Excerpt, Journal of Dr Edward Masen
It started out like any other day. Process, focus, structure. Repeat.
The mundane cycle of life is wearing on me. I chose this path. I chose research. I should be happy with this lot in life.
And yet I am not. I do good things. My work is for a good cause. But I am bored.
I left the office early to go see Jasper. I needed to keep the gloom at bay. It was nipping at my heels. I didn't want to go back to the dark thoughts, the regrets.
Jasper is always good for putting me at ease. He distracts. He soothes.
And the attractive female students that continuously pop by are not unwelcome either.
I probably should tell him that, on occasion, I've taken advantage of my proximity to lure one of his lovely students home. For a few hours, it makes me feel almost normal.
Jasper was at odds when I arrived today. He had an appointment with an American who 'came abroad' to do some research. He was to act as a sponsor for her of sorts. He was worried about the unrealistic expectations of the Yank, and what she would do to his course load.
I, myself, was curious. The women I had seen grace his door became less and less attractive the greater their level of education. Would this Yank be the same? I intentionally loitered until four o'clock just to see her. If nothing more, it would be a welcome distraction.
I masked my shock at her appearance with a glib comment and fled. I had thoroughly intended to stick around and tease the Yank. But her appearance shocked me to the core.
It was her. It couldn't be her. It wasn't possible. She was a ghost.
Alice invited me to dinner. I needed to talk to her. I needed to find out more about this American woman. Who was she? What was she doing here? Instead, I found her immersed in conversation with this girl. Alice had to see it, the resemblance was uncanny.
I checked my reactions. I knew it was foolish, but I had to find out more. I needed to know this woman. Find out what made her tick.
She was guarded, almost timid. What I would expect of a literature major; lives in books. So I tested her. I pushed. I needed to know what lurked underneath.
This woman, Isabella. Bella doesn't begin to capture her. She is more than the image. I was shocked by the visage, yet totally drawn in by the person. She was like an uncut diamond. With the right cultivation, the right polishing, she could be flawless. So much potential. It just needed to be drawn out.
And with a bit of pushing, it came bubbling to the surface. The spirit. The passion. I thought for a moment she was going to launch over the console at me. I would have enjoyed that entirely too much.
Everything about her calls to me. I had a momentary flash of Isabella, running around the ruins just like we had so many times when we were young. Her hair had been red instead of brown, but the face was always the same…
I kept my guard up, kept a semblance of control. But I will not stay away. I'll continue to see her. I told her as much.
But if anything happens between us, it will need to be at her initiation. I can't trust myself to open up to her.
She may be my ruin, but I can't stay away. I couldn't then. I won't now.