Puzzled. Seraphima Bogomolova
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Christmas!”
I close the door and stand a little while in the hall then head to the dining room and start clearing the table.
As I’m arranging plates in the dishwasher I think of what Nicolas half-jokingly has predicted for me.
What did he say?
“Overdoing on self-reflexivity?”
Perhaps…
I suddenly remember that I haven’t had a chance to read the email that had caught my attention before the arrival of Nicolas yesterday.
The message is dated the 24th of December. I begin to read it but stop, double-checking the name at the bottom of it, then the email address that it’s been sent from.
It’s him.
But why now, why after two years of silence he suddenly decides to reconnect with me?
I read his email again but it doesn’t become any clearer.
My dearest… been thinking of you again… meet you… much love…
What on earth does he mean by been thinking of you again
How could he been thinking of me again, if we haven’t been in touch for the past two years? And, for that matter, have never met each other either.
Episode 16 – Hush!
Monte Carlo, 25 December 2010
I walk slowly along the street. Before me, Domino treads, stopping occasionally to examine lamp-posts.
The sun shines brightly, caressing my face, but my thoughts are far from springy.
What am I to do now?
The stupid photo must have been on Facebook since yesterday. By now, the whole of Côte d’Azur knows the news. Though this isn’t what worries me most.
There is another thought that drills through my mind: what if she comes across the bogus image?
If she does, she might misinterpret it. Perhaps, she’s already seen it and thought of me as a complete idiot and that is why she hasn’t responded to my email yet.
I reach the beach.
Domino begins to jump excitedly around me. Seeing no reaction, he growls and tugs me by the jeans towards the edge of the water. Reluctant, but infatuated by his enthusiasm, I give in.
The sea is calm, but the shore is littered with washed out driftwood, sticks, fancifully knotted weeds, and even somebody’s blue snicker.
I pick up a small stick and throw it into the water.
Plunging into the sea, Domino dashes after it. Playing, we spend some time on the beach.
On returning home, I feel much better. Yet still not in the mood to talk to anyone, I plan on quickly sneaking back into my room. But as soon as we enter the hall, Domino explodes with loud barking.
“Hush! You, stupid creature!” I hiss, but he doesn’t stop.
Monsieur Moreau appears in the doorway of the sitting room.
“Have you had a good walk?” He asks.
“Yes, I have”, I reply, not looking at him.
“Monsieur Luke, is everything all-right?”
His question catches me halfway to the stairs.
Surprised by his shrewdness, I freeze for a second. Seizing the moment, he takes me by the arm and gently leads into the sitting room.
“Come, mon ami, let’s have some coffee and a good chat…” he says.
Episode 17 – Cigar Case
Monte Carlo, 25 December 2010
We walk in.
I flop onto the sofa. Monsieur Moreau sits down next to me. Crossing his legs, he studies me for a little while. I shift uncomfortably but say nothing.
He reaches into his pocket, gets a cigar case out and hands it to me:
“Merci, but I don’t smoke”, I say, throwing a curious glance at the case.
“I’m afraid, you’ve misunderstood me”, he replies, smiling. “I’m not trying to turn you into an avid smoker, I’m offering you to experience life sensations.”
He takes my hand and puts his cigar case in it.
“Really? And how would you suggest me do that?” I ask, feeling the cold metal against my skin.
“How else but by senses, mon cher ami10!” He replies.
“Yes, but I don’t understand. How can I experience a sensation of smoking a cigar merely by holding your cigar case in my hand?” I ask, bewildered.
“And who’s told you there are cigars in it?” He responds.
“But, this is a cigar case, isn’t it?” I say.
“Yes, it is.”
“So, then it must contain cigars” I insist.
“Well, that’s what you think, but this alone doesn’t prove it actually does.”
“But, if there are no cigars in it why have you given it to me then?”
“For you to experience life sensations.” He replies.
“But…” I start and look down at the cigar case.
It has four cigar channels, engraved with floral scrolls. I touch them, feeling their curviness under my fingers.
The case is in a pristine condition, no rubbing or scratches on it. The cartouche has a monogram, two intertwined letters: “J & M”. They could very well stand for Jim Morrison11.
But I don’t think he smoked cigars, though.
I open the case.
The strong scent of tobacco hits my nostrils, but the four cigar channels are empty. Inhaling the tobacco aroma emanating from the cigar case, I admire it for a few more seconds, pondering over life sensations that Monsieur Moreau mentioned to me, then close it and hand the case back to him.
“You know”, he says, sliding the case into the pocket of his tweed jacket, “when I was your age I also jumped to hasty conclusions and often ended up being tricked…”
“Especially, in those cases that concerned women”, he adds after a pause.
I blush.
Episode 18 – The Source of Wisdom
London, 25 December 2010
I re-read his message several time and start on my reply.
Carefully picking the words, I string them into sentences.
I don’t wish my message to be formal, but, at the same time, try to avoid sounding as if all I’ve been doing is eagerly awaiting him to reconnect.
Finished, I read through my email and click on send button. An image of a dove, slashing through the virtual space, taking my message to him, comes to my mind.
Though I have never met my mysterious date, I have a feeling I’ve
Jim Morrison – an American singer, songwriter and poet best remembered as the lead singer of The Doors.