Mae

Charlie's heavy eyelids reluctantly pushed against his slumber exposing his eyes to a burning, hazy glow cloaked in shadows. His chest pushed against the cocoon of blankets that swaddled him, rising against the heavy air, before collapsing in tepid protest. As perfunctory blinks cleared his cornea a searing question came into focus.

Are you still watching?

The illumination box on the wall was little more than shadow play and waves of sound that never reached shore. Although Charlie never paid much attention to the puppets on the wall his only job, his only purpose in life, was to keep the curtains open. While it was true this theater of stale air was closed to the public, to any interested eyes for that matter, the show must go on.

He reached out from the over-sized chair in which awaited the grim visitor, his hand disappearing into the black hole beyond to grope around for the remote hiding somewhere in the growing pile of discarded candy wrappers and tissues that had accumulated on the surface jutting up from the void to his right. After finding the remote Charlie felt around with his thumb for the buttons that controlled the show. The question that hovered in the dark expanse was multiple choice: Ask again later—Play without asking again—I’m done. Having had his fill of this job, this life of carrying on a shelved show, he chose to not be asked again. If the show must be seen then let it show itself.

On stage, there in the shadow box, a female figure rising out of a freshly brewed sea caught his attention. The inky varnish drained from her skin as she rose from the drink onto the pale, grainy surface beyond, leaving behind impressions of that which carried her. As the beads of black drained down, the undeveloped silhouette transformed right before Charlie’s eyes into an intoxicating enchantress.

A queen no doubt given the cascading coils of copper that reigned from her crown. Her shoulders, though square as a soldier’s stance, were pale and delicate, having been kissed by a thousand suns. Her eyes, holy wells of merrow water, were her siren’s call.

With a glint in his eye and spark in his heart his stomach dropped as a million beating wings filled the sudden void as if he were about to vomit a colony of bats into the night. Instead, a single syllable escaped his larynx.

“Mae?”

Charlie hadn’t uttered that name since he’d been cast from her kingdom by her stoic guard. That word, that one syllable, like the spark that fires an engine, ignited a cluster bomb of bright memories. Flashes of remembrance burst out all around in a brilliant collage of days gone by, shocking his senses. Holidays—FLASH—concerts—FLASH—afternoon cuddles—FLASH—walks in the park FLASH—marijuana kisses—FLASH—FLASH—FLASH... the night it started.

Charlie blinked his eyes once; twice; three times to find himself seated at a small, square pub-height table. Just around the corner to his left sat Mae and those eyes, those shifting hues of green and blue that had snagged him from the depths of despair once before and promised the same now.

“Do you remember?” he heard, not seeing the lips from which those words slipped as he was hopelessly transfixed on those holy wells, his thirst perhaps worse now than the last time he’d drank there.

“How could I forget.” he said.

“Our first date and you took me right here. Well, I let you so maybe ‘took’ isn’t the right word.” she said.

Right here was the front porch of a two story house sitting on the corner of what very well may have been one of the busiest residential intersections in town, stop signs in all directions. The house itself was nestled into the hillside of the wavy landscape, the upper floor extending out over the porch creating a cozy, private feel despite the constant coming and going of cars a stone’s throw away.

“You were irresistible.” he said.

“I was lonely.” she said. “And so were you.”

“I suppose I was.” he said. “Even so, it was love at first sight.”

“It wasn’t love at first sight Charlie, it was love set free in a flash of passion.”

“No Mae, it was passion fueled by soulmates colliding.”

“Wrong Charlie, we were both lovelorn, our hearts locked in prisons of our own making. We were thirsty and we drank from each other’s wells. In that passion our hearts broke free.”

“Because we were meant to…”

“Charlie…”

“We fell in love because we belong together Mae.”

“Wrong Charlie, we FELT love because we were lonely and horny and exhausted from constantly trying to keep the love that yearns to well up inside shackled to the chains of our own fears. We let our guards down with our drawers.”

“So then we freed each other’s love.”

“In a way I suppose.” she said.

“See, we were good for each other,” he said. “We ARE good for each other.”

“Perhaps we could have been. But we didn’t see that the love we felt came from within, through our love wells inside, from the eternal source of pure love. Instead we assigned that love we felt, that love that flowed through us, as coming from each other.”

“And that’s wrong why Mae?” he asked. “Love is love and we were in it.”

“Because we burdened each other with the responsibility of providing something for each other we can’t. We don’t create love or control love. We can either allow it to fill our well and seep out or we can cap the well with our fears. Whatever we do defines our existence and our relationships with not only each other but with everything.”

“So we capped our wells?” he said. “Then we just get back together and...”

“No Charlie, we can’t be together or with anyone and love until we recognize the true source of love and learn to let it exist free from any idea that it comes from any place other than where it does.”

“But Mae…” Charlie pleaded. “I don’t...”

“Charlie! You have to let go of me. We had an amazing time for a period but the love you felt; the love you’re yearning to feel again was not because of me or from me. You have to see that Charlie. You have to let go of your fears and let that love exist.”

“I can’t. I need you Mae.”

“Charlie, you need to let me go. You have to Charlie. Can’t you hear love calling to you? Do you think you’re really here on this porch with me? Close your eyes Charlie and hear the voice that’s speaking. Breathe. Let go of the fear. Feel the love Charlie.”

Charlie closed his eyes, unconsciously settling into that dumb belly breathing technique he’d wasted so much time on in those pointless therapy sessions he’d abandoned months ago. As he sat there breathing, he must have left the atmosphere. When Charlie opened his eyes he was once again back at his post, burrowed in that big ol’ chair with his only task in life waiting.

Are you still watching?

Charlie snatched the remote from the end table and pushed the red button effectively ending his tenure as stage manager for the theater of despair. He rose from his bosom of blues and made haste to the door, swinging it open.

It might have been spring. It must have been. The sky was dark but clearing as rays of renewal broke through. Drops of air-cleansing-life-giving water dripped from the budding trees and cooled the air. A sun-breasted robin sang a cheerful tune. Squirrels scampered about in their busy, busy world in their busy, busy way. A gentle breeze kissed his neck with the perfume of blossoming flowers. And Charlie...

Charlie lived again.