I stalked the footsteps across the smudged cobblestone until they passed a streetlight and halted just outside the realm of illumination that the fire cast on the footpath. The figure turned to me and tugged me into the light. I recognized him, though his face was blurred by darkness and shadow.
He reached up; hands ran through my hair; caressing soft circles into the base of my head. Pulling lightly at the curls; long fingers drew carelessly at the ends, watching my ringlets coil and uncoil.
A soft cheek was against mine, and I nestled closer to the warmth. Finding the curve of his ear, I whispered breathlessly, "You are too good for me."
My possessor held me at arm's length, and I looked into his familiar face, expectant of any sweet words.
A voice I did not recognize issued forth from his mouth, "I know, but you were all I could afford."
I flinched back, startled and confused by the bizarre statement.
The warm hands dropped and then I was left alone; standing in a small pool of light on a foggy street, the rain dribbling onto my hair and down my face.
How long had it been raining?
I awoke to a curtain of dull red. Spitting my hair out of my mouth, I took in my surroundings. I half-expected to feel my mother's form shift next to me. I longed to see her again, to hear her comfort me about monsters and other childish fears.
I lay there now, my mind replaying the dream. Remembering the feel of warm arms about me, so familiar. So unsettling. I tossed and turned for a few more moments, or perhaps it was hours, before throwing off my covers.
I had coped well so far for months, but something in my chest tonight was contracting even tighter than usual, and I could only think of one reason.
I was also about to lose him.
I choked back a sob into my pillow and took a calming breath. Before I even knew what was quite happening, I was out of bed and wrapping a shawl around myself.
I cringed as I opened the door with a creak and peeked out to the empty hall. Treading softly and barefoot, I slipped out of my room and advanced towards the right wing of the house. Passing by my mistress's bedchamber, I slowed my pace to make sure she would not hear me if she were by chance still awake.
Approaching my destination, I took a deep breath, fairly certain I had succeeded in staying undercover.
Rapping lightly on the solid wood, I strained to hear any footsteps. I heard none and was debating whether I should knock louder when the door opened a slit and a tousled head of black hair poked out.
He blinked his eyes sleepily. "Mary?"
"Can I come in?"
He looked shocked for an instant and gave me one of his peculiar once-overs before gracefully moving to allow me entrance. I noticed him look down the hall before closing the door, leaving us alone in his room.
It was very dark and I stayed silent as I heard him moving about. Suddenly a candle was lit, and I took in my surroundings. His major chemical tools were already packed away, ready for his departure. His violin case lay on top along with some of his ever-present newspapers. On his dresser were scattered jars of dirt and chemistry test tubes. The fireplace mantle was now bare except for a single item: an expensive-looking morocco case that was shut but unlocked.
Perusing the room as if it weren't the middle of the night and highly improper of me to be there, I surveyed his things, running a curious hand over his now empty violin case.
"I wish you could play me something." I tried to keep the desperation from my voice.
Even in the shadows, I could see him start. "I am sorry to disappoint."
I continued my survey and drifted towards the mantle. Laying a nosy hand on his mysterious case, I began to lift the top. He moved to me swiftly, bringing his hand down upon mine and preventing me from probing into his personal things. I slipped my hand out from under his and blushed at the contact.
"What is it, Mary?" There was a stridency to his voice, but I knew he was concerned.
I opened my mouth to tell him that nothing was wrong and that I was merely restless, but instead of words, a wracking sob escaped me, and I threw my hands over my mouth to cease another one that was threatening to erupt. But it was to no use, the tears began flowing, and I cried so hard that I almost choked. Collapsing onto his chair, I covered my face with my shawl and prayed to God to help me get control of myself in front of him.
He hadn't moved, as far as I could tell, from the spot he was in when I began to weep, so I flung myself blindly from the chair in his direction, wrapped my arms around him tightly, and continued sobbing into his new mouse-colored dressing grown, which already seemed to have taken on his familiar and comforting smell. He wore no collar beneath his robe, only the trousers he had been wearing that day, and my forehead pressed into his chest.
I felt him stiffen in my arms, but I did not release him from my crushing embrace.
"I do not want you to go. I do not want you to leave me."
"I have to go." His breath tickled my ear, and I knew he had brought his face down to mine. His arms slid around my waist, almost hesitantly.
"Why?"
A large hand rested on my neck, almost swaddling my whole head in its palm. "Because I have to get away from here. I have to make something of myself."
"But you're leaving me behind; I'll be all alone."
He shushed me gently, relaxing under my grip. "I'll be back. I'll get holidays. I'll come back to read to you, I'll bring my books, and you'll learn all that I learn."
"Will you write?" I sniffled, finally getting control of myself.
"Every day, or whenever I can. You know that. And you must send me sweets often so that I do not starve."
He smoothed my hair from my face comfortingly and then gazed at me. I could see his pulse beating beneath his jaw.
Everything suddenly seemed very clear, and I knew what I wanted. I went to press my lips against his. The desire to kiss him had been present since the first day I heard his wailing violin strings ascending out from the sitting room.
I stood on my tiptoes but could not reach his mouth. Infuriatingly, he twisted his head away. I pressed my face into his neck. We stayed that way for a great while; I could feel my heart beating double-time through my ribcage, and my lips were pressed against the pulse below his jaw.
I kissed the spot, and he shifted, slanting his head up further, baring the spot more to me; almost absently yielding to my touch. The softness under his chin pressed into my cheek, the hair on his face tickling me.
"Mary," he murmured.
The most beautiful sound in the world.
"Mary." The word was more rational now, retaining some of the cool detachment that he settled into so easily. "Mary, I'm sorry," he sighed shakily, "Mary, we can't. I don't want things between us to be like this."
I inhaled him, lost in him. "What do you want me to do?" I pleaded, "I'll do anything you ask."
"I want you to let me go, Mary. For both of our sakes. Just for now."
I moved away from him, eyeing him at arm's length, ignoring the longing to press into him once more.
I hated him at that moment.
"You're selfish."
He looked away, and for an unguarded moment, pain oozed from him; so heavy and complete that it disturbed me. He took a few steps forward, sliding his arm around my shoulders almost companionably. The gesture was so detached that I felt anger bubbling forth until I felt the trembling of his chest and terrifyingly realized that he was fighting back emotion.
He held me a bit, my hands trapped between our chests. His mouth found the corner of mine, his arm drawing me in and up against him.
"I'll miss you," he barely whispered, the words caressing the point where my mouth met my cheek. A long sigh escaped my lungs as I felt myself relax. My anger dissipated as he stepped back and released me, his eyes holding so much yet keeping so much hidden from me. I felt as if I were staring over a chasm at someone I had known my whole life but knew very little about, neither of which was actually true.
The room suddenly felt stifling, and I moved to the door to escape, to keep from suffocating. He did not stop my departure but stood rooted to his spot, observing me.
I nodded my reciprocation to his unspoken words, not trusting myself to speak, and crept from his bedchamber into the cool hall.