the idea of her home being somewhere I couldn’t be. I wasn’t 100% positive, but I was pretty sure I could never go there. In the exit of Eden story, angels with burning swords guarded the entrance, keeping out the fallen.
I didn’t want her to be where I couldn’t follow, but how could I begrudge her anything that sped her recovery and brought her peace?
“Well, this is where I live right now, but home will always be The Garden. Just thinking of her magnificence . . . see, goose bumps!” she said showing me her arm, but then her expression turned. I think she was wondering about me, about us, and where our place is.
“I understand.” It was definitely a drag to think of celebrating this holiday without her. “When are you headed off?” and how long will you stay and when will I see you again? I wanted to add, but didn’t, not wanting to make her feel as if she reported to me. She answered my silent questions anyway.
“I’m headed off tonight. I’ll stay about a week but should be back for New Year’s.”
My mood was spiraling quickly into despair. She could tell and looked helpless; her eyes widening. She looked anxious.
“Lizzy, don’t worry about me. I am sad, and I will miss you, but that’s life. I’ll just have to deal with it.”
“I feel so torn. I don’t want to be parted from you, but I both need to and want to go to Eden. I must . . . .”
“Liz, I mean it. Look at me. We have plenty of time together – it’s not like I’m going to break apart without you here.” It was true, amazingly. Even with her gone I was a stronger person – and it’s not like I was a hollow shell before we met.
“I know that. It’s not just you I’m worried about. I don’t want to be parted from you, to be so far away. I love Eden, I must go, and I love you and want to stay. I feel so confused!” she said, throwing her hands in the air.
I reached out for her, pulling her to me, running my fingers through her soft hair. She had tears in the corners of her eyes.
“Peace, Elizabeth,” I said to her with a smile. She laughed. That was her line, and she was pleased to see me co-opt it. “Peace,” she said back.
After a few moments of silence, we said goodbye. My heart and head and every part of my being ached at the thought of nine long days without her. But I was not empty. Her presence was permanently stamped in my flesh. Because of her I could breathe again. The hope I had held out for so long, through the blackest of nights, had been met. There was more to this world than shadow and pain. She was living proof.
Chapter Twenty-Three: Christmas Day
I’d been working a lot and making it a priority to get together with John and Michael to play music or just hangout. But with Lizzy gone and school out, I still had too much time on my hands.
I wasn’t the kind of guy who enjoyed unstructured leisure time. My mind was too active. If I wasn’t immersed in something, then my mind was working overtime, driving me crazy.
I used to spend my time trying to figure out what was going on at home. Since Liz showed up in my life, I’d all but given up that useless endeavor. I now focused on brighter things.
There was so much to think about, wonder at.
I did try not to dwell on her “otherness”; who she really was, what it meant for us; I was still in the dark. Well, sorta.
The more time I spent with her, what she was made perfect sense of her constant behavior. And through various conversations and events, bits of her story came out. I once overheard part of a conversation between her and her sister Eva about how sad they still were about the invention of the “mechanical clock.” That was over four hundred years ago!
I knew her, and yet I didn’t.
I honestly hadn’t tried to get my mind around how old
she was. I didn’t ask much about her experiences through the ages. It was hard to believe she’d seen it all because she was still so innocent. It’s not that she’s naïve. It’s more that she is incredibly optimistic.
Another thing I marveled at was my own ignorance. I clearly remember the first time I saw her, nearly a year ago. Average looking, nothing special was my brilliant assessment.
What a fool! When I think of her now, her allure radiates from every pore.
Even when we first got together, her physical appearance didn’t alter, but my heart did when I saw hers.
It took a while to open my dull eyes. The more I saw her love others, and me, and the more she let her guard down, the more I gradually began to see what she really looked like. It was as if my eyes were opened to her, seeing past the façade. She was right in front of me, but for the longest time I couldn’t see her.
I knew the reason she obscured her attractiveness, which of course, made her even lovelier. She had no need to be worshiped or admired. She wasn’t interested in being famous and lauded. She simply interacted in my world to love and help others. She, and her siblings, found over the years they could accomplish more if they fit in, becoming whatever the particular culture deemed average.
I couldn’t be certain my eyes had totally been opened, but on several occasions I’d been fortunate to see her, not her 21st-century American look.
To see her was to know her to be other – alien in the best sense of the word.
Her skin was still olive, but not flat. The first time I noticed a difference, I assumed she’d put on some kind of body lotion. I thought it was odd since she didn’t usually glam-up.
As I watched her that night I realized the glossy look of her skin was not something added, but her skin. Radiant. Smooth. Soft and warm, like butter in the summer sun.
Then there was her hair. Her hair was dull-black and down to the middle of her back, nothing to write home about. But that first night at her house, in the orange grove, it seemed like she’d placed tiny lights in her hair. At the time I assumed it was a trick of the starlight, or that strange, strange evening.
Then there was her voice, her figure, her mannerism, her eyes . . . all transformed when her façade fell away. I had a lifetime of Lizzy-wonders to think about.
Christmas morning arrived. I awoke, disoriented by the smell of sweet bread baking and the sound of hushed voices. I opened my eyes and saw the lace curtains against the dated blue, green, and yellow flowered wallpaper. That’s right – this is Mary Kate’s room.
In keeping with their tradition, we rose early to partake of Mr. Richardson’s breakfast feast of Christmas bread, eggs, ham, and fresh-squeezed orange juice. When we sufficiently stuffed ourselves, we moved into the living room for a reading of the Christmas story and to open presents.
Mary Kate always played Santa, but since she wasn’t here Michael took over, passing out gifts one by one. I knew everyone would like the presents I got them – thanks to Lizzy’s help. I was more curious as to what Lizzy got everyone. Whatever it was, I knew they’d love it. I wasn’t disappointed.
She got Michael a new game to add to his ‘game night’ collection. She found a copy of the movie Mr. and Mrs. Richardson saw on their first date.
“Oh. I love this movie! Look Steve, remember? How did she know?” Mrs. Richardson said as she teared-up.
“Too bad Lizzy couldn’t be with us today. She’s such a sweet girl,” Mrs. Richardson said as she sat next to me on the couch. It was obvious she was missing the girls.
“I know.”
“And this one’s to Will, from Lizzy,” Michael said as he tossed it to me.
It was rather small, but larger than a CD case. So no music. A book? I’d like to see what she thought I’d like (or should) read.
When I opened her package I saw the perfect gift staring back at me. A picture of us. It was the game night in November when the guys totally beat the girls at Taboo – a first. We were so stoked. Hannah pulled out her camera to document the rare win. I remember Lizzy coming over to congratulate me. I didn’t realize Hannah snapped a picture.
There I was, smiling, looking right into the camera with Lizzy kissing my cheek, eyes closed.
Wow. She took my breath away.
I sat there quietly, watching everyone open presents, taking in the Christmas joy. This was the best Christmas in my life after. Something to savor.
I decided to take a break from the festivities. I walked up the stairs to Mary Kate’s room in a daze.
I was too happy. I felt drunk with hope and joy. The wonder of the universe was real to me, and I was open to it, to the mystery of it all.
I opened the door, expecting to fall on the bed and let my mind wander as I listened to some Beethoven.
My stomach just about fell to the floor; Lizzy sitting crossed-legged on Mary Kate’s bed.
“Merry Christmas,” she said in a whisper, motioning with her finger for me to join her.
I crossed the room with a grin that could not be displaced.
“Merry Christmas to you,” I whispered back and kissed the top of her angel hair. I took a seat beside her.
“Are you surprised to see me?” she asked brightly, though she knew the answer.
“Surprised, and pleased beyond belief! I’m so glad to see you. Are you back for good?”
“No, but I wanted to see you on this blessed day. Did everyone like their gifts?”
“Yeah. And I love the picture Lizzy, thank you.”
“My pleasure,” she said, pulling something out of her pocket. “I have one more present for you. Here.”
She handed me a small square box, topped with a red bow. I took off the lid and pulled out two silver necklaces. Together they formed a circle; separately they were two phases of the moon?
“One’s for you and one’s for me,” she explained, taking them from my hands. She took the nearly full moon on the thicker chain and fastened it around my neck. As she did, the heat rolling off her body and sweet smell of her hair compelled me to tackle her, but I didn’t. I behaved and kept my hands in my lap, though my heart was running wild.
Then she took the crescent half, on the thin silver chain, and fastened it around her neck.
“There,” she said as she pressed her hand over my moon, over my heart. “We match.” She was all smiles.
That she not only wanted to be with me, but be connected to me in such a tangible, visible way almost brought me to tears. I was full of love for this woman.
I’d never been one for what I deemed ‘man jewelry,’ but this was meaningful and actually looked cool. I put my hand around my neck, feeling the chain and rolling the moon between my fingers.
“Do you like it?” she was unsure of herself for just a moment before I turned my face to meet hers and bent down to lightly kiss her forehead.
“You know it’s, it’s the most meaningful gift I’ve ever received.” It really was.
“These connect us. If you ever need me, if you are in real trouble; I’ll know, I’ll come.”
I wasn’t sure if I wanted her to be anywhere trouble was, but to know I could reach her where cell phones probably didn’t go was comforting.
We were quiet for a moment until I remembered the present I had for her. I got up from the bed and pulled out an envelope from my backpack.
“Merry Christmas Elizabeth,” I said, handing her the envelope.
She took it, inquisitively turned it over and opened it. It took her a moment to read the card. All of a sudden she sat up on her knees and started bouncing up and down on the bed. With tears in her eyes she threw her arms around me, hugged me tightly, and kissed my neck. One, two, three kisses. With her arms now around the back of my neck she pulled her head back to look into my eyes.
Her enthusiasm caught me off guard. To see her so happy, thrilled, was a thrill itself. It made me want to rack my brain for what else I could surprise her with.
“William Darby, how did you get me the perfect present?”
she asked with the sun in her voice.
I shrugged my shoulders. I wanted to clarify where the money came from, but didn’t want to toot my own horn.
“You know, you’re not the only one who’s observant.”
“I mean it Will, this is the sweetest gift you could’ve given me. You even made it anonymous! Thank you.” She sat back down on the bed, face aglow, grinning at me like a Cheshire cat. Just like that cat, how soon would she disappear?
“When do you go back?” I asked, trying to be in the moment, grateful she was here at all. There would be plenty of time to morn her loss later.
“Oh, about an hour. So, what do you want to do?”
“Be with you. I don’t want to share you with anyone. I want to keep you all to myself.”
“I’m all yours,” she said, folding her arms around her chest, like she was holding herself in.
I didn’t understand the gesture. As I wondered, she uncrossed her legs and plopped back against the pillows.
I decided a little Beethoven would be perfect right now so I got off the bed, plugged my iPod into the speakers, turn on the reading lamp and the overhead light off, and rejoined her on the bed.
We laid side by side in silence as we listened to the entire 9th symphony.
As the last notes sounded I knew my time with her was coming to a close too. If I could live in this dream, in this heaven, if this could last for all eternity, if she could stay here with me forever. . . .
But she couldn’t. Time passed, as always.
Time was like water. It was necessary, life giving, more potent and fiercer than fire or poison. We were beings in time, yet time didn’t touch her in the same way.
She didn’t suffer from its disease like the rest of the human family. She drank the water, it didn’t drown her. Time did not corrode her. Time did not wear her down, as it did me.
I was slipping away day by day, being carved into some cavern by its passage. One day I would be a footnote in the Grand Canyon, and she would still be floating along, soaring in and out of the lives of Knowers at will.