Atlantis (10 page)

“
Lilly, how can I convince you I’m real?”

“
Why is my head trying to screw with me?” I said aloud and looked directly at him. “No one has seen you but me. I’m fairly certain no one
can
see you but me. Unfortunately, for me, you are not real.”

To my surprise Elliott laughed. It was a happy, light-hearted sound, it could even be considered a giggle, and it tugged on my thoughts as though part of some distant memory, until I remembered I was mad.

“
This is no laughing matter Elliott!”

“
Actually, it is.” He giggled again.

Even his laugh was like honey. The wind caught up and the same strange, but oddly familiar floral scent circled around us in the air. I breathed it in deeply, trying to clear my head.
Why did he have such an effect on me?

“
Okay, if you are real then why hasn’t anyone else seen you? Hmm?” How dare my mind toy with me when I’m trying to come to terms with reality!

“
Because...”

“
...you are not real.” I finished his sentence for him, stressing each word.

“
You weren’t usually this sassy. I think your current friends are a bad influence on you.”

“
Excuse me?” Sarcasm was dripping from my lips. “Mr., I’m real Lil, but only you can see me. What are you, some kind of ghost?”

“
It might be easier for you to think of me that way.”

I paused, wary. I hadn’t seen this coming. It took me a moment of looking at Elliott, trying to see
through
him before I could talk.

“
But I can touch you.”

“
Yes.”

I was frustrated and fuming. It took all my energy to try and stay calm as I argued with the male model my mind had conjured up.

“
I don’t get it. What do you mean
it would be easier to think of you that way
. Are you a ghost or not?”

“
Technically, not.”

“
Oh, getting
technical
are we, because technically YOU ARE NOT REAL!” I got up to leave. Fighting with your own thoughts can be exhausting.

“
Lilly, Miele, please sit.” Unfortunately for me and my better judgement, I couldn’t resist his voice. I paced the cove once more before I sat down beside him again. My emotions were tearing me up inside.

“
Why do you call me Miele?”

“
A better question would be, since you are so convinced that I am a figment of your imagination, how come you don’t know what Miele means?” He smiled a mischievous smile as though he had somehow won a battle.

Damn.
He had a point. “I don’t know.”

“
Miele means honey in Italian. Where we met.”

I eyed him suspiciously. “In 1719? Um hum.”

“
Will you please hear me out Lilly? I am real, I’m just not really here.”

I bit my lip.
What should I do? Could Elliott be real?
He had a point on the whole “Miele” thing. If he were a figment of my imagination, I should know what that meant.

“
Okay. It’s against my better judgement, but since this is only a dream, I’ll play along a bit longer.”

“
Miele, you’re not dreaming.”

“
If I’m not dreaming, I’m hallucinating.” I crossed my arms. “I refuse to play along if I’m hallucinating.” My fingers drummed on my biceps, anxiously awaiting his rebuttal.

“
Okay, we’ll go with dreaming then. Until I can convince you otherwise.” Elliott winked at me. I melted at his smile.

“
As long as I’m listening, will you explain the ‘I’m not a ghost but think of me as a ghost’ thing,” I nibbled my bottom lip, “Uhm, please?”

“
I bet you’re getting your sass from Nicholas, huh?”

I couldn’t believe it. He was trying to change the subject just like every other time I seemed to get him close to answering me. “Leave him out of this. You say I’m sassy, well you are extremely and annoyingly evasive.”

“
Evasive maybe...” he smiled, “but real. I’m not a ghost.”

“
You said we met in 1719. You look really good for being almost three hundred years old.” I couldn’t stop the sarcasm from flowing out of my mouth. Elliott was right. I probably did pick it up from Nicholas.

“
Are you going to let me explain? Or am I going to constantly get interrupted?”

I put my head down in a shameful stare. He was right. I was being rude. I don’t know what came over me. “I’m sorry. I’ll be quiet.”

“
Thank you.” He took my hands in his as we sat there in the starlit darkness. “This is a long story, some of which you might remember, but please let me tell it without interruption.” Elliott laid back on his right arm and pulled me close so that I was cuddled under his left. It felt nice and familiar in his warm embrace. The magnetic electricity flowed freely from him to me. I breathed him in and noticed that the floral scent I kept smelling was coming from him. I shut my eyes and tried to memorize that scent as his honey voice filled the darkness as he began.

“
I fell in love with you the first moment I saw you.” He hugged me still tighter as his voice took on a sort of reminiscing quality. “It was spring in Napoli and I was hiding from the rain in the monastery of San Lorenzo Maggiore the first time I saw you. You weren’t hiding from the rain, but were standing in the open cloister, girded by columns, looking up at the dark swirling sky as the raindrops fell upon your face. Your long black hair dripped as you stood with your arms out taking in the simple beauty of falling droplets of water. I couldn’t take my eyes off you. You fascinated me. I still remember the smell of the gardenias that surrounded you. I even picked one and placed it in my breast pocket. The rain made the scent so much more pungent. I drank it in along with your beauty.”

This was too unbelievable to be true. And although a huge part of me wanted to believe Elliott and his fantastic story, another part of me was warning of the tremendous danger I would be in if my delusion was starting to make up stories, being delusional himself. I knew that if something sounded too good to be true, it probably was. I sighed and hugged Elliott tighter, trying with all my might to will him into reality. I couldn’t remember ever feeling as happy as I was whenever he touched me and it saddened me to know I couldn’t let this go on forever.

Elliott misunderstood my hug as encouragement and continued on with his story.

“
You were completely immersed in the rain. When the bell tower clock started to chime, you jumped slightly as though startled, and that is when you noticed me staring at you from behind one of the columns. I am ashamed to say that I think it offended you that I was watching the intimate intercourse in which the rain seemed to connect with your soul, for you ran. Quite fast I might add, into the room off the cloister that lead to the catacombs. You have always had a strange fascination with death, mia amore.”

Being tucked under his arm, I looked up at his face and noticed Elliott eyed me a furtive glance as he smiled and continued.

“
I followed you down the steps into the grey stone chambers below. It was much cooler within the catacombs. The soft sound of the rain above was barely audible. The candlelight cast shadows along the walls, and I couldn’t see which direction you had gone. I wanted so badly to introduce myself and apologize for my rude behavior, but you were nowhere to be seen. I found myself holding perfectly still, barely breathing, trying to hear footsteps, anything that would tell me where to find you.” Elliott looked down at me and winked. “I got lucky.

“
A loud clank came from the catacombs to my left, and I still remember how my heart jumped at the prospect of seeing you again. I ran flat out towards that sound. Past dozens of bodies and candles and flowers as I searched for what made the sound. As I searched for you.

“
I came to the end of the hall and quickly glancing in the three remaining tombs, I was disheartened when you were not to be found hiding in any of them. But you couldn’t just disappear. I decided to look for a sign, any sign, of where you were hiding. I kept telling myself you couldn’t have gotten out of the catacombs without passing me. I knew you had to be somewhere, but where?

“
I reexamined each of the chambers more closely, while of course keeping an ear out for any sound that would indicate your whereabouts. In the first, I found nothing but dead flowers and a handful of half spent candles on the wall. The second was much the same. But on my second glance into the third chamber, I noticed the source of the loud clank. A bronze vase was overturned in the back corner of the tomb. The water and flowers spilled out onto the stone floor. But you were nowhere to be found.

“
I took one of the candles off the wall and looked more closely at the dirt of the stone floor for traces of fresh footprints. There were none, but I did notice how very peculiarly the water on the floor was somehow draining into the cracks around one of the stone tiles. Bringing the candlelight closer, I realized that there was no dust on this particular tile either.