Days passed. The routine of lectures, lab sessions and essay writing began to feel vaguely normal to Sophia once again, not that she found it as engaging as before. It was as if some certainty about daily life, even the flow of time, had slipped away from her. Why did morning roll to evening, Tuesday to Wednesday, winter to summer, school to university, university to job, to job, to job, to old age, to death?
It didn’t have to. She could live with him through perpetual sunsets, spring mornings, or Arabian nights, utterly sundered from the rhythms of the rest of humanity. The Connoisseur and the Actress; two myths, wandering the ages.
She hadn’t spoken to him since Monaco, more than two weeks ago. At first she thought it best to give him time, whatever that meant. The revelation of his past was so clearly a difficult thing for him to promise. Then she had called him a few times, to no answer. Maybe he’d finally gone to a time without phone signal, magical or not.
When she went to bed each night, she thought of him. She imagined him sleeping next to her, pressed closely but gently against her back. Sometimes, in the half-life between wakefulness and dreams, she was convinced he was there, his kiss only a movement away.
Oh, those perpetual sunsets.
*
“Sometimes I think I should order something different,” said Julie, dipping her flatbread in the hummus. “But then I walk in the door, and I’m like, ‘screw that, boring tastes too good’!”
“And that’s why I fancy her,” said Christian, playfully nudging his girlfriend.
“Because she’s boring?” said Roz, grinning.
The whole table waited for the response. Sophia watched Christian squirm.
“Nope,” he said eventually. “Because she knows what she wants.”
“Phew,” said Adam, “I thought you were going to say it’s because she tastes good.”
Everyone burst out laughing as Adam protested – “Her mouth I mean! You guys have filthy minds” – but although Sophia laughed too, she stopped well before everyone else.
The final show of Death of a Salesman had ended triumphantly the previous night. The Easter break was just around the corner and most of the cast and crew had decamped to San Polo’s for a celebratory night out. Sophia sat at one end of the long table with her close friends. The food was great, the wine was easily quaffed and the company was as lively as Sophia could remember. She was having fun – she knew she was – but it felt qualified, as though she could only enjoy herself so much, and had to watch as her friends went further.
Julie and Christian sat opposite her. She felt strange watching them. As they had done during the painting session a week or so ago, every sign of their attraction to one another – a lingering look, an eagerness to chat, the supposedly-secret game of footsie under the table – made Sophia think of Alexander. Back then, though, she had felt jealous; now she felt a strangely happy melancholy. There was something so genuine in them, affection as well as attraction, that she couldn’t help but feel pleased for them. Still, it threw her longing for Alexander into sharp relief.
When they had finished eating, Sophia decided to make her apologies and head home, leaving the rest of them to go drinking. She batted away the storm of protest with claims of tiredness and work to do in the morning. She was surprised, though, when Julie decided to leave too. Along with Christian, they headed home.
“Don’t fancy a drink then?” she said to Julie when they left the restaurant.
“I know, I don’t know what’s come over me,” joked her friend. “You okay with Chris staying the night?”
“Yeah, sure.”
When they reached home, Christian went to use their shower. The girls chatted over tea in the kitchen.
“He’s okay, isn’t he?” said Julie. Sophia was surprised to hear doubt in her friend’s voice.
“He’s nice,” she replied. “I like him. Seems very kind.”
“I thought he’d be a bad boy when he asked me out. Rugby lad and all.”
“Disappointed that he’s not?”
Julie thought for a moment. “I kind of was, but not now.” She smiled and blushed. “Yeah, not now. Don’t think he’s changing me, getting me to come home instead of staying out. I just...I kind of just want to be with him.”
They smiled at one another. Sophia felt so happy for the two of them.
She wondered where Alexander was.
“Sophe,” said Julie an eternity later, “What the hell’s happening with you and this guy?”
Sophia froze. Her teacup hovered by her lips. It was too small to hide behind.
“Sorry for being blunt,” continued Julie, “But I’m worried for you. It’s him, Alexander, isn’t it? That’s why you’ve been down these last few weeks.”
“I’ve not been down.”
“You have been. We’ve all see it. You disappear for a few hours, sometimes I don’t even hear you leave, and then you say nothing when you come back. Please, Sophe, tell us something.” Julie leaned forward suddenly. “Just something! I mean, where do you go? What’s he like? Why does he make you so sad?”
“He doesn’t!” said Sophia. “It’s not him, he’s...I don’t know.”
Julie paused. “Are you two evening going out any more? I don’t know, Sophe. Sometimes I think so, sometimes I don’t. Your silent. We’re all worried.”
“Who’s we?”
“You know. All of us. All of them there tonight.”
Sophia realised what that meant. “Oh god, really?”
“Yes. We want to help. Let us.”
They sat in silence for a moment. The trickle of the shower upstairs was the only sound. Sophia blinked back tears.
“So are you still going out?” said Julie.
Sophia thought about those last two words, that phrase. It seemed odd. “Would you accept it,” she said slowly, “If I said I didn’t know?”
“Yes, if it’s the truth.”
“Then I don’t know.”
Julie smiled. “That’s okay.”
Sophia waited, but Julie said nothing. It was clearly her turn. “It’s like we’re a normal couple,” she began. “But then we’re not normal at all. We’re apart for a long time.”
“He’s away a lot, right?” said Julie. “Research, you said.”
“Did I? Of course.” Sophia smiled through the damp in her eyes. “But when we’re together, we’re so together. But there’s still so much distance. Oh this is stupid!” she blurted out, as her head flooded with memories of Prague, Ctesiphon, Shangdu and Monaco. “I can’t explain it, I just can’t.”
“This is good,” said Julie. “This is enough. Just getting you talking, it’s great.”
She laughed, and somehow Sophia found the will to join in. They lapsed once again into silence.
“I haven’t spoken with him in two weeks,” said Sophia.
“I’m sorry.”
“No. Don’t be.” Sophia sipped her chai. “Because we might have problems, lots of them, but I know him. He’ll call. He’ll call. And when he does, we’ll take on those problems together.”
“Will you?”
“Yeah. Yeah.” Sophia wiped her eyes. “He’ll call.”
*
He did.
*
Julie's relationship is going well, it seems. How do you think Sophia really feels about that? And can she ever talk honestly with her friends about her relationship with Alexander?
This chapter is a little bit significant for me - it's the first significant chunk of novel I've ever written by hand. I've scribbled notes before, and a few poems too every now and then, but nothing quite like this. It was a rather lovely way to spend a lazy afternoon in a cafe!
The music is Gabriel Fauré's Après un rêve. The video is a bit cheesy, but the music is divine. The words come from an anonymous Italian poem translated into French. Translated into English, it works well for Sophia at this stage in the story:
After a Dream
In a slumber enchanted by your image
I dreamt of happiness, passionate mirage
Your eyes were softer, your voice pure and resonant,
Your eyes like a sky lit up by the dawn;
You called me and I left the earth
To run away with you towards the light,
The skies opened their clouds for us,
Unknown splendours, divine flashes glimpsed.
Alas! Alas! sad awakening from your dreams
I call you, O night, give me back your lies,
Return, return radient,
Return, O mysterious night!