The Lovers of Life

CHAPTER II - THE VISITATION

"The night has fallen, I'm lying' awake
I can feel myself fading away
So receive me brother with your faithless kiss
Or will we leave each other alone like this"

Streets of Philadelphia – Greatest Hits – Bruce Springsteen

It was the fifth summer solstice I lived to see. It was the first I would remember. My childhood before that night is wild and incoherent, like a dream. But this recollection is the proof that I once was five years old. I wasn't always what I am now.

For some reason or another, we stayed in the suffocating atmosphere of town that summer. Our anniversary celebrations were grandiose. My porcelain doll called Elsie had shattered to pieces ages ago. But when it had broken, I couldn't have cared less: I had a little sister. Nothing in the world could please me more than to sit down on the rug to play with her, comb her hair and talk to her. We followed small lessons with Irène together and I loved hearing Elsie talk. I never interrupted her; if I did, I thought her voice would shatter and fall to the ground in a thousand glittering notes of music. I knew Elsie was a darling and I was not. She deserved all the jewels that were laid at her feet and all the compliments that were bestowed upon her precious heart. In the satin jewel case that was her world I was an obvious stain.

Now I remember why we stayed in town that season. When Victor had told me he would be spending the summer with his crooked grandfather, I begged him not to leave me alone, to stay with me. He therefore asked Papa if we could all stay in town.

For our anniversary, Papa had given us, to Elsie and me, a doll and a wooden horse. The doll was for me, and the horse for Elsie, for she had not yet been granted permission to ride. However, Elsie wanted the doll – and I let her have it.

When I was five, Eva was my best friend. Things did not change until she left us. Eva was an orphan my father had allowed to stay in the servants' quarters. She was to join the household, having food and shelter as payment. Retrospectively, it puts me in mind of slavery.

I invited her to my birthday, lent her one of my frocks so that she would not feel bad, surrounded by all those fancy dressed and spoiled girls. No one knew her for what she was.

That night, I lay in bed for what seemed to be ages. It did not matter how much I sought sleep: it would not conquer me. I don't know why, but it sometimes annoyed me to share my room with Elsie. As much as I liked her, I couldn't help feeling that our destinies were linked in a dreadful way and the thought tortured me as I lay beside her. In the countryside villa, we both had our own lodgings, but in town space was considerably reduced.

When Elsie was asleep, I did as I always did when I felt the need for solitude: I rose out of bed, slipped on my slippers, pulled on my night jacket, lit a candle and tiptoed out of the room carofelly to avoid any creak of the floorboards. I opened the door slowly to keep the squeaking hinges quiet and sneaked into the corridor.

The party downstairs was not over. I could hear the music and the indistinct rumble of multiple conversations. To go up to the attic, to my little hideaway room, I had to go to the third floor. The third floor was the servants' headquarters and to reach it, I first had to go to the second floor where my parents lived.

Lights from the ground floor flooded the wide staircase and the shadows from the dancing and moving figures were gruesomely disfigured on the wooden steps. I stared at theses shadows with fascination. They reminded me of a dream I had had – it was a dream, wasn't it? In the dream, I had danced with demons in sunlight – hadn't I?

There was a drift of fresh air: someone had opened a window downstairs. I hurried up the domesctics' stairs. Like a spy avoiding detection, I sneaked up to an old wooden door. I pushed it open and hurried down the low-ceilinged corridor to a small room furnished with dusty furniture. There was a rusty bed, a wooden commode, a small stool and a bedside table, which looked out of place with its elaborate carvings. There was a window, but I was too small to reach it to see anything but the sky from it. I was tall enough to open it however.