Note: Seska is the male protagonist's last name. Some people get confused by this.
It was a dark and stormy night, of the sort common in New York. The storm was almost at its peak as I left the State Theater, and the rain pounded down on the streets, drenching my ankles. I decided that I'd rather pay for a cab than walk eighteen blocks. Most of the other patrons seemed to have the same idea, but I did manage to get a cab before my coat was soaked through. As I opened the door, another hatted and coated figure approached. After a moment's hesitation, I bowed her in – a woman by her shoes. The cab began to move, and the cabbie asked, " Where joo goin'?"
I gestured to her.
"125th between 6th and 7th," she said. She settled back and removed her hat, revealing blond tresses, pale skin, and rosy cheeks. She caught my eyes and blushed under my gaze.
"What's your name?" I asked.
"Lydia," she said. "Thank you for sharing the cab."
"My pleasure." I dropped my eyes, then looked out the window into the rainy city.
"And you are?" she asked.
"Oh! I'm sorry. Seska, ma'am." I began to be able to smell her perfume, a light, rosy scent.
"Did you enjoy the opera?" I asked.
"Oh! Yes, very much. I've seen Butterfly before, but it's been a long time. It's a beautiful opera."
"Yes, it is. I saw it many times as a child. I grew up in Brooklyn. City Opera was nearly my second home for a while," I chuckled.
"What happened?"
"I was in the children's chorus for a few years, and I went to see operas about once a month… but then I left the chorus. I still went to operas, of course."
"That sounds wonderful. I didn't go to many operas, concerts, or plays as a child, but now I go often." She smiled.
The cab turned a corner, then paused. "Miss," the cabbie called back, "there's a big puddle ahead. I can't go through."
"We're only two blocks away. Let me walk you over," I said.
"Oh… all right. Thank you."
I paid the cabbie, then followed her out into the night. The wind blew the rain into our faces, so we walked silently. She stopped in front of a building.
"Thank you."
"Let me walk you up."
"Okay."
She unlocked the door, and I followed her in. I pushed the elevator button, and it came rather quickly.
"I live alone," she said over the creaking of the elevator.
I glanced at her. "Okay."
"I work at Macy's, in dresses. It's not bad."
"It sounds all right."
"What do you do?" She asked at the elevator creaked to a halt.
"Oh… a little bit of everything, when I get the chance. I spent today at the Metropolitan, and tonight at the opera, and probably tomorrow at the natural history museum."
"It sounds like fun," she laughed. "What's your day job?"
We paused in front of her apartment, and looked at each other. She slipped a card out of her pocket and handed it to me. I fumbled for a scrap of paper, scribbled on it, and passed it over.
"I'll call you, Seska," she said quietly, and went inside. I stared after her, then slowly left the building and went back to my hotel.
Weak sunlight sneaking around the curtains woke me the next day.
"Wsflgfl?"
I detached myself from my bedding and looked at the clock through sleep-crusted eyes.
"Eleven Ay Em?"
I jumped in the shower, then swore and ran over naked to the telephone.
"Hello, reception? Yes, good morning. Have any messages been left for room 704?"
I listened for a few minutes.
"All right. Thank you."
I jumped back into the shower, dressed hurriedly, and headed uptown.
"I'm sorry I'm late," I panted as I approached Lydia. She was seated gracefully at a table in a café.
"It's all right."
A waiter approached, and I ordered a hamburger. Lydia took a bite of her sandwich.
"On your face," she said, pointing to a spot on her own cheek. I raised my hand and felt a bit of toilet paper.
"Oh! Thank you."
She smiled and said, "You never answered my question."
"What question? I'm sorry, I suppose I'm still sleepy."
She laughed softly, and I was instantly endeared even more to her.
"What's your day job?"
I looked at her for a moment. "It's more of a 24/7 job. I'm a Naval officer."
"Really?" She said, and smiled. "And how long are you here for?"
I looked down at my food. "We leave tomorrow at noon."
Her smile disappeared, and we ate the rest of our meal in silence.
"Would you… would you like to spend the afternoon with me?" I asked.
"Oh… I can't. I'm sorry. I have to go back to work."
"All right…. When do you get out?"
"At about six."
"I'll be waiting, then."
She smiled. I paid the waiter, then walked her back to Macy's and spent the rest of the afternoon at the American Museum of Natural History.
"Good evening, Lydia," I said.
"Oh! Seska! I didn't see you."
"I'm sorry."
Another man was with her.
"Seska, this is John Bolle, a coworker. John, Seska, a friend of mine."
We shook hands and murmured greetings.
"How about O'Neill's?" Bolle said.
"I'm sorry, John, I can't have dinner with you. I promised Seska."
I smiled, and he looked murderously at me.
"Well, how about tomorrow?"
"I'm not sure. Good night, John."
Lydia and I began walking away as quickly as was possible through the thick crowds surrounding Macy's.
"Where shall we go now?" I asked.
"I don't know," she muttered distractedly.
"I have an idea," I said, and grinned.
"Oh dear. Where?"
"Come on!"
I took her on the F train, and during the long ride, she hardly said anything, and only smiled.
"We're going to Coney Island!" she said suddenly.
I grinned at her. "I went here every Friday in the summers when I was a kid."
"I've never actually been there."
We had a great time, on the rides, at the freak show, on the beach, on the boardwalk, at the mini-golf course, in the haunted house train, at the candy store, at the concession stands, at Juniors, and finally back on the train.
"I had a wonderful evening, Seska," she said.
"So did I." I looked away.
"What is it?"
"You looked beautiful tonight. You were having so much fun, and your face just lit up… I'm sorry, that was too forward."
"No…. Don't be sorry." She touched my face. I smiled gently.
I walked her home, but didn't return to my hotel that night.
Two days later, I was sitting in my stateroom, reading over a report on the engines. I was unable to concentrate on it, nor had I been able to on anything else since we left New York. I sighed and pushed it away, then rubbed my nose. I pulled a pad towards me to begin composing a memo to my first officer. After writing a few lines, I paused. I ripped off that page, and started a poem:
Lydia, sur tes roses joues,
Et sur ton col frais et si blanc,
Roule étincelant
L'or fluide que tu dénoues.
Le jour qui luit est le meilleur:
Oublions l'éternelle tombe.
Laisse tes baisers de colombe
Chanter sur ta lèvre en fleur.
Un lys caché répand sans cesse
Une odeur divine en ton sein:
Les délices, comme un essaim,
Sortent de toi, jeune Déesse!
Je t'aime et meurs, ô mes amours!
Mon âme en baisers m'est ravie.
O Lydia, rends-moi la vie,
Que je puisse mourir toujours!
Lydia, over your rosy cheeks,
and over your neck, so fresh and white,
sparkling, rolls
the fluid gold that you untie.
The day which is gleaming is the best:
let us forget the eternal tomb.
Let your dove's kisses
sing on your blossoming lips.
A hidden lily ceaselessly diffuses
a divine scent in your breast:
like a swarm, delights
escape from you, young Goddess!
I love you and am dying, o my loves!
My soul is ravished by kisses.
O Lydia, give me back my life,
that I might die eternally!
-Composer: Faure