Cursed To Survive

know…

Two Months Later…

CHAPTER I

I was so consumed by my thoughts I didn’t even realize I arrived at Palenville. The creaking of the heavy old gates in front of the mansion forced me back into reality. This was happening often, I became so transfixed in my own head that reality didn’t exist. Sleep was rare. My nights were spent tossing and turning in bed wrestling with my racing thoughts. I hoped meditation might help, what a joke – I couldn’t even concentrate on that.

Bianca and Jim were standing at the main entrance waiting for my arrival. Their happy faces looked like those of the grandparents excited to see their grandchild.

Rose, darling, so wonderful to see you! Bianca said with a huge smile.

Let me get your bag, Rose. What do you ladies carry in those bags? They are always so heavy! Jim asks me this question every time I come to visit.

Jim. I smiled. I prefer to carry my personal things everywhere. You never know what you might need and when.

How long will you be staying? As usual? Are you hungry? Bianca asked looking at me with a concerned eye. You appear even thinner than the last time I saw you, Rose. City life makes young women starve. What kind of standards are those? But why I even wonder! Your grandmother, God rest her soul, ate like a tiny bird. I am telling you, Rose, she was starving to fit in her suits and dresses even at her noble age.

Bianca, I don’t starve. I just eat when I am hungry, I replied smiling.

Our conversation carried us right up to my room. As I walked in, the always tactful Bianca walked away to allow me to acclimate myself. I looked around, and a feeling of sadness started washing over me. I wished Aliza would walk in and give me a hug and wistfully envelop my nose in a subtly strong scent of Chanel No 5. In all honesty, I only liked that perfume on her…

I walked out of my room, crossed the hallway and entered my grandmother’s bedroom. The curtains were drawn. It was dark, and it smelled like her. I opened her dressing room door, walked in and ran my hand through her beautiful clothes. Tears rolled down my face. I remembered the diary entries and the photograph. I felt the hysterical choking coming on again. I could do nothing. I could never bring her back, and I still couldn’t understand why I hadn’t been able to accept the fact that Aliza was gone, and I would never see her again. It had been three years, and the pain from losing her was only growing bigger, especially when I was here, yet I could never stop coming back.

The sun was setting, and I knew it was too late to go to the cemetery, but I just couldn’t resist. I felt like I had to go tonight. Now was not soon enough. I knew that being at my grandmother’s graveside, was the closest I could ever be to her at present. I needed it. Hopefully, going there would put me at ease and make me feel better. However, as always, before I could take the short drive over to the cemetery located in the neighboring town of Catskill, I had to change my attire.

I preferred dressing casually in Palenville. I could wear my jeans and comfortable shoes or boots with a warm oversized hooded sweater. I put my hair in a ponytail and enjoyed being away from the city and the skintight dresses and pants, fabulous couture pieces and accessories, ultra-high heels, make-up, and everything I loved to wear regularly but enjoyed being without while here in Palenville. The only exception to my dressing-down routine was when I went to the cemetery to visit my grandmother. She never understood the meaning of casual wear. I would never get away with wearing jeans, a hoodie, and UGG boots. She’d always criticized that look. Aliza loved to dress up, and so I continued the tradition by dressing up every time I visited her, even at the cemetery.

After a quick shower, I brushed my hair and let it fall freely on my shoulders. I put on a tight black dress, nude stockings, high heeled black patent leather shoes, and my grandmother’s flower earrings, brooch, and a bracelet. The set was old and exquisite. I could literally sit and stare at each piece for hours wondering about its history and all the special moments it had shared with Aliza when she was wearing them. The set was yellow gold with emeralds and onyx. The combination of colors and the masterful artwork of each precious piece were breathtaking. Every time I wore my grandmother’s jewelry, especially as old as this one, I felt like I was sharing an important part of her history, like I was the insider with an exclusive access to her many generational secrets. Too bad this feeling was false. I still knew so little about the real history of Aliza’s life, and with her gone, there was no chance, I would ever discover anything at all.

CHAPTER II

When I drove up to the cemetery, the sun was almost behind the horizon. Everything was painted in dark yellowish and brown tones with the grayish sky highlighted by the golden streaks. The signs of late fall were apparent all around. Nature was getting quiet, especially here at the cemetery. The silence was deafening - still and mysterious. I guess if I were watching a horror film, this would be the part where I’d be thinking the main character was stupid and careless walking through the cemetery at this hour when everything looked ominously dead and a bit frightening.

As I walked across the alley to my grandmother’s grave, I noticed a tall figure standing right in front of it. Since I was pretty far away from the grave, I could not make out whether it was a man or a woman, their age, or any other pertinent details. As I approached cautiously, I finally realized, it was a young man standing absolutely still and staring at Aliza’s gravestone.

Excuse me, I said

It seemed like he had been asleep and was now waking up from a dream. Then he slowly turned his head toward me. I stopped and just stared at the spectacularly beautiful face of the stranger. He looked like… no, I couldn’t even compare. Looking at him, no one came to mind because I’d never seen anyone appropriate for the comparison. I was dumbfounded by his beauty and presence. I was even more shocked because I had no idea, who he was; at the same time, he was standing in front of my grandmother’s plot looking deeply hurt, for some reason. I didn’t have any cousins or siblings. I had no close relatives of his age. It was dark for the daytime but light enough for an early evening and for me to see him clearly from where I now stood. His hair was a flowing dark blonde. His eyes were so green. They resembled pure emeralds much more than natural human eyes ever could. He was tall and thin. His jaw lines and cheek bones were so defined, as if some great sculptor had meticulously chiseled his perfect facial features. His skin was pale, which only accentuated the very bright color of his eyes. I saw beautiful people all the time, but he was more than exquisite. He had an incredibly perfect face, figure, and posture. He was dressed in Italian style with gently fitted black jeans, high dress boots, light-gray turtleneck sweater, and an elegantly long tuxedo-type dark-gray jacket. This man was simply stunning. I’d spent years in the most extravagant social settings, and yet I’ve never seen anyone with such an effortlessly impeccable appearance.

Miss. He nodded his head, snapping me out of my trancelike admiration of his presence. Good evening. A tiny smile crossed his lips as he spoke. I could pick up a slight accent from the velvety tone of his voice.

I was getting so caught up in the stranger’s perfection. I forgot about the fact I’d run into him in an empty cemetery during evening hours standing next to Aliza’s grave!

I’m sorry. I muttered when I could finally find my voice. But this is my grandmother’s grave, and I was just wondering if you knew her, and if so, why have I never met you before? Did you know my grandmother?

The stranger’s face darkened; his eyes seemed to turn a different color green—gloomier and colder, angrier even. I started feeling very uncomfortable. The worst part was — I could see him trying to come up with an explanation, and as a result he looked frustrated. He was still stunningly beautiful but now, I was a little scared of his aggressive expression.

I did not know the lady, miss, and I do apologize. I just saw an interesting gravestone and stopped to admire it more closely, he said, instantly looking calm.

Are you a designer of the gravestones or an artist? Because you seemed really mesmerized by a plain piece of black marble, I said, sounding quite cynical, I am sure.

The stone is far from plain. The design is a classically elegant shape; the marble is of a rare type imported from Germany, and the engraving is rather intriguing: Let The Past Protect the Future. Let Those Who Left Watch Over Those Who Remained." Beautiful words…and Miss, I wasn’t staring. Admiring would have been more accurate."

Still, he looked annoyed, and he was really irritating me with his annoyance, as if I’d invaded his privacy. Never mind, I’d come to visit MY grandmother’s grave.

I apologize, miss, but I have to leave, and I wish you a pleasant evening.

My name is Rose, I said quietly.

Rose. He echoed my name and nodded again. Then he turned around and started walking away, toward the exit gate.

Like royalty, I thought to myself. He walks with so much regal grace. Regular people don’t walk like this. Even at black tie events, even at the most formal ceremonies, even the modern royals don’t walk with that much nobility. Where is he from? Who is he?

Excuse me, I yelled out, acting completely rude with my loud voice, considering where I was. I suppose he pretended he didn’t hear me; he just kept on walking—now a little faster. It seemed, to get away from me. I was even more shocked. Men didn’t flee me like that! Especially, young and gorgeous men. And this one was caught staring at Aliza’s grave with an expression of pain and sympathy as only someone with a strong connection to her, like me, could display. I approached the tombstone, but now I couldn’t even concentrate on being there anymore. I forgot everything I’d meant to share with her. I just wanted to run after him; I felt ashamed. For the first time ever, someone caused me to disregard completely the purpose of my visit to the cemetery.

I wanted to talk to him again. I wanted to see his beautiful face, but even more than that, I wanted to know why he had been here and how he knew Aliza.

I was so caught up in my thoughts. I didn’t even notice a cemetery worker approaching. When he addressed me, I was startled and let out a little scream.

Are you okay, Miss Rose? I didn’t mean to scare you. I apologize, but it’s getting late. We’ll be closing the gates, so you should go now.

I am sorry, Mr. Breene. I didn’t even notice you. I’m leaving immediately. I still wasn’t myself—I spoke with pauses, and I am sure I looked lost.

It’s okay, Miss Rose. I know how close you were with Lady Aliza, and you must miss her terribly, he said in a soft sympathetic voice.

I do…I miss her every second. I felt tears rolling from my eyes. Mr. Breene, I wanted to ask you, did you see a young man standing here near my grandmother’s grave? I saw him when I came in. I never saw him before, and I know he is not a relative or a part of my family. Did you see him?

No, Miss Rose, I’m sorry. There was no one here the whole day. Are you sure he was standing near the grave? Maybe he came to see someone else? He sounded worried, like I was hallucinating or making something up.

I saw a man here, right here! I was frustrated. Have a good night, Mr. Breene.

Good night, take care of yourself Miss Rose. He was obviously feeling sorry for me, perhaps even thinking I was losing my mind.

I walked across the valley toward my car feeling exasperated. The guy had acted like I was disturbing him, like I was invading his space. He was clearly standing near Aliza’s grave and staring at it with an expression of pain, and yet he had no sound explanation as to why he was there. I also felt bad that the visit I’d planned for weeks had gone so wrong, and I was unable to spend the time there as I always did, telling my grandmother about everything that was going on in my life, and how much I missed and loved her. Usually, I felt peaceful after visiting her grave, this time — I was agitated and very confused.

CHAPTER III

As I drove back to the house; I got angrier with every minute. I felt bothered and frustrated, nearly…violated. The stranger had invaded my privacy, stepped into my world — the only place where I found peace. I tried to relax and analyze the situation but to no avail. I hated unanswered questions, and I hated the fact I didn’t know who he was and what he was doing near Aliza’s grave. I was trying to come up with reasonable justifications, even to convince myself he was indeed just passing by and something trivial had attracted him to the gravestone. My gut instincts, however, were telling me it was too simple of an explanation. Especially, considering the look on his face as he was staring at the headstone. And… of course, as a woman, I couldn’t get over the fact he’d almost run away from me like I was contagious or repulsive. And that smirk…By now, I was boiling with anger!

When I got home, it was pretty late. I figured Bianca was most likely knitting near the fireplace watching the news and Jim and Francis were somewhere at the local pub. They’d had the same routine, for as long as I’d known them. When I stormed into the house, slamming the front doors so hard that all the glass objects in the hallway started shaking and ringing, Bianca, and Jim, who surprisingly was at home, nearly jumped up out of their seats and stared at me startled.

Rose, darling, what’s wrong? Bianca looked worried.

You’ll break all the windows, kid, Jim said, appearing calm as usual. I’d always thought of Jim as immune to any type of emotion. He never showed much reaction beyond the slight smile he would give me every now and then. There was no smile this time.

I wanted to ask…have you seen a really good-looking well-dressed young man around here? Blonde, amazing green eyes, tall? I undoubtedly sounded like a teenager chasing a boy.

Jim and Bianca looked at each other, and after what seemed like an uncomfortable long pause, they both stared at me in confusion as if I was delirious.

Do you mean Jason’s boy? He’s the only one with green eyes and your age I know around here, Bianca said.

No, I didn’t mean Kevin. He has black hair, and he’s shorter than me. Plus, why would I ask about him, if I know where he lives and how to reach him? This guy was tall with dark blonde hair.

I don’t look at boys’ eye color, Rose! Jim chuckled and turned back to the TV.

Rose, the guy you are describing is not someone I’d expect to see around here. Unless, there’s a newcomer. Why? What happened, darling? Bianca looked terribly worried as if I’d come back beaten or bleeding.

Nothing happened, just asking. I need to sleep. I’m going upstairs. Good night. I couldn’t get away fast enough. I really wanted to be alone before I spilled my frustration on these lovely people who were my only family, besides my parents. I think Jim and Bianca didn’t like my mom and dad because they always traveled and didn’t spend much time with me. I had personally gotten used to that and loved living alone in NYC.

After I showered, I tried to calm down. I also hoped I would be able to sleep, but I couldn’t. I was in bed with the lights off, and every time I’d close my eyes; I saw him. I was still trying to find an explanation for whatever had happened, but everything seemed like a huge puzzle, and I was getting more mixed up by the second. Also, I’ve refused to settle on the simplest explanation of him admiring the gravestone. As a result, I was restless and couldn’t fall asleep.

When the old Seth Thomas clock downstairs sounded at one in the morning, I was getting sick from my edgy disposition; I was tossing and turning every minute. My head was spinning from so many movements. I was tired and lonely. I got up and stood still, staring at the shadow of the old oak tree behind my window. I’d known this tree ever since I was a baby.

When I was really young, I thought this tree was a monster, and I insisted on lowering the blinds every night, so I wouldn’t be able to see outside of the window. This night, however, the tree looked majestic. The light from the moon was touching upon one of its sides making the leaves, and the branches appear silver-blue. The color was truly amazing! I started feeling calmer and then exhausted. I went back to bed and covered my head with a blanket. Then it suddenly dawned on me— the best explanation I could find for the man at the cemetery.

The guy was probably a reporter, a European investigative reporter judging by the accent. He was possibly writing a story, and Aliza was in it, I guess. Maybe it was a story about my great- grandfather, Jacob Stern, who was a very famous doctor. If I was right, then he had to have some information about my grandmother and her past. I decided I would try to find him the next day and make him explain everything to me. I would offer him money, lots of money. Everything had a price, right? That was my last thought before finally falling asleep.

CHAPTER IV

The organ sound of the old clock woke me up at six in the morning. Our clock sounded like Big Ben in London—heavy and gloomy but with considerable grandeur. I love the sound of the ancient clocks; they’d witnessed so much history— every time I heard them, whether in England or Moscow, I’d stop and listen. Once I opened my eyes that morning, though, I saw his face, and I couldn’t stop obsessing over him. I was determined to find him.

After a shower, I casually dressed in skinny jeans, long sweater, and loafers and ran down the stairs. Bianca was in the kitchen; I smelled freshly brewed coffee and baking French rolls. Francis was an amazing chef, and I often wondered why he stayed here, living in a tiny house on the other side of the garden, contrary to working at a restaurant or running his own. He would be so successful, anything he made was not simply delicious but in an art form, and some of his dishes were so specific to certain regions of France and Italy, even the best restaurants in the city didn’t offer them or probably wouldn’t have a clue how to prepare them.

Good morning. I tried to look cheerful and normal after yesterday’s weird behavior.

Bonjour, Princess Rose! That had been Francis’s standard greeting for me for over a decade. I smiled. Francis was very loving and caring. His biggest worry in life was to feed people.

Ooh la la, Rose, my child, you must eat. Look, you lost weight again. You are too thin—even French girls are not this skinny. Is this what they make you do at your haute couture job? Francis’s concerned face looked like that of a Jewish grandmother permanently fixated on feeding her children and grandchildren. Fortunately, my grandmother was Jewish and an exception—she never made me eat. She considered me rational enough to make my own choices about my figure and the amount of food I consumed.

Oh Francis, even if I gained weight— you’d still say I’m too skinny!

Rose, darling, why are you up so early? It’s Saturday. You should have stayed in bed longer and rested. Bianca came up to me and placed a breakfast dish set and my coffee mug in front of me. The mug looked like a soup bowl — it was huge. My grandmother got it for me at the state fair many years before. She never liked me drinking coffee from it, though; she thought it was more appropriate for a hot chocolate. Coffee was supposed to be served in small cups. This, and maybe few other things, were the only matters in which I’ve ever disagreed with her or did not follow her recommendation. I loved her, but I also loved certain things, my way and my way only.

I can’t stay in bed for too long. If I wake up, I have to get up immediately, or I start feeling restless. Plus the smell of the fresh coffee and French rolls was too much to handle. I’m starving. I was a very convincing liar when I had to be. I loved staying in bed for hours after I woke up, and I didn’t like early breakfast, only coffee. Bianca knew that—she just didn’t want to hover or annoy me.

We sat around the table, and I drank my coffee, trying to figure out what to do with the roll Francis had put right in front of me. It smelled great; I just couldn’t eat this early and wasn’t in a mood for food at all.

I must tell you, Rose. This Kevin, Jason’s son, is very aggressive. He practically got into a fight last night at the pub. Francis looked so worried, as if Kevin had almost beaten up his own son. I loved how emotional Francis was, especially compared to Jim, who permanently looked like a statue, with barely any emotions or expressions.

Who did Kevin get into a fight with this time? I wasn’t surprised at all; Kevin had a very hot temper. That I remembered from growing up.

This young man who was not from around here. Nice enough, very well-mannered and quiet, Francis said.

We have a new resident? Bianca instantly looked at me; she obviously remembered our conversation from the night before.

I felt like coffee turned into acid. My throat burned, and I started getting hot flashes. I’m sure my cheeks were red. What young man? What did he look like? I was almost choking.

I must say, a very, very good–looking and polite young man. He looked like a city boy, like someone from Paris or Geneva. Francis sounded like an expert on how young men looked in Paris and Geneva. I would have laughed at any other time, but now I felt sick.

What happened yesterday between Kevin and the young man? Bianca was ready for the latest gossip. She even leaned closer to Francis across the table, as if she sat upright, she would’ve missed something very important.

The young stranger was standing by his very fancy car outside the pub, and Kevin was drunk. He passed by the guy, pushed him out of his way, and kept walking. The stranger called him out for it and asked for an apology. Kevin got really aggressive. We all heard him yelling outside the pub, so we ran out and held him back. Kevin could have really hurt the young fellow—he was quite thin and too polished to fight. Even so, I must say, he was staring down at Kevin and had no fear in his eyes. Francis didn’t like Kevin. According to him, Kevin was rude and hostile. Francis wasn’t far from the truth, but with all that — Kevin had a kind heart.

I felt like I wanted to see the young city boy, as Francis called him, right at that moment, that very second. I was restless and agitated again.

Did you get the other guy’s name? Where is he from? I attempted to sound like I was just curious.

No, Rose, my dear child. After Jason and other guys pulled Kevin to the side, the young fella looked around, wished everyone a good night, got into his fancy car, and drove off. Francis looked at me and then smiled. He would be a nice man for you, Rose. He was obviously from your circle. You would like him. Francis chuckled happily, smiling and putting the whole roll in his mouth.

Thank you. I’m going into town for a walk. I got up and put my cup into the sink. I was trying my best to look normal.

You had nothing to eat, Rose, but you said you were starving. Bianca smiled at me; it seemed like she knew what I was up to.

I hugged Bianca and then kissed Francis and told them I was planning to spend the afternoon in town, just walking around enjoying the sun. At least, that was credible because I loved walking around, spending time appreciating nature and fresh air of upstate New York. I took my car keys and a bag and walked out into the crisp morning warmed by the bright sun.

********************************************

When I drove into the main square, it was around nine in the morning. The weather was beautiful. The sun was shining, and it was pleasantly warm. This would be a perfect day for me to walk around, relax, breathe, and enjoy the day. However, instead, I was nervous, agitated, and clueless. How could I find him? Where would he be? Having breakfast somewhere around here or still sleeping? Maybe he’d already left after the night’s confrontation with Kevin. I had millions of questions and no answers. In fact, I had no clue as to how or where I would look for him. I hoped if my theory about him being an investigative reporter were correct; he would still be somewhere around here looking for information.

I sat in the car for half an hour just thinking. Why should I even think he was a reporter? Maybe I should have talked to Bianca, Jim, or Francis more. Perhaps they knew something. My head was filled with maybes without any concrete plan of action. If I were reasonable, I would enjoy the day, visit my grandmother’s grave tomorrow, and drive back to New York to start a new busy week at work. I couldn’t go to the cemetery today, since it was Saturday. As a reform Jew, I didn’t follow much of the religious guideline, but certain rules and holidays were an unbreakable part of me being Jewish, and I understood my responsibility about respecting those laws. Aliza was reform and very religious at the same time. She lit the candles for every Shabbat and holidays, kept four major fasts, and prayed a lot. I learned everything about Judaism from her and our family’s Rabbi Meyer, but I wasn’t a strict follower. I lived in New York City, and I worked in fashion; so Saturday was as busy as any other day. As for my selective Jewishness, my grandmother used to say, as long as you know who you are and believe in your heart and never forget the most important things, everything else can be adjusted and accepted.

I didn’t even notice the time flying by. When I finally got out of my car and started walking toward a tiny main street, people around were saying hello and smiled. I loved the people here. They were sweet and welcoming. They always smiled and tried to help. I adored New York City, but you hardly ever meet people like these there. Everyone was always busy, frustrated, and stressed. New York City had a widespread neurosis that somehow infected almost everyone who lived there, including me. I only changed when I came here. I detached myself from the fast-paced city life and enjoyed the silence, the air, the low-key environment, and the many smiles and hellos from everyone I ran into at any time of the day or evening. I thought New Yorkers should all go to upstate often. That would increase unemployment among the shrinks, but also increase the sanity and natural happiness among the population without pills, talks, and other artificial techniques.

I walked and looked around. He was nowhere to be found. I walked into every little shop and café. I even checked all the inns and bed and breakfast places. Anywhere a tourist or a newcomer would be I checked, but he wasn’t there. I drove by the cemetery again. I couldn’t walk inside, but I was looking for a fancy car, as Francis had described the stranger’s vehicle without actually being able to name the make or model. No fancy cars at the cemetery. I had no idea what to do or where to go next. He could have been staying in another town and driving up to Palenville for whatever business he had. It was hopeless. I didn’t know his name or anything that would help me identify or find him. I had no clue. I had to return home…

CHAPTER V

During my ride back home, I felt dejected. What else could I do? I was chasing a ghost with no name, no specifics—just a man of exquisite beauty who’d practically run away from me at the cemetery. I wouldn’t be able to explain to others what I saw and what I felt; it was pointless. It was time to stop and give up. He was probably long gone, and I would never see him again. It was time to be a big girl and get back to my life instead of chasing a myth fueled by my desires and secret dreams— unexplainable to others.

Nevertheless, I knew what I’d seen in his eyes, at the grave, but I could have been wrong. My hunger to learn something about Aliza’s past life had never been satisfied when she was alive, and it was foolish of me to hope I could learn more now: three years after her death. I also had to be honest with myself in regard to him. Would I be as keen on finding him if he were old and unattractive? Or was it the shock over his amazing beauty and the aura of mystery that motivated and pushed me to drive around town looking behind every door I could open?

I had to stop. I had to slow down and try to accept the fact I would never learn more than I already knew about her, and she had taken all her mysteries to another world. The gorgeous stranger was just a beautiful apparition burnt forever into my memory but disappearing from reality just as a fog clears when the sun comes out. I constantly wanted to know more than what appeared above the surface. Where others accepted what they saw or knew without questions, I was always too curious and too inquisitive, asking for more. I hated not getting what I wanted or what I was looking for, but I had no idea what to do or where to look for him next. It was time to give up.

I was happy to find the house empty upon my return. Bianca and Jim had gone grocery shopping, and Francis was at his little house either reading about food or creating new recipes. I needed to be alone. Nothing annoyed me more than being disturbed when my mind was preoccupied. I hate having to answer questions, smile, and pretend to care or be interested when all I want to do is to be alone and think or sit and stare into nothing until I feel better or calmer. I prefer not to be taking out my mood swings on others; I know what makes me angry or bothers me and how to deal with such things on my own. I was furious with life for showing me a glimpse of hope and taking it away so fast. Or maybe I turned yesterday’s meeting with a beautiful stranger into hope? I was annoyed that someone so uniquely good-looking and mysterious, almost irresistible, appeared in my life standing in front of my grandmother’s grave and then instantly disappeared into nowhere.

I walked into my room and looked out the window at the old oak tree and got lost in my thoughts. I felt defeated. I was disappointed; I knew I had to return to New York tomorrow afternoon and live as I always have: working long hours, partying, being social, shopping, meeting people, and having sex with the next handsome man who would be asked to leave in the morning. I would go on dates I knew would lead to nothing and pretend I was satisfied with the status quo of my life.

Deep inside I knew I wanted more. I wanted and needed something else, more than the chic lifestyle of a wealthy girl in a wealthy city, more than my friends who were concerned with the latest fashions, new cars, next hot parties, and insatiable desires for fake love and wild sex. I wanted other things, but I couldn’t explain what exactly they were—perhaps a different life and exciting adventures, something more meaningful and real, something simpler, maybe even a true love, really endless love, which I was sure, I would never find in the city. New York was in my heart and mind, but my soul still hadn’t found its home.

Those weren’t the confessions of a wealthy and bored girl. I had everything money could buy, and yet I was all alone. My grandmother has gone; my parents were never around, and my entire family’s history was dark and barely known to me. It almost seemed like Aliza’s life started with my father’s birth, even though my grandfather was hardly ever mentioned. As long as I could remember, the relations between my father and my grandmother were cold and filled with tension; it was never explained why it was the case. Every time I’d asked, they would quickly change the topic as if everyone had been sworn to secrecy as to my family’s past.

Ever since I’ve discovered my grandmother’s notebook with her entries begging for death, screaming with pain and suffering and seeing that photograph of Aliza looking as my identical twin, I was constantly overwhelmed with terrifying thoughts and speculations.

"Dear God, please take me. If you love me, if you have any mercy, please let me fall asleep and never wake up. I can’t take my own life, and I can’t continue living. They are all gone and now he is gone as well. Please have mercy on me. My heart is so broken I can nearly feel its pieces piercing through my chest, causing unbearable pain. I can’t live without him. I can’t. I refuse…" Those were her heartbreaking prayers, and they have been driving me close to desperation. I felt so empty and lonely. No wealth, even of the grandest proportions, could replace actual family, with real love and warmth. I had some of it when Aliza was alive. However, ever since she has passed there was nothing left but our massive fortune, my family’s past shrouded in mystery and darkness, and my memories of her.

I closed the curtains, and lay down on my bed. I reached under the pillow and placed my hand on my grandmother’s nearly-blank diary. It was dark in the room, really dark, and I was gazing at that blackness trying to get my thoughts in order, to calm myself, and relax. I must have fallen asleep because when I opened my eyes, I wasn’t in my room anymore but near the Kaaterskill Falls — one of my all-time favorite getaways. I was walking up to the upper cascade admiring the power and passion of the water when I heard gentle steps behind me. I turned around…and there he was…standing still, looking at me with his deep bright green eyes. He was watching me, and I was watching him. I wanted to say something, but my mouth wouldn’t move. Then he said, I am here, come… now…

The next second I was awake, again staring at the darkness in my room. The dream was short, but so real and vivid. I could still hear his voice and the noise of the falling water. I sat up straight and stayed motionless for a little longer, trying to push the dream away, but it was too real, and I couldn’t resist it. I got up, and as I was changing, I promised myself it would be the last idiotic move I would make on this matter. The sun was setting, and it was getting darker; I couldn’t help myself. I had to go to the Falls, even though by the time I’d get there it would be dusk. I hoped I could slip out of the house without talking to anyone. I walked out of my room as quietly as possible, but as I was descending, I saw Jim, standing at the bottom of the staircase, smiling at me.

Rose, kid, are you feeling okay? You never nap during the day! His smile was actually warm, and if I weren’t so concerned with getting away, I would have thought to myself that it was a huge deal Jim had, in fact, smiled.

I am feeling fine, thank you. I smiled back. I need to run. I promised a few friends I’d hang out, I said, lying, of course.

That’s a great idea, kid. Go ahead and have a good time, but don’t stay out too late. Bianca won’t be able to fall asleep.

I promise I won’t. Just a few hours, maybe less. I kissed Jim on the cheek and ran out the door before Bianca came out and started the real questioning.

Our house wasn’t too far from the Kaaterskill Falls, and I usually enjoyed the ride. I always thought about the place as the clash between the most beautiful and tranquil serenity with the most powerfully aggressive and dangerous forces. The surroundings leading up to the Falls were gorgeous and luscious, they reminded me of the gates to paradise. While I was driving, I remembered William Cullen Bryant’s amazing description of this gem of nature:

"Midst greens and shades the Catterskill leaps,

From cliffs where the wood-flower clings;

All summer he moistens his verdant steeps,

With the sweet light spray of the mountain -springs;,

And he shakes the woods on the mountain -side,

When they drip with the rains of autumn-tide.

But when, in the forest bare and old,

The blast of December calls,

He builds, in the starlight clear and cold,

A palace of ice where his torrent falls,

With turret, and arch, and fretwork fair,

And pillars blue as the summer air.

As my mind recalled the poem, my heart was beating fast. I was getting nervous. What if he really was there? No, he obviously wasn’t. This was my last attempt to prove to myself — I was naïve and even foolish. Yet, besides the enigma surrounding this man and his possible connection to my grandmother, I was beginning to accept the idea that I was tired and unsatisfied with my superficial life and my soul was searching for something more.

When I drove up to the entrance sign, there were no cars parked in the vicinity, let alone a fancy type. The whole place looked deserted besides the noise of the falling water a few walking minutes away. The sun has already set, and the sky looked magnificent. The gray and pink was interchanging with blue and bright gold. Everything looked so fantastic and beautiful; I started feeling calmer and even caught myself truly enjoying the view instead of quivering and stressing over something that wasn’t going to happen anyway. No one was here. The closer I was getting to the Falls, the more obvious it was — I was the only one around, and my gorgeous stranger was at most in my dream.

I walked up to the waterfall; I was all alone with the environment at its purest and most awe-inspiring expression. The falling cascades of water, the noise of its power and majesty had a soothing effect on me. I was looking around, taking it all in. I was tranquil at last. It was getting dark, and yet I felt safe there as I always have. While I loved the city and its constant busy vibe, I felt at peace in places like this one. The reason I was so excited every time I came to Palenville or to the Kaaterskill Falls, was that I could be my true self here. I could think and dream. I could imagine a different life, one that would actually make me happy and satisfied. It was almost impossible to explain to others or even to myself what I really wanted. Anyone would think I had a perfect life, but to me, it was just a luxurious existence. I only wanted to know what exactly I was searching for.

I had to go back home. I’d left my phone in the car, and if Bianca called, and I didn’t answer, she would be worried. No matter how mature and independent I was, every time I didn’t answer the phone, Bianca would panic. My parents, on the other hand, would just call back…I didn’t know which reaction was better. When Aliza was alive, I always had my phone with me, just in case she called; now I could forget it at any place.

I walked back to my car inhaling the intoxicating freshness of the air, enjoying the colors of the surroundings, and the competing noises of the water falling from different levels of the cascades. I was at peace. I knew my foolishness had to end, and the events of the past few days were to be sent to the past, to my I will never find out folder located in my memory along with everything I wanted to know about my grandmother but never got a chance to find out.

When I approached my car, a sudden blast of the wind nearly startled me. Just mere few seconds ago it was calm; now it grew stormy and chilly almost instantly. I opened the door to get inside, suddenly…

Good evening, Miss Rose. I would have recognized his softly cold voice among millions of other voices even though I had only spoken to him once for a few minutes. I was astounded. I honestly thought I was hearing things, and somehow the wind had spoken to me in his voice. I looked out through the open door; he was standing only steps away. He was even more beautiful than I remembered. His eyes sparkled in deep green, and the colors of the evening painted his hair much darker, but neither night nor other tricks of nature could cover up his exquisite beauty, and that mysterious grin imprinted on his lips. I had no idea what to say. I was speechless, and my mind and body were numb.

He stood looking at me as I stared back. I was afraid he would disappear at any second, and I would find myself chasing him again just when I’d accepted the fact that he was gone forever.

Did you want to see me, Rose? Was it in order to play a staring game with me? He crossed his hands on his chest and grinned.

I’m sorry. I’m just really shocked to see you here. I was dreaming… I am sure my voice was trembling.

Yes, you were dreaming and you came here trying to find me after a whole day driving around town asking complete strangers about me without knowing my name or anything else about me. Don’t you think it was foolish? Don’t you think the town people could have assumed I’d hurt you or something worse? His eyes were burning a hole in me as he spoke, and his voice sounded even colder. He looked annoyed.

You are absolutely right, and I apologize. I just thought I could find you. I mean, Jim saw you near the pub. He even said, ‘a good- looking young man with a fancy car,’ so I assumed it were you—it had to be. And I knew you should have been around. I just wanted to find you and to know more. I must have sounded like a child caught misbehaving. My explanation was as weak and senseless as it was silly, but it was true, nevertheless.

You wanted me to explain to you something beyond what I already told you yesterday? You wouldn’t be satisfied by the explanation I gave you. Of course, you wouldn’t! I should have known better!

I saw the look on your face when you were standing at her grave! I wasn’t hallucinating. You looked sad. You looked as I look standing there when I am alone, thinking of her, missing her. I felt tears choking me. I sat down on the edge of my seat and gazed up at him through the open door of my car. He smiled and started walking toward me. He was so graceful, so stunningly unreal. I was afraid I would wake up any moment. Even so, I wasn’t dreaming. It was happening. He was right here, standing near the open door. His face was serene, but his eyes looked edgy—even unfriendly.

My name is Maximilian. You can call me Max. He extended his hand, and as I got up to touch it, my eyes met his, and when my fingers touched his skin, I felt the waves of electricity going through my body. It was not just the obvious fascination with his beauty. It was his overpowering presence, everything about him, and it was more than I could explain or figure out at that moment. His touch made me euphoric. It was such a powerful feeling. I was completely shocked and mystified by this stranger’s ability to make me feel like I was transforming into another world. The world I wanted to be in but could never really explain what it was or what it felt like. I sensed it now, through his touch.

It is a pleasure to know your name finally, Max. I am Rose.

Pleasure, Rose. He smiled, and his eyes brightened. Do you have to be home now?

No, I’m okay. Thank you. I don’t have to be anywhere but here right now. I thought he was really out of his mind asking me if I needed to be home when I’d just found him, unless he was completely missing the whole importance of the moment.

I don’t understand, Max. It’s really strange. I saw you in my dream, and you were asking me to come here and that’s where I met you. Is that some kind of telepathy? How could this possibly be happening?

Some dreams can be very realistic, especially when you keep on thinking about something all the time. He looked at me with a sly smile.

I suppose, but I don’t think that’s what happened. It’s just too surreal.

The reality unknown to you might still be real. Just because things are out of the ordinary does not mean they don’t exist, right?

I agree, and still I thought you were gone. I thought I would never see you again.

Max came up close to me and looked straight into my eyes. I felt weak in the knees, and chills ran all over my body.

He grinned. Did the thought of never seeing me again scare you? Why was it so important to see me once more, Rose?

I needed some answers. I wanted to know more than the silly excuse of the explanation you gave me at the cemetery before you ran away.

Max started laughing. Silly excuse of an answer? Was I running away? Hmm, interesting, I didn’t run away… I had to go.

Go where, Max? I returned his intense stare.

Away, Rose. I thought it would be better for things to be the way they are.

But you changed your mind, right? I was hopeful now.

Yes I did. Otherwise, you would never see me again. He stepped away and walked around my car. Then he opened the front passenger door and got in.

Rose, get in the car. It’s getting cold out, and you don’t want to get sick.

It was indeed getting cold, but I was so taken by his presence, until he mentioned it, I didn’t even notice how cold and windy it was. I looked around and realized — we were in the dark. Besides the lights from a few distant street lamps and the stars and