In All of Infinity (4 page)

Mrs. Brevard, who spent
her time between the church and the local library, was one (if
not
the
) perfect
citizen. She talked several other women she knew into helping her
take care of Emmanuel, from feeding him to making clothes for him.
He did come out and get everything, eventually, and that was why
they continued doing the deed. Although he wasn’t much for the
clothes, he took them in because he didn’t want to hurt their
feelings.

With the tools that he had, and the
experience that he’d acquired, he was able to put the jars into
more use than the women could possibly think. He began molding them
together until they formed into a figure. Although he knew this was
as creative as he got without wanting scientific results, he was
proud of his artwork because he managed to become quite
skilled.

The first time he created a figure, without
bursting the glass, it was in late November. He was standing in the
living room, near the window behind the couch, sitting at his desk
with his materials around him. The room had become something of his
laboratory for the twenty hours out of the day he was awake, and it
was littered with all sorts of inventions.

This particular day, almost an hour before
he rested, he wore his glasses and held tools in both hands,
working dexterously on his current project. He had been working
since he got up, taking only a minute here and there to drink
bitter cups of coffee and relieve himself in the downstairs
bathroom. At long last, he pulled away from his desk, took off his
glasses to rub his eyes, ran a hand through his beard, and looked
at his progress with a sigh.

The figure was that of a plump baby with
outstretched hands. He wanted to hold it but realized the glass
would still be hot, so he pulled back from doing so. The baby
symbolized the one that would belong to him and Esme, had Fate
decided to treat them differently.

He found tears forming in his eyes, and
looked around the room, taking in each dark corner, each article of
furniture, each invention that lay here or there, clamoring
inaudibly about something. This was his life now, this form of
chaos that he’d created, and it smelled like him. The room hadn’t
been aired out for months, and it smelled like his sweat from
restless nights, from working diligently from one project to the
next.

Further, he knew he was the one to blame for
his loneliness. There were several people who would be willing to
speak with him, take him into their hearts and console him.
Emmanuel’s pride was preventing him from doing anything about his
solitude, even though there were times when he could do for a
companion. At night, even with the firelight casting itself on the
walls, he didn’t feel warm. He needed someone, anyone. He merely
wasn’t going to risk his dignity to find anyone.

He stood and stretched, then walked over to
one of his inventions that was squawking about whom they were
‘Hello, I’m Anna’ and another that was lying on its side but still
trying to walk. He laughed at them good naturedly, assisted them
with a gentle touch, and watched them get on with their lives. For
a moment, he wished he could get on with his.

He stood again and yawned, then looked at
the clock hanging beside the fireplace behind him, and realized how
hungry he was. He sat on the couch and picked up one of the jars on
the coffee table. Although he wasn’t a fan of pickles, these were
rather good and had him often wondering if he could get fat off
them. Emmanuel hadn’t weighed himself in a while, and he had a
feeling he’d lost more weight than he’d gained. He didn’t care
about appearance. He didn’t care much about anything except his
work.

He sat back, looking at the fire before
watching the light on the chair across from him. The chair was used
only when he didn’t want to sleep or work, just sit there and
think, but he wasn’t wondering about that presently. Emmanuel was
considering when he’d last had a conversation. He hadn’t spoken
with anyone since he’d been visited by the women in the cloaks, but
he hadn’t had a decent conversation in a much longer time.

He yawned and looked towards the clock
again, realizing it was only five minutes until midnight, until
December of the bleakest year in his life. Turning towards the
fire, he thought about Christmas last year, when he was with Esme.
As tears began blurring his vision, he found himself wanting a
drink, but he didn’t move. Emmanuel finished chewing his pickle and
rested his hands in his lap, thinking about how terrible his life
was turning out. He would never be able to get over Esme, not
without ending his own life.

Emmanuel found his eyes growing heavy so he
closed them and drifted to sleep, thinking about her face and the
way her eyes consumed every ounce of light.

***

“Manny
…” a woman whispered into his ear. “
I need you to wake up. I need you to look at me. See me. Feel
me
.”

He opened his eyes and realized he was still
seated on the couch, but he realized someone was looking at him.
His eyes drifted to the chair beside the fire, where he saw a woman
dressed in a black lace housecoat staring at him.

“Who are you?” he asked and sat up with a
start. “How did you get in my house?”

“I am Nadia. I know this house; I know you.
We have met before, in a quaint world filled with chances. I am
sure you won’t remember me, but that is no matter, so don’t strain
that pretty little brain of yours. I care not for your knowing me.
It is better that way, so you won’t be able to acquaint yourself
with what is about to happen,” she said and stood, tossing her dark
hair over her shoulder. She looked at him with a smile and he saw
mischief alight in her eyes. “I know how to please you, if you can
give me a chance. I know you want to be pleased, after being
without someone for so long. I know you want love.”

In a swift movement, the housecoat fell to
the floor and she stood there, naked, smiling at him. The firelight
covering her revealed that she was tanned and well proportioned
with small feet, powerful legs, slender waist, large breasts, and a
long neck. She was the most beautiful brunette Emmanuel had ever
seen, but he found his mouth gaping and a blush rising to his
cheeks.

How could a stranger come here and undress
herself in front of him? Had she not decency?! Why was he suddenly
contemplating something else, some hidden desire? He wanted to slap
himself for thinking so inappropriately, yet he knew why he was
thinking in such a way. He had been alone for months, trying to let
work fill the place Esme had left empty. It could not and now, with
a yearning in his manhood, he realized it never would.

“I think you should leave,” he said and
gulped. “It would be best if you take your housecoat with you.”

Nadia threw back her head, laughing at him,
and then looked at him again. “Do you really think that?” She
walked towards him on tiptoe, her movement like wind through trees:
silent and calming to watch. She placed herself at his feet,
between his legs. “I am your servant. All that you need to do is
ask…”

Emmanuel looked at her and found his body
fighting his brain and heart. He yearned for her, wanting her hands
to stroke his head, her body to meet his in utmost ecstasy. Staring
at her mouth, he came close to salivating, and then found his eyes
roving across her flesh. She was beautiful. He wondered if she were
more so than Esme, but then found his eyes on hers and realized
such was not the case. She was darkness, absolute evil. He saw in
her the greatest of all sins, least of all wanton desire.

She moved her hand across the cushion near
his crotch, and he stared at it as if it were a snake. She rose up,
still on her knees, and began undoing the buttons on his shirt. He
caught her hands in his.

“Please…leave my house…” he managed at last,
gulping as he looked at her breasts. He hadn’t touched Esme in so
long that he wondered if Nadia’s nipples felt as rough, if her
breasts were soft and succulent all at once. “Please…”

Nadia’s response was to put one knee between
his crotch and the other over his leg and hoisting herself upon the
couch. She finished working on the buttons and looked into his
eyes, then at his well-toned stomach.

“Are you sure you want me to leave?” she
asked plaintively, running her hands across his chest. She pressed
her mouth to his and he found himself yearning for her even more.
At the back of his mind, he couldn’t help but imagine that Nadia
was Esme, that her mouth, body, and presence were that of his
departed wife. His increased heartbeat was brought on by her being
near, but then he found something missing: she wasn’t wearing the
jasmine perfume.

“Leave!” he exclaimed and slung her to the
floor. He stood and looked down at her, seeing the surprised
expression on her face. Instead of continuing to scream at her, he
offered his hand. “I’m sorry. May I help you up?”

“I should have known you would always be a
gentleman. I didn’t know you’d still be faithful to your wife even
when she’s dead,” she said with a serpentine spat while she
gathered her housecoat and stood. “I also see you still want a
child. Oh, you are pathetic. I have never met a more dismal man
than you. You haven’t bathed properly in months! You haven’t even
brushed your teeth! To think I was willing to give myself to you,
you ungrateful bastard.”

He stared at her, blinking, then put his
hand in his pocket. “What?”

Nadia raised her hands and two glass balls
appeared in them, floating. He stared at them, confused and amazed
all at once. In her right hand, the glass ball was bright white; in
the other, it was empty, transparent.

“Do you wish for a child? Do you wish to
live forever? Do you wish for riches beyond your wildest dream?”
she asked and glared at him. “Or do you wish for something else?
What do you wish for, Emmanuel? What is it that you desire?”

“Who are you?” he stammered, wondering when
he was going to awaken from his dream. “What are you doing in my
house?”

“Must I bring her here?” she barked,
irritated by his perplexity. “Or can you figure it out by yourself?
Must you mortals always be so damned stupid? I thought you were a
man of science!”

“Figure
what
out? Bring
who
here? And, yes, I am
a man of science,” he said with a smile. He was enjoying this
dream, even though it was becoming crazier by the second. He smiled
brighter as he considered this dream was perhaps the wildest he’d
ever had, but he didn’t say so aloud.

Nadia smiled and he found all the darkness
in the room shy away from it as all wickedness found its way there,
in the dimples of her expression. He heard screaming and looked
towards the doors leading out of the living room, his brow
furrowed. The doors opened suddenly and two burly men in coats of
armor dragged a blue cloaked figure into the room.

“Alright, so you brought more people into my
house?” he asked with a cocked eyebrow, shaking his head at
Nadia.

She threw her head back and laughed. “Reveal
her face!”

Emmanuel turned to his attention back to
them, watching as one of the men tossed off the captive’s hood.
When he saw who was hidden beneath the hood, he felt as if his
heart had surged out of his chest, run across the room, and leapt
into the fire. She stood there, staring at him, her blonde hair cut
boyishly short and her blue eyes filled with fright.

“Esme?” he managed, feeling as if he’d
walked into a nightmare. He realized, with an unexpected feeling of
terror, that this wasn’t a dream. Seeing her face made it become
real for him because it indeed was. “Esme?”

Nadia laughed again. “Oh, yes. The lovers
reunited at last. Guess what, though, Emmanuel… she can’t speak to
you. No. I made sure she couldn’t. Do you want her back or do you
want your baby?”

He found himself unable to turn from Esme,
so he spoke to Nadia while he gazed at his wife, her eyes filled
with sympathy while his filled with questions. “I don’t have a
child.”

“You do have a child,” she assured him, the
white ball rotating slowly. “What are you willing to sacrifice in
order to see her? Your eternal soul, perhaps?”

He looked at Nadia. “I have a daughter?” He
turned back to Esme. “I thought you were dead. I thought the baby
was too. What’s going on?” He remembered that she couldn’t respond
to him, and again found tears forming in his eyes. “Esme, you have
no idea…. We have a daughter…”

Nadia exhaled sharply, irritated by his
delay. “Say the word, Emmanuel, and you may have whatever you wish,
but you cannot have Esmeralda. She is no longer to be yours. Do you
want riches? Power? Name it and it’s yours.”

He glanced at Nadia. “Why are you willing to
grant my wish? What do I have that could possibly interest
you?”

“It’s simple: I want you to forget
Esmeralda. I want you to forget ever having met her. Ever. It is
the bond between you and she that is ruining my plan, and I simply
will not have it anymore.”

“If I don’t, temptress?” he glared at her.
“What will you do then?”

Nadia smiled and the white ball in her hand
began to turn black. She began laughing when she saw that Esme was
trying to break free from her captors, unable to talk and managing
a small whimper. Emmanuel looked at his wife, saw her eyes filled
with sadness and fright, and then turned to the temptress. He
realized that the ball represented something, but he wasn’t
entirely sure what.