Blood of the Pure (Gaea) (4 page)

“Come on, Mari! You can’t let things cool down!” she went on, her greenish eyes shining bright, almost frighteningly. “Now that you finally broke the ice, there’s no more need to hesitate. At least go and tell him hello!”

I lowered my gaze, knowing I’d never have the courage to do something like that. I pictured it in my mind. My insignificant self walking towards him ... his warm smile, his green eyes looking straight at me. My heart jumped as if he were really there and I swallowed hard. I still couldn’t, for the life of me, understand how I’d been able to talk to him in the first place, even as briefly as it had been.

“You have to talk to him again! And then again, and again!” Steph insisted as if it were something of the utmost importance and I nodded, every bit sure that I’d never be able to do as she told me.

The rest of the morning went on as usual, except that I was too aware of Michael’s presence in a classroom somewhere on the floor above. My stomach was in knots, my hands too hot and moist. In truth I couldn’t remember ever feeling so nervous, not even when taking an exam. Steph’s words tumbled through my mind and, surprisingly, by the end of the morning my panicky self had been defeated and I’d begun accepting that talking with him again was inevitable.

As soon as the bell rang, most of our classmates walked to the cafeteria. We, on the other hand, met Kevin outside our classroom and went towards the main gate. Any other day, we would have done like everyone else. But since we were going out, it had been decided we’d get something to eat in town.

Joe was the first to arrive, jumping up and down like some elementary school kid, and promptly made a rather unpleasant comment about Joanne’s skirt, which she’d clearly chosen with some care. Joanne, however, wasn’t one to feel down over her friend’s idiocy and replied in kind. Soon they were bickering loud and clear, and everyone who walked by us smiled amusingly.

“We’re missing Albert and Sarah,” Steph noted, looking around, completely immune to the other two arguing.

Like the day before, the sky was heavy and dark gray and the air smelled of rain.

“There they are,” Kevin said, signaling the couple approaching us hand in hand, but my attention was diverted elsewhere.

Michael was laughing with his friends, just like the day before. However, my eyes wandered to two girls walking with them. They were both well known throughout the school and probably the most popular. I’d seen them around and, although their styles were far from agreeing with my taste, I couldn’t deny how beautiful they were, always exuding self-confidence, as if the world were theirs for the taking.

“Go talk to him!” Steph whispered near me as Albert and Sarah patiently heard Joanne’s complaints. “Just go already! Go tell him hello and see you tomorrow. What does it matter as long as you speak with him?” Steph insisted. I hesitated, squeezing my sweaty hands together as desperately looked for an excuse to get out of there. Her friendly arm over my shoulders made me jump, her smiling face right next to mine. “Be brave, Mari! If you won’t take this step, no one else will take it for you. Sure he’s cute and all, but in the end he’s just a guy like so many others around.”

I sighed. What use would it be trying to explain he was far from being like the others? It was almost as if we were living in two completely different worlds.

The soft push she gave me forced my petrified legs to move and stumble forward. And as crazy as it was, that same movement repeated itself almost as if I were some kind of robot, taking my stiff body and paralyzed mind towards Michael.

My heart was beating so hard I was practically deaf to the world surrounding me. I had the strange feeling of hearing his warm and marvelous laughter among the soft and delicate voices of the two girls. Another boy was telling them something apparently funny. And then, suddenly, everyone grew quiet; and, horrified, I understood why. My presence had been noticed and they were all looking at me with intrigued expressions.

Now that I could see them right there, right in front of my eyes, standing side by side, I wondered if I looking at some work of art. The four of them together were simply perfect ... like a painting. A painting where I could never belong. The knot in my stomach became even tighter and I lowered my gaze, remembering how my eyes always looked kind of eerie when I looked directly at someone. Four pairs of shoes were all I could see from then on and, when I came around, my feet weren’t moving anymore and I was standing right in front of them. I swallowed hard, not sure I was still breathing, and Steph’s words were all I could think of.

“Um ... Hello,” I somehow managed to say and was immediately certain no one had been able to hear me. I felt so stupid! And then what? The silence around me told me they were waiting for something else, some kind of purpose for my presence there, for interrupting their talk. “Ah!” I suddenly exclaimed as something else to say occurred to me and, forgetting myself, raised my head to look at him. “I never had the chance to thank you ... for yesterday,” I spat all in one breath and only then noticed his surprised expression. I looked away once more, escaping from those green eyes that had the ability to make my heart stop. Wished fervently I could disappear or, at the very least, run away from there. And, above all, I couldn’t and didn’t even want to imagine what he might be thinking about me. “So ... um ... thank you,” I added, trying to make sure my voice wouldn’t tremble.

“Oh. You’re welcome,” he replied, sounding rather unsure. But the only thing that mattered to me was he answered. My cheeks caught on fire and a shy smile stretched across my lips as my heart jumped in pure bliss.

“Well, that’s it then,” I said, not knowing what else to say, knowing that my courage was already beyond spent, and fell back on Steph’s words of support. “Um ... See you tomorrow.”

“Right. See ya.”

My smile took over my entire face as I turned around wishing to return to Steph’s side as fast as possible, my footsteps still shaky as I walked in a complete state of disbelief. My heart was beating like crazy, but I was overjoyed and proud of myself. I wished I could run, or jump, and so I tried hard to keep walking as normally as possible. Finally! I’d been able to take the lead and talk to him. And he had answered me! He had talked and looked at me!

“That girl. Who was she, Michael?” I heard one of the girls ask and my attention was immediately focused on them.

“Um ... To tell you the truth, I don’t really know.” All air left my chest and a dark hole opened beneath my feet. The voice I loved so much saying words that could break my entire being. “I think she reminds me of someone, though.” 

I wondered if I was still breathing and noticed I wasn’t. I took a deep breath, filling my lungs as pain filled my heart. My eyes burnt and I wished I could cry, but I had no tears to shed. And so I raised my head and kept walking towards Steph, who watched me at a distance. Truth was I could never cry when I felt like it and had reasons to do it.

“Isn’t she the girl we met yesterday, at lunchtime? The one from the stairs?” the other boy asked, still wondering.

“She’s strange,” one of the girls observed critically. So I was deeply grateful when the distance didn’t allow me to hear anymore, and even more relieved when Steph’s voice filled my ears.

“How did it go? Did you talk to him?” she asked me excitedly, putting an arm around my shoulders. I simply nodded. My body was there, I could feel her and listen to her, but the world around me didn’t seem real.

“Hey, Mari! How do you know Michael Heaton?” Joanne asked me curiously. I raised my head drawing a smile on my face, not knowing if it would be enough to fool them. Were there tears in my eyes? My sight was a bit blurry, making everything deformed and distorted like in a nightmare.

“It’s nothing. I just went to thank him for his help yesterday, that’s all,” I answered and the pain in my chest became even sharper.

He hadn’t had the slightest idea who I was, he didn’t remember me! My own insignificance hit me hard. How could I’ve been so stupid! Should’ve known better and known my own place.

To my relief, the subject of ‘Michael Heaton’ was quickly forgotten. Steph, who seemed rather pleased with my progress, dragged me by the arm and we finally left the school grounds towards the bus stop.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

At that time of day there were very few people in the streets and, because we were practically standing at the National Art Gallery’s doors, most passersby were tourists taking pictures near Trafalgar Square’s fountain.

Steph looked at the time on her small golden wristwatch and took a deep breath.

“It’s two o’clock. Can we meet here by three? Will it be enough, Mari?” she asked and I nodded.

During our subway trip we’d ended up agreeing to split up for at least an hour, so that I could pay a short visit to some of my favorite bookshops, which no one else seemed to have interest in. In truth, one hour would hardly be enough to cover half a bookshop, much less visit more than one. But I also couldn’t deny that, left on my own to freely wander around, I would spend the whole afternoon lost among books, reading titles, synopses and prefaces. And since I wasn’t alone I simply couldn’t be rude to the point of telling them I’d be happy spending the rest of the afternoon on my own.

The freezing wind made me shiver and I pulled the collar of my coat up. Walking hurriedly with my head bent to better cut through the wind, I followed the opposite direction from the rest of the group.

The first drops of rain fell cold and heavy, and quickly became a rainstorm. I pulled an umbrella from my bag and huddled under my coat. But the wind seemed determined to blow my umbrella away, and the thought that I would end up being carried with it crossed my mind. The hard, cold rain wasn’t falling vertically anymore and I was completely soaked in a matter of minutes.

I ran down the road and pushed the first door I came across. A tiny bell rang, announcing my presence, and I took a deep breath as I closed my dripping umbrella, which somehow had survived. The sudden heat from inside the store blushed my cheeks and I tried to straighten my hair, certain by then it looked like a mouse’s wet nest.

“Good afternoon. Can I help you?”

Obviously, I shouldn’t have been startled to hear a voice, but I still jumped as I turned around, noticing for the first time the kind of shop I had walked in.

My eyes swept over the many objects pending from the ceiling — wind chimes of various materials, some shining softly, others made of feathers and gemstones, swinging lazily due to my unexpected visit. The left shelf was filled with different artifacts from all kinds of cultures — Egyptian, Mayan, Aztecan, South American, Oriental, African. On the right there was a stand with CDs carefully arranged. At the top, on a paper printed with a flowery font, was written ‘New Age.’  Besides the stand, a glass showcase kept strange objects, whose purpose I couldn’t even begin to guess. I noticed some metal daggers and tall cups and glasses that made me think of the Middle Ages. There were golden crucifixes of different types, wooden bowls and hand mirrors. Over the counter, placed at the far end of the store, there was a stand with candles sorted by color and, inside the counter, silver and crystal pendants with strange symbols glittering by the pinkish light that shone over them. I recognized a Celtic influence on many. Others had meanings easier to understand, such as the dragons, mages, pentagrams, swords and crosses I could see from where I stood. And finally, behind the counter, was the woman who had greeted me.

Her hair was mainly white, pulled up on a snowy knot. She had a purple shawl over her shoulders and was watching me with a friendly, but somehow intimidating, expression. Her dark eyes, even from behind the glasses that hung from the point of her nose, shone with a liveliness rarely found on faces marked by time like hers; and she smiled almost softly.

Behind her, a bookshelf caught my attention at once. The books had been carefully arranged by collections and sizes, and I couldn’t help notice that some looked really old, the brownish spines with no titles.

“Ah! I’m really sorry to bother you. But the truth is I just came in to get out of the rain. I was completely caught off guard.” I hurriedly excused myself and expected to see some measured disappointment on her face, but her eyes seemed to glow even brighter.

“I see. It’s really raining hard. Make yourself at home, child. It’s no bother at all.”

“Thank you. I hope it will ease up soon,” I said wishfully, watching as the drops fell hard on the street’s cobblestones outside.

“Why don’t you take the chance and have a look around? This store is filled with many interesting things,” she suggested, and I thought maybe I should tell her I had no interest whatsoever in that kind of stuff.

My lack of spiritual beliefs stemmed from the death of my grandmother when I was still a child. At the time my mother tried to explain what had happened, using all the typical strategies grown-ups apply when talking to children about life and death. She told me my grandma, Anne, had gone to Heaven to be with God, the angels and the Baby Jesus; and how everything was much more beautiful and peaceful there. However, and contrary to what had been expected, my incomprehension of death quickly transformed into feelings of anger and envy of God. After all, why did He have the right to keep my grandma if she was mine? I was sure that, given the choice, she would have chosen to stay with me. I remembered her telling me I was her dearest granddaughter — even though I was the only one she had. Clearly, if she had left me, it was because someone had forced her to go. God, angels, Baby Jesus! It didn’t matter at all! All I knew was that someone or something had taken her away from me, and that was unforgivable.