Love and Its Discontents - Part 2

A continuation of Love and Its Discontents – a short story

The coffee shop is romantically nestled in the city center square, opposite the cathedral gates, in the shadow of St. Augustine's Abbey. Canterbury's medieval history is easy to view from the café, its ancient streets and pristine buildings. They sit at a corner table, along the window front. The storm has taken a turn for the worse, curtains of rain descending in a torrential shower, belting the glass. Julian is oblivious to the rattling hum of the downpour, his hearing pinned to Alexa's voice, listening with fascination.

This is his gift.

They talk for hours, for Julian, the first real conversation since arriving in Canterbury. Between the brisk swell of words, they steal bites of a shared Amaretto tort, their forks touching, unaware. Chatter fills the café, the aroma of Frangelico scenting the air as he tells her about his upbringing in London, the childhood years, the boarding school, undergrad studies at Oxford. He speaks in a way that implies a map has been drawn of his life, his every step prearranged since birth. In the telling, she senses some discontent, unhappiness, though he guards his words carefully. He is not one to disparage another, to gain an air of supremacy through discreet snubs. When he explains how he wound up in Canterbury, she sees the glow in his eyes, the spark of excitement, like one who has achieved something deemed impossible.

     "I decided I needed to venture out on my own, apart from my family's wishes. My father has dictated every move for as long as I can remember. So I left Oxford for Kent, to finish my final year."

She understands how he feels.

Julian sips from his third cappuccino, wired inside, the caffeine inspiring more than conversation. During a quick bathroom break, he slaps himself in the mirror, making certain he is not imagining all of what's transpiring. Something amazing is happening to him. Something truly incredible, some whole impossibility occurring. His palms are clammy, his pulse roaring. He cracks the restroom door, peeks, double checks, ensures the moment is not some cruel hoax. The girl, that beautiful girl, the trembler of men's knees, Alexa, is still seated at his table. He shuts the door, twirls, jumps, thrusts a knee high in the air, pumps a fist, shouting, "Yes yes yes! One more time, "Yes!"

A pinched voice, amplified with panic, surfaces from behind the closed door of the lone stall in the tiny washroom. "I'm doing my best mate, trying to hurry. Can you hold it?"

Julian chuckles, starts to lose it, "Take your time, take your time, no worries. I just need the sink."

"No mate, not the sink!" The man appears to be out of breath.

A roar of flushing ensues. The gentleman on the commode is war pressing the handle, as if he's in some foxhole being overrun, unloading all his artillery. Julian doubles over in hilarity, trying to explain himself, but can't quite speak. The man trapped in the stall, discharging his insides, is unable to decipher Julian's words, his voice having fractured into shards of laughter.

The flushing is ferocious, without end.

Julian exits, laughing, lightheaded, feeling like he's floating. Heads throughout the cozy café turn his way. Furrowed brows and perplexed looks greet him as he moves through the candlelit room. Flickering hues of orange illuminate the walls, the fog encased windows as Alexa comes into view, the glow of the embers dancing in her eyes. He feels a loosening inside his chest, his heart in flight.

"Was that you shouting in the lavatory?" she asked, puzzled.

He's still laughing in controlled measures.

"Before you answer, remember our condition."

"No lying … under any circumstance. I'll never forget," he says.

"You're a fast learner."

"He stares, smitten. "I've been told that before."

"So?"

"Yes, that was me speaking loudly."

A smile of suspicion adorns Alexa's face. "Speaking loudly or shouting?"

"More like shouting, I suspect," Julian says.

"And all along I thought you were bashful."

"I'm full of contradictions."

Julian moves beyond cappuccinos, orders a double espresso, hoping to never fall asleep again. At least not while she is near. She looks at him in that way, that special way that only a woman can do, paralyzing a man's senses, his reason, as she awaits an explanation. Julian attempts to clarify.

"I was just coming to an understanding with myself, a wonderful moment of enlightenment.

As Alexa speaks about the children in the orphanage, she lights up, her beauty increasing with every word, the attractiveness arising effortlessly. Julian does not think this is possible, but it's happening before his very eyes. Her beauty is evolving into beauty he has never imagined, never seen before. It reaches into another galaxy, far beyond the universe of her spectacular arcs, bursting into beauty that transcends description.

"Katie is so bubbly, a natural leader. She sits in the center of the room, lays out all the toys, the others her age right behind her, looking over her shoulder, emulating her every move."

She chats on about three more children, reaches across the table, inadvertently touches Julian's hand, enthralled in the lives of the little ones. And then she opens up about Sumi. Julian is pained by the story, his eyes moistening. He drags his gaze to the spattered window, tracing the rivulets of rain, his own eyes leaking in silence. He feels an attachment to this child he has never met; an affinity for the young girl from Bangladesh, the one with caramel colored eyes.

Alexa sees his compassion.

"Julian, you need to come. Promise me you'll come by this week to visit. You'll feel so much life, joy, in the presence of the children. When you meet Sumi, you'll fall in love with her. And you must see her stunning eyes."

He can't sleep that night, replaying the conversation in his head, trying to recall her every word. He thinks of the candle's flame dancing in Alexa's eyes, the delicate dimples stamping her smile. He can't get over how she sparkled when she spoke of the children, so alive, euphoric even, twirling her hair, beaming with wonder, with possibility. He feels an expansion inside, an enlargement of perspective, of something virtuous and honorable, as he remembers. There is something exhilarating about her, more than physical, something wholesome and right. He feels a desire to throw himself headlong into some commitment he knows little about.

Soon they become inseparable.

Five days later, Julian arrives at the orphanage. He goes into the office, fills out numerous forms, and is approved for the volunteer list. A staff member directs him to the playroom where he spots Alexa surrounded by a dozen children. She is reading from an open book in her lap. Raptly, the children listen to the story, captivated by her words. No child turns Julian's way. He steps lightly, hoping not to interrupt. Alexa glances up, smiles, motions with her eyes to a couch along the back wall. He takes a seat, observing, recognizing her way, her bond with the little ones, as if she's walked in their shoes. She's a performer, bringing the story to life with inflection, expression, holding the children spellbound, enthralled one moment, in a roar of laughter the next. Julian studies her as she narrates, notices she is wearing little makeup, concludes that powder and paint only conceal her natural beauty.

He hears little footsteps pattering to his right, and turns. He spots a slight frame tiptoeing across the floor, head down, face turned away, lustrous black hair stretching to her lower back. Though he can't see her eyes, he knows immediately it is Sumi by the way she carries her head bent to one side. He watches her join the group. She makes certain she positions herself in a way where Julian, this stranger, can only see the left side of her face. Alexa nods, smiles. Julian acknowledges the verification, smiles in return.

Julian no longer hears the story being read. He's back at the café, the candlelit room, the rainstorm pounding the city, catching fragments of Alexa's voice, reliving Sumi's nightmare.

Hemorrhage …

Too much blood …

Mother passed during birth …

Father heartbroken ..

Never forgave …

Three sisters on pins and needles …

Father snapped …

A smoky canister of …

Crazy, raging, machete …

Two dead …

One maimed for life …

Alexa's voice brings him back to the present. "I want you all to meet my friend Julian."

Julian rises, takes two steps toward the children. They rush his way, crowd him with hugs before he can take his third. Julian stoops low, greets the children. Kate immediately grabs his hand, pulling him toward the shelf holding board games. "Mr. Julian, I want you to play Candyland with us." The others follow in tow, ecstatic, racing to grab Candyland from the shelf.

"I told you she was a leader," Alexa says.

Julian can only grin. He looks back, notices Sumi at the back of the pack. She abruptly turns her head, flashing only her left profile, her perfect side, walks sideways.

"Children, slow down. Everyone will get a chance to play. Mr. Julian will choose the first four," Alexa says.

The younger ones jump excitedly, extending hands high, their voices filling the room, "Pick me! Pick me!" Julian glances Alexa's way, unsure of whom to pick, silently pleading for help. This is Julian, placing others first, not wanting to injure a child's heart through exclusion. Again, Alexa recognizes this quality, feels something break wide open inside of her. Not one of her past boyfriends has possessed such a trait, always pressing, pushing, to get what they want, making her feel like an object created for the bedroom, a trophy to be flashed all over town.

Alexa calls out four names. Sumi is among the group. She darts to the table where Julian is now sitting, takes the chair to his right, shielding her pain, hiding her right profile. The other children seem to understand the etiquette, the protocol. They compete over the remaining chairs, leaving the chair to Julian's right combat free.

"Okay, before the game starts, we're going to introduce ourselves, beginning with Samantha," Alexa says.

One by one, around the table, the children politely make introductions. Sumi is the last to speak. As she talks, her head is angled down, slightly pointed Julian's way. He sees for the first time her eyes, mesmerizing, caramel colored, rimmed by long, thick lashes, sparkling with amber hues. Spectacular, he thinks. He observes how she struggles to safeguard her marked side, vulnerable to, defenseless against, her own tormenting reality; the mutilation always being the first thing that people notice about her.

Julian introduces himself to the group, surprising Alexa as he addresses each child by name, his photographic memory on full display. He proceeds around the table, looking each child in the eye, offering compliments. Sumi squirms as her turn approaches, folds herself in, shies her gaze down at the table. She lifts her right hand in an attempt to cover her jaw and cheek, wishes her hand was bigger, as Julian addresses her.

"And Sumi, you have the most beautiful eyes, and skin, and hair. Look at how pretty you are."

Sumi freezes, hesitates, turns, looks up, tips her eyes toward Julian. At a snail's pace, she allows her hand to drop, showing her marred profile for the first time, the barbaric act of her father on full display. The grisly mutilation covers the entire right side of her face, monstrous, dozens of scars, colors, layers of skin and tissue melted into a fusion of matchless tones, uneven mounds of disfigurement. Julian looks past the maiming, into those sensational eyes, the caramel irises, sparking sunflowers bursting with life. He leans, embraces Sumi, making certain his right cheek is pressed firmly against hers. Sumi's mouth breaks into a smile as she feels his face covering her wounds, feels the fear loosening inside, the terror fleeing.

Tender emotions sting Alexa's eyes.

On mornings Julian is free, he joins Alexa at the orphanage. He feels weightless as he watches her with the children, the smiles she extracts from the little faces as she kneels and enters their world. She displays great patience, playing with each child, never leaving one wanting. The children beam in her company, in the wave of compliments, their tiny eyes radiant with joy. He knows she was born for this, to better the lives of abandoned children. She has the gift, the touch. He feels a shining around himself whenever one of the little ones scoots his way, demanding to be held, embraced. It's an emotion he has rarely felt and he feels profoundly empty those mornings he's absent, preoccupied with his part-time paralegal work, sifting through a mountain of briefs. When he clocks out, he rushes to the pub, books in hand, taking his booth, anxious to catch up with Alexa.

Something inside him is changing.

Alexa lights up whenever he comes through the door, setting up a procession of sparks within. The shyness is gone and the real Julian is now present, his lighthearted laughter, his clever wit, his positive energy, his easy concentration. Everything has changed about his demeanor from when she first met him, everything except the staring. He can't help himself. He watches her move through the pub, taking orders, filling glasses, her beauty derailing men's thoughts, causing tongues to fumble over words, interrupting conversations midsentence. She draws compliments at most tables, yet pays little attention, eager to update Julian on the children. He can't wait to listen.

He never tires of hearing.

Seven months after they meet, two months before the wedding, a week after graduation, Julian no longer feels the urge to practice law, to settle into his role as junior partner at his father's renowned law firm in London. This has been building over time. He just doesn't hunger for the prestige and wealth as he used to. The desire for material success has dulled. The house in Brompton Square no longer entices. Now, at the center of his thoughts, is his life with Alexa, and the smiling little faces, the abandoned ones clamoring for attention. Sitting in church on Sundays, he feels a strange pull to another life, another place, intensifying week by week.

As the wedding approaches, Julian continues to put in hours at the law firm in Canterbury, to complete the pretrial research on one final case. He does not need to do this, as the contractual agreement ended upon graduation. But to not do so would make him untrue to himself, so he adjusts his schedule to fit in the work. Julian has never been one to let people down, to leave tasks undone. He wakes early, enters the firm before dawn, storms through the stacks of research, not wanting to miss one morning at the orphanage with Alexa. He forces himself to finish early, so he can scour the internet, hoping to douse the strange fire burning inside of him. He keeps returning to the same website again and again. He can't shake what he's seeing, what he's learning. Every day, the same pattern: dawn, law firm, stacks, internet, orphanage, law firm, pub. And as of recently, one clandestine mission, four nights a week.

Little does Alexa know, Julian has been sneaking off to the orphanage when she is toiling at the pub. He has secretly formed a choir with the children. At the wedding, they will join Julian and sing a song of dedication to Alexa. He has chosen a slight rendition of You're Beautiful by James Blunt, altering the lyrics some.

The children love the rehearsals, the way Julian works with them, the singing and swaying. The man has rhythm as he directs the little ones, and they follow his every step, their smiles beaming, their little bodies rocking side to side, singing the chorus, their favorite part:

You're beautiful. You're beautiful.

You're beautiful, it's true.

I saw your face in a crowded place,

And I just knew what to do,

Cause I'll always be with you.

The children stare with fascination as Julian sings the solo parts, his voice remarkably similar to that of the famous Mr. Blunt. Then they all work together on the climactic ending, singing in tow as they move down the aisles, a heartrending surround sound in motion.

Julian turns the large playroom into a replica of the chapel where he and Alexa are to be married. He directs the children, instructing them where to turn, how to walk, when to gesture, when to add inflection, as they all move in unison to circle Alexa at the altar. He allows Sumi to stand in as Alexa, and she swoons inside, feeling like a princess, the most beautiful girl ever, as her adopted brothers and sisters approach her from every aisle, their smiles as wide as the Atlantic, singing:

You're beautiful. You're beautiful.

You're beautiful, it's true.

Sumi blushes every time, the ghastly scar covering the entire right side of her face brightening, masking the cruelty that placed it there, allowing her to feel something she seldom feels.

Beautiful.

To be continued …