Thanks for pointing the actress out to me! And thanks for reading.
Novel Treatments / The Truth About Dragons (Analysis)
Chapter 19
Wc-2,700
The following night before he left for the university library for his research, Anselm spent a long time with his head in my lap. He seemed to be mourning the demise of his romantic love for me. I wanted to cuddle him. It was compassion I felt for him now, it couldn’t be love. Yet were not compassion and love one and the same?
When he returned, he kissed my cheek and murmuring that there was so much work, went to the kitchen to pore over his books. There was a bottle of what looked like wine on the dining table, and believing that the drink had loosened him up a little, I went to him. Perhaps he would just let go and kiss me. I put my arms about him and he pressed his face into my breasts and said, “Your heart is beating really fast.”
“That’s the effect you have on me, ” I said and went back to bed disappointed. I could not sleep. Memories of the way we used to make wild glorious love haunted me. Four hours later, at 7:00 a.m., Anselm still had not come to bed. I went to him again and asked him whether he was scared of me. With a very pale and drawn face he answered, “No.”
“You must be scared, or you’d be in bed by now,” I said. “Come and sleep. I will not touch you.” He looked like he detested the thought of making love to me.
He took another half an hour to come to me and found me weeping at the foot of the bed. The tears, denied for so long, had found their way. What had happened to this pure and deep relationship, this greatest of loves? To come so far and to find it no longer existed. It was over, it had to be over. He knelt beside me and caressed my face and hair, murmuring again and again, “It’s okay.”
But it wasn’t okay.
“I’m here for you.”
Was he? I did not dare to speak, for fear of chasing him away with angry words, and creating further bad karma between us. I would speak angrily, he would react, and I would react and it would go on and on until one of us stopped.
“Tell me, my sweetheart, what’s wrong?” he asked. I did not answer. I could hear the tears in his voice. He continued to caress my face. I did not push him away. After a few more moments, between sobs, I told him I’d rather not talk about it, and that he knew why I wept. And as I wept, I felt that I was the one to blame for trying to seduce him when he did not want me.
Sensei had always said that we must not blame anyone else but ourselves for our misery. We bring it upon ourselves. I had learned that when one ceases to blame others, one becomes free from resentment and negativity. Perhaps I had done something similar to him in another life, and all I could do now was accept my fate. I thought I had accepted it, but really, I hadn’t. Somewhere in the deep recesses of my mind bubbled a cesspool of resentment. I was not strong enough to renounce my seductive self. That false self founded on ego.
Anselm did not sleep with me that night, but on a mattress in the kitchen. In the morning , determined to seduce him, I slid in beside him, wrapped in a towel from the shower. When he realized my nakedness, he looked amused at first, on the verge of a smile, but that was swiftly followed by alarm and incredulousness.
“I think you ought to give it a chance,” I said to him. “Show me you are not turned on by me any more, and I’ll believe you.” I took his hand and placed it on my breast. He did not draw it away.
He cupped it and said with a sneer, “See, I’m not turned on.” He shook his head at me disapprovingly, “Ach! I could never be with a woman like you.”
“Don’t make me feel like a whore. I’ve come so far for you. I’m not a sex maniac, or I couldn’t have been loyal to you. I’m just kidding, okay? Don’t take it so seriously. I’m sorry.” Besides making me feel unsexy, he had even made me feel dirty and cheap. And I wasn’t that. “I wasn’t going to rape you.”
“You couldn’t rape me.”
“I could have grabbed your crotch.”
He rose from the mattress and pulling down his shorts, showed me his knob-like, somnolent cock. “Here, take it! Take it!” Sneering, he thrust it towards my face.
“I don’t want to,” I said, looking away, shocked to see this new Anselm.
And yet, and yet, we began to regenerate from that moment on, like a gecko grows back a lost tail. He told me that in some way we had given each other more in our relationship than most couples do in seventy years together. He said I gave him strength and energy but he wouldn’t want to be tempted. When I laughed and asked if he could still be tempted, he did not answer. Which made me wonder: was he denying us both sexual pleasure because he wanted to help me evolve spiritually?
~ ~ ~ ~
So what was going to happen next? Was I going to have to cut my one-month holiday short and go back to India, tail between my legs? It was such a strange, fateful situation. When you break up with a guy, you part from him. But we were thrown together, and I couldn’t just vanish. I still had to meet my friend Shelly in Maastricht. I e-mailed her to ask whether I could stay with her for a few days. I knew she wasn’t expecting it. I was to have spent my one month vacation with my great love, and she would drive over and I would give her my gifts. We would spend perhaps half a day together, catching up with our separate lives. We hadn’t seen each other for five years.
“How I wish you were not alone now at this most difficult time!” Anselm said to me. “You need a friend now. You need Shelly. Ach ja, to think that it’s I who has hurt you this way. I’m so sorry, my baby.” And he wept. He shed more tears than I did. We waited impatiently for Shelly’s reply. Her mobile seemed switched off. I wanted to escape from the dark, stifling atmosphere of Anselm’s apartment, the barren arctic wasteland of our love. He wanted me out of the way so he could concentrate on his thesis. He remarked it must mean something that we were still together even after we had broken up. We would surely meet again, he said. He wanted to continue our friendship. Once he got a job, he could come to see me every year. He hoped I would find myself a good man, but I told him I could not imagine loving anyone else. When he embraced me, I said I did not feel turned on by him anymore, which made him smile and say, “That’s my baby!”
He took me out, saying that it was best to get some fresh air even though it was cold outside. We’d go the internet parlour and check for email from Shelly. It was sunny, yet even colder than when the skies were grey. He explained to me why this was so; something about cold air and warm air rising which I wasn’t paying much attention to. I was busy taking pictures of apartment windows dressed for Christmas. A sign in a window said, “Please stop here Santa!” The bitterly cold wind made my ears ache, and my fingers were so cold, they seemed to be on fire. I remembered those silent nights of my childhood, sweet with the voices of angels, and Mama etching sleigh tracks around the chimney and ringing bells so my sister and I would believe in Santa. Then one night, I had seen father’s youngest brother stuffing our pillowcase Christmas stockings with presents, and that had been the end of Christmas. Mama had been furious that I had found out.
“Be careful!” cried Anselm as I rushed into the middle of the street to take pictures of a barber shop with the statue of an old-fashioned barber outside the door. Next to it was a funeral parlour, angels in its windows. “The cars go really fast here,” Anselm said, “and I wouldn’t want to lose you on some German road.”
I hastened back to his side, sniffling unglamourously in the cold, laughing. The fresh air did lighten our mood. He watched me, and I knew he had already begun to miss me. His green eyes welled with tears. He took out his handkerchief from the pocket of his thick black jacket and dabbed at his eyes. “I am so sorry baby!”
“Why?” I asked, although I knew, but I wanted to hear him say it.
“Because I am the one to hurt you. I told you I would never hurt you.”
“It’s okay,” I answered, trying not to cry. “Actually it’s not okay. What will I tell them in India when I go back so soon? That Germany was too cold?”
He sighed, and with a sad smile, said: “Yes everything is too cold here. The weather and the men.”
There was a big welcome message from Shelly, along with an optional mobile number. She would call Anselm.
“I really hope she calls,” said Anselm, “or that we can get to her. I have an important seminar to attend day after and I haven’t even prepared my talk.”
I felt like an unwelcome guest who had stayed too long. Why had he invited me at such a trying time? I wanted to get away more than ever.
We walked back, and en route, stopped by at a department store to buy some vegetables and fruit. He was sensitive about prices, and had been crestfallen over his electricity bill. I insisted on paying for the vegetables, and decided to contribute towards the expenses of my stay.
Outside his apartment building, I picked up a spiny chestnut from the road where it had dropped from one of the tall skeletal trees that lined the street. It would be a memento of this thorny, barren trip. He smiled wanly at me. “It made me very sad at heart to know that it puts you under pressure to simply be a spiritual mate. I want you to do it naturally.”
“I’m working on it . I need to do it.”
“Do it first, then come back to me.”
I wondered whether he really meant that. “Maybe we can be the divine couple they speak of in the temple. They say the ideal husband – wife relationship is one of chastity.”
“Ach, we’ll see. One can never tell.”
“Yes. Who knows?” I answered, cruel hope rising in me again.
We watched David Lynch’s brilliant film, ‘Blue Velvet’, and it was strange not cuddling up to him. I felt self pity well up in me at the story of the violated, pitiful battered woman played by Nastasia Kinski, Her angelic lover reminded me of how Anselm used to be, at least how I had perceived him to be. He could do no wrong. He could never hurt any one, least of all, me. I had been a fool for having believed that about him. My heart curled up and seemed to die, and then flowered again, fresh and young when he tenderly tucked me into bed, put his hand on my forehead, closed his eyes, and said, “Sleep well, baby.” I knew he was sensing my thoughts, and I was glad that my thoughts were no longer dark. I was going to enjoy the rest of my holiday, and Anselm loved me enough to reject my sexuality. It was a difficult time for me, swinging between the poles of acceptance and resentment. But this too would pass.
~ ~ ~ ~
It was early next morning when Shelly finally called. Anselm was asleep, having slept at 6:00 a.m.
“It’s bad for you isn’t it?” she said. “You come all the way, and he sacks you.”
“It’s not that,” I said. “In preparation for my Oath, I’ve been advised to remain chaste, especially since I’ve been so attached to sex all along, and this will help us both grow. Anselm is helping me towards my spiritual goal. What greater love than that? Anselm is a very spiritual guy and loves the Temple. Just like you do.”
She only went “hmmmm” in response, obviously not convinced, and said I was welcome to stay with her as long as I liked, but it was just one room and very cold. She’d get me some warm clothes from her friend, Jill who was a model and my size.
Anselm called Shelly when he woke up. We were to meet her at her home in Maastricht next day by the afternoon. “Ach ja, now hearing her voice, I know I can trust her,” he said. “Now I can relax.” His eyes were full of tears as he sat down beside me on the blue couch. “I want you to make three promises to me. They’re very important to me.” He put his arm around my shoulders. “Remember this always, my baby. First, take care of your money, it’s a lot. Second, take care of yourself, be clear and clean. Don’t forget the Temple and fall into temptation.”
“Like men?” I grinned.
He looked away. “I’m in no position to tell you about men. What I mean is things like smoking. And third, and most important to me,” he pressed my shoulder and looked into my eyes, “remember that I am not in another world, but right here. Call me for whatever reason, any time to fix your return ticket if you need to stay longer, if you feel unwell or uncomfortable, or get into some difficulty. I feel very tense about this. I cannot protect you from myself and have hurt you deeply, but I don’t blame myself for it; it’s the truth, that’s all, but I will definitely blame myself if something happens to you there. Were Shelly someone I knew, I wouldn’t worry.”
I reassured Anselm, telling him I had known Shelly long enough. We had bonded through the Temple.
“Did I tell you how I met her?”
He looked at me questioningly.
“I saw her in a grocery store and thought she was so pretty with her blue eyes and blonde hair. There is sometimes an unspoken bond between pretty women even when they are strangers to each other. She smiled back and I offered her a lift on my bike, and on the way, told her about the Temple. She was instantly interested. We were quite inseparable after that although she is much younger than me. She said I was all she aspired to be. We smoked joints together, we prayed together, we went pubbing together. She wept like a baby in sensei’s arms when she was about to leave India. And we kept in touch.”
“I know you two are close, and I was thinking last night our relationship is not over at all. I still have deep feelings for you. In my life I’ve told only two women of my love. One is Franziska, who is still in my life although with her own man and child, and the other is you. And with you it’s so much deeper.” He embraced me. “This love I feel for you will never change, never go away. I know we will meet again.”
I wanted to weep. I reminded him of his farewell speech in the Temple, and how he had said that he would try to live in place where he could be near the Temple. Perhaps he could go to The States for his PhD, and live near the Temple in Chicago.
“I remember, and ach ja, I think about it a lot. Tell them how I miss them and that I try to do my best here.”
“Following The Way is like embarking on an adventure every moment,” I said.
“Take care, baby. I feel that you are so in another world at times. I recognize it and don’t think it is a problem and I love that in you -- one foot on the ground and at times just your toe -- like when you run out on the street to take pictures. You have a tendency to mix reality with imagination and at times, you believe that the imagined is real. Of course, dreams are a reality in themselves, but they are not the reality we live in.”
“I don’t think I imagined something between us that isn’t there.”
“I’m not referring to us at all, but to other things. And remember, I’m here for you. I’ve always been honest with you, my baby. Ours is the most valuable relationship I have ever had.”
“Me too,” I said in a choked voice.
“I really hope you enjoy yourself in Maastricht, and hope Shelly loves the land and can show you all the good things for, personally, I don’t feel for this land.”
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Deacon_Eddie reviewed Version 1 -
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This subject matter is in the romance catagory. The “Spiritual” aspect of the story is definitely from an American woman’s point of view. This subject has an appeal to American females. As an American male I don’t relate to it very well. I think that it’s well written though and good for it’s genre. I wish you well with it.
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napalm reviewed Version 1 -
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Brian76 reviewed Version 1 -
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ray336 reviewed Version 1 -
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an interesting story. the battle for chastity she puts herself through is adnirable. i imagine she is to become a nun or something and her former lover wants to help her make the transition by denying her his affections. an admirable move for him as well. but i dont get the feeling from this that he has any suppressed desires for her. maybe he is turned off to the thought of being with a nun-to-be or is he just turned off by her in general? that is the question in my head.
Chalaedra reviewed Version 1 -
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I have to apologize because I can’t find anything at all interesting or captivating in this chapter. To me it seems tedious, though I feel if I “knew” these characters it might not be. As you say, this is in part two in the book, and so much about what is happening here depends on what went before. I find myself asking too many questions (about what went before—who are these two, how did the come together, why is he so hard to seduce? That is certainly NOT a normal male characteristic, at least not here where I live!) to be able to concentrate well on what is happening now.
Mechanically, I found little wrong with your writing, although the narration does seem to ramble and feels disjointed and slightly less well thought-out than I would wish it to be. This may be more because Antara is confused and having problems coping with Anselm’s seeming rejection of her sexuality. In that case, you have done a very good job capturing the moment.
Basically, I believe you have a good ability to tell a story, but you just need more practice at making your point apparent to the reader. Keep writing, by all means! Work at giving your reader more ways to identify with the characters, as that part seems a little lacking. Once again, I must stress it is a difficult thing to jump into a story this late in a book without knowing anything about the characters or what has come before and be able to bond and identify with them and their feelings. I wish you much luck in your endeavors and with your writing. I can sense your passion for your work, and passion is a very good thing in this case.
Dauna reviewed Version 1 -
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This piece had good flow and I was hooked in the story but was immediatley distracted with the Blue Velvet reference. Only because Isabella Rossellini was the actress. While it is minor it is something that can distract.
Over all it is a well written piece and you can feel the conflict between the character with each other as well as the internal coflict. Your descriptions are very good and it was a nice touch about how she found out about Santa. I think even if someone is not spiritual they will relate to the story.
Ivana reviewed Version 1 -
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This written clearly and one is able to follow the text, soon as I deciphered what is going on ( I didn’t read the previous chapters) I found myself joining the story easily. I wished it would be some longer text for a chapter, though this might me just my opinion.
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