Chapter 12
Nick’s POV
It hurt to smile as she nodded at the idea of continuing the 'pretend-date'. She had not realized that her words had ultimately failed to make the intended impact. I didn't want us to keep arguing, not when every word she spoke tore through me. I loved her but she didn't want to believe in me.
Would I have thought like her if our positions were reversed? Most likely. Definitely. And that was the only reason I chose to back down now. She would only accept my feelings if she shared them as well and with this pretend-date, I had a chance of convincing her that my feelings are real. Because you can't truly argue for something if you don't believe in it yourself. And so, though I bled inside, I knew what I had to do. A simple task but a daunting one as well.
I have to win her heart.
Metaphorically, of course. Because, she's dead. For some reason a part of my mind points out and I scold at it so harshly that I am momentarily scared of myself. What am I turning into? That same part responds one last time at me. Lovesick idiot.
I ignore that response mostly and focus on the surroundings while trying to figure out what to do now. Because you know a date is terrible when all you can think of is looking around and thinking of what to do next. And then I remember the plan. Of course! It's movie time. Then looking around, I wonder, how do I pull this off?
The answer comes to me instantaneously and though the idea would require quite a lot of creative effort, much more than I suppose I have, but I know it's perfect. "Come on, Daisy, it's time for a movie. So tell me, what kind of a movie do you want to watch?" The smile I have on my face is undoubtedly so big that it feels creepy even to me. I tone it down as I see her look around in confusion, wondering how we would be watching one.
"Um… how?" She asks and her confused voice with the puzzled expression is just so cute that I can't help but laugh. She scrunches her nose and it is even more adorable. That annoying part of me points out that there are thousands of things that are going wrong. She's a ghost. I'm a human. We shouldn't be on a pretend-date. We shouldn't be friends. In fact, there shouldn't be a 'we' at all. I tell that part to shut up as she now glares at me. "Why are you laughing at me? How are we going to see a movie here? Have you lost your marbles?"
I hold out a hand while I let my laughter die out. Seeing her eyes narrow when it doesn't end quickly enough for her makes it just worse for me and I have to turn away from her by the time I'm done. God, if she wasn't only so resistant to my feelings, I would have kissed her. "Girl," I begin in a serious tone. The chuckle that breaks through kind of shatters the illusion I was trying to create and I have to start again. "Girl, sometimes the actors don't do justice to the role enough. So, why not let's just imagine people we would like to be in 'our' movie? Just close your eyes, listen to my voice, feel it all play out… and don't fall asleep!" Another round of laughter bursts through while she glares at me. If she's messing with my emotions in revenge, then it's worth it. Because although she might think me crazy for laughing after those serious declarations, this is a part of me. The 'trying to be the funny one' part of my personality I torment only a few people with. And she doesn't know, so she doesn't understand, that how special she is to me now. After this one dies down, I ask her again. "So what kind of movie you want?"
"Surprise me." She responds in an annoyed tone and I barely control my laughter that rises again. She probably doesn't realize this but she's putting lots of trust in me for someone who doesn't care about me more than as a friend. You don't let anyone, even a friend, this much power after being a recluse for so long. She takes her seat on the blanket and using my jacket, I make a pillow for her to lay her head on. I try to hide the shiver from the cold from her but she sees it and ignores it because she is still angry at me.
"Lie down gently onto the jacket and close your eyes. I will speak the lines, the actions, the plot and everything else. You just have to imagine your actors speaking them in your 'movie', alright? I will shout. I will whisper close to your ear. But you don't open your eyes, alright? Not until I nudge the jacket, in case you disappear. Nod if you understood me." There's a slight nod before she lies down and closes her eyes. Her face… the beauty of it now leaves me breathless. Her face clearly shows her excitement and the overall relaxed feel I get from her makes me wish to have many more chances for seeing her like this again. I pause a few seconds to get her to relax completely before I start. The book that I recently read, I decide, it would be a nice story.
"There was once a land far away from the rest of the world." I whisper in her ear as if I'm telling a secret. "Blessed by magic, cursed by fates and torn by turmoil and revenge. There was the evil king, even his fair looks were tainted by an undercurrent of evil that consumed him. There was a darkness in him, a darkness that seemed to incite only fear in those who had the misfortune of being in his presence. And deep within him, forgotten even by himself and untouched by the darkness, remained a secret only one knew about." Her body slightly tenses and I hope she is able to imagine this character well.
"It was a dark and stormy night. And still his tower, The Dark Tower, stood darker than the night, as if it were sucking all the light that fell on it. The tower was in the middle of the kingdom's capital, now a ruin of what it once was in its glorious days. And in this stormy night, only one was foolish and loyal enough to be out in the open. Lightning fell and lives were lost but none dared to touch the fool as he ran to the tower. It was obvious that the storm wasn't natural and from the mercy it granted the fool, it was clear that the evil king controlled the storm with his dark magic. The servant climbed the stairs at his maximum speed, even though his lungs screamed at the exertion. And he knocked before entering the study of his master. The room was bright with torches, even though the land was also blessed with technical advancements even unheard of by the outsiders. And in the torchlight, he stared at the servant with an expression so cold, so inhuman, that his face might as well have been carved from stone." I take a moment pause before continuing in a small but confident tone.
"Master, I have brought what you desired. The traps were hard, the guardian dangerous but this success is a proof of my devotion to you." Daisy's lips twitched at my strange tone but she didn't open her eyes or interrupt me. I adjusted my tone again and infused as much indifference as I could before continuing.
"Yes, yes, I see that and don't care for it. Now show me the proof of this loyalty." Somehow, I manage to insert an undertone of excitement in my imitation and then continue my narration. "The servant brings out an orb. 'The Orb of Fate' he calls it. It glows bright with a strange glow within it, a glow that changes colour. The servant cautiously puts the orb on his master's desk and leaves the room, knowing that he would be rewarded later. And once alone, the king whispers something so low that no voice comes out of him. But the voice that comes out of the Orb is loud enough.
"The person shall be a great conqueror after his ascension and shall be successful in his wants. But when the time of his passing shall arrive, a fatal mistake shall be all that's needed." I barely cover my laughter that somehow tries to emerge while I imitate an ominous emotionless voice. Daisy's gasp tells me that she is listening carefully.
And so I continue the story. Imitating the characters the best I could as I narrate to her the story of reunions, lost souls, revenge, love and heartbreak. And by the time I'm done, with a few modifications to the story to tie up all loose ends, I can see a smile on her face. She loved the story, I realize and a huge knot of tension that weighed on my shoulders for so long disappears.
I wait some time for her to relax once more before I nudge the jacket below her head. I was right to be cautious. She disappeared several times throughout the story, though I doubt she realized that, and this was the better of all the methods I could think of to wake her. She's visible now and when she opens her eyes, the sight of those blue eyes are a huge relief. I hadn't even realized that in all my inspection of the rest of her face that I missed her expressive
beautiful eyes so much. It is as if I had been spending my life without ever seeing the clear skies in the morning.
"That was a nice story. Thank you for the movie." Such generic words but the happiness in her body language is not at all faked. I'm glad she enjoyed the story and offer her my hand to help her stand. She smiles as she accepts my hand. And as I pull her up, I notice her grabbing my jacket as well. "Here, wear it. You must be so cold. The winter air mustn't be a comfort for the living, I presume."
"It isn't." I tell her. "But it wasn't noticeable honestly. I never realized it." And as I wear the jacket, the sudden warmth makes me shiver while I realize just how deeply the cold had settled in my bones. I control the smile that threatens to break out when I sees the concern on her face upon my shivering, knowing it wouldn't be productive to my goal.
She can fight against what she feels but I will fight for us too. There may not be a future for us but I won't let her get away from this without acknowledging it. I sort of understand what she fears: There can be nothing to hope for outside of these rickety four walls. But she seems to have forgotten that these four walls is our home now, for as long as she is here. And the weight of these unrecognized, unaccepted feelings will bury us and then taint us, effectively destroying anything we could ever have. I don't want to have that. And isn't it said that it is better to love and lost than to have never loved at all?
"Now we move on to the next part of our date, I mean pretend-date. Pretend-date." I hastily correct and can feel the blush on my face, even though there is no reason really for me to feel embarrassed. She just smiles at me, probably thinking how cute the situation was. After all, if the roles were reversed, I certainly would have thought so. I probably would have said so as well. But that's the disadvantage of being the guy of the couple. You can't make fun of them. It's not proper.
Grabbing both of her hands, I whisper to her while she's still surprised. "I would appreciate if you don't disappear. Can't really do this if I can't hold you to stay in positions." She looks at me, questioning my actions until I place her left hand on my shoulder and hold her right hand in my left at a height slightly above our shoulders. She smiles at me and the getting the 'punch' of that beautiful smile directly at me sates an unrealized, and so far unacknowledged, desire. It lights up her entire face and I can see how she must have really looked when she was alive. I whisper with happiness barely concealed, "You should have let this side out instead of the 'prim and proper' version in the parlour room before. Of all your expressions, this one is most definitely the breath-taking one. Absolutely beautiful." By some reserve of modesty or maybe because of some code of conduct for being a 'lady', she looks down in shyness. And even though we are already in position, I ask her gently. "Would you like to dance with me?"
"But where's the music?" She asks and then pauses before giving a smile so bright that my brain overloads on its sight. She speaks but I can't hear her for the moment. "… so let me." She smiles again and I forget everything else. And then, with the backbone women of her generation didn't have, she asks me my own question. "Would you like to dance with me?"
There are thousands of amazing responses to that question. My brain, which is somehow functional, comments. So think of one, you dumbstruck idiot! But it's already too late. I can almost hear my own brain groan at me when I give her an eager nod in response. But then she gives me a little smaller smile and even my mind is now too awestruck to be bothered. And that is when I hear it.
The sound hits me from all directions, as If it were there all along but I couldn't hear it. The sound of violins fill the place and we begin to move. An uncharacteristic fluidity graces me, since I usually have two left feet on the dance floor, as we glide through the floor. Some part of me wonders if the cleared space would be enough but the concern isn't enough to break this moment we are having.
Throughout the dance, we hold each other's gazes. They say eyes are the windows to the soul. Then, even though I know she would probably be hurt and annoyed by my persistence, I let the eyes do the talking. I think of her and let them appear in my eyes. All my love, my concern, my affection, my devotion… it's all for you. Can't you see? Maybe it's the moment or maybe it's just me but I see a clear response in her eyes as well.
Yes, I see. Her eyes seem to be speaking. And I share these feelings as well. But there is fear in her eyes as well. And through some unknown way, I just know what she fears.
We may not have a tomorrow. We may get hurt. I acknowledge her fears silently. But we have the now. And we would only regret not seizing this moment when we had a chance to have everything if either of us walks away. I try to soothe her, even though I don't think she truly gets what I mean to say to her. I am not walking away from us. I will fight for us. But I need you to fight as well. I want you to have faith in me as well.
Finally she breaks the eye contact. The loss of connection hits me somewhere deep and I tense a little, afraid of having her walk away from me, from us, before letting me have a chance to convince her to take a chance. But the hurt and all the doubt fades away as soon as I feel her head rest on my shoulder. A smile automatically slips on my shoulder and I close my eyes as we now just sway with the music. I recognise her attempt to escape the discussion but considering that it all seems to have happened in my head, I don't call her out on it. It could be that the move was instinctive for her, now that she feels more comfortable in my presence after all we have been through.
Sometime later, while we are still dancing, I feel her tense in my arms. The move to squeeze her hand in comfort is instinctive, and surprisingly natural. I don't know what concerned her but it all slides away from her as she relaxes in my arms once more.
The music is hauntingly beautiful and I know that I will never forget the song or these moments. The music must have been going on for nearly half an hour before it starts slowing down, probably nearing its end now. I open my eyes and look at her still in that same position and then look around. It is only her embrace that stops me from stiffening in shock and ending the dance abruptly. For this entire time we danced, our feet never touched the ground. Both of us floated in the air and I didn't even realize. I guess, no I know, I must have been too lost in the dance to notice. I don't comment on it though because I understand that she must have shared my concern of bumping into the furniture on the ground and so lifted us up.
As the songs hits its last notes, we both lower down to the ground. But it isn't until the music fully stops ringing in our heads that I feel her move away with obvious reluctance. I have no idea what to expect after those intense moments. My first guess would have been awkwardness but it is clear from my own feelings that there is no awkwardness. To me, it was a beautiful moment and there is nothing to feel awkward about.
To avoid her from feeling odd, I share this with her. "That dance, while floating in the air, felt magical, Daisy. Thank you for that. You made the dancing portion, the one I was most concerned about, the best part of our date. I mean, pretend-date." That little slip of tongue, however, goes unnoticed. From the content smile on her face, I feel it's safe to assume that she enjoyed it as well. But I still feel a part of her tensed, as if in preparation of something unpleasant. "What happened?"
"Did you, maybe, feel me disappear?" She asks and her voice is so small in embarrassment that it takes me a moment to understand what she said. Before I can respond, she hastily explains her question. "During the dance, I felt myself disappear. But then you squeezed my hand and I felt it. You couldn't have touched me if I were invisible so I must have been visible, right? Of course since I felt you hand, I must have been visible. It's just that I had closed my eyes in fear of finding out that I had disappeared from the embrace while dancing, as if I let you to dance with air!" She's getting hysterical now. I, on the other hand, am trying not to smile.
"Calm down, Daisy. You didn't disappear." I assure her and she stops panicking to stare at me with narrowed eyes. I guess some of my laughter leaking in my voice. "What?" I ask in my bes
t innocent voice possible, though I suspect a small smile leaks out. I control it, while she glares at me, before continuing. "You didn't disappear. I felt you in arms throughout the dance, okay?"
She is still glaring at me but once she hears my response, she relaxes her glare. "Come on now." I inform her. "It's time for the last part of the pretend-date." Surprise momentarily fills her face before a sadness covers it, even though she tries to hide it. Having heard the sadness in my voice as well, I understand how she feels. We had a great time together, even if it was all under the cover of a 'pretend-date'. "It's time for me to escort you back home." The sudden sadness that strikes me upon saying those words hits me so hard that I am momentarily overcome with emotion.
It takes me several seconds before I can regain my composure well enough to stop letting it show on my face. Though my voice is still a little hoarse from unshed tears when I ask, "Ready?" She nods and I extend my hand for to grab onto.
Together, under a force of unacknowledged emotions, we climb the stairs and move through the corridor to get back to her room. Stupidly, I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind when we reach her door. "Normally, at the end of the date, at the door of her house, the boy and girl kiss, you know." The moment the words are out, I stiffen at shock over what I just blurted.
The unacknowledged emotions now take a new form and I feel a wave of awkwardness become the unwanted third entity present between us. I am just about to apologize when she gives me a small cryptic smile. "I should have known you would try for this. Let me assure you, you would get what you're due." Confused by her response, I stare at her mystified while she opens her door and keep staring until she disappears behind it. The sound of it slamming shut finally knocks me out of my trance and still dazed, I begin to walk downstairs.
The daze still doesn't wear off until I'm downstairs. I shake my head to clear my mind from her sight for the moment and properly look around. As soon as my surroundings register, I freeze in shock.
"When I set puzzle to this final room, I was angry." She confesses. She's still in her dress, as if she materialized here as soon as the door closed above. "I wanted you to be miserable, knowing you would never realize the puzzle of this last room." Her voice is sad and regretful and there is a deep urge within me to comfort her. But confusion holds me still as I wonder what she means. "I didn't expect you to succeed but as we spent time together, I began hoping for you to. By winning my heart, even though you had nothing obvious to gain from it, you solved the puzzle of this last room." She hesitates now, as if afraid of my response. What does she fear? Why does she fear me?
"Congratulations, Nick Demming Peters. You won my heart… and your freedom." Even before the words penetrate, she turns and I see a sight that takes several moments to penetrate.
The door to the mansion is open and it's still night outside.