MOONLIGHT

by LINDA S BARTH

 PART ONE ~ CATHERINE

Alone on her balcony far above the city streets, lost in darkness but for the fragile light of one small candle, she huddles on a wrought-iron bench, wrapped in a worn patchwork quilt. Its frayed velvet and threadbare wool, phantom fragrance of wood smoke and candle wax, cannot offer warmth or shelter, cannot give the comfort she knows she does not deserve.

She wipes tears from her swollen eyes. How could she have been so careless, so oblivious to the impact her thoughtless words would have? She knows him, she knows his heart, and she knows his pain. She has earned the gift of his trust. She has begun to understand what it is to be someone like him. And yet in the slash of seconds, she’d come close to destroying it all.

She closes her eyes, but there is no escape. She wants desperately to forget, but she remembers. She sees the glint of raindrops left by an early evening storm glistening on the dark leaves of the trees; she hears the faint and faraway sounds of traffic and voices in a city that is never truly still even late at night; she feels her footsteps crunching softly on the gravel paths of the park.

She had rejoiced in the rare opportunity to be with him Above, to escape the demands of his life and the disruptions of hers, to merge those disparate worlds into a special place that was theirs alone, even if only measured in moments.

And she had ruined it.

She opens her eyes and tilts her head back, drawn to the full moon glowing indistinctly in the ambient city light. It had seemed so much brighter, so much clearer only the night before. The eternal moon…such an ordinary thing really, so unremarkable that it might easily go unnoticed by most. But not by all.

She forces herself to relive the moment and the pain it has left behind. She remembers because she cannot allow herself to forget.

They had ventured off the path, their footsteps muffled in the soft wet grass. She had turned to say something – what had it been, what did it matter now – only to find herself alone. Pivoting, she spotted him near a rose garden several paces back, staring skyward, a look of wonder and enchantment on his face.

She’d retraced her steps, but he hadn’t turned his gaze to her. His focus remained unbroken, as a slow smile curved the lines of his mouth. She’d looked upwards, then back at him, reveling in the sight of a rare expression of serenity and pleasure softening his face.

“That’s a mysterious smile,” she had said, gently grasping his arm. “What did you see?”

“The moon. Look at it.” He let his gaze, somewhat reluctantly it seemed, slowly sweep from the heavens to her face. “Catherine, can you remember the first time you saw the moon?”

She hears her answer and the horrible, careless laughter that had underscored it.

“Who would remember something like that?”

He had hesitated, then answered, “I would,” in that rapt and raspy voice that always stirred her to the soul. “Someday I will tell you about it. For me it had been only a dream…a dream that somehow came true.”

In a heartbeat she had realized how her question must have sounded to him, and she’d spoken quickly, desperate to erase its foolish, unintentional cruelty.

“And was it a beautiful dream?”

“Yes, at first,” he had murmured. “But not all dreams have happy endings.”

The memory does not fade as she shudders in her place of fragile sanctuary and pulls the quilt more tightly around her shoulders. It is her dearest wish to always bring happiness to this beloved man, to offer him light and warmth, to replace his lifelong isolation with the understanding that he is deeply loved and cherished and will never be alone again.

But she knows this time she has failed. With one thoughtless question, she reminded him of his undeniable differences, his otherness that created the lifelong chasm stretching between his world and hers. His aloneness.

“I’m sorry, Vincent,” she whispers into the chilled night air. “I’m so sorry.”

He’d added that he had once dreamed of a chance to see the beauty of the moon, and the dream had come true. He’d hinted at something more, something darker and broken, then left the rest of the story untold.

But she could guess its ending. He’d dared to reach for just one fragment of everyday life she and others took for granted. And once again, he’d been forced to realize such moments of joy were not meant for someone like him. Another in a long series of lessons of denial and loss taught to a child, echoed to an adult.

And yet…and yet…

She thinks of that rapturous look on his face as he’d gazed at the moon, how he’d chosen to suppress the remembered pain and embrace only the pleasure of the moment. She is awed by his strength, his resilience. How does he find such fulfillment in the tiny crumbs he’s allowed to savor? How does he see them as a gift to treasure even when he believes they are all he’ll ever be given?

He deserves so much more. And she knows without a doubt she will do everything she can to make it so.

She feels a sense of hope struggling to suppress the sadness and shame in her heart. She will make it right, one small step at a time. Never again will she be so unthinking as to remind him of all the things he believes he will never see or do or be. She will find a way to give him new reasons to trust in dreams, to know it is possible to replace endless darkness with more than just a promise of light.

She is unwilling and unable to fool herself into believing she can provide little more than moments. But for now, maybe it will be enough to continue offering small pieces of the world to a man who asks for so little, moments he might gather to himself like unexpected miracles if only given the chance. Her mind whirls with chaotic ideas and half-formed thoughts of how and what, where and when. Endless possibilities she wishes to bring to him…equally endless barriers to each and every one.

And yet…and yet…

She remembers an evening not long ago in his candlelit chamber as he’d read to her from a favorite collection of Blake’s poetry. Even now she hears his voice.

To see a world in a grain of sand
And a heaven in a wildflower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand
And eternity in an hour.

Such beautifully evocative words that spoke of twinklings, brief and ephemeral, yet rich with depth and meaning for those whose hearts are open, for those whose eyes can truly see. Moments, when linked together, one after another, become so much greater than before, forming and filling a lifetime for him, for them.

A damp breeze swirls across the terrace, making the candle’s flame flicker and dim before it gleams once again. She smiles. Light, even such a small uncertain flame, can be a beacon in the darkness, can reveal a path that leads away from fear and loneliness and pain. She watches its dancing light and remembers a time when her childhood fears were banished by a tiny candle’s glow, forcing suffocating darkness to surrender to the power of light and love.

His love has brought even greater light to her life. She wonders if he will ever accept that it, that he, is all she has ever needed, all she has ever wanted. And will he accept, as well, the gifts she will offer him?

Her smile grows brighter and her heart lifts. He will, she’s certain of it. As a symbol of the love they share, she will begin by giving him the gift of light. Together, they will again gaze upon the gleaming moon on a clear city night. They will savor stolen moments when dawn glistens on the dewy grass and fresh-petalled flowers. They will glide over ice-crystaled snow, glittering in the glow of streetlamps.

And someday, they will stand in the brilliance of a summer day he has known only in his dreams. He will feel the warmth on his face; she will see the light sparkle in golden strands of his hair. They will hold one another in the crimson bronze rays of sunset gilding the surface of a lake. They will find a place where dreams are not surrendered to the shadows of his world or hers.

They will take small steady steps. They will not look back. They will walk into the light, where the love in their hearts will never dim, will never fade.

They will always share the light.

* * *

PART TWO ~ VINCENT

In tunnels carved from bedrock far beneath city streets, he walks alone, his way illuminated by flickering torches, the silence broken only by the measured muffled sound of his footsteps on worn stone pathways. His cloak glides over his body, and he thinks he can sense emanating from its folds the secret scent of rain and roses. Sensations quiver through him, and when they recede, he longs to call them back, to revel just once more in everything he wishes to remember forever.

He reaches his destination and gazes down into the water of the Mirror Pool, miraculously full of shimmering reflections of the moon and stars scattered across the night sky far above his home. He knows that for all their splendor, they are merely phantoms. And he knows, too, their beautiful light cannot begin to compare with the very real and precious glow that lives forever in his heart. That she loves him, cherishes him, has pledged her heart to him is no fanciful illusion. It is the true light that guides him always.

He closes his eyes and smiles, eager to recall a recent memory, one he will never tire of, one that will never dim. He can still see the rain-wet leaves gleaming in the light of the streetlamps; he can hear the distant sounds of the city humming relentlessly, reassuringly; he can feel gravel shifting under his feet as they stroll along the pathways of the park. But far more intensely, he can still see her lovely face as she smiled at him in the moonlight; he can hear the melodious tone of her voice; he can feel her hand gently touching his arm.

It was perfect.

He opens his eyes, wishing he might see his beloved standing before him, a more miraculous sight surely than even the remembered wonder of a full moon suspended in the urban darkness far above them. How he’d marveled at his first sight of the moon so many years ago; how it amazes him still. And how grateful he is to have shared it with her at last.

He eagerly relives the moment, savoring the wonder and joy it has left behind, another memory to be taken out and blissfully relived time and time again. He will never forget.

They had wandered from the path, treading softly on the rain-dampened grass near a garden of early summer roses. For just a moment, his attention drifted from her as he looked up and his gaze was captured by another luminous beauty. He’d stopped and stared skyward, lost in the sight of something that to him was still precious and rare.

She had walked on, then quickly returned to his side. Reaching out to rest her hand on his arm, she had sought to turn his attention back to her. “That’s a mysterious smile. What did you see?”

“The moon. Look at it.” He smiled down at her, willingly letting his gaze turn from one miraculous sight to another. Although he knew it was impossible in the clouded light of the city, it seemed as if moonlight touched her face, lovingly gilding it with light.

As he’d savored the fond and quizzical smile she gave him, he had known at once he wanted to share a precious childhood memory with her. “Catherine, can you remember the first time you saw the moon?”

She’d laughed lightly, easily, and asked, “Who would remember something like that?”

Even now in the darkened reaches of the tunnel world, he hears the sweet sound of her gentle laughter, and again it flows over him, warming him like imagined rays of summer sun. She had let him know how amused and delighted she’d been by his unexpected question, a response that meant the world to him.

Most others would have answered him with carefully chosen words, cloaking their replies in soothing half-truths, fearful of hurting his feelings. But to her, he has never been some fragile being, needing such protection or pity imposed by the limits of his unique existence. To her, he is simply and truly a man — a cherished friend to whom she can say almost anything, an affable companion with whom she can enjoy sharing even the simplest of moments in unselfconscious pleasure, a man she trusts and cherishes above all others. A man who by some miracle she has chosen to be the one she loves.

How he treasures the times when her smiling voice, a certain expression in her eyes, the throb of emotions through their bond, have offered him this undeniable proof, even though he is still learning to embrace it fully. He finds himself smiling again, his heart throbbing with pleasure, as he recalls other such moments – when they’d laughed and played together in the rain below the bandshell in the park; when she’d excitedly suggested a trip to her summer house in Connecticut and for an incredible moment it had all seemed possible; at Winterfest, when in front of Father and the others, she smiled and asked if he danced. So many moments when he has known without a doubt he is hers.

She is his hope, his joy, his destiny.

The remembered moments kindle light within him. Her light, the light they share.

His thoughts return to the night in the park. He’d hesitated before answering her question, who would remember the first time they saw the moon? “I would,” he’d replied, “and someday I will tell you about it. For me it had been only a dream…a dream that somehow came true.”

Something dark had flickered in her eyes, something shadowy had jittered through their bond, but far too briefly for him to discern any meaning. Then she’d asked, her voice low and unsure, “And was it a beautiful dream?”

Eager to return to their earlier moments of light and laughter, he’d answered quickly, “Yes, at first.” Then, before thinking better of it, he’d added, “But not all dreams have happy endings.”

He sighs with regret as he recalls those words, wishing he’d never uttered them. He knows he should have explained further so that she would realize he hadn’t been referring to an anticipated destruction of their own cherished dream, but rather to a lost fantasy once shared by two little boys.

His mouth tightens as he shakes his head. How thoughtless he had been to leave her yet again with reminders of limits and disappointments and despair, especially when she’d been so relaxed and open and loving with him. It had been a night when they were free to be just two people in love, finding joy in learning more about the little moments that had shaped their lives, sharing a simple walk through the park in the gentle light of the full moon.

He should have, he might have…but he hadn’t.

He reexamines other memories echoing in his heart. He’d made mistakes then, too – not kissing her glorious, upturned mouth when she’d thrown herself upon him in the rain, not being able to risk the joy of a trip to her childhood paradise, not sweeping her into his arms to dance with her in front of everyone at Winterfest…

Still, all those moments, like the one in the moonlit park, are much more than thwarted opportunities. Even faltering and unfulfilled, they are steps bringing them closer to the light.

He feels an invincible sense of hope begin to erode the dismay and regret in his heart. He knows he can make things right. They will have other moments, moments that can turn into hours, into days, into a lifetime. For once in his life, a precious dream will come true, and this time it will be the most cherished dream of all. His smile grows brighter and his heart lifts. He is not entirely certain how they will make it so, only that they will.

He looks down once more into the shimmering depths of the star-filled Mirror Pool. The image is lovely and entrancing, despite being only a reflection. Yet sometimes things that can’t truly be seen are the ones that are most real. The thought evokes lines from a poem by Santayana, one he’d read aloud to his beloved as they rested in each other’s arms on her balcony.

O World, thou choosest not the better part!
It is not wisdom to be only wise,
And on the inward vision close the eyes,
But it is wisdom to believe the heart.

He knows the wisdom that lives in his heart and in hers, and he embraces it, fully and forever. They will have the life that’s meant to be, a life that’s filled with light and love, all the glorious possibilities just waiting to be realized. They will follow their hearts.

They will share the light.