Linda moved irritably at her husband's side. A gust of wind
blew ragged papers against her leg. She looked down and saw
books piled in the display of a store. The store front was
entirely of glass. Linda thought the owners must figure the
type of people who read books wouldn't be tempted to break
in and steal them. And people who didn't read, wouldn't be
tempted.
She turned toward the bookstore and glanced at Randall's
arm as he automatically opened the door for her. They
entered the store together, and then went their separate
ways. The story of their marriage - together and yet
apart.
Books were piled on tables helter-skelter. Looked like they
were on sale, mark downs or discontinued. Books were also
stacked on the shelves from floor to ceiling along the
wall. She started with the nonfiction and glimpsed a book
about the Cosmos, new discoveries in our universe.
Over here was a reissue of a classic, THE LITTLE PRINCE. A
book she had read and reread, full of philosophy and
observations on human nature together with something
magical. A children's tale, but so beautifully told she
always cried at the end.
Hmmm. A book about celibate marriages caught her attention.
The dust jacket claimed being married and remaining
celibate could drive a woman crazy. I can believe
it, she thought. After five years of marriage, we're
just roommates now.
Linda walked up an aisle looking closely at the hard back
books on sale. Pausing at a table, she turned a book over
to read the jacket and suddenly, she heard a chorus of a
thousand voices. The music swelled into a thousand
instruments along with the voices. She looked up, trying to
locate the source while thinking the store had turned the
volume up really loud. She searched her memory to place the
composition.
The music was even grander than the Hallelujah chorus -
ethereal, divine and heavenly music. She looked around to
see the reaction of the other people. Nothing. No reaction
at all. She still heard the music and looked for the
loudspeakers, then suddenly realized, it must be all in her
head. What is going on? Why am I hearing
this...?
She moved quickly across the aisles, looking for Randall,
but he was out of sight. Then a movement outside caught her
attention - a man surrounded by sunlight was walking up to
the entrance of the bookstore.
He somehow seemed familiar, as if she knew him intimately.
The music in her head grew even louder. She felt a strong
compulsion to approach the man, but hesitated while she
studied him - dark hair and eyes, better than average
looks, wearing a white sweater and yet there was a presence
about him, an aura.
Finally, Linda realized she couldn't remember ever meeting
him before. He was a stranger to her. While she was
turning these thoughts over in her mind, he had come into
the store and paused at a table of books on sale. The same
table she had left just moments ago.
She started toward him. Maybe she could think of something
to say by the time she reached him. Surely, he could hear
the same music, feel a similar pull - like a strong
undertow.... But the stranger was moving away, back toward
the door.
And now, Randall was coming into view and moving her way.
She was moving toward the stranger and her husband was
moving toward her. She thought, We're revolving like
celestial bodies moving in a stately dance to unearthly
music that only I can hear. Can't the stranger hear it,
too?
It was too late. The arrival of her husband had slowed her
motion. While she hesitated, the dark-haired man moved out
the door without even glancing her way. As if he had come
into the store on impulse and then changed his mind.
She hadn't been able to attract his attention in time. She
wanted to follow him out into the street because the need
to touch him in some way was so strong.
Randall drew near and intruded on her thoughts, "I thought
you were getting ready to leave."
Yes, I was getting ready to leave, she thought to
herself, but merely shook her head. She fought to keep her
whole body from shaking. I was ready to leave with a
perfect stranger. If I had left you
months ago, then I would've been free to follow my impulses
and trust my instincts.
The music was fading, dying, as the stranger moved away.
Still, she felt the urge to follow and was tempted to run
after him. With tears in her eyes, she strained to hear the
choir, so splendid and divine she wanted to remember
always. But, the music cut off abruptly when the stranger
passed from view. Will I ever understand what happened
here? Will I meet him again some day? In another time and
place.
The End?
.
Story copyright © 1995. Lida E. Quillen. Published in the August 1995 issue of FAYRDAW, a publication of La Pierna Tierna Press. All rights reserved by the author. Please do not copy without permission.
.
Go to next page.
.
Back to home page.
.
Back to Talents Online!
.
Copyright © 1998. Lida E. Quillen. All rights reserved.
This page last updated 5-10-98.
Get your own Free Home Page