The Story of the Lake

The old buildings in Lublin's central, historic, yet slightly feral neighbourhood didn't seem very inviting to Camille, as she approached the door leading to an even older staircase. She did not hesitate however, as it was her city, her hometown, and, unlike other women, she had no fear of anything bad possibly happening. Not ever. Not to her. The "crazy" she could turn on at will, would scare away any potential criminal and she knew that. That was also the part of her that led her here - to this project, to art, to these strangers. As she entered the darkened room the warm air instantly made her feel cozy and at home. Inside was a theatre. Not the fancy kind you'd imagine. Just black and white material draped on the walls, a black dance floor, where you could NEVER wear shoes, it was the only rule around there. And people, each one from a different corner of the world. Each one beautiful. They were there to create art, a true performance made by amateurs with nothing but passion and that tiny bit of insanity it takes to put yourself up on a stage and whisper the truth of why you're here. Whisper your values, or even scream them out loud.

Camille knew some of the people there, but her eyes were instantly drawn to someone new, to a man. His name was Max. He was the tallest one in the room, he had curly hair that somehow covered his face with grace. His statue was... perfect. He was neither skinny and weak, nor did he look like he spent 40 hours a week at the gym. He was natural, he had balance embedded in his shape, and confidence too, confidence of youth, that she personally felt like she's lost somewhere along the way. Or perhaps, she never found it in the first place.

You see, Camille, she also had curly hair. She heard once, from a much older man, that curls give away the fact that she's a witch. The man who told her that was a friend back then, later turned lover, later... it's best not to tell. But the story did not end quite well. For two years, she remained stuck in her apartment, only leaving the house to get some groceries, yet still only eating one meal per day. There are types of love that make you want to take away your own life. There are types of love that siphon life directly out of you. I call that attempted murder. 

She introduced herself to him, but wanting to study his face, she turned away quickly. She was never sure just how much looking would be considered inappropriate, her social skills on the decline, she had little practice. But out of all the people in the room, she felt a pull toward him, and even surprised herself as she started imagining just how easy it would be to submerge her face in his chest and taste his lips like they were always hers. He felt familiar, and safe. What a strange feeling to get from a man. Aren't they all supposed to ruin your nervous system?

The meeting went extremely well. Everyone was surprisingly mature and full of wisdom, with deep ideas that she always craved to exchange with others. She could feel her flow returning, poems running out of her like water, a newly formed vision. Purpose.

- Hey, I just wanted to say "I'm impressed"

She heard behind her back as she was about to leave the place. She turned around. It was him. Max.

- Impressed with what exactly? - she asnwered with a confident tone

- The way you speak, the way you carry yourself. I can tell why you're a writer.

- Well, thank you, but i still consider my writing to be much better than my speaking skills, i'm kind of an introvert by nature.

- Maybe I could change that? the introvert part, I mean.

- yes - she giggled - maybe you could, but it's hard to keep me entertained for long, so don't say I didn't warn ya.

- I could use a challenge - he said with an endearing smirk on his face - how about tomorrow, I pick you up at your place and take you somewhere you don't expect at all?

- an adventure date, really?! ok, i'm willing to give you a chance

- i'm honored

Camille couldn't fall asleep that night.

The following day, she got ready earlier than usual. The mere thought of a visitor made her ADHD brain actually clean the apartment for once. Max appeared right on time, which was a huge relief for Camille who hates people being late. He was also even more handsome than the night before, now changed from a t-shirt and sweatpants to a more elevated look. 

- Who dressed him? - She thought. - I hope it was not his mother.

- Hey, are you ready for our adventure?

- Yes, but can you tell me where we're going?

- Not just yet

- Sooo, you're telling me I just have to get into a car of a stranger I met last night and trust him with my entire life? - she teased him

- Sometimes a leap of faith is all you need - and even before he answered, she knew she already trusted him.

The drive was quite long, longer than what she expected, but for her it was like a little regained piece of heaven and serenity. She always loved being the passenger and having someone take over the journey, so she could rest. Max drove out of the city and the landscapes turned more beautiful with each minute. Then they passed some houses and he stopped at one of them and parked the car in a little grass meadow.

- Let's take a walk from here - he said and proceeded to open the car door for her

They walked for about ten minutes, the only sounds that filled the air were those of birds, the ones that haven't yet left the country for the upcoming winter. She had a feeling she had been there before, but wasn't quite sure.

- There it is - he pointed to a lake in the distance

- What lake is that? - she asked, her curiosity was raised

- Lake Sandy

She was taken aback for a moment. How could she not recognise the place before? They must have taken another route, one that was unknown to her. But she knew all of this lake. And memories started coming back, flashbacks, you could call them. She fell in love with a man once at the lake. It was winter and it was snowing. And she often hoped to return to those days. But God had other plans for her and she knew it and even tried her best to accept it. But her heart was still fragile after the loss that she faced. She decided not to say anything to Max, at least not for now. Although the look in her face revealed a lot to him, he just decided not to ask any questions just yet.

They walked around for an hour, she took the time to find out all that she could about him, and couldn't help but notice so many similarities in their life stories. At some point, however, she got tired of talking.

- The water is calling me. - she said with a dreamy gaze

- The water... is calling you? 

- yes, the water is calling me, Max, goddamn it, can't you hear it? - she laughed and run off towards it

He followed her. She put her feet in the water and started sinking deeper and deeper, slowly submerging her long, gypsy skirt and the loose t-shirt she put on when she got cold. She turned around. Max stood there for only a second, with a baffled look on his face that quickly turned into a decision. He's going in. He followed her to the water, no questions asked, no aswers needed. Simply two people who get it, who hear the inner call. When he got to where she was standing, he couldn't help himself but embrace her and hold her like he's never held anyone before. A sudden urge to be there for her and protect her overwhelmed him. It filled him with an unimaginable comfort and a sense of purpose. 

Camille told Max the story of the lake. He listened, he understood.

- I think this lake deserves a new story, don't you think?

- I think there's a girl who needs a new story more than the lake itself - he answered

- Gosh, where did you come from?! - she asked in disbelief

- Well, I suppose fate is resourceful

- God is - she answered with confidence

- Or... God is - he echoed, as his eyes continued to study her face.