“Dreams escape us, Melisande. We create them, but they don’t belong to us altogether. They have their own will, and they end when they decide to do so.”
I insisted, like a little girl. “I don’t like it.”
His face was crossed by an unusual seriousness. “Nobody likes it, but the world is typically unfair.”
I tried to hold back the dream, but my arms were too weak, and my scream was just a whisper. He disappeared quickly, like the first time. I found myself awake; my ears dull with loud noises. Then I realized, with dismay, that they were the arrhythmic beats of my heart. It was also going on its own way, as if nothing belonged to me anymore. I had no control over any part of my body.
But the thing that upset me the most was that I also didn’t have any over my mind, and my feelings.
The letter arrived that morning, and it had the disruptive effect of a stone thrown into a pond. It falls in a certain spot, but its effects reverberate to surrounding spots, in concentric and very extensive circles.
My mood was sky high, and I began the day humming. Definitely it was an unusual thing for me.
Mrs Mc Millian served breakfast in a religious silence, pretending not to be curious about the dinner of the previous evening.
I decided not to lose any time. I had to clear her doubts before she could create her own ideas, which could damage my reputation, and perhaps even Mr Mc Laine’s. Any wishful thinking toward him was solely in my dreams, and I mustn’t yield to its evanescent magnificence.
“Mrs Mc Millian...”
“Yes, Miss Bruno?” She was buttering the toast and asked the question without raising her eyes.
“Mr Mc Laine felt lonely last night, and he asked me to keep him company. If I weren’t there, he would have asked you. Or Kyle,” I said firmly.
She adjusted her glasses on her nose and nodded. “Of course Miss. I've never thought badly of you. It’s obvious that it was an isolated episode.”
Her confidence froze me, although it made sense. Deep down I also agreed with her. There was no reason to hope that the County's golden bachelor would fall in love with me. He was on a wheelchair, but he wasn’t blind. My black and white world was the living and constant proof of my diversity. I couldn’t afford the luxury of forgetting it.
Never. Or my dream would break into little pieces.
I climbed the stairs like any other day. I felt restless, in spite of the calmness I displayed.
Sebastian Mc Laine was already smiling when I opened the door and it sent my heart sky high. I wished that it would never come back down.
“Good morning sir,” I greeted him calmly.
“Aren’t we formal, Melisande?” he asked in rebuke, as if we had shared a greater intimacy than a simple dinner.
My cheeks burned, and I was sure that I had blushed, even though I had no idea of the real meaning of this word. Red was a dark colour, just like black was in my world.
“It's just a matter of respect, sir,” I said, mitigating my formal tone with a smile.
“I did nothing special to deserve it,” he answered. “In fact, I must’ve seemed hateful to you sometimes.”
“No, sir,” I replied, walking on a mined ground. The risk of triggering his anger was always latent every time we spoke, and I couldn’t lower my guard. Although my heart had already done so.
“Don’t lie. I can’t stand it,” he replied without losing his marvellous smile.
I sat in front of him, ready to carry out the job for which I was paid. Of course I wasn’t in love with him. That was out of the question.
He pointed to the pile of mail on the desk. “Split the personal mail from work, please.”
It took a great effort for me to tear my eyes away from his, for they were full of a new sweetness. I could feel them on me, warm and irresistible, and I struggled to concentrate.
A letter drew my attention because there was no sender and the calligraphy on the envelope was familiar to me. As if that wasn’t enough, the recipient was not my beloved writer, but myself.
I froze with the envelope between my fingers, my head full of contrasting thoughts.
“Is something wrong?”
My eyes met his. He stared at me attentively, and I realized that he had never stopped doing it.
“No, I... It's all right... It's just that...” I was lost in a huge dilemma: should I tell him about the letter? If I didn’t do it, Kyle might do it later on. It was he who collected the mail and put it on the desk. Maybe he hadn’t noticed that one letter had another recipient. Could I count on this, and put the letter aside and reclaim it later? No, that was impossible. Mr Mc Laine was too keen-sighted, and he didn’t miss a thing. The weight of my lie came between us.
He stretched out his hand, with his back to the wall. He felt my hesitancy, and he wanted to see with his own eyes.
With a heavy sigh I passed him the envelope.
His eyes left mine for one second, just the time to read the name on the envelope, and then they sought mine again. Once again there was hostility in his gaze, as dense as fog, slimy as blood, and black with mistrust.
“Who’s writing to you, Melisande Bruno? A far-away boyfriend? A relative? Oh, no, how stupid of me. You told me they're all dead. Who, then? Maybe a friend?”
I leapt at the chance and continued to lie. “It must be from my old roommate, Jessica. I knew she would write to me, and I gave her my address,” I said, surprised at how the words flowed from my mouth, natural in their falsehood.
“Then go ahead and read. You’ll be anxious to do so. Don’t worry, Melisande” His tone was sweet, but veiled with a chilling cruelty. At that moment I realized that I still had a heart, in spite of my previous convictions. Although it was swollen, syncopated and disconnected from the rest of my body. As my mind was.
“No... there’s no hurry... maybe later... I mean... Jessica won’t have any big news...” I stammered, avoiding his frosty look.
“I insist, Melisande.”
For the first time in my life, I was aware of how sweet poison could be, of its seductive scent and misleading spell. His voice and his smile didn’t reveal his fury. Only his eyes betrayed him.
I picked up the envelope he was handing me as if it was infested.
He waited. There was a trace of sadistic amusement in those bottomless eyes.
I put the envelope in my pocket. “It's from my sister.” The truth burst out of my mouth, liberating, even though there had been no way of avoiding it. He remained silent, and I bravely went on.
“I know I lied about my relatives, but... I really am alone in the world. I...” I lost my voice. I tried again. “I know I was wrong, but I didn’t want to talk about them.”
“Them?”
“Right. My Dad is still alive. But just because his heart still beats.” My eyes became tearful. “He’s almost a vegetable. He’s an alcoholic at the last stage, and he doesn’t even remember who we are. I mean Monique and me.”
“It was stupid of you to lie to me, Miss Bruno. Didn’t you think that your sister would write to you here? Or did you take off so you wouldn’t have to take care of your father, leaving the burden on someone else’s shoulders?” His voice echoed through the office, as deadly as a shot from a gun.
I swallowed my tears, and I gazed at him defiantly. I lied, it was undeniable, but he was describing me as a despicable being, who didn’t deserve to live and unworthy of respect.
“I won’t allow you to judge