A Fine Cast of Characters - J. Dane Tyler [56]
She was almost catatonic the night before the new moon. She didn’t eat. She didn’t speak to me. She stared at me instead of the moon, arms on the headboard. I wanted to say something, ask what was wrong, but didn’t want to upset her. She appeared so frail, fragile. I touched her warm, sensuous knee.
“The new moon is tomorrow,” she whispered, her luminous gaze riveted on me.
“Yes.”
She paused, sighed, laid a hand on mine. “What’s my name?”
I looked at her delicate fingers, her smooth hand as it stroked the back of mine.
“Tell me my name,” she repeated, her music-voice enthralling, chiming.
“I ... I can’t.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know what it is.”
I braced for her explosion, the fiery blast, to rip me to the bone and burn me to a crisp.
It never came. Instead, she shook, her eyes poured tears as clouds pour rain, hand over her mouth. She sobbed, sobbed, sobbed, and I reached for her, but she stayed me with a hand on my chest. The pain, the torture in her eyes was more than I could bear.
“You don’t love me,” she choked through her weeping. “You don’t, do you? Did you ever? Or have you just forgotten?”
The knife of her words pierced my heart and twisted. Tears burned my eyes, seeing her so despondent, mournful, injured. I shook my head, pulled her to me, held her against my chest.
“No, I do love you, I do! More than anything, more than anything I’ve ever known! I love you! I do!”
Moments passed. She clung to me white-knuckled and cried into my chest. I stroked her hair, ran my hand down her back, and held on for dear life. I couldn’t imagine she didn’t know, couldn’t tell, wasn’t able to see as if it were branded on my forehead that I loved her. Every thought was her, every breath was her, every moment was longing for her. How could she not know?
Why did she expect me to know her name?
Helplessness swept through me. What could I do to find out her name? If she wouldn’t tell me, how can I know? I wondered if asking around the village would bear any result. She collected herself presently and shifted her body to lay back on my chest. I wrapped my arms around her and kissed her hair soft. She brushed my arms with her nails absently and stared unseeing into space. The tears dried for a moment, and she sniffled.
“It’s our last night together.”
Another white-hot bolt of shock laced with fear stabbed through me like a whaler’s harpoon. I froze and my heart throbbed so hard I felt sure she heard it.
“Our last? Why? What have I done? You’re leaving me? You’ve never told me—”
“My name? You already know my name. You always have. But you never remember. I have to go. I don’t want to. But tomorrow is the new moon, and our time is over.”
“Our time is over? Our time doesn’t have to be over. You said we’d share—”
“Eternity. Yes. I thought we would. I thought this time it would be so.”
I tried to remain calm, and held her closer to me. “I can’t let you go. I ... I’m mad for you. Everything I see is you. Everything I feel. Everything. All I have is you. I don’t ... please. Please don’t go. I’m sorry, when did you tell me your name? When?”
She squeezed my arms to her and held me. “Oh, my love, you still don’t remember. It’s been so long, so very long. And you still don’t remember.”
“Please, why is this our last night?”
“Because you can’t say my name.”
I shook my head, helpless. “I don’t understand.”
“I know. You never do.”
“I never do? What do you mean? What are