By Mitzi Danielson-Kaslik
spiced warm red wine
It was strange to see him outside. In the night air. He seemed happy, though I knew it must now be common place for him to be outside I suppose I didn’t really appreciate the feel of the chilled night air upon my skin and the soft sea breeze in my hair. As we walked further and further down the hill we talked more and more as we warmed to one another, he told me of his apartment on Rue de Liberte and of his new piano and of how he’d missed me so. Sylvester’s voice was soft and wanting. It was then that I asked the question I had been longing to ask; had he met anyone else? This I asked in a subtle whisper and was answered with a permissive story of Marius Chevallier and Camille Douchant who lived around him and I found myself smiling over the idea that Sylvester had friends. He told me that the former had lived in Brittany but had moved to Paris in his late teens to sell his paintings and that the latter did not know what she wanted to do with her life so she currently worked at a bar by the Seine and made extra money in the evenings. I was not sure if I liked the idea of my Sylvester meeting with women of the night but I said nothing. He seemed so happy in his new life as a Parisian pianist.
The life he lived without me.
As we approached the docks, a cool salted scene breeched my nose. The waves were fairly calm tonight though a few black storm clouds floated calmly above as if waiting to strike the boat as it crossed the ocean to our destination. Brittany. Then onto Paris by train. It was then that I noticed that Sylvester had taken hold of my left hand in his right and was gliding his thumb up and down my flesh gently. I looked at him for a moment and he spoke to me as he used to; “My dear, when we embark, may we make love?” he whispered in a tentative voice as if broaching a question best left unanswered. A question he was frightened of asking for he perhaps feared the answer. Why? Of course, I wanted him, of course, I love him, and how could he not know? Had he not felt love’s keen sting as I had- have?
He took my hand in his a little tighter as he lead me up the ramp to board the boat and helped me get my case up over the step. We looked at each other for a deafeningly long moment before we began with the other passengers along the narrow crimson-carpeted corridors and up the steep steps until we reached our cabin. Sylvester slipped the key into the golden lock, as he turned his wrist the key clicked, and he pushed the wooden door open. He looked at me again as he closed the door and I stared back almost blankly “I feel like a little girl on the voyage to the new world.” I whispered with a slight smile. “It’s awfully cold,” I continued, attempting to seduce him somewhat.
“It is isn’t it?” H smiled “I shall have to keep you warm,.” he said with a short directed nod. “I know ways of keeping young ladies warm…” he murmured, his lips coming towards my ear.
I took him in my arms and he began to kiss my pale neck and whispered sweet muffled words into my skin.
“I love you,” he whispered.
I repeated him and found myself falling backwards against the door half slumped, awaiting his body to lead mine. He saw his chance and took it, in a deft sweeping motion he pulled my dress off over my head and pulled his shirt off and knelt down. He reached his hands under my exposed thighs and lifted me up to his shoulders. What happened next was a blur of happiness, love and him. Only him.