But there was something pulling me back to the city I'd left 3 months earlier, where my girlfriend was loyally waiting for me. Actually, there were a number of things. There was the job- I felt that my career as an ESL teacher had a better chance if I went back to work for my old boss. He was driven, ambitious, and excited to have me back, so it was too good of an opportunity to turn down. There was the city itself which, imperfect as it was, had it's charms that I missed...
And of course, most importantly, there was Eva. I missed her so much. What did I feel for her? Emotions are complex things; they are often not easily defined, not able to be labelled cleanly, or boxed in uniformly. Instinctively, I would call what I felt for Eva "love". My feelings certainly showed some of the traits of it- a desire to be together, a fondness for her, an attraction that meant that I cared about her well-being. But my feelings towards her were also lacking some key characteristics of REAL love. I made no real sacrifices for her. I had no discipline to be loyal to her. I didn't put her above so many things that I should have... including above myself. And so, I guess we might call it a "half-love"; an imitation of the real thing that lacks all of the substance, all of the things that make it "true love".
And Francesca? What were my feelings for her? Again, complex and difficult to describe. Like Eva, she was lovable- easy to love. Like Eva, I was attracted to her. I could see myself with her- I could understand how and why she would have made an excellent girlfriend for me. But for that to have happened would have required an element of sacrifice; sacrificing most of my free time, sacrificing getting with other women, sacrificing a lot of the plans I had for my young self. These were sacrifices I just wasn't willing to make- for ANY woman - at the time...
And so, what I was left with was two amazing women, neither of whom I was willing to love fully, to REALLY love with my whole heart. Back then, I saw being half-way with two women as the same thing as belonging fully to ONE woman. That level of naivety is laughable, but then so many of the lies I convinced myself of back then were comical. I should have seen that they were lies, but I didn't see, simply because I chose not to see them. I wanted things on MY terms because I was selfish, and put myself above everyone else.
I had exactly the right amount of love to give it all to ONE of those women. But I CHOSE not to do that- I chose to split in half, and in doing so ruined it on both accounts. After years of reflection on this circumstance, I can recognise what went wrong. It's not that I was incapable of love- it's that I made the decision to allow myself to be distracted, to allow myself to be misled. Through no fault of her own, Francesca had pulled my eyes away from Eva. But that temptation found its roots deep within me. Following it back to its source was the idea that I could do and say and think any way that I wanted WITHOUT consequences. When you realise that the very foundation of your actions is a lie that you have welded within your mind, then is it any wonder that everything you do becomes corrupted?
---
Francesca, in typical upbeat fashion for her, was understanding when I told her that I was leaving. I could see she was upset- she TOLD me she was upset. She told me she'd miss me, and I told her I would miss her more. I realised how much I really would miss that pulsating energy of hers- that great joy at living, of experiencing and taking advantage of every day that she seemed to radiate. "Francesca", I said to myself, "is a unique woman". I was right- she was. I decided to tell her that. I decided to write her a letter...That night, the night before I was due to leave the country to head back to my old life, I lay down on my bed, and started to write the letter in Francesca's native language. I don't know why I decided on a letter- I guess it seemed more personal, like she'd remember more easily who it was from as soon as she looked at it... More romantic, too, maybe. And I think it WAS both these things. I certainly put a lot of love and energy into it. I told her what I felt for her inside- every amazing emotion she conjured up in me. I told her about how much respect and admiration for her I had, about how she was someone I would never forget, about how she had given me an experience of life that I would always treasure...
It was so important to me that she understood everything that I felt for her, that I wrote the entire letter out 3 times before I settled on the one that I'd give to her. The other two "drafts" I absent-mindedly folded up, and slipped into the back pages of the notebook, afraid to lose them and for Gregory to find them once I'd gone...
"I'll take them with me...", I thought, "...and destroy them later..."...
We spent the whole of the next morning together, laying in bed, holding each other, her resting her head on my chest, me with my eyes closed, smelling the natural smell of her hair, and thinking, with regret, how big a part of my happiness was about to be removed. Replaced? Who knew? I didn't want to think about it. I just wanted to try and remember as many details about that last morning as I could- to keep them in a safe place in my memory, where I could close my eyes in silence, and be lying in that bed with her again, free from our pasts, and safe from the future. I was determined that the memory would, in a way, be better than the reality. The reality was short, limited, about to end... but the memory of her, I could recall, replay, relive.
"When I'm down...", I remember thinking, "...I'll find a quiet space, a few moments to myself. I'll close my eyes, and I remember being back here, in this tiny room, at this last moment with Francesca..."... That was my plan. "That is what will make me happy...", I thought to myself. I though about Eva, too, and I smiled because I knew I was going back to something, to SOMEONE, who would make me feel like Francesca did. I thought about how my plan to have it all seemed to be working, and I congratulated myself mentally at having beaten the system...
I kissed Francesca at the front door, pulling her close into me, full and long on her lips, as she prepared to leave that last morning. We lingered there, just enjoying being close to each other, just wanting to be near each other for a little bit longer, for the last time...
"You'll read my letter, right?", I asked her as we parted in the shade of my doorway, as the mid-morning sun scorched the grass and the ground around us. We were protected in shade.
She smiled into my eyes and nodded. "I'll miss you...", she repeated.
"I'll miss you, too..."...
In typical surprise fashion for a woman of Francesca's temperament, she showed up a few hours later at the bus station to see me off. She looked amazing- I saw her walking through the plastic seats bearing native travellers, who had their colourful, over-burdened bags at their feet, fanning themselves with newspapers in the early afternoon heat. She was wearing a silk blue dress that came to just above her knee, and was generous in showing her statuesque figure. She knew she looked good. She walked with confidence and that bubbly optimism that I had grown so attached to. And on top of that, she brought me food for my journey- a local sandwich, wrapped up in serviettes and a white plastic bag. It was from a place she'd told me about several times, and I'd promised to visit with her, but never found the opportunity to do... "She really DOES know me...!", I remember thinking as she approached, seeing that smile broaden with every step..."You HAVE to try this sandwich before you go... I mean, WHILE you're going...", she laughed...
"Thank you!", I said taking the sandwich from her hands. As the bus engine chugged beside us, and passengers started loading their bags into the under-carriage, I held Francesca's hands, and got the nervous feeling that I was leaving a vital part of my life behind by getting on that bus. As the driver started to check tickets, and I could see the line shrink person by person, until it was just us and my backpack on the hot afternoon forecourt, I couldn't shake the feeling that this woman's impact on my life would carry over to affect my old life, the life I was going back to...
... As we kissed one last time, I got the strong impression that my feelings for Francesca had changed me- that by giving in to my desire for her, by allowing myself to fall for her under these circumstances, I had started a pattern of behaviour. That I had chosen a path, a way of thinking, acting and BEING. I could feel it- I could feel I was different. But I didn't understand it. I didn't understand the injustice at what I was feeling. Here was this amazing woman... and yet, there was another incredible woman, thousands of miles away, who I was going back to. I should have seen, at that moment, that Lust had lied to me- that I couldn't have everything she desired. I should have seen it then, that by offering me so many options, and telling me that I could have all of them, I would actually get none of them...
But I was too young and immature to grasp that, too arrogant and sure that I knew everything about the world to accept it. I continued to believe the lie, because it was convenient. I believed that I could give in to my most basic urges AND maintain a relationship, because I wanted it to be true. And that lie would give me one of the most painful years of my life...
... With the bus pulling away with me on it, I turned, smiled and waved to Francesca through the window. She stood on that bus station forecourt, and I turned again and looked out of the front driver's window towards the upcoming mountains. As the bus rumbled towards them, I got the dreadful feeling that the man who had left Eva 3 months previously, was never coming back...
---
"Get up"
I didn't move. I didn't know what was going on.
The foot tapped my foot. I was crouched down, my arms up stretched. My eyes were closed, my mouth was slightly open. If I had been asleep, then I wasn't anymore. But I certainly wasn't fully awake...
The foot tapped my toes again, impatiently...
"HEY!"...
I jumped.
"GET UP!"
I creaked my eyes open, and looked up...
It was dark. Darker than it usually was during the day. I think it was beyond sunset, but it was just a guess...
My captor stood above me, barely visible for a second or two in the darkness. I looked at him, and he waited, his hood shrouding his face, waiting for my response...
I looked up at him, my mouth still a fraction open. I didn't move or answer. I just looked up at him, not moving or speaking, unthinking...
He lost his patience. He bent down, and in a second I felt his hands, those bony, ice-cold hands, in my armpits. I expected him to headbutt me, or kick me in the face, and I was prepared to accept whatever strike was coming to me...
But he just lifted me up, fully to my feet. As soon as I was there, he pulled his hands back, seemingly uncaring that I was barely able to stand alone on my weak legs. I made a sudden lag as my left knee buckled under my body weight, and I had to use my left hand against the wall behind me to steady myself, to stop myself from falling to the floor. It made my chain rattle. I looked down at the floor, trying to get my bearings and stay on my feet for a few seconds.
I looked up upon hearing nothing from my captor. He stood in front of me, inspecting the chain he had in his hands. Although I couldn't see his face through the blackness of the hole in his hood, I could tell that he was inspecting the chain, and not looking at me. His thumbs and fingers were rubbing some of the central links, and he occasionally dragged the chain through his hands, enjoying the feel of the bumps of each link, as they glided across his palm...
"A new chain!", he said, suddenly, excitedly, and chuckled. At first, I didn't get his joke. It was clear to me that my left leg was about to be chained up, making all 4 limbs bound to the wall... but when I looked closely at the chain, shining faintly in the murky darkness, held in his hands in front of me, I realised that, unlike the other 3 chains he had trapped me with, which were rusting, brown and rough... this one was brand new. Shiny and new.
I didn't answer. How was I supposed to react to that? I think my captor knew this, as he looked at me, with my hand still on the back wall, barely conscious, struggling to stand in that cold and dingy cell, barely awake. I remember the few seconds that followed, when I could have said something, but chose to stay silent, standing there, at his mercy, aware of what was about to happen.
I knew I wasn't going to resist. I had no energy. I wasn't even completely sure if I was dreaming this, or hallucinating it. More than anything, I was just too scared to resist. I thought about that fear in those seconds. "If this IS real"... I thought, "...then I really AM this weak. And if he beats me up today, he'll kill me, without a doubt...". So I just stayed silent. I just breathed, and stood as best I could, and waited for him to act.
He came forwards suddenly, and was immediately crouched down, at my ankle. Just like last time, I felt my trouser leg go up, exposing the flesh on my leg to the frigid night air for a second. I waited, and within an instant, the cuff was round my ankle. A bit of metallic clanking... some sudden movements from my captor that I could just about make out through the growing darkness...
The feel of that cuff was cold- I remember that instantly. Far colder than the other three, which had been warmed a little by my body heat. I felt no sadness, no frustration, no anger or fear... I just remember a dull ache of realising the inevitable had happened. As I stood there, dwelling on this ache, my eyes closed and the new cuff still cold on my ankle, a thought, weakened by my exhausted and semi-conscious state, flashed into my head and was gone as tiredness, resignation and hopelessness took over:
"Why don't you resist...?"
... and then it was gone... lost in the darkness, wiped away by my tiredness...
My captor had collected up his tools and was standing in front of me, watching me, silently, not moving. He was watching me with my eyes closed, feeling the cold metallic grasp of the cuff on my ankle. He was watching me breathing, leaning back now against that stone wall. He was watching me as I had that thought, and as it vanished... He was watching me as I slowly opened my eyes to look at him again...
"I told you before...", he said, "You have put YOURSELF in here. You took a path, a wrong path, into my forest..."...
It was true. I knew it was true, so I stayed quiet, watching the black hole that shrouded his face. Silence. No sound from that black hole for seconds... and I wondered if he had finished. I wondered if he would suddenly spin round and march quickly to the door again, like he had last time...
Suddenly, from my starved and tired brain, a thought emerged, and without waiting for it to fully settle, I said it to him, before I lost it in the darkness...
"I got LOST", I said, with emphasis on that last word. I was feeling braver now. Where that bravado came from, I've no idea. But it was there, within me, and I was determined to make it be heard while my captor was stood in front of me...
"I didn't know how to get out. I didn't WANT to stay there. I had no map, and no guide..."
I stopped when he suddenly turned away from me, towards the door. For a second, I was stunned into silence, half expecting and fearing that the movement would result in him hitting me somewhere... But when I realised he was heading to leave, I forced myself to keep talking. I raised my voice at him, at his back, walking away from me...
"I WAS LOST! I WAS LOOKING FOR THE WAY OUT!"
Silence. No footsteps. No breathing. A second of silence. The crunching of tiny dust and dirt particles on the stone floor, as his feet turned slowly, and he turned to face me. I held my breath, terrified that he would lunge forwards across the room. I felt the fear of being powerless to stop him, expecting his fist to hit me within the next few seconds... I stood, and waited, holding my breath, afraid...
"Do you know why people stay in that forest for so long?", he asked.
I gulped. For a moment I was shocked at having a question directed back at me. I didn't know what to say, but I was afraid of staying silent. I realised with horror that my bravery had left me, and now I was already in too deep in this conversation, and had no way out. He waited. He clearly wanted an answer, and as the seconds passed, I could feel myself flushing red, and dragging myself towards another beating...
I decided that any answer was better than no answer...
"HELLO?", he shouted, making me jump, just as I was about to give my response...
I stammered, hurriedly, "... I don't..." and then, mildly embarrassed that my voice was barely above a whisper, I cleared my throat, and repeated "I don't know..."...
I shrank back against the wall. I wanted it to suddenly collapse- either backwards or on top of me. Either way would have suited me as I waited for my captor to comment on my answer...
My captor made his slow, pensive walk towards me. As he approached, I avoided looking into the black hole of his shroud. I looked away, into the corner. I hoped, as those footsteps grew louder with each passing one, that he'd...
"Look at me", he said calmly on the last footstep.
Before I could even finish my thought, he'd already dashed it to pieces. I looked at him, trying to remain expressionless, but strongly suspecting that I appeared terrified, still expecting his hand to shoot up and grab my neck, and then his fist to go crashing into my face or ribs. I could feel that I was shaking slightly from the thought of it, as I stood there in my chains, looking directly into that hole filled with darkness, and nothing else...
"Partly, yes, they are lost. INITIALLY, shall we say, they get lost". He hadn't moved. The black space under his shroud hadn't moved, hadn't changed in anyway. As I stared into it, sensing a slight calm in his voice, I felt myself relax a little, as I could tell he wanted to complete his discourse. "As long as he's talking", I thought above his words, "he won't hit me". I listened intently, although far from comfortably.
"But that, alone, is not enough to keep them there...", he said folding his arms. I could see his black gloves resting in the crooks of his arms, and tried to catch a glimpse to see if I could see a flash of his skin between his grey cloak and his glove. Nothing. No opening whatsoever. The garment was far too big to give away any sign of anything underneath...
He waited for me to realise that he was waiting for me to look back into his face. I looked up, sheepishly, and he continued...
"People spend years "wandering" around that forest, lost... but also, not trying to find their way out... They will say they're lost and, indeed, they ARE lost. But in a way...", he paused... and when he spoke again, it was accompanied by a trace of slyness... "they're OK with that..."...
He watched me. He watched my eyes, staring back into the black hole in his shroud...
...The question was right there. It was on the tip of my tongue, as I stood there, in the quiet of that night, with my captor right in front of me. But why wasn't I asking it?
"Say it"... I remember thinking. "Are you really too afraid to ask it?"
But silence. And only my captor, unmoving and unsympathetic, watching me, daring me to ask it, WILLING me to ask it, even...
"Ask him...", I urged myself... but still silence... The question was not coming out. I stared back into that black hole of a face that I'd become accustomed to over these many years, and yet was still afraid to ask this question...
"ASK HIM!"
