Chapter 11: Iris Luna
Today I spent a laboriously fruitful day in the lab. I collected more questions than answers, but I worked with a steady pace and undivided attention, immersed in the joyful peace of mind that the creative act and the intellectual strain produces. Around six o’clock I was writing the last observations on my lab book and planning for the next day, when Otto Hermes entered the lab.
“Hey Iris, how is it going?”, he asked in a merry tone that surprised me considered the personality of my interlocutor
“Not bad. You sound happy today, is your work going well?”, I replied with conventional politeness
“I can’t complain”, he conceded with a modest shrug
There was a pause, and I sensed that Otto Hermes had a question burning on his tongue. His long hesitation was starting to unnerve me, when he broke the silence.
“There is an event about chemistry of wine tonight, and I was able to obtain a couple of free tickets. Would you care to join?”, Otto asked, with a smile that looked genuine
I wondered what was happening to the man, and I accepted the invitation somewhat intrigued by his unusual excitement.
“Great!”, Otto exclaimed with emphasis, “we can head out in 15 minutes, jump on the first streetcar that comes around and get there by 7 pm when it all starts”
“I’ll be ready in 15 minutes then”, I replied with a smile and an ironic arch in my brows that Otto did not appear to notice
The emotional turmoil of the previous days seemed so remote, and I would have never expected what was to come next.
When we reached the event most guests were already there. Round tables were spread around the room, and the waiters were busying themselves bringing around bread and cheese that – I supposed – was meant to accompany the wine tasting.
Otto looked around, rubbing his hands.
“I told you it would be a good event”, he said
“Sure…”, I replied uncertainly
“Do you want to sit here?”, he asked, pointing at a table where a senior couple was amiably chatting
“Why not”, I accepted, as the couple had already noticed us and was making gests of invitation and smiling broadly, as if we were old friends.
But after few polite exchanges following the initial enthusiasm the conversation languished, dragging itself dully. I was starting to regret accepting Otto’s invitation when the speaker walked on the stage. He was a cheerful fellow, who entertained me from the start with his talk alternating history and science, as he introduced us to the secrets of good wine-making.
After about half an hour he was talking, he announced our first round of wine tasting.
“We will be handing you folks some wine samples now, and I want you to try and identify the flavours and classify them as fruity, woody or flowery”, the speaker said
The waiters begun walking around and serving us drinks. People tasted, discussed with their neighbours, tasted again, engaged in the task as if it was the most serious duty in their lives. Otto was the most zealous of all, and he quickly became engrossed in a conversation about wine with our two senior neighbours.
I felt slightly light-headed and, uninterested as I was in the conversation happening at the table, I turned my head around, listlessly looking at the people drinking and talking at the other tables.
And it was then that I saw him. The man I saw in the book, the one I caught sight of in the library, the one who had looked at me across the jeweler’s shop. Cesare Mercurio.
I gasped, and looked at him, paralyzed. Was it really him, or was I hallucinating? I ran my eyes along his body, from his face down to his hands. And there I noticed the ring, the red stone held tight by the golden flames. Instinctively I gripped the pendant on my neck. What I felt was fear and a stirring of the blood, an attraction so strong I trembled.
Cesare Mercurio returned my gaze, but his face remained impassible, without recognition. Did he not remember me at all?
But then he smiled just slightly and raised his glass, nodding at me.
Cesare Mercurio, I whispered softly
Otto head been talking incessantly with the elderly couple up to that moment, but then he noticed that my attention had been captured by something and his eyes followed the direction of mine. When he saw Cesare Mercurio he paled and shivered too, shattered by emotions I could not define.
“I…I must go”, he mumbled
“Why? You looked scared all of a sudden. Do you know the man sitting there?”, I asked, indicating with a gest of my head Cesare Mercurio
“Scared? Why would I be? No, I’ve just recalled an appointment I had completely forgotten about”, he lied.
“But you know the man sitting there, don’t you?”, I insisted, my eyes locked onto his
“Which man?”, he asked
I gestured towards the direction where Cesare Mercurio had sat, but when I turned around he was no longer there.
“But he was there…”, I mumbled
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Iris”, Otto said, patting my shoulder
He seemed calm again, and looked at me somewhat sardonically.
“Don’t be condescending!”, I almost shouted, “He was there!”
“Ok, I don’t know who ‘he’ was, but I must go now”, Otto replied coolly
Then he raised his hand in farewell and walked away.
Now the people at the table were looking at me with a perplexed expression, and I felt humiliated and confused.
“I shall be heading out too”, I told them with an apologetic note in my voice, while gathering my belongings hastily.
I was heading towards the door, head down, when I heard a voice behind my back.
“Are you not enjoying yourself?”
I turned around and there he was again, holding a glass of wine. I could smell his spiced fragrance and this time there was no denying that he did exist.
My mouth opened without producing any sound, and at my reaction Cesare Mercurio arched his brows, bending his lips in an ironic smile.
“I thought you had left too”, I managed to say at last
He observed me, and in his gaze there was a blend of defiance and fondness.
“Who are you?”, I asked
“Cesar Mercury”, he introduced himself, tending his hand
“Cesare Mercurio…”, I whispered in return
“Pardon me?”, he said
“You are in the book...and we’ve met before”, I told him
“In the book?”, he replied, bugging his eyes and laughing
“We’ve met already”, I insisted, leaving his question unanswered
“Have we”, he said, his question sounding like a statement
“Yes”, I iterated
“Yes?”, he asked again
I felt he was playing a game and the conversation was starting to unnerve me.
“Iris Celati, by the way”, I said, my voice hardened
But when Cesare smiled my mood shifted again.
I love this man, I thought, now phrasing the statement in my head with undeniable clarity.
“Iryssa…”, he whispered, and I gasped
“Iryssa?”, I asked in a whisper
“Iris or Iryssa?”, Cesar asked in return, his voice clearly audible now
“What do you do in life?”, I replied
“I am a chemist”, he said
“So am I, I work at the Lavoisier center. What about you? Where do you work, I mean”, I said
“I am an independent chemist”, Cesar said with elusive vagueness, but before I could ask more the speaker announced that the lecture was about to resume
“Are you here alone?”, Cesar asked me
“Why?”, was my almost defensive reply
“Oh, I thought perhaps you could join my table?”, he said
I thought about it for a moment. What harm could it do? I am aware that I have slipped in a game the rules of which are turbid and in which I cannot orient myself. I am aware now as I was then, but I felt dragged by forces unknown, by a will that was beyond my own control
“Sure”, I agreed with a casual tone, following Cesar
When we reached his table he pulled out a chair for me, inviting me to sit with a gallant wide gest of the hand that seemed to belong to another century. But everything in the man was of a different century anyways, his mustache, the coat that for some reason he had not removed, his white double-breasted button up with the high neck, the haughty and sensuous mouth and the disdainful brazing gaze.
The speaker began talking, but all I heard were sparse sentences and fragmented thoughts. I breathed lightly, observing Cesar with sidelong glimpses, inhaling the smell he exuded, outdated and electrifying at once. Cesare knew I was tensed towards him, and yet he acted as if it was not so, keeping his composure and listening to the speaker, or at least appearing to.
“I hope you folks enjoyed this brief introduction of the subject. I will be happy to take any questions you might have”, concluded the speaker at last, and I was at once relieved and anguished by the end of the talk.
What will happen now?, I asked myself, but Cesar did not leave me much time to elaborate my thoughts.
“Would you need a ride home?”, he asked almost abruptly, with the clamour of clapped hands still on the background
“I came here using a streetcar…so yes, I wouldn’t mind getting a ride home if my place is on your way. Where are you heading?”, I replied
“I will be delighted to offer you a ride”, Cesar replied with chivalry, eluding my question
“Do you know there is a museum of science upstairs? There are old instruments, seeing it with you would bring back good old memories. Would you want to spend some time there?”, he asked
“Which good old memories?”, I wanted to know
“The display is enchanting and I would be most happy to show you around”, Cesar replied
“Which good old memories?”, I insisted, and then continued, knowing he would not answer, “I know you would be happy to show me around, but I shall head home now”
I felt wicked as I said so, and could not ascertain why I had refused the invitation. I craved to see the display myself, but then why had I replied with such detached dryness? Was it fear? My words had preceded me, had spoken themselves almost despite me.
“Of course, as you wish”, Cesare said, the coolness of my answer reflected in his tone
And I gasped at his answer.
A moment later we were in Cesar’s car, an old luxury model, mint clean and impeccable in spite of the vehicle’s age. Cesar opened the door for me, with the same wide gest he had made when pulling out the chair during the talk.
I gave him my address and we drove in silence for a while. When we were close to my place I suddenly realized that I might lose all traces of this man. I didn’t know who he was and yet I felt an inexplicable sense of belonging to him. The thought of not being able to be with him again troubled me beyond reason.
“Since we are both chemists and we share similar interests, perhaps we could stay in contact. You know where I live but here…”, I said, pulling out a piece of paper and scribbling my contact information on it, “Send me a note if you ever wish to”
Cesar’s mouth twisted in a slight smile of victory, or so it seemed to me. I was hoping he too would give me his contact information. I wanted to pass by his street during daytime to prove to myself that he truly exists. It all seems like a dream…how can he be real? Otto denied seeing him and where have I seen him? In a book according to which he lived a century ago! I am walking on quick-sands, and I feel my head spin and ache at the absurdity of this all. And yet…if only I had an address, a name…a written proof…
But Cesar slipped my paper in his pocket and politely thanked me, without offering a promise or his address in return.