Love story

I thought of this enchanted circle: the beautiful wife, the loving sister, and the long-lost friend. The subject of a love story. I smiled at Melissa: “Thank you: I used to be a troubled young man, and now I am a just a troubled old one!” 

My sister’s letter precipitated events. Through Sarah, I contacted Melissa. Finally, we met, not in the old house, not in a dream, not on Andromeda. No, we met more practically, on our own and face to face, at the coffee shop at Foyle’s bookshop on Charing Cross Road.

Seduction

Jane is right: my friend is perfect, not a blemish, all sober clothes and a smile which is still troubling, and incredibly seductive. Jane’s confession has left me in a state of jealousy; the women in my life are all good buddies, and more, and I feel bypassed. 

I told Melissa how I felt. We drank delicious coffee, looked at each other, and I remembered our first contact, her page, her meeting with Jane, was this reality? Nothing could be more real than us, talking, looking at the passersby in the street, here in London. She smiled and suddenly I wondered, and I asked her, since I could no longer hide my doubts. “Are you real? Or are you an artefact they – whoever they are – have created to confuse us?”

The Hand of a Lover

There was a pause. She was observing me, then she took my hand: hers was warm, and I felt the contact of her hand as it was before, in the little town: a strong woman’s hand, the hand of a lover. 

“No,” she said, her smile now a sad reflection of what it had been a minute ago, “there is no artefact, I was just lucky to meet Gabrielle”. She added, “and I thought you were too…” 

I felt ashamed, and took her other hand, and replied, “Please pardon me, it has all been a lot to absorb. Since we met Helga I have felt overwhelmed. Then Jane told me about the two of you, and I felt encircled. The three of you, Sarah, Jane and you, Melissa, get on well, and I should be happy to have you as my friend.” 

Intrusion

Slowly Melissa came closer and kissed me, a light kiss on the forehead. “I know, Julian. You should stop worrying. I am not here to intrude on your family. And I am no alien object. I am of flesh and blood. Your sister and I are very close, and we both adore you.” 

I thought of this enchanted circle: the beautiful wife, the loving sister, and the long-lost friend. The subject of a love story. I smiled at Melissa: “Thank you: I used to be a troubled young man, and now I am a just a troubled old one!” 

Burnt

We laughed; the green eyes were probing me. Through Melissa’s gaze, I felt many eyes were on me. I remembered the story – was it in Dune? – of the magicians who replaced Duncan Idaho’s burnt eyes.

Then Melissa asked, “Did Jane tell you that Helga will be visiting us soon?” I replied she had. “And I was wondering if Helga would appear to us as she did when we met on her planet?” 

“Yes,” said Melissa, “Helga is as you met her: a beautiful woman, and an academic.”

I could hear the sound of waves rolling on the thin grey sand under a violet sun.

Picture: Coffee at Foyles, Charing Cross Road

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