Forever And A Day.

How translucent her skin looks in the moonlight, the faint cobweb of blue veins tattooing a map to her heart. I could strike now, but first I need to look into her eyes, those glittering blue orbs that have kept me spellbound for so many years. A pale gleam from the bedside light casts shadows around the room. How they leap from corner to bed and back again, ricocheting the knife's silvery threat. Her pupils are large, good girl; she has taken the tablets I left for her. Now all that remains is the ritual ceremony, and for that she needs the silken scarves removed from her dainty arms. Silently her eyes beseech me as I gently unwind the knotted silk, only the best for my beloved. I raise her enough to drink the wine and take my own cup, as the seconds tick away I am drowning once again in her hypnotic gaze¦¦¦¦

We met the first time in a Yoga class, of all strangest places we were destined to meet? We'd met before, of course, but neither of us would learn that until much later. A knee injury in the gym caused me to seek alternative exercise for a while and Yoga was gentle enough not to cause further damage. I didn't spot her straight away, annoyed by resorting to a feminine pastime it wasn't until the instructor had us laid out on the mats, winding down to complete relaxation, that I noticed she was sitting as upright as me.
We looked at each other and fire blazed from eye to eye. It was as simple as that.

Instant recognition in my case, puzzlement in her eyes. It's always been this way.
(A glimpse of swirling skirts, sunlight through casement windows.)

I took her for a drink afterwards, revelling in her sheer femininity. Of course I'd noticed the beautiful body in the tight leotard, but I preferred her like this, a short tee shirt underneath a full-length dress. I didn't kiss her that night, neither did I for months to come, it was enough to just be together. Sometimes she did annoy me by attempting to wear trousers or leggings, but one harsh word would be enough to send her scuttling to change into the clothes I liked best. That didn't mean it was all one-sided, she hated my casual dress and soon got me wearing smart suits when we went out. I was more than happy to please her then.

(A vision in brown and greens, strong arms guiding a dainty foot, the golden mare standing quietly by.)

We both preferred our evenings in together; worn out from the day's work we created our own haven from the outside world. It was there that she discovered we had met before. She was always very superstitious and after weeks of teasing her I told her my birth sign, Aries. It turned out she was an Aries as well. Further questions led to an uncanny co-incidence, we had been born on the same day, in the same hospital ward with me the elder by just a few minutes. Our mother's hadn't been friends, they couldn't even agree over the circumstances of our birth. My mother said it was snowing the day I was born; her mother said it was a lovely sunny March day, but both agreed they were the only two women in that ward at the time, so we put it down to aging memories. The point was, we had been fated to meet; we were soul mates from the start.

(The joy of the rides, cantering across the heather-clad moors. Fingers briefly meeting, as if by accident.)

I can't say our relationship was all plain sailing, in many ways we were much alike. Sometimes she'd start a sentence and I'd finish it without realising I'd even done it. I liked going out clubbing now and again, she found social situations difficult and sometimes embarrassing. That's why we kept our own places, I had a nice bachelor flat, and she had a small house, a legacy from her failed marriage. Together we planted a garden that would provide us both with sun and shelter in the summer and bright evergreen plants in the winter. Sometimes we'd be the perfect couple and then we'd have a heated argument. On the whole, though, our relationship was everything we could both desire.

(The feasts were magnificent, food and wine never-ending. Heavenly music, voices reaching to the sky. A dazzling display of rainbow colours as the dancers wove around the great hall.)

The problems started with the deaths. My parents were a decade older than hers, so it came as no surprise when my father died of a heart attack at just sixty years old. He'd been dodging the bullet for many years with a sedentary life-style and too much indulging in all the vices. We mourned him for a while and then got back on with our lives. When my elder brother suddenly collapsed and died at the age of forty-seven, she started to worry about me. I'd lost a third of my family and she was worrying I'd be the next one to go.

(Life was cheap; children died by the thousands, wasted limbs and bloated hungry bellies.)

This caused our biggest row yet. I was working out at the gym three times a week and swimming every morning before work. At thirty-eight I was in my prime. She wanted me to have a medical check-up and I couldn't see the point. My temper was always my downfall, I walked out on her before I hit her and stayed away from her years after. I had countless new girlfriends but none could compare to my soul mate. I heard about her from time to time, she went out with a younger man for a while until the day she had a miscarriage. The bastard left her after that and I stepped in to heal the breech. I knew she wanted children; it was one of the things we had argued about. Tenderly taking her in my arms I promised we would try for a child of our own.
She asked me about my latest girlfriend. I told her that she'd taken off. A lot of my girlfriends had a habit of disappearing; it was nothing for her to worry about.

(There were always plenty of willing maidens, ready for a tumble in the hay. Sweet promises made in the dark, whispering lies into their ears.)

Then came the next death, just like my own father, hers died suddenly of a heart attack. He was just sixty-years old. She started getting frightened then and watched her own brother like a hawk. It did no good; of course, I could have predicted his death to the very day.
We still tried for a baby, even though we both knew she was running out of time. Now she started to get edgy, asking about my mother's health. I told her my mother was fine, getting stiff in the joints and all that, but yeah, she was fine. Except she wasn't, she had died not long after my brother, you could say she'd died of a broken heart, but I knew better. It wasn't hard keeping the secret, my mother had never approved of any of my girlfriends.

(Fate is a tapestry, woven by the three hags; sometimes they deliberately drop threads at the same time.)

The years passed, we were happy in our own way, I could have wished for a pregnancy, but I knew it would never happen, just as I knew when her mother was about to die. I had to own up then, and of course she made all the right connections. My parents may have been older, but hers and our respective brothers had died at exactly the same age. This was one co-incidence too far for her, I was banished again. I resolved never to go back to her until she called for me. Then fate tripped me up. I was working out on the abs machine at the gym when my back slipped a disc. I was in agony for weeks and my future prospects didn't look good.

(The horns are sounding; there is a rumble like thunder. This is just the beginning.)

It was about that time I heard from a mutual friend that she was ill herself. A muscular degeneration meant she would slowly decline over a period of years. My resolve broke, I called her up and we arranged to meet at our favourite restaurant.
It was there that she put her improbable hypothesis, that we were doomed to share the same fate. I said nothing, how could I when I knew it was true?
That's when she told me about past-life regression, her idea being that we had lived before and were bound together in this life to atone for past sins.
In vain I protested it was all a load of rubbish, she had this thing about crystal healing, the Tarot cards and all that rubbish. How could I tell her the truth?

(Fire has swept to the main hall; servants and soldiers mill around while death rains its arrows on friend and foe alike.)

I went along with her, actually the hypnotist was very good, he very nearly got it right. She was so excited to learn that we had been brothers in another life, although she wasn't happy to learn that we had both been killed in battle by knife wounds to the body. That would account for our hatred of knives, she thought. Soon I would have to tell her, we were both showing signs of our imminent end. There is a pattern to this and a ritual to follow so one of us will remember when the time is right.

(They have us cornered now, my lady Eleanor with a few maids and only I and another page armed with knives to hold the barbarians at bay. That scum of a noble, Malcolm, has deserted his own wife and left her to face a terrible death. I draw my knife, knowing that there is only one way to end it.)

I made her last few weeks as comfortable as possible. June heat shimmered as we sat in the sheltered rose arbour eating strawberries and cream, washed down by the finest champagne. I even managed to get her to attend a concert, the music filling my veins, lifting me up with a rapturous bliss. We made sweet love, over and over again until our spirits sang for joy. Last night I prepared her for the ritual, explaining only that this was a kind of game. She can only know at the very end. The drugs are a mixture of something to expand the mind with a mild sedative added so she won't suffer too much. I bound her arms loosely, put the pills and a goblet of wine by her bedside, she had to choose to take them or the ritual wouldn't work.

¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦

Now my hands are trembling, I've practised this so many times but never with the love of my soul. Those others? I didn't have to look into their eyes for the final thrust. She's weeping silently, she trusts me implicitly. How can I carry this through, its breaking my heart once more? I lift her into my arms; she's so light now. I take up the twin goblets, silver sparkling from their surfaces. The drug I took earlier is beginning to work; soon it will be time for the last secret to be shown. She flinches slightly as I prick her thumb, a reflex only. Mingling our blood with the wine, we drink to our past and future.

The stars wheel in the heavens, the sky takes on the glow of burning. Shrieks echo all around us as she turns her face to mine for one final kiss. The past has opened up before her eyes, she has seen herself as the unwilling bride of Malcolm, his body riddled with the disease that has rendered them both sterile. She lifts her queenly head to spit at the barbarians who have ravaged the land. How proud and grim she looks, my queen and lover. I'm a mere knight's son, but the blood of ancient warriors still runs in my veins.
I lift the knife as she stands calmly by¦¦..

And plunge it deep into her heart, which she bared for me alone. 'I love you Louise, she manages to say as I lift my own breast to show the bleeding birthmark we both share.
'I love you too, my Eleanor, forever and a day.'
'I will see you again¦' with her dying breathe.
'Maybe this time it will turn out right ? ' I say, lying down beside her.
The light fades from her eyes as I follow her into eternity.

© Lisa Fuller. March 2006.