Lost Doves

Two: Pleasant Days

I had seen her from afar before I really met her. I was told she was a distant cousin from my mother's side, although unlike my mother's family, hers was far from wealthy. To keep me out of trouble, my parents gave funds to Elsa's family and in return they sent Elsa to be my playmate.

I was wary and shy at first, as so many kids before had either kept me at bay or played cruel tricks on me, but I soon discovered that Elsa was quite different than the others. From the first moment I saw her I was enchanted by her beauty and her innocence. She had always been a beautiful child, and though I hadn't known many girls, I thought she was perfect.

She was playing with her dolls the first time I really saw her up close. She had a large dollhouse, which was a gift from my parents, and they sent me to go play with her though I knew they just wanted me out of the way. I stood by the door for the longest time and simply watched her.

The afternoon light shone in through the window, playing against shiny red curls and a gentle complexion. She was playing a game of make-believe with her dolls, happy to be in her own little world that harbored no sadness or cruelty. I stepped forward awkwardly and stood in front of her until I was noticed.

The smile I received melted all doubt. Somehow she didn't see my looks, and she didn't care at all that I was not like the others.

"Hello." She grinned and held up one of her dolls. "Want to play?"

Dolls were for girls perhaps, but I had never been offered the chance to play before, not so earnestly, and I found myself faintly smiling in return. I timidly reached for the doll.

"Okay…" I said, sitting down slowly to join her.

We played until evening, until her parents arrived to take her back home. It was not the last I would see of her. She was to visit many times whenever my family came home to Germany, and sometimes I was sent to her house to be watched when the maids were too busy or fed up with my presence.

It was bliss to be with her. I felt normal, not judged… free. I loved most of all to watch her. On occasion I would hide myself near her room and watch her in secret. But I didn't always have to hide. Such a caring young child, she would take me on all sorts of pretend adventures and games. I could even begin to pretend that I was happy.

When we played hide and seek I would sometimes let her find me, though I had gotten quite good at hiding myself where no one could find me. She would laugh with joy when she found me, wrap her arms around me in a hug and then run off to hide. Her laughter was like a chorus of angels. Soft and sweet, always calling to me. I made sure to keep my hiding spots relatively easy to find.

Sometimes I would gather white flowers and she would let me place them in her hair, and though at first I expected it, there was no flinch from her when I touched her. Instead she would smile in a way that put her china dolls to shame. She was perhaps the first person to hear me laugh, though those occasions were rare, and if I felt scared or alone I would seek her out, and she would be there to smile and ease my worries.

I admired her for her boldness, her bright and creative spirit. She had beauty and a genuine purity. She was a companion that only the angels could have sent for me. And while the rest of the world proceeded to go unchanged in my eyes, as I remained an outcast and a scorned mistake of creation, Elsa stayed by my side. She even sought to defend me from cruel eyes and mocking stares.

I can still see her standing before me like a guardian angel, protecting. She would scold the bullies for picking on me and so bravely stand up for her place as my friend. I couldn't see how she could be so confident and strong and still have faith in me.

"They don't know you, Ormand." She used to tell me. "They just don't understand you because you're different." Then she would smile and wipe the mud from my face where I had fallen. "One day they will see how good you are. You'll see."

Oh, how I wanted to believe her words. But as I grew older, I only became more bitter and disillusioned, and even her words of comfort couldn't be enough to calm my growing anger for the world.

---

To be a teenager in those years was unbearable, and the only days I could feel an inkling of joy was when Elsa was there to visit. When I was forced to leave the country constantly during the long summer months, I would loath the time that stretched between us. I would receive letters from her from time to time, but it was never enough, as I could not stand being without her presence.

I heard much from her letters. How much she missed me. How the summer blossoms had come to bloom and she wished I could see them with her. How her father was planning on sending her to become a nun once she reached of age.

The last of course came to me in shock, and disappointment. I never told her how much I hated the idea, but beauty such as hers should not be forced to modesty in the service of God, which I had already begun to lose faith in. I had not told her the latter, either.

Such a waste. I despised her family for the decision, even if Elsa was willing. But my opinion would never be heard out, even if I voiced it. It never was.

I used to imagine that growing older would draw a change around me, and the world would forget the unwanted child and I would be a man to be respected. Perhaps it was Elsa's encouragement that drove me to this thought as a boy, but as I reached closer to manhood, it became apparent that this would not be the case.

I could still hear people whispering things about me behind my back while I walked in the street. Sometimes I could even catch the sound of sniggering children, who still thought it fun to throw things in my direction from alleyways and then to run off and never be caught. I didn't bother to chase them. I would wipe off the smudge of rotten fruit or kick away the stone and walk on. It wasn't tolerance, but survival that kept me from acting too quick on my anger.

The only thing that changed was myself. I could no longer trust others, least of all my peers. In seclusion I realized that if I wanted to survive in such a world of cruelty, I had to remember that my needs would have to come first. I wouldn't let some mindless boors have control over my life. And no, I wouldn't even let my parents have control either, but as long as I was dependent on them, they still had it.

I sought out my father when I first wanted a peek at his library. I was fifteen then, and I had heard that he had many books on the history of Germany, and I was eager to see what wondrous learning could be had. So eager was I that I would even risk my neck to speak to my father. I had no urges to do that in the past for many reasons, the main one being his temper and his impatience with insignificant problems, namely, me.

The old General sat in his armchair in the parlor room, enjoying a cigar, which filled the room with acrid smoke. He was reading the morning newspaper in silence. I chose this time specifically, because it was when my father was the least busy, and least likely to act up. Even so, I was nervous. To ask a favor of him was something I never did.

I stepped closer to his chair, and I knew he could hear me, for I had always walked with a faint shuffling step that made my approach obvious. He looked up.

I rarely saw my father this close, and seeing him then, I could tell he was growing old. His once golden blonde hair was dulling to a wintry gray, and his eyebrows were already stark white and drew heavily over his dark, menacing eyes. He had the face of that once-proud Arian race, with a square jaw and a built that once used to be muscular and impressive.

"What do you want?" He said even before I could get a word in, not even lowering the newspaper.

I hesitated, fear making me pause. "I was wondering," I started, lowering my eyes from his accusing gaze. "If I could ask something, father?"

He studied me in silence as he dragged on his cigar and then laid it in the ashtray on the side table. "What is it, then?"

So far so good. He had not yet yelled at me or driven me out of the room.

"Only to see your library, father." Oh so humbly I asked. I nearly groveled at his feet. Yes, I was still under his paternal power. It sickens me now to remember.

"Why should I let you do that, hm?" He asked in such a casual manner, that I was almost sent to a state both cowering with fear and yet shuddering with rage.

"Please…" It was all I had left. Pleading. "I will not damage your books. I will not touch any you do not want to be touched. I only wish to see them."

My father stood, folding the paper and placing it on the arm of the chair. He was still taller than me, but my hunch had always made me shorter.

"Let me tell you something, boy." He always called me that. Never son. Not even by my name. "Those books survived a war. Most of them I have had since I was a boy." He leaned over me, watchful like a large, leering statue. "If I were to let your filthy little hands onto those pages, the very memory of them would be disgraced."

I could not have been any lower than how I felt. How could I have thought he would even consider letting me step foot in his precious library?

One last try, I lifted my eyes. "But father… I would not--."

I was cut off as his hand struck my face. He was not as forceful as he could have been.

"You know better than to talk back to me when I have made my decision." He grabbed his paper, sat back down and returned to his reading.

That was that. I had no chance of convincing otherwise. My hate boiled inside, but I could not show it. I was too afraid to let it show.

I dared not to cry though the smack stung my cheek, and I drew in a breath to keep myself together. I turned from him and I left as silently as I could, until I reached the door and there I broke into a run for my own room.

I still did not weep, but I buried myself in my books, forcing myself to forget everything for that moment. I thought of Elsa, and how I would collapse into her embrace when I saw her again, and how she would smile and comfort me…

But, if there was any respite from those dreadful nights and days away from Elsa, it was in learning. My studies increased while I had more time on my hands, and even though I did not have access to my father's library, I had other sources.

Most boys my age would waste their time with friends and girls, filling themselves with alcohol and drugs at parties and other meaningless activities. As for me, I had no social life, and I didn't care for one.

I studied law and finance, and the politics of every country we visited came as a great interest to me. I sat in my room alone on many days, simply reading and studying. I was just beginning to understand that there was power in knowledge, and I would harness that power. I craved this about as much as I craved for my cousin's presence.

I would teach myself the inner workings of society, and I would know it well. And then some day I would show them all what this ugly, hunched creature was capable of.

---

My youthful shyness disappeared with Elsa quickly, and as she blossomed into a woman, my admiration never waned. But there was a change in me as well. I only delved deeper into readings and secluded myself away in order to keep out noise and distractions. It didn't keep me from Elsa by any means, but I am sure my behavior didn't go unnoticed.

Despite what seemed to be a growing friendship, I could see my hope for the future slowly drowning. Elsa was growing popular as she had indeed surpassed her own youthful prettiness and became a startling beauty of a woman. She remained kind and joyful, and it wasn't only I who was drawn to her brightness. I knew that some day she would leave me, especially since I knew that her deeply religious parents were sending her to the nunnery.

From the day I knew for certain that those were her possible futures, I felt my dreams being crushed by time. Although I felt bitterness inside, I tried to hide it from Elsa as she still did her best to be with me, even through her busy schedule.

She came to visit me one cold and rainy evening. I was reading alone in my room as usual and she was just coming back from one of the many dances she had begun to attend, no doubt surrounded by friends and admirers. I had locked myself in my room, but I let her in when I heard her soft knock and her gentle voice.

I still had little in my room, but I had collected a near library of books to study from, and with a little coaxing from Elsa, I had uncovered the mirror that stood on my dresser. I hardly ever looked at it, but I wasn't so conscious of my looks when she was around.

She was carrying a package with her, but that wasn't what I was focused on when I beheld her. She was dressed in a bright emerald gown, which only worked to emphasize her modest curves. She was so perfect.

"I brought you a gift." She said, the silky material of her gown creating a soft rustling noise across the floor as she drew closer.

I looked up from some volume of philosophy I had been reading, and I stared at her figure with appreciation… but yes, more than that. "You did?" I inquired, always so delighted to receive tokens from her.

She kissed my cheek chastely once she had reached my side.

"Yes." She said with a smile that shone out like sunlight. "Open it."

I did as she said, taking the gift-wrapped object from her and carefully prying it open. Inside I found a rare book on early German politics, still in perfect condition. I stared up at her a moment, curious as to where she got it from. Instead of questioning her I simply smiled, though my smiles had felt heavier than they have been in the past.

"You are always so thoughtful..." I said quietly.

She blushed and I couldn't help but smile a bit more.

"No, not really." Standing so close, I could smell the perfume that still lingered on her wrists and behind her ears. "I saw this book and new it needed a good home with you."

I set the book in my lap and looked up at her, fascinated.

"I missed you tonight." She said then, sitting beside me.

I looked downward, fingers playing over the cover of the book. "Did you have to go?"

"Yes, you know I did. I am on the committee." I imagined she sounded regretful. "I can stay here with you for a few days, though."

I was quiet. I resented her obligations and her popularity… everything that was keeping her from me.

"We will have a good time, ok?" She had a hopeful smile.

When I didn't answer she added. "Please." Pleading with me.

How could I argue with such a plea? I swallowed down my hatred for the world and slowly nodded.

"I only wish you could stay forever." I whispered, reaching for her hand. She still didn't flinch or cringe from my touch. Her hand was smooth and warm, and she smelled so good…

"I know." She smiled at me. She could still only see the childish sweetness that I might have once possessed. She couldn't see how much I desired her.

I slowly looked up into her eyes, but something was dying in my own pale blue ones. Whatever lingered of my innocence and maybe even my hope, was all hanging by a thread. I didn't really know it then, but it could have been her that was holding those remnants together. I tried to smile. Not for the first time, I wished I were not so ugly.

A flash of lightning and then a distant call of thunder reminded us of the storm outside. The lights flickered, and then went out.

She clung closely to me suddenly as we were thrust into darkness.

"What an awful storm." She muttered.

The sudden darkness only faintly startled me, but what startled me more was her touch as she clung to my side. I found myself smiling again. I took my chances and my arms slipped around her, frail but protective. I could feel goose bumps rising along her bare arms.

I remembered when she used to hold me when we were only children and the thunder and lightning would strike outside my room. We would huddle together, chasing away each other's fears. It was a similar scene, but now I wasn't afraid.

I hugged her a little closer, feeling my lips close to her skin, inhaling the scents arising from her. Her hair still had the lingering scent of strawberries and there was perfume on the smooth skin of her long neck. I could barely feel her heart race, and her breathing was so soft and alluring.

How could she fit so perfectly against my own twisted form?

A thunderbolt struck the sky again and she winced. Despite her fear, it was a heavenly moment for me. I could have honestly been content to just hold her all night. Forever.

I kissed her cheek once in an attempt to reassure her as I used to when we were children. Her cheek was a blaze with warm and life, and her only reaction was to burry her head against my shoulder in fear of the storm. Since she didn't seem to mind it the first time, I kissed her again.

"I hate these storms." She shuddered against me, trying to calm down. As she spoke I could see the outline of her lips in the low light.

"They can't hurt you." I murmured, my breath brushing against her skin. I was intoxicated by the simple sensations of being near her. There was so much I hadn't felt before. So much I longed for.

"Okay…" She murmured in response, while she continued to rest against me, trusting my embrace.

Perhaps I began to feel too bold, as I slipped my fingers through her hair, caressing the soft locks, my face faintly nuzzling against her neck. Only now did she notice something different in me, and she drew in a sharp breath when my lips touched her neck, tensing up as if my actions had only now confused her.

"You're right. I'll be okay." She said then, and I feared that she was about to pull away from me in fear, not from the storm now, but from me. But that blessed thunder returned in a flash of rescuing light and shook the whole house with it's deep rumbling. Her childish fear, still overriding her confusion, drove her to forget my hasty actions and she was whimpering against me again.

I didn't let her go, but I neither did I dare push my chances again and go too far. It was all too perfect and I couldn't let it end just yet. Not while I had her and she clung to me like a lover in the dead of night… even if she beheld none of these thoughts in her own naïve but beautiful mind.

As she shivered in my arms, I hushed her and gently kissed her face. I was always careful with her, and tonight, I would not test my limits. Not tonight.

The rest of the night I held her tight, and if she had happened to look upon my face at all, she would have seen a content smile played about my pallid features. It was a moment I would not quickly forget.

She kept her promise and she stayed around for a few days, visiting me in my room, where we would discuss politics and literature and music. She spoke with wonder about things she had never seen, and she begged me to tell her what I had recently read of places overseas.

I would tell her all that I knew, eager to share my knowledge with one so bright as her. She was not a mindless little girl, and she never had been. I could find no fault in her at all.

And yet, as with all good things, such pleasure couldn't last. Elsa was never mine to have, and no matter how hard I would try, I could never hold onto the happiness I once felt with her that one night during the storm. Never.

I sat at my window one night, alone. Elsa had just said goodnight and had walked out into the dusky light of the streetlamps to find her way home. I watched her from the window until she disappeared around the faded buildings that once stood proudly but now held nothing but the ghosts of the past.

I knew from that moment that she was lost to me. I could feel my heart twisting with fear and uncertainty as she sunk from my sight into the shadows. I could barely see my reflection in the windowpane, and as I stared at the pasty image that stared back at me, I wondered about all that Elsa had taught me. Hope.

No, I would not give up on her, for I still had some inkling of hope. It was false hope, but it was hope that she had instilled in me, even if it turned black with envy and hatred in the end…

I smiled to my unpleasant face. If I could have power as I wished it, could I not also have Elsa? She understood me. She saw something in me that no one else could see. Was it goodness? Was it that child that she used to know, that by now had begun to die? Whatever it was, I could not doubt she cared. Could it be, that she maybe even loved me as well?

I loved her. At least, I assumed what I felt was love. Being a boy that had felt no real love for his parents, not even for the servants that raised him, how could I know what love was? I knew that I felt longing, that I yearned for Elsa's body against mine, that I could cry myself to sleep when thinking how she had treated me… as an equal. Did she even know any of this? I had hidden my desires to a point where I had assumed she knew nothing of them.

Sometimes I wished she did know, and that at night she would come to me, come to my bed and hold me and tell me that she was mine, forever.

These were fantasies of course, but I indulged them as often as I had them, even if I didn't completely believe them.

That night I went to bed and dreamed of my Elsa, coming to me with open arms and kissing away my tears. She told me she loved me and she would never leave me. And she never did…

Until the dream ended…

---

Snow was falling outside and he could hear the soft cry of doves as morning was drawing near, threatening to drown out the stars with it's brightness and chase away the shadows of the night.

He would have to stop and wait until the next night to continue. He set the pen on the desk and gathered the papers, opening a drawer to stash then inside. He kept a key to lock the drawer, though he doubted a soul could get this far to take them, even if they knew they existed. It was better to be safe, was it not?

He listened to the soft calls outside his window, his story locked away until it was safe to resume. The sun was coming, and his light devoured the monsters of the night. Like him.

Standing in silence, he forced breath into his dead lungs and blew out the candle, extinguishing the light in the room.

As he left the small library, seeking out the cold, lightless room that would be his place of rest through the day, the smoke from the candle curled like tiny ghosts, feeling their way towards the ceiling, left there to meet the dawn.