A few days had passed, and I was given permission by my doctor to leave. Thankfully, Elizabeth stayed with me the whole time and even escorted me within the town square. The streets were active with pedestrians and the shops were filled with bustling noises from conversations as if nothing had occurred within everyone's daily lives.
Being it as my new appearance has caused a disturbance among some of the people, Elizabeth recommended that I should stay at her house for tea. I accepted her offer and followed her through the town's many twists and turns and successfully arrived at the entrance to her house; that being, a small staircase positioned in between two busy shops. At the top of those stairs, was the front door located on the right wall. Upon entering, we were both greeted by a familiar mess of books and bedsheets littered around her room. The entirety of her place was as small as my cottage and even though she could have lived in a monumental and pleasant mansion, she always seemed to be happy no matter where she was every time I look at her face.
"I know you only have one eye to see with, but I must warn you again as always whenever you enter, please, watch your step." Elizabeth said with a nervous chuckle and prepared a kettle for tea.
I returned that statement with a grin and walked over to her bed to rest. Though I may now see with only one eye, I can still appreciate the shape of beauty whenever I get to see it. Beauty is something that can have different meanings to different people and once beauty is seen in the eye of the beholder, it can sink one's thinking into a state of mesmerization; Yet no matter how long I look towards the beauty who cared for me, the feelings I gather from seeing that beauty cannot wash away the guilt I still continuously feel.
The kettle had already finished boiling and the contents of it were poured into two separate cups for both me and Elizabeth. She handed me my cup with a smile that took away the burden of guilt from my shoulders. Instead, my hands shivered in anxiety and my mind wandered off into an abyss of nothingness as nervousness plagued my thinking.
"May I ask something of you, Elizabeth?" I asked suddenly to break the silence between us.
"Of course, what is it that you want to know?" she responded enthusiastically.
"What do you think of me?" I asked her honest opinion, hoping for any sign or information that she does not hold any grudge against me.
"I think of you as my dear friend, Alastair. Practically, my only friend that I've managed to keep with for the longest time. Therefore, it makes you one of the humans that stand out the most to me." She replied in a cheerful manner.
"But what of my flaws, Elizabeth?" I asked, "There were plenty of times where I have failed you, especially that time when we were attacked. Surely, I am lower than scum to have you look after me even though I've put you in harm's way."
"What of it?" Elizabeth responded, "There were also plenty of other times where you helped me as well." Her smile was like a sun that was filled with hope for the coming days and her words were like an angel's declaration of salvation.
"Then give me one reason, one time where I meant something to you in our time together. Please, I want to know if I was of any value at all." Sadness welled up inside of me and my words for I was still burdened by my own self.
"The day we met, Alastair, it was a day where a crushing sense of loneliness took over me and you were the one whose presence felt so uplifting to be within." Her eyes locked with mine as if she penetrated my soul, "If it weren't for your constant thinking about your flaws and imperfections, then maybe you would have realized that by now. I want you to know how much I love your flaws as well, Alastair, for I accept everything there is about you." Her words were truly authentic and her heart intensely beating against my chest.
"Then what am I supposed to occupy my thoughts with? Of whose flaws must I think of then?" I held her back as I asked for one last answer.
"My flaws and mine only." Elizabeth spoke softly into my ear, then her lips locked with mine. It was an inexplicable feeling that built up inside of my body; and yet, the only thing I could actually feel was her soft, moist lips liberating me from my cursed thoughts. Once our kiss had ended, an awkward silence created a gap between us like a wall suddenly built to keep us apart.
"I understand" I told her, "But don't you think that this isn't right at all?" Though I was happy to be loved, my guilt and shame could not stop haunting me.
"What do you mean?" Elizabeth asked with a very worried tone.
"I don't deserve you at all, Elizabeth." I spoke firmly with my words. "You're just so incredibly kind to me and this kindness of yours is like a debt on which I have no clue how to repay." As I spoke, her hand was placed atop of my mouth and insisted that I kept quiet.
"As I have said before, I will now say it again, Alastair." She became very strong within her speech, "You need not think of such things about your life for I have already known them and accepted them, Alastair, and I want you to know now that the reason why I sit in front of you is that you are my greatest desire in this world. I'll have you know, Alastair, that I always strive to get what I want and I want to be happy with you for as long as I want." She finished her speech and rested her head against my shoulder to shed tears.
"I promise, then, as your desire and your treasure that I will never discuss the matter of leaving you." I said as I wiped off of her tears.
"Then let us drink our tea and be merry." She tried to return to her cheery mode even as her face was still wet with tears.
We enjoyed ourselves within her room throughout the entire day and spent the night sleeping together on her bed. We did not unveil ourselves to each other nor did we get closer to our bodies as we previously had. While Elizabeth was sleeping by my side, I looked at the window that was right beside the bed. Pondering at the sight of the moon, I thought to myself how happy a man such as me could be to have a partner where both of our feelings were laid bare and exchanged mutually. However, I felt as if something was lacking from the night and sought to think deeper upon it. My mind came up with a hysterical hypothesis but it was the only one present and could be properly explained what was going on within my emotions.
At the time, I could not learn to love Elizabeth back.
Why? Why has this cruel conclusion become known within my heart? Did not my pledge to follow my own desires lead me to protect and love Elizabeth? What has become of me?
Now was not the time to dwell on these thoughts of myself, but to rest and let what has happened now become tomorrow's duties.
Dawn had come, waking the both of us and putting us off of the bed. We both dressed ourselves to go outside and Elizabeth suggested that we should have breakfast in a newly opened restaurant that was close to here. I gladly took her up upon her offer and we both merrily went out to eat. With a large hat on to prevent my missing eye from being seen, we basked in the noise and aroma of the outside world. The only difference this time was that our hands were held tightly together. Out of her hand, I could feel her warmth and intimacy flow inside of me, but how could I even describe myself? Feelings of romanticism never circulated within my heart even once from Elizabeth's presence. Have I misunderstood something between us entirely?
Upon arriving, I was no longer bothered by these thoughts again but I put up a demeanor wherein I am sure to never disappoint Elizabeth's expectations. The grand wooden exterior design, noises of conversations and eating, and the faint aroma of coffee beans were enough to satisfy our expectations. I escorted Elizabeth to her seat then sat myself down and for quite a peculiar reason, I have encountered a familiar face the moment I touched the chair.
"Alastair!" The man who sat next to us called out to me, "I haven't seen you in quite a long time, and my goodness! What has happened to your eye?"
The man who called out to me was the publisher of my books, Arnold, who apparently seems to be frequenting a lot of restaurants around town judging from his plump figure.
"Alastair? Who is this man?" Elizabeth curiously asked.
"My apologies, Elizabeth, this is my publisher Arnold; and Arnold, this is my friend, Elizabeth." I introduced them both and the two of them shared a polite handshake then retired back to their seats.
"What brings you here today, Alastair?" Arnold asked. Seemingly, he wanted to start an unneeded conversation.
"We just wanted to sample a good restaurant and have our breakfast here." I politely said.
"Of course! Might I suggest that you try what they have on the dessert menu? Their pastries are simply the work of an artist!" Arnold went on, and as he continued to converse with me, I looked at Elizabeth to see if she had been bothered by my being occupied with someone else. She was surprisingly intrigued by his ramblings and she wasn't bothered at all by Arnold's talkative personality.
"Speaking of which, when will I expect to see another story written by you, Alastair? It's been quite a few seasons the last time I have seen you write something with your passionately flaming mind." He asked, and his question took me on a small, split-second, nostalgic journey as to who I was before I put down the pen. If I were to think upon it more, I was already led by my desires as an author and wrote as many stories as my heart willed it to be; but I never thought to myself why, of all occupations, did I choose to write and embrace my creativity. There was a goal, I believe, that my subconscious was fixated upon. I believe that the goal my desires had led me to was the same goal every human would want to achieve.
Happiness. I wanted to be happy, and I thought that in order to attain it, I must follow what my heart commanded of me.
Maybe that was what drove me to be more protective of Elizabeth. I never loved her in the first place, but rather, I was too self-absorbed with myself that I only wanted her safety for the sake of making myself satisfied; but, was not that the very same thing that Elizabeth told me the night before? How cruel it must be, to try to decipher the meanings of love. It seemed to be clear that all of us are clearly intoxicated with what we desire. There was no hope of ridding this state of thinking ever again.
Everyone within this restaurant and everyone who lived outside of it most definitely had their own desires to pursue. If these desires of ours are the only things we can chase, then what is the point in arguing with our human nature?
If chasing this agile creature called happiness is what we all must do, then how much are we willing to pay for our own happiness? For as an emperor who delights in expanding his land, he must first destroy the happiness of those whose land he conquers.
If Elizabeth and I were to pledge ourselves to the desire in delighting each other and protecting each other, how much must we sacrifice till the both of us are truly happy? Or rather, how long will we pursue these desires until one of us forfeits and departs? For if the bridge between us was only built upon these desires, then surely it will be easy to crumble.
I find myself back in reality, chewing on a slice of cake and watching Elizabeth having a fun conversation with Arnold. Surely, despite my doubts and horrible thinking, I pray that I may learn to truly love and appreciate the overly joyful and headstrong woman.
Breakfast was finally finished and it was time for both Elizabeth and me to give our goodbyes to Arnold.
"Before you leave, might I ask that you submit at least one short story?" Arnold pleaded, "The audience seems to be willing to purchase shorter stories than before considering it is the time of the year where free time may be a bit scarcer than it already is." He said and chuckled.
"Of course, I plan on submitting one by the end of the week, will that suffice?" I decided to take Arnold upon his request considering that I have the sudden urge to continue the story I had written.
Arnold gave a calm yes and the both of us then departed off onto the streets again. Since there was nothing else to do as always, I requested Elizabeth if I may be taken to my cottage outside the town square; she delightfully said yes and we both went on our merry way. Again, we walked through the twists and turns of the town's road until we had stopped by the entrance of the stable where Elizabeth rented her horses from. The place carried a familiar scent that stretches my memory to the time when I was but a small child. I was utterly clueless and unknowledgeable as others were but here I am now, an author who ran away from his own family. It was quite unpleasant to be receiving these kinds of memories from my past. Fortunately, these troublesome memories did not last long for Elizabeth had already found a good horse and paid for it. We rode off out of the town square and onto the road as the wind beat against our faces and hair. It was a quick trip to my home and Elizabeth said her goodbyes as soon as I got off the horse.
"Wait!" I called out to her, "How about I let you stay here for the night as repayment for yesterday?" I was practically begging her to stay.
She accepted my offer and tied the horse to a small lamp post I keep in front of my door. I escorted her in and made the portions of the insides a bit more presentable as it was in a complete mess. She still smiled and even laughed at how poorly kept my house was.
"Well, since we have nothing to do, why not you work on your short story for that Arnold man? I am also quite excited to see how you work." She said and her words made me feel even more confident.
"I see you've brought Elizabeth home, Alastair, I hope she doesn't interfere too much with your work." Strangely, Richard had emerged from my conscience as I was searching for writing material and his attitude was somewhat concerned for me.
It was infuriating to know that he thought of Elizabeth as a hindrance at first but then again, the way she easily occupies my mind can deter me from writing properly.
"Listen, Alastair, I am already aware of Elizabeth's bleeding love for you and I can already infer from your body's language that you're having trouble with processing these feelings. You must learn to think for yourself for once in your whole life, Alastair, if you cannot distance yourself from Elizabeth, you are going to fall into a chasm of confusion and pain." Richard, who was once seen as the voice in my head that would always belittle me, had warned me of the dangers that could come.
As hotheaded as I had become, I made small shaking motions with my hands to signal Richard to leave me and Elizabeth alone. Of course, I could not directly scold him since Elizabeth would perceive me as a madman if I did yet I had to do something to defend Elizabeth's name from his slander.
I prepared a sheet of paper and a pen on my work table that was located beside my bed, specifically beside the foot of the bed that faced westward. Elizabeth spectated me as I tried to think of what to write upon the paper.
My fist clenched my pen tightly and carefully started writing the words at the top of the paper. I felt slowly immersed into my writing as if I was going to fall and become a part of it again; that was not the case, however, for this short story did not involve my loss of consciousness.