Into These Waters of My Soul

They took their breakfast at a local restaurant, L’arpege, where the dishes of the day were monkfish in cream sauce and foie gras with nutmeg and truffles. The calm atmosphere, great food, and good company were supposed to soften Michaelis’s being all alone or to distract him for the very least; however, even before the first course was served, Sebastian could feel an upcoming migraine. The work on his book, or rather obsession with it, made itself obvious. It was the first book to take so much strength from him. Sebastian began to think about the novel when Victoria was still alive. But for some reason, she was frightened by his “dark” ideas. “Why do you want to write about him?” Even uttering the word made her uneasy. She believed that saying it so thoughtlessly was harmful (to someone, to something). “Strang thing to ask,” said Sebastian, never knowing the answer himself. She called it a “bad thing” that shouldn’t be mentioned by anyone, and he believed his wife to be perfect in every way, except perhaps for one thing… how bad that she could never understand him! She couldn’t understand how important it is to wash ashore the black tar that gurgles in the place of (what do normal people call it?) a soul. This wild retching of a spirit. The rising of a storm in the eternally calm eye of a tornado. And how they both of them were wrong to call it wicked! But it’s a tale for a later time… “You want to imagine yourself in his skin. What can it lead to? Think about it,” she said with anxiety, only inflaming the desire that sat inside her husband like a splinter. When Victoria died, his determination to finish the book at any cost reached its apotheosis. Yes, it would be a book about the devil wandering the human world. Watching people like insects whose swarming seems, if not entertaining, then at least not as boring as dwelling in an endless flow of time. What did he want to show with this book?.. In the end, all he felt was an inexhaustible longing to be what he was. Oh, what a sham of feelings! Once he started to write the first drafts on behalf of the lord of darkness, he was gradually seized by an inexplicable thirst that could only be quenched by another immersion into the world of the fictional black man. Sebastian was dissolved by his worldview and feelings, bewitched by their cunning dance, in his mind’s eye and his heart… Sometimes he even thought that the black man was only his own reflection; that they looked at each other through the text and revelled in the possibility of meeting. And that he wasn’t the devil at all. Who is to understand you better than a demon of your own creation? And what was Sebastian’s first thought when he got up from the desk after finishing his novel? This book is perhaps my wickedest of offsprings. But damn, how beautiful it is! And then… came dizziness. A newly-born, burning longing for what had ended never to return. The full stop put. The devil gone into oblivion of human “chronicle”. How sad he was. How lonely. Without her. Without him… And now he had that same migraine again as he sat in a restaurant, surrounded by those he knew. Even the glistening in the glasses of water seemed to him unnaturally bright and hurt his eyes. The noise increased, and although, in fact, it was quiet, it grew like a landslide. It vibrated in his ears, enclosing his skull in a tight ring, and Sebastian was forced to grit his teeth and take a quick sip of chilled mineral water. The spasm rolled from his solar plexus to his temple and back. He felt a tingling in his fingertips, like children playing with a rag doll and needles. All this could spoil his pastime, yet it would have been much worse to be left all alone with his thoughts, reflecting on what was expressed through the certain black man… all alone with Victoria’s possible words, “I told you it would make you feel no good.” Sebastian was introduced to Marquess Midford’s daughter Elizabeth, Gabriel’s fiancée — a lovely girl with the voice of a spring bird, golden curls, and the kind, naïve emptiness in her eyes that is often loved and welcomed by men who are looking for a faithful (or convenient) spouse. The girl was talkative and nimble, like splashes of champagne. She sat between the twins, wearing a soft pink dress so full of ribbons, and ruffles, and roses that there was a contradictory impression of her age. She began by saying how sorry she was to be absent from the morning event. “A real whale! I wish I saw it!” “It’s just a whale, Lizzy,” smirked Gabriel. “I’ve always wanted to see one!” “Liar.” “It’s true. Since the time I was little. I told you, by the way!” “You’ll have your chance yet,” smiled Vincent, and Rachel motherly petted the girl on her shoulder. “Indeed, whales are plenty in the ocean,” observed Sebastian. “Besides, they have nothing extraordinary about themselves. Imagine a large block in the water, and add to it a fountain.” “You people say this because you have seen it,” smiled the girl. “Otherwise, you would be just as eager to see a whale as a poor myself who has not. “Oh, poor thing, she didn’t see a block with a fountain!” Gabriel teased his future bride. Ciel leant a little closer to Sebastian (Michaelis knew him by the fact that the girl had already addressed Gabriel by name) and quietly said: “You were right, by the way. It was a blue whale, not a fin whale.” “Was it so?” The black-haired man arched his eyebrow. “I began to think I was mistaken, and it could be a sperm whale or something.” Their words were overheard by Vincent. “Ciel has already been to the library and checked an encyclopaedia.” The boy blushed, to which Sebastian couldn’t help but smile — his embarrassed look was way too charming. “Such curiosity is truly worth the praise. Where do you study?” asked Sebastian. “I have finished St. Augustine Catholic School.” “Not both of them,” said Vincent, adding, not without pride that always came out of his lips as naturally as breathing, “Gabriel left the gates of Eton College and will attend Cambridge.” “And you?” Sebastian looked at Ciel again. The young man was cutting a piece of beef into even smaller pieces. “I’m choosing between invitations to several colleges.” This was said somehow hesitantly, like an apology for something. One of the pieces fell off the edge of the plate onto the tablecloth, leaving a small, greasy speck of mustard sauce. “He wants to become a priest.” Rachel smiled softly. “It is his childhood dream.” Sebastian pretended not to see a napkin covering the dropped piece with unobtrusive swiftness. Once again, the colour of embarrassment childishly painted the lovely face red, as his gaze rested on the plate, and truly! sitting at the table was no longer a boy but an angel, embarrassed either by eating animal flesh or by the others’ interest in his person. “They say the bigger the soul, the harder it strives for self-sacrifice,” Sebastian smiled. In his head (the migraine now leaving it) the image of Ciel praying was vivid and clear. He saw his folded hands — these two miniature wings that are the only thing for not-a-birdman to possess — lift the boy with their pure thoughts and carry him to the height that he alone could see… How deeply and reverently the frail white chest moved with each breath, how verbal languor came in waves from the sloping crimson petals of his lips, and how, with the greed of a lamb, the blue of his eyes devoured the sanctity of his existence in a very short, impossibly short, but sacred moment in time. In the end, the owners of piercing blue eyes should only look up to the sky. Something inside Sebastian trembled — like a string stretched hard — and he saw the devil next table. Dressed in a black three-piece suit, with his black face devoid of any human features, he sat by a silver ashtray, holding a glass of whisky in his hand. No one made notice of his long goat horns, coal-black like the rest of him, and neither of them saw himself — a quite impressive figure, extremely tall and broad-shouldered. A passing waiter didn’t trip over the devil’s polished cane that leant against his chair, but only walked through it as if he was a phantom. Sebastian took a sip of wine, and his action was mirrored by the black stranger. He sipped his whisky and folded his hands in his lap as if waiting to see what would happen next. And next, Sebastian looked back at Ciel, who, in a slight commotion (Elizabeth had accidentally knocked over a glass of water on his side of the table), moved closer to him. The man seemed to inhale every bit of the future priest — vanilla and flower sweetness of skin rich with the aroma of ripe cherries, the smell of thyme and royal rose, patchouli, and the slightly bitter languor of a rainy forest. It was akin to that primaeval cry of the woods in the roaring centre of a coven: the devoted sisters had not yet licked the blood from their ritual blades, but in the eyes of the lamb — as cold as snowflakes — life and death met in a kiss. A star that faded into darkness. And he would accept it, with gratitude and great desire, into the bottomless pit of his belly, for he… was the devil himself. The black men’s shoe stepped out of the book and into reality. A chandelier in the centre of the restaurant swayed when it was hit by his horns… Michaelis was distracted by a voice. It was Ciel. “Do you mind if I sit here?” Sebastian didn’t hear what was going on at the table — he was entirely elsewhere, and the devil visible behind Vincent’s shoulder raised his glass to this and drank. “Not at all,” responded Michaelis. He smiled politely at the young man. Soon they were talking about all sorts of trifling things. “Father said that you write books,” said the boy. “Unfortunately for humankind.” Sebastian felt fire all over his body and a persistent desire to take another look at the dark silhouette. He wasn’t fearful of him, but rather curious as well as frustrated because of the wrong timing of this meeting. Ciel smiled with his gentle, angel-like mouth and asked him with sincere interest: “What about?” “About insignificant things that plunge people into the abyss of despair.” “Like a thorn in your finger or a torn-off button?” The young man raised his brows in a playful manner, which Sebastian didn’t expect him to do — this twin gave the impression of a shy person, endowed with a quiet disposition, like a distinctive brand to make a contrast to his brother. This was Ciel. And that sociable one was Gabriel. The man plunged a knife into his pâté. “More like love.” “Surely you meant it as a joke to call it “insignificant”?” “Not at all.” “Funny, I believe it’s the meaning of everything.” “Is that why you decided to graduate from seminary and pray for the rest of your days, depriving yourself of all joy (love)? “It is quite rude for you to say so.” “Oh, your father should have warned you about this way of mine. Am I right, Vincent? Vincent raised his eyebrows in confusion. He was listening to Gabriel and Lizzy argue about some trifle, like the date of a school celebration, and he didn’t understand what Sebastian was talking about. Still, he said, “I don’t know, perhaps.” “A perfect answer,” said Sebastian. Ciel blushed once more. In conversations, he combined bravado and timidity that alternated in their own mysterious way and were likely only an attempt to overcome his quietness and fearfulness. Like a little doe shifting on its trembling legs on the path of dark woods, no — like a tiny white lamb sitting side by side with a big black wolf. Desires as old as the world were awake in Sebastian; he wanted to cover the whiteness that sored the eyes with his shadow, to patronise it, or… What is the matter with me? Sebastian wondered in surprise but continued to look at his new acquaintance as if it were his old friend. As if he knew him already. And this knowledge was deep. Yet both of them were always different. “Are you an atheist?” “Do I look like one?” Sebastian narrowed his eyes mischievously. “I’m quick to recognise people like you,” Ciel said it almost in a whisper, like a secret. “But then… I’m twice as curious to know the contents of your books.” “I thought it should be otherwise.” “You know how they say, you must know your enemy.” “Enemy?” Sebastian chuckled. “Quite the contrary, someone like me is your best friend.” “I shall be obliged to reverse your beliefs.” “Then you should practise on me and learn the hard way.” “What is it you are talking about so lively?” The twins’ mother smiled. Everyone looked at them when Sebastian chuckled again. “Only about the lofty aspirations of a human soul and its real abilities,” said Michaelis as he cast a glance at Ciel with a hint of amusement. He expected the young man to go timid again, but, to his surprise, he heard a quiet, audible only to him “Challenge accepted,” or was it only his imagination?..