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Melancholia never evaporated with tears. It always traveled back stronger. Maybe one day when Charlotte simply runs out of tears, her condition would improve. Now her eye sockets throbbed and it hurt when she blinked.
“…the expectations of my many peers.”
When Charlotte noticed Roderick had stopped talking, he was frowning at her.
“We leave the day after tomorrow.”
Or was it tomorrow? Charlotte tried to remember what her husband said just then but as her head touched the pillow, shackles of judgments came off.
Numbness at last.
***
The piano was out of tune but Charlotte tested out the dusty keys with awe. This strange house was calling, filling her up and tugging at her with each object she encountered. The stones, the fossils. The dirt and salt. Shadowy figurings and hidden ammonites.
Footsteps threw Charlotte out of her trance and she fumbled the piano lid close. She almost forgot she was never a part of the house. A pang of panic shot through her when she registered that Mary was in the same space with her.
Charlotte shut out those warm flutters.
***
They were magnets but unconscious of it.
Mary shifted close; Charlotte's chest swelled with pride, listening to the silent fossil and Mary’s soothing voice. She was proud of Mary for being so capable and intelligent and independent.
She didn’t shy away just yet so she could smell Mary, her scent soapy and wintry and thrumming with tobacco. Charlotte never wanted to smoke, but now she wondered what cigarettes taste like.
That was when Charlotte knew she wanted to kiss Mary.
It was hardly the first time Charlotte kissed someone but god, it felt like it. Mary’s lips were softer than presumed and when they landed upon hers, it was as if Charlotte just existed in her own skin and bones while kissing an equal, sharing intimacy with someone who was neither higher nor lower than her state of being.
It felt like it was always meant to be—just what Charlotte was terrified of.
***
Then they weren’t wearing anything, naked as they chafed, loving and marking each other. They never really knew what love-making meant until they squandered away candles of time, finding themselves mocked by the light of dawn.
It was pure bliss, but the happiness was not entirely realistic.
Forces of nature brought them together, meaning they always belonged to the opposite poles.
Mary fled London intact: she could never lose something she couldn’t have.
***
“Does it bother you that you’re now a kept woman?”
Charlotte asked, trailing her finger from Mary’s shoulder blades to the bends and bows of her back. Exquisite.
“Do you toss and turn on the fact that you’re cheating on your husband?”
Said Mary dryly, amused. Charlotte laughed to herself. She itched to sweep away the hair covering the nape of Mary’s neck, and press kisses on it. But strength was out of reach at the moment.
Mary’s stomach growled before hers did, and their giggles make the bed quake. Their in-bed activities had burned some extra energy and something occurred to Charlotte.
“I’ve gained a few pounds, have you noticed?”
Mary turned slowly to lie on her side, propping her elbows with her hand supporting her head. Her gaze swam over Charlotte’s body, not forgoing any details.
Charlotte stared back with hooded eyelids. If it was a few months ago she wouldn’t have the confidence to leave herself so exposed.
“Well?”
“Hmmm.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Charlotte swatted Mary’s arm, mimicking her comment, “Hmmm?”
“It means,” Mary splayed her palm at the center of Charlotte’s chest, “that you shouldn’t ask a woman who’s twenty years ahead of you about how you look, dear.”
Charlotte knew it was a way of Mary being sweet on her. She covered Mary’s hand and intertwined their fingers.
“Older people are far more appealing.”
“Just wait until you are forty-two.”
Charlotte feigned a gasp.
“You’re merely in your forties?”
Mary grunted and pounced on Charlotte.
***
Then Mary wasn’t a mistress anymore. One day Charlotte just appeared in front of her house, luggage piling up behind with carriages scurrying away in systematic trot-trots.
Mary quickly came around. It wasn’t the sun getting into her eyes; it was the triumphant gleam on Charlotte’s face. There were no dramatic manifestoes of love, but Mary was clever. She knew this time it was no temporary visit.
“You never travel light, don’t you?”
Subtly was a part of Mary’s character, but the slight shaking of her hands revealed everything.
Charlotte, beaming with relief, pecked Mary shyly on the mouth. They looked at each other for a long time before they kissed, unhurried and tender by Mary’s doorstep. Fuck the world and they wouldn’t give a damn if somebody saw.
“I’ll just have to throw some of your things away.”
Shrugged Charlotte, her hands looping Mary’s shoulder, their foreheads touching. Mary nuzzled Charlotte’s nose, and grinned, “We could always start with the piano.”
***
Later that afternoon they had sex until the sun was about to go beyond the sea. Mary had lost count of how many times she came. Charlotte laid boneless beside her, sweat drying off of her creamy skin.
Then Mary jumped when Charlotte yelled oh and sprung out of bed.
“I’m an absolute idiot! Almost forgot…”
Charlotte started to dig for something in her purse. Mary watched, taking the opportunity to score the cigarettes and matches under the mattress.
“No, no! Don’t smoke that yet!” Charlotte threw something at her, and it bounced off her tummy rather comically. Mary scowled. But she picked it up and found that it was a pack of cigarettes, printed in big, flamboyant French cursives.
“I don’t know if it was good or not, but the brand was recommended.” Charlotte smiled, suddenly self-conscious, “You could give it a go.”
Mary’s stare became less intense.
“And what if I don’t like it?” She tapped the case, opened the lid, fished a cigarette out, “You’d finish for me? You hate smoking.”
Charlotte watched as her lover put the coffin nail between her lips. Charlotte loved the contrast between the white-thin cigarette and Mary’s plump lips.
Mary struck the match and soon, the tip of the cigarette was lit. She inhaled, held and blew out a cloud of smoke. Her profile blurred.
“Well, it’s not so terrible.” The brunet muttered, eyes closed, the cigarette submissive between her index and middle finger. Charlotte stood there and felt small at Mary’s statuesque presence.
The older woman reconnected their gaze. Charlotte’s breath hitched. She had a glint in her eyes that made Charlotte shiver.
Another breathless instant ticked by.
Mary only took another drag of smoke, exhaled and husked, “Speaking of presents, won’t you come back to bed now.”