| Current mood: |  tired |
things to remember
Dear Pamela,
Sending this so you'll have a copy & can remind me. For the Friday ritual we need
- red candle-wax
- a tea strainer
- holy water (can the vicar provide? Apparently it doesn't have to be Catholic, since Daddy's C of E. )
- white string
- black thread
- hair from Daddy (in human form - can you check the collars of his old jackets?)
- clothing from Daddy (anything - a sock)
- a copy of the Book of Common Prayer (we're assuming Daddy was a believer, but I think that's fair)
- blue, black, turquoise ink - separate bottles, MUST BE GLASS
- goose quill pen (Rudi says he'll make one)
- parchment with Daddy's full name, backwards, in black pencil
- brandy (for after the ritual)
- rowan berries
- salt
- a charcoal brazier
- a gold watch, spring-wound, not electronic (is Grandfather's still in Daddy's desk? Rudi has one if necessary).
- fresh cherrywood ash - we'll burn some in the afternoon.
- cherrywood for burning (obviously) - can mother get some? I'd rather not have to carry lumber on the train.
Rudi will bring the books he needs.
Also, if the moon clouds over we can't do it. Rudi says we need moonlight for the middle steps. The back garden should be fine for the purpose, isolated, and no one will notice a small fire.
We'll be on the noon train, there by 2:00, to give us time to rest and set up. And perhaps go for a walk; and Rudi would like to talk things over with mother before we proceed. We'll need to begin at 11:14 pm sharp, the whole thing must be carefully timed to end at midnight precisely.
I am quite nervous about this. Rudi says it's mother's choice, and he's right, of course. Only I wish Daddy were in condition to cast a vote.
As for what happened Friday evening - no, I did NOT "crumble because he bought me some bath oil". I did insist on a Serious Conversation before we, well, at least we did have a lengthy conversation after the film. Which was quite wonderful, I must say; I was all misty seeing Elinor and Edward together at last, after all their difficulties. Most satisfying. I was less satisfied at Marianne and Col. Brandon; I was sure he would be kind to her, but I thought her not only spirited but rather shallow, and perhaps not able, at that age, to appreciate his virtues. Though Rudi thought that her experience and her illness had probably matured her. But the film did convince me that open communication was a necessity, also.
By the end of the film I was curled up against Rudi and he was stroking my hair; he is very hard to resist. And he asked if I would like to stay there that evening, and I certainly wanted to simply say "yes" and not spoil the mood, but I felt I would be giving up something important. So I sat up. Which was very hard. I had sorted out what I wanted to say, it was full of pith and insight and about three paragraphs long, with complex sentences. But all I could think of to say at that moment was,
"Why have you stopped trusting me?"
He looked shocked . "Lydia!" he said. "I never - "
"You've been shutting me out," I said. This was inarguable and he nodded.
i sorted through all kinds of things I meant to say and discarded them as unnecessary, except the one on which it all depended. "Rudi, you used to trust my judgment." he nodded again.
"You have to keeping trusting it or this won't work." I said firmly, my heart in my mouth despite my tone. I was really afraid he was going to argue the point, however impolitic - he is too honest to tell a direct lie - and then I would have had to leave.
But he nodded again instantly. "Of course," he said. "You are right."
I was somewhat relieved but not entirely . "And you have to tell me why you stopped trusting me, so I know if it's likely to happen again," I said.
At this he swallowed. It was something he didn't want to discuss, I knew, but it was clearly necessary. He closed his eyes for a moment, and I could tell he was searching for words.
"I was going to talk this over with you tomorrow," he said. "But -"
"We can wait until tomorrow if you'd rather," I responded. "I know you wanted to put off conversation until we aren't so tired."
He sighed. "No, perhaps it's best to talk this over now. And we can always continue tomorrow if -"
If what? If we needed to? If we were still on speaking terms tomorrow? I was afraid to know. But he began.
"Since my involvement with Gwendolyn Post," he said quietly, "it has been hard for me to trust anyone at all. You are the first since then whom I have been able to be open with."
This wasn't the whole story, obviously, and I waited. "Gwendolyn would go off on her own from time to time," he went on, slowly. This was really not a subject he wanted to enter, but I was glad he saw why I needed it. "I tried hard to trust her. She would accuse me of jealousy, of trying to control her, of patronization, of a patriarchal desire to keep women under lock and key - anything to keep me from objecting or asking too many questions. She said I had to trust her. Which was true, if we were to have a successful relationship.
"Only she was not trustworthy. I wondered, for a long time, if she had another lover. Of course she did not; at least, only the demons to whom she preferred carnal favours in return for their assistance in her researches in the dark arts." I must have gasped and he looked over at me. "Not all of them demand this, but it's one of the least damaging forms of exchange for service, for those that do," he added simply. "The ones that demand blood sacrifice are much harder to control."
I swallowed silently. This was - well, since I had met Miss Post I was not as surprised as I might have been, but I ached with sympathy for my poor Rudi, the last man alive who should have had to suffer through a liaison with such a creature.
"We were living together," he continued . "She would come back at all hours of the night, smelling - odd, sometimes, inquiring incessantly into my work. At that time my research was on white magic deterrence spells," he added. "Quite a lot of it was classified, and she should have known better than to ask. But she insisted that if I trusted her I would share my work with her. And I -" he paused. "I was confused. Besotted, perhaps. I believed in her - at least, I thought that perhaps she had another lover, though I desperately hoped she did not. But it never occurred to me that she was allying herself with the darkness; that I could not trust her, in the end, to be on the right side."
"And then she was showing less and less interest in me, and I was pleased enough to have anything to offer her that she cared about. So when she asked questions about my work I usually felt flattered and relieved enough to tell her a good deal more than I should have.
"But as time went on, and her behaviour became more - idiosyncratic, she disappeared more and more often and for longer periods - I began to withhold things from her. At first I wasn't even conscious of it. But I began to withdraw from her and insulate myself, in retrospect."
He fell silent for so long that I wondered if he meant to go on. But at last he looked over at me and began again. "The reality was much worse than my worst imaginings," he said simply . "She was in league with Quiznoth demons."
At this I did inhale sharply. Quiznoth are very nasty pieces of work indeed; evil, powerful, bent on world domination, and happy to use any human vessel to open the gate. Capable of bestowing great power and sundry other gifts, such as longevity, invulnerability, and so on on their human allies, though usually they renege in the crunch. And they are soul-eaters; that is their price.
"She was intending to feed me, feed my soul, to her demonic partner in exchange for the gifts he could offer her, at the fall equinox," Rudi said. "And bring on chaos and a demonic infestation of this dimension that could possibly never have been quelled. She was - damaged in ways I never suspected. I was saved, in the end, by the information I had not given her about my research. She thought she knew what defenses were possible; but I had withheld, as time went on, a great deal of my work."
"In the end I was undamaged, and she was unmasked for what she was. She was expelled. I finished my thesis and went to Afghanistan for nearly a decade."
He stopped speaking and I tried to digest what he had told me. I thought "undamaged" was putting it fairly strongly. He was alive, and he was a loving and decent person, so she had not broken him; but he was certainly scarred. I wondered what story lay under the phrase "she was unmasked", and knew that I would never ask.
I took his hand, and we sat together on the couch silently. The tape in the VCR began to hiss and Rudi reached forward with the remote to turn it off. I thought through what he had said.
"So when I went off on my own in Prague - " I eventually said, and trailed off.
Rudi nodded. "And you actually were in danger of your life. I thought you were dead. And you met Gwendolyn, which may have triggered some memories in itself ;and she nearly killed you. I know I behaved irrationally and I am very sorry for it. But it was a great deal to deal with, all at once"
He looked at me full on. "I know you have nothing in common with Gwendolyn. But the last time I loved someone, and she went off on her own - " he stopped and shrugged. "It all ended badly. And then I was so afraid you had died. My - the thing I learned to do when things became painful before was to insulate myself, make my life more separate. It was inappropriate in this case. I don't know if an apology will help."
He looked at me but I said nothing. In fact it wouldn't.
He closed his eyes. "What can I do to make it up to you, Lydia?" he asked.
He began to let go of my hand but I held on. "I'm thinking," I said. "This is a difficult problem. We need to get it right."
I could feel him relax. He exhaled in obvious relief and smiled at me when I looked up at him, surprised. "You said 'we'," he said.
That woman really did scar him, if he thought that anyone could respond to his story by throwing him out. It would take a heart of obsidian. Which she had, of course.
"But of course I did!" I said. "At least, as long as you aren't writing us off," I added with a sudden stab of fear.
I found myself immediately wrapped in a bear hug, and deposited in his lap, my head on his shoulder, when it ended.
"Never, Lydia," he murmured into my hair. It was my turn to relax against him. "So how will we solve this problem?" he asked after a comfortable silence.
I felt reassured and sure of us as I had not even five minutes before. "Well," I said, "I think it's simple. You have to promise never to shut me out again."
"I'll try," he said. "But sometimes it may come automatically."
"Then you'll have to try harder," I said. "Don't worry, I'll remind you. Frequently."
I could feel his chuckle rumble through his chest.
"For my part," I added, "now that I know it troubles you if I go off on my own, I'll always tell you where I'm going."
"You don't need to do that, Lydia," he objected. "It's entirely irrational of me, and you shouldn't have to cater -"
"It will make you more comfortable," I said. "And over time I expect you'll need it less, because you're fundamentally sane. But clearly it will help you now, and it's not much to ask."
He was silent for a moment. His arm tightened about my waist. "I love you, Lydia," he said.
"I love you," I said.
We sat together, warm and comfortable, his arms wrapped around me, saying nothing for a long time. Nothing more seemed necessary to say. And it had been a tiring day.
"Lydia," I heard him saying gently, eventually. His lips brushed my cheek. "Lydia?"
"Yes?" I shook myself. "I'm sorry, did you say -"
"You're snoring," he said gently.
"I am not!" I sat upright. "I was awake. And anyway I don't snore."
He was smiling at me and my heart turned to warm water. "Yes you do. I shall tape you sometime." He sat up himself, and began to reach for the phone. "Shall I call you a cab? Or - " he looked towards the bedroom door.
"I want to stay," I said. I repressed the urge to rub my eyes; I didn't want to lend credence to his ridiculous assertion that I had dozed off at the conclusion of a pivotal conversation. "But I think I just want to sleep."
"Whatever my lady wishes," he said, and kissed my cheek, and we stood up together and went companionably into the bedroom.
***
Halfway through my rewrite already - it's going faster than I thought, but I already have all the sources in my notes. I'm going to turn in now.
Of course I don't know what will happen in the end with Rudi. If the problem is what he said, then I think what we're now doing will resolve it. If it isn't - I suppose we'll find out.
Oh, add a pint of goats' milk to the list. Does Mrs. Blanchett still keep nannies in her garden? Perhaps she could oblige.
See you Friday -
love, Lydia
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watchergrrl) wrote,
