Em heard the car pull up and Frank get out to open Ron’s door. “Go right in, sir.” His voice rang clear in the crisp night air.
What would Ron notice first when he entered? Her boots stood to the left of the door. Would he see them? Wonder at the military gleam?
He entered the living room, paused there. She pictured him in front of the television, watching for a moment and trying to puzzle out what language the rapid staccato was. If he guessed Arabic he’d be right. He walked toward the light she’d left on in the kitchen. He’d see her half empty glass of water on the counter.
She heard him return to the entrance and follow the hallway to the left. It led to a bedroom and en-suite bathroom with a huge shower. French doors opened to a spacious pool deck.
She stood at the railing watching the ocean. Every part of her tingled. Giddy as a teenager on her first date, she gripped the railing and searched frantically for something to say for he’d find her out here any moment now. She turned slowly at the sound of his indrawn breath.
“I wasn’t sure you would come,” she whispered.
“How could I not, when it was you who asked?”
“Still….” She shrugged. How to explain? That request could have been a command. She had the power to make him come to her, but she hadn’t used it. She had wanted him to want her, to come of his own accord.
Taut silence stretched between them. The air crackled with primal energy. She thought that only happened in romance novels. She reached up as if to touch his cheek and then, suddenly nervous, let her hand drop. He inhaled sharply.
Ron cupped her face in his hands then slid one around to the back of her head pulling her closer as he lowered his mouth to hers. Oh, God, yes. This is what I want. This is what I need. She reached up and wrapped both her arms around his neck. It was not a kiss, but a mutual assault, raw and demanding. They panted heavily as they broke apart.
“My God, I’ve never….” To her dismay he stopped.
“Never what?”
“Never felt anything like this before.” He looked stricken.
“How do you feel?” She asked the question softly, hoping he’d explain. She needed to know.
“I can’t explain. I feel so many things. Happy, of course—ecstatic—but sad too. I’m.… I feel.… I don’t know. Loving you—it’s all so mixed up and so complex.”
“And, that’s a good thing?” She studied his face. Less stricken now, but still scared. She prayed then, for a moment.
“Yes, yes, yes, it’s a good thing.” He smiled and never had she seen anything so beautiful.
“Everything about you, the taste of you, the smell of you, the fit of you. I love everything.” His voice cracked as he pulled her closer for another kiss.
Forever after she would have no memory of undressing or finding the bed. There were no gentle caresses or tender foreplay.
“Oh my God, Ron.” She moaned and gasped for breath. “I don’t need memory of another life to know that I’ve never experienced anything as incredible as this.” She felt tears flowing down her face.
“Sh-sh, it’s all right,” Ron crooned as he collapsed on top of her gasping for breath. “Sh-sh, it’s all right,” he soothed again. “It’s all right.”
Her sobbing eased.
“I’m sorry,” Ron gasped.
“Don’t you dare apologize.”
“But, I’ve never….” He stopped as if unable to find the words.
“Been so physical, so aggressive?” She supplied the words that worked for her.
“Yeah.” He blushed with the admission. “Or so satisfied?”
“Yes.” It was a whisper, barely audible. “Me too,” she said.
She didn’t know why Ron had come into her life. Maybe because the “voice” knew she needed someone? Whatever the reason, she thanked those beings up there that Ron was here with her and that she could let him into her life—to a point. She smiled up at him, happier than she had been in a long, long time.
Ron stroked her cheek with his fingers and kissed her nose. “The very first time I saw you, I wanted to love you, until you were blind to everything but my face, deaf to everything but my voice. I wanted to love you until the world ceased to exist except for me, until there was nothing for you, but me. I wanted to keep you with me, just me, forever.”
She pushed him off and shifted to lie on top. “You’ve come close to having it. As close as anyone could.” Her kiss was not soft or gentle. She lowered herself to join with him and the wild spiral of desire and gratification began again.
A long time later, when their breathing was more or less normal, Ron shifted out from under to lie beside her propping his head on one hand. The moon cast light and shadow over their bodies. He traced the curve of her hip, the swell of her breast with his palm. He wove his fingers through the tangled curls of her hair. “I wanted to do this from the very first time I saw you,” he said. “So soft. I knew it would be. And the colors—”
“Not ready to embrace the gray,” she mumbled, almost asleep.
“You look so young and vulnerable it frightens me. You’re so small compared to me— delicate and fragile.”
“I won’t break,” she protested.
“I know. I know how deceptive appearances are. You’re strong in every way. But, still, I want to cradle you in my arms and protect you from all harm.” He raised her hand to kiss it, and traced the ragged edges of her fingernails with the pad of his thumb.
“Em, why—”
“M?”
“That’s my private name for you.”
“M as in the letter?”
“E-m,” he spelled. “You don’t mind?”
“No one has ever called me that before. I like it.”
She reached to caress him and all thoughts of fingernails were gone.
*
I gloried in the sight of her out there on the deck. Her eyes shone, her hair glinted red-gold in the moonlight. She wore the black party dress still and her bare feet peeping from under the skirt as she walked toward Ron were strangely provocative. Who would have thought something that simple could be so … so … I wondered if Ron could put a word to it, for his feelings seemed to match mine.
He needed to touch her, to ground himself with tactile proof of her. She needed his love. He needed to know she was real. She needed to know she was real. I realized with a heart-stopping jolt that they could do that for each other.
Oh Guardian, I can’t do this. I can’t. It should have been me. Me loving her, holding nothing back, giving her every ounce of my loving. Who, more than me, knew what she needed? Who? Ron? His love was nothing compared to mine. Ron, a mere mortal, loving Em?
I hadn’t intended to watch, but it happened so fast, and I got caught up in the passion of it. I cursed and railed against the Grand Council. They gave me this assignment, let me fall in love with her, a woman I couldn’t have, a woman I was supposed to feel nothing for. No emotion, remember. No emotion.
Strictly speaking of course, they didn’t let me fall in love with her. I did that on my own against all the rules, against all the laws set by the Guardians, laws that were never to be broken.
Ron’s voice, when he spoke with Em, was raw with the emotion surging through him. Emotion that should have been mine. Was mine!
I studied Em carefully. His aggression and passion had been so crushing. She should have been mad. I wanted her to be angry, to push him away, to leave, transport herself. But, she wasn’t angry. Satisfied, yes, not angry.
I was the one who was angry. Infuriated. She needed me. Not him! I had to find a way to stop all this nonsense with Ron.
Em, he called her and she liked it. Showed what love did. Overpowered good sense, that’s what. Em. Such a little name for such a grand soul.
*
Ron woke alone the next morning, sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows. He pulled Em’s pillow to his face and inhaled deeply. Her lingering scent aroused him again. He looked around for her. She wasn’t there. He panicked, cursed, and flailed about.
“Em! Em!” Ron searched for her dress, yanked the bathroom door open. “Em!”
“What? What’s wrong?” She ran into the bedroom. He spun to face her.
“Where the hell were you?”
“Pardon me?”
“I thought you’d gone. I woke up and you weren’t here. I thought I’d imagined the whole thing. God, Em! Don’t do that. Don’t disappear on me.” He was almost shouting.
“Jesus, Ron. Stop it! Just stop it, will you.” She couldn’t handle his fears. She had enough of her own.
“Em, you scared the hell out of me. Don’t you see? I thought you were gone. I thought I’d never see you again. I thought I’d imagined the whole thing. I thought—”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake. I wouldn’t leave without telling you. Don’t you know me better than that?”
“No, I don’t! Hell, I don’t even know if you’re real.”
“After last night? You don’t know if I’m real?” She was furious with hurt. How could he say that, after the lovemaking, the intimacies they had shared?
Her anger dissolved at the sight of his stricken face. “Let’s start over.” She walked out of the room, watched the news from three different countries; nothing to worry about at the moment. She took a deep breath. Time to try again. She went back to the bedroom. Ron’s hair was wet from the shower and he was wearing the red plaid robe she’d left for him. It matched hers. He was opening and closing dresser drawers.
“Good morning, sleepyhead.” She tried to keep her voice light but it wavered a little. “Throw me your towel. I’ll add it to the load.” She returned from the laundry room with an armful of fresh linens. She showed Ron how to make the bed with hospital corners. He countered with army strategy. They decided they were both anal and collapsed on the bed laughing. They’d recovered nicely, thank God.
“Let’s get something to eat. I’m starved.” Em took his hand and dragged him to the kitchen. He glanced back at the bed and she knew he was hungry for something other than food.
As they walked through the living room, Ron pulled her to a stop. “Em, this house, is it yours?”
“No, on loan.”
“The decorations and the furniture, are they what you would pick for yourself?”
She looked around the room as if seeing it for the first time. “No, I would like a house that didn’t look so much like a showroom and the decorations would be family mementos or souvenirs from trips mostly.”
“What's your favorite piece?”
“A small bronze statue of a goatherd from West Africa. He's walking with a stick over his shoulders, his hands resting on the ends of the stick. For me, it symbolizes everything about the remoteness and solitude of life in the sub-Sahara.”
“Your house is lived in, but neat and tidy. No clutter.”
“Um.”
“And not too big.”
“Smaller than this, I think.” Now why had she said that? Images of rooms, furnished as she’d described, floated in her head. Was that her real home? Something on the television cruelly interjected. Damn, she missed it. Oh well, if it was important the voice would do something.
She reached up and pulled his head down for a kiss, then opened the fridge and took out a carton of eggs.
Ron found onion and tomatoes and cheese. “But Em, why me? I mean, the whole world is in love with you. Children idolize you and play Miracle Madame games of heroic adventures. Teens imitate you and are involving themselves in social issues. Women want to be your friend. As for men, they all want to get you in the sack.”
“Okay Ron, go ahead. Pull the other leg.”
“Em, it’s true. Don’t you watch the news, read the papers?”
“I stopped watching anything related to me after the first couple of weeks.”
“Why?”
“The reports told me nothing.” Nothing that I needed to know.
“Then you don’t know about all the speculation either? That you’re—”
“No, don’t tell me. I’d rather not know.”
“But how do you—?”
“It just happens.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Neither do I. All I know is that I have a job to do. Powers gave it to me.”
“What do you mean, powers?” He spoke softly and held his breath.
She smiled grimly. I guess he thinks that if he keeps me talking, he’ll have some answers. “Ron, I can’t explain. Powers is what I call them. They tell me so little. I don’t fully understand it myself.” That was true, but even if she did understand it, she wouldn’t tell him. She couldn’t.
She thought it would be the voice that would stop her from telling.
“Do they have a name? Do you see them?”
“I hear a voice, a deep soothing voice. It’s seductive, that voice. Sucks me in every time. Never answers all my questions.”
“Where are they?” Ron had his back to her, chopping veggies and slicing cheese while they talked. She could see the tension in his stance as he waited for her reply.
“Somewhere up there.” Em glanced at the ceiling and saw the earth spinning away from her. “Way up there.” She found bread and the toaster.
“I don’t know if you can understand this, but try to imagine huge holes in your life. You have a shadowy feeling of who you are and what you are doing, but you know that you also have another self, a life that is apart from this one. Only you have no full conscious memories of that life. You don’t know where you live, what you do, but you do know that life is there. You have no real grasp of either self.”
“I don’t understand.” Ron turned to face her. “You mean you’re not Em?”
“Yes, I’m Em, but I’m someone else too. No, that’s not right. I’m me, but I have another life somewhere. A while ago you asked if my house was like this and I told you no. I know my house is different, but I don’t know how I know that. Remember at the restaurant, I told you all about my favorite movies, TV shows, what I like and don’t like. Or the next day with the kids? I told them I spent a lot of time with teens, never read Shakespeare and loved physics. That stuff just popped out as I talked so I guess it’s from the real me.”
“Do you mean that when you’re not Em, you go home, but then when you are Em again you have no memories of that home?”
“Exactly. And what about the time before Em? And when I’m me, do I know about this Em half of my life?”
“God, that’s like having amnesia or something. How do you handle it?”
“Not very well, most of the time. I’ve been having some bizarre dreams.” She gestured helplessly. “I remember every single detail, yet, they make no sense. I think maybe the dreams are trying to help me bring my two halves together.”
“But maybe if you watched the stuff about Em it would help, somehow?”
“I can’t.”
“Or won’t?”
Oh Ron, thank you for asking. That he dared to question made her proud of him and happy. She thought that meant he wouldn’t treat her differently just because of who she was and that was what she needed from him—some fragments of normalcy. “A bit of both probably. I’m too scared to watch.”
God, I’m such a liar. I wasn’t scared at all. I loved seeing myself. But, after the first couple of weeks something stopped me from watching the news. The Powers guy, I’m sure. Probably worried I’d become full of myself. I don’t think I would have.
“I can’t imagine you afraid of anything.”
“I’m always worried that I’ve done something terribly wrong.”
“But if you watched the news you would know how successful you are.”
“Successful by whose standards, whose criteria? Mine? How the hell do I know what’s right for the world?” She heard the hysteria in her voice and fought desperately to control it.
“The powers.” Ron seemed to be attacking the eggs with the whisk. If he kept that up, the omelet would be black and blue.
“You watch the news. What do the so-called experts have to say about me?”
Ron’s movements slowed. “Some swear that you are God incarnate and saving mankind from itself. Others think you are the answer to all our problems and if only they could quiz you, they could write the definitive ‘how to’ book for living. You’ve been accused of interfering without the right to do so. There are even people who are convinced that you’ve been sent from another planet with the ultimate goal of destroying Earth.” Ron stopped. “There’s more, but I think I’ve already said too much.”
“You see! Nobody knows, least of all me. Only history will show if what I’ve tried to do is right or not and I’ll never know. Ron, I’m just this little person with a little life out there somewhere
that I can’t even find and I’m playing with the world’s destiny. That scares the hell out of me.”
“But you never appear afraid of anything,” Ron ventured.
“When I’m working I’m not afraid, but after, the memories of the things I experience, the things I see….” The images, ever so vivid, with complete camera cruelty. She closed her eyes, went silent and still.
Looting, pillaging, and plundering not confined to the middle ages. Skinny wild dogs, heads lowered, snarling and desperate guarding the dead—their dinner. Distended bellies, dull hopeless eyes, street-torn children. But then, wasn’t everyone street torn? Decomposing bodies, blood-soaked blankets, mass graves, flies swarming. And the stench. The unsanitized war of the real world. She understood now—how dogs could smell a person’s fear.
“The things I hear….”
The rote platitudes of those afraid to speak freely. The growls and grunts of war machines as they settled into their jobs with relish and satisfaction. The whines and screams of live ammunition. The silence of death, which wasn’t silent at all—the rustling and scurrying of souls departing, of insects and carrion feasting, the mewling of orphaned kittens, the pathetic peeps of baby birds, the whimpers of broken trees, bleeding leaves, and crushed grass; they sounded the same everywhere, were recognizable, understandable