Carousel Horses - soleil (c)
Georgina awoke with a start, a faint tang of salted sea breeze lingering in the
air. Blinking stupidly, she rose in bed, absently rubbing her wrists as she did
so. Looking down, she could just make out faint red marks encircling her pale
flesh. As she watched, the marks sank into oblivion, leaving no trace.
She'd been dreaming again, Georgina realised.
Anxious not to rouse her husband, she slid quietly from the bed and padded into
the kitchen. As she filled the kettle, her eyes filled as if in sympathy.
Much later, she tugged Amy's hand as the little girl lingered by the ornate
carousel. "C'mon sweetie," she coaxed softly. "Daddy'll be home soon, we'll go
fix dinner for him."
Amy's lip trembled. "Wanna stay at the fair!" she wailed, covetously eyeing the
carousel horses frozen in mid prance, their manes tossed and flowing, nostrils
flared, dark eyes flashing against alabaster fiberglass flesh. In the wild,
they'd be so beautiful, so free, Georgina thought, following her daughter's
gaze. Instead they were trapped - soulless caricatures of their flesh and
blooded kin, and forever destined to chase each other's tails in an endless
cycle as they galloped to music not of their choosing as monkeys on their backs
clutched tightly at their reins.
"We'll come back tomorrow," she promised the child eventually, "and you can have
another ride then. Okay?"
Amy nodded happily. "Will daddy come?" she asked hopefully.
Georgina shook her head tiredly. "No, sweetheart. Daddy's working. Oh! Look at
the bright balloons!" she exclaimed with forced gaiety, unconsciously avoiding
another question. Amy looked at her mother shrewdly, suddenly wise beyond her
years. Then, understanding vanished as quickly as it had appeared and Amy
clapped her hands in delight. "Come on, I'll buy you one on the way out. But you
must hold tightly to it, or it will float away," Georgina warned. "Hold
tightly," she murmured again as Amy danced ahead of her clutching her prize.
"Don't let it go."
Amy, totally absorbed in watching her pink balloon bob above her in the breeze,
wandered unknowingly into the old woman's path and let out a small gasp of
surprise as she felt the woman's cool, wrinkled fingers on her shoulder,
steadying her. "Careful, el pequeno," the woman cautioned softly, her accented
words strange and foreign to the child's ears. Amy looked at her in round-eyed
awe, half frightened yet calmed by the ancient black-eyed woman before her. She
wore gold hoop earrings that gleamed dully in the late afternoon sun and a
colorful dress shot with gold thread that swirled around her bony frame. "You
must watch where you're going, little one," warned the old woman gently,
stooping slightly to talk to the child. "Follow your dream, but watch your
step." She cackled suddenly and, after a slight pause, Amy collapsed in giggles.
"I'm terribly sorry," apologized Georgina breathlessly as she reached the pair a
moment later. "I was distracted, I wasn't watching ..."
"No matter," smiled the old woman, her hand still resting lightly on Amy's
shoulder. Georgina felt an inexplicable frisson of recognition sweep through her
as the woman's eyes met hers. "I see all." She winked almost slyly and Georgina
shivered, suddenly chilled, though the sun was warm. The two women stared at
each other silently for a long moment, and then Georgina broke the tension with
a nervous laugh.
"Just like her mother, head in the clouds," Georgina said flippantly, and the
old woman smiled again but said nothing. Amy shuffled her feet; she was quite
unable to remain still for long. "Say thank you to the lady, Amy, and let's get
going," said Georgina hurriedly, seizing the child's restlessness as an
opportunity to break away from this odd woman.
"I can help you," the old woman offered almost inaudibly as Georgina and Amy
turned to go, apologetic smiles plastered across their mouths. Amy, entranced
once more by the balloon tugging at the end of the string, didn't hear her. But
Georgina did and half-turned back toward the woman, her face clouded with
puzzlement. And yet, she was not surprised by the woman's words; she had almost
expected them, she realised with weary acceptance.
"I can tell you what you want to know, show you what you want to see. That is,
if you really want to know, if you really want to see." The old woman's accented
voice was low and melodious, almost hypnotic. Her face pale, Georgina watched
the woman's lips move with abject fascination. She thought wildly for a moment,
torn between reality and fantasy.
"I have to go," she said sharply, suddenly, her voice high and clipped.
"As you wish," replied the woman calmly after a moment, but her eyes gleamed
with secret knowledge. "We move on tomorrow night after the fair closes. If you
change your mind, that is my caravan," she added, pointing a bony finger toward
a yellow camper in the near distance. A small black tent was pitched in front of
the van, silver stars shining on the tent's surface. A beaded curtain guarded
the tent's entrance. "I will be there, if you decide."
Georgina nodded curtly, avoiding the old woman's eyes. Her shoulders set
resolutely, Georgina spun on her heel to catch up with her daughter.
"Senora?" The voice was low, insistent.
Despite herself, Georgina looked back once more and faced the woman.
"You will not be happy until you know. And then ... " Her voice trailed, leaving
words that might fill volumes left unsaid.
Their eyes met again for a brief moment that felt like an age, then Georgina
fled. She looked back as she and Amy reached the fair's gates and saw that the
old woman was still standing there, watching them leave. Georgina shivered again
as the old woman raised a finger in a gesture of acknowledgment and then she was
gone in a swirl of skirts. The music from the carousel jangled in Georgina's
ears as she and Amy headed for home.
For Georgina, outwardly calm, the evening passed in a shadow of polite, distant
normality as she set about caring for and feeding her small family. But later,
as her husband snored softly beside her and her daughter slept the sleep of the
innocent in her bedroom down the hall, Georgina at last allowed herself to turn
the events of the afternoon over in her mind, the old woman's face flashing in
and out of her consciousness and her words echoing in her ears. Eventually she
sank into a restless sleep and when she dreamed, it was of the carousel horses
galloping free on the moors, their necks arched in elegant triumph as their
muscles rippled beneath sleek flesh. Above them, as if guiding their path, a
pink balloon drifted gently against a cloudless sky. And Georgina, running
behind them, her frantic efforts contrasting starkly with the rhythmic, pounding
hooves and gentle drift. Try as she might, she couldn't catch either the horses
or the balloon. When she awoke, conscious but not really, she was breathless and
shaking and her cheeks were damp with tears. "I didn't hold on tight enough,"
she whispered, "or was it that I held on too tightly?" She slept again, this
time a deep, dreamless sleep. In the distance, the cry of seagulls flew on the
night air.
"You promised!" Amy's chin wobbled and her eyes swam as Georgina looked at her
guiltily.
"I know, darling, but perhaps we can go another day? Perhaps this weekend, when
daddy can come too?" Her throat constricted as she lied to her daughter. She
knew the fair was leaving that night.
"You promised," Amy insisted, her chin jutting stubbornly. "You say it's bad
manners to break promises."
Georgina winced at the 5 year old's simple reasoning. The headache that had
been budding behind her temples all morning burst into bloom. In an attempt to
assuage the child's disappointment, she reached out to her daughter. But Amy
would not be soothed; her small body was stubbornly rigid and her face creased
in confusion.
"We'll go, then," Georgina said finally. "But I have such a headache, darling,
so just one ride, then home." Throbbing head aside, Georgina knew the real
reason she didn't want to return to the fair was because she didn't want to see
that woman again. Then, shaking herself, she berated herself for being so
stupid. There's no reason why we have to see her, she thought firmly, basking in
the reflected glow of Amy's smiles. Anyway, she's just a crazy old woman. As
they left the house, her head pounded as if the hooves of a thousand horses were
galloping through her brain.
Purposely taking the long way to the carousel to avoid the gypsy's tent,
Georgina stood in line for Amy's ticket while her daughter munched her way
through a sticky candy apple. The summer sun beat down on her, adding to her
discomfort. Wishing she'd worn a hat, she pushed money for the ride through the
ticket booth's slot, then jumped suddenly as she felt a tap on her arm.
"Hi, Georgie!" a blonde haired woman said, smiling as she greeted her. "Fancy
meeting you here, lovely day isn't it?" Then, turning to the booth attendant,
she said, "I'll take two tickets, please," studiously ignoring the people who
were queuing behind Georgina and Amy and clicking their tongues in annoyance at
her queue jumping.
It was Sarah Collins, one of the other mothers from the playgroup Amy attended a
couple of days a week. Sighing inwardly at the thought of having to make small
talk as her headache increased, Georgina pasted a false smile on her face and
returned the greeting.
"The boys just love the carousel," Sarah said as she eyed her young sons who
were now conducting a noisy game of tag with Amy and two or three other children
as they waited for their turn on the ride. Walking with Sarah towards the
children, Georgina wondered silently where kids got their energy from as the
other woman's chatter washed over her. She just seemed to be so tired these
days.
"... I promised them a ride for being good while I had my fortune told.
Apparently I'm coming into money," Sarah added with a laugh, and Georgina's ears
pricked.
"Fortune?" she said, focusing on Sarah's last words.
"Yeah," Sarah said. "I'm trying to work out which elderly relative has been
keeping quiet about being rich all these years!"
"No," said Georgina impatiently, "where did you get your fortune told?"
"Oh," said Sarah, her smile slipping a little at the sharpness of Georgina's
words. "There's an old gypsy here, she tells fortunes. She has a crystal ball, a
tent, the whole bit. I think she's Mexican or something."
"Spanish," murmured Georgina, and Sarah looked at her oddly.
"Are you okay, Georgie?" she asked, her brow furrowed with concern. "You look a
bit pale."
"Just a headache," Georgina said. "I didn't want to come today, but I'd promised
Amy another a ride before the fair left. I wish they'd turn that damn volume
down!" she snapped crossly as the music from the carousel blared above the
shouts and giggles of excited children.
Sarah smiled sympathetically. "I know how it feels, sometimes you just need a
break, right? At least you haven't got boys, I always think they're so much more
work than girls."
Georgina rubbed her temples wearily. "I just need a cup of tea and a bit of
peace and quiet, I think."
"Tell you what, why don't you go and get a coffee or something while I watch
Amy?" Sarah offered impulsively. There's a few people before us, it'll be at
least half an hour or so before the kids get their turn."
"No, it's very kind of you, but I couldn't expect you to do that..." Georgina
started, but Sarah looked at her firmly.
"It's no bother, the kids know each other and they're playing happily.
Seriously, go grab a drink. Amy will be fine, really she will. You know kids,
she won't even notice you're gone."
Georgina looked doubtfully at Amy, then back at Sarah, who nodded encouragingly.
"You have my cell phone number just in case we get through here before you get
back. I'm taking them to the ball pit after this."
The offer was tempting and, flighty as she sometimes was, Georgina knew she
could trust Sarah with her daughter. "Okay then," she said finally. "But I won't
be long, I'll just get a cup of tea and find some shade somewhere for a few
minutes."
"Good for you," Sarah said, and turned her attention to the children as Georgina
wandered off in search of refreshments.
Almost against her will, Georgina found herself in front of the gypsy's tent.
The silver stars clouding the black cloth shone brightly in the afternoon sun.
Then Georgina's skin prickled with gooseflesh and a chill shivered through her
as the old woman appeared silently in the entrance and stared at her
unblinkingly though dark, ancient eyes. The bustle and the noise of the fair
seemed strangely muted as the beaded curtain clicked softly in the light breeze.
"Come, child," the old crone said softly, beckoning Georgina with a crooked
forefinger. A curious wind rose suddenly, and Georgina swore she could hear the
crash of waves on rocks as she pushed her hair impatiently out of her eyes. The
gypsy beckoned again, and the wind died down as quickly as it had come.
Georgina hesitated for a brief moment as an internal debate raged within her.
Then she gave in and walked slowly towards the tent. The gypsy moved the beaded
curtains aside for Georgina, then followed the younger woman inside. Georgina
stood uncomfortably in the middle of the small tent, her eyes blinking as they
adjusted to the gloom after the bright sunlight. It was simply furnished, with
four canvas deck chairs surrounding a card table covered with a silk cloth. A
crystal ball sat fatly in the center of the table, and Georgina detected the
lingering sense of incense on the air. A clumsy set of shelves, nothing more
than thin planks of wood balanced on brick blocks, housed several decks of tarot
cards wrapped in silk, and a large thermos. "Sit," the gypsy ordered, waving her
hand towards one of the chairs. Her bracelets rattled on her wrist, and Georgina
did as she was told.
"I have tea, it will relax you, take away your pain," the old woman said, and
Georgina looked at her in surprise. The gypsy smiled crookedly as she splashed
steaming liquid from the thermos into a chipped white china cup. "I feel it,"
she said briefly, handing the cup to Georgina. "The pain in your head, the pain
in your soul."
"This is ridiculous," Georgina said abruptly, standing to leave. "It's a
mistake, I shouldn't have come here." Her face was flushed and her temples
throbbed violently as a red haze washed over her eyes. Clutching her head, she
swayed dizzily as the tent spun under her feet. Then, cool hands on her
shoulders, and light, insistent pressure as the gypsy guided her back into her
seat. Georgina groaned as the throbbing in her head reached a crescendo and
waves of nausea engulfed her.
"You can't go, we have no choice," she said softly, pushing the cup towards
Georgina. "There will be no peace for either of us until this thing is done."
"Just make this go away," Georgina moaned, her head buried in her hands.
"You must stay, you must tell everything," the gypsy crooned. "Drink this, it
will help." Raising her head groggily, Georgina wrapped her hands around the
warm china and with shaking hands, gingerly tasted a little of the brew. The
pounding in Georgina's head subsided as she swallowed and the old woman nodded
her head imperceptibly as she stood almost protectively over Georgina's
shoulder. "Better?" she asked softly after a few moments, and Georgina looked at
her with dazed eyes.
"Just a bit," she replied, her voice strained.
"Good, we can begin," said the gypsy with satisfaction, settling herself
opposite Georgina, who eyed at the old woman over the rim of the small, steaming
cup. She sipped a little more of the hot liquid, familiarizing herself with the
strange, sweet taste. "Now then," the gypsy said, rubbing a large crystal ball
with a silken scarf, "you must tell me. You must tell me of this man, the one
you call to in your dreams, and the one who returns your cry from beyond the
great divide. You know who I speak of."
Georgina thought for a moment, still wary of this woman and her strange ways.
She sipped more of the brew and felt an easy, calm warmth wash over her. The old
woman nodded encouragingly, and Georgina, her resolve weakened, decided to
speak. She was tired, so tired, of bearing her pain alone.
"We met by chance," she said in a faltering voice, "as people often do, I
suppose. He swept into my life one warm November evening, and his spirit, his
charm, his intelligence, his everything, immediately captivated me. Such an
impatient, all consuming man; he experienced everything that interested him to
its fullest then moved on to the next adventure leaving a trail in his wake.
Sometimes it was of destruction, sometimes of chaos, other times of amazement or
joy but one thing was certain - nobody ever forgot he'd been there."
Georgina paused for breath us the pent up words tumbled out, then continued as
the weight of years was lifted from her shoulders. The gypsy sat quietly as she
spoke - no words were needed.
"It was always like that," smiled Georgina ruefully, "and up until the day we
parted, I always felt I struggled to keep up with him, he was so full of life,
so energetic, so wilful and so strong. And there was me, scampering along
behind, never quite managing to catch up. 'Keep up!' he used to tell me," and
Georgina laughed a little at the recollection, her voice gaining strength as her
floodgates opened and her memories poured out.
"You loved him, and he, you?" the old woman asked, but it wasn't a question, for
the answer was obvious.
"Yes. But I was too young," Georgina whispered then, her smile fading. "Young
and foolish, but I loved him so much. Our connection was so strong - when we
met, I felt I'd known him all my life. And my love for him... it was all
consuming, so deep and dark. It wasn't conventional," Georgina said after a
moment as hot colour stole across her cheeks. She looked at the old woman,
uncertain whether she should continue. But the gypsy remained impassive and
non-judgmental and Georgina, although given no sign that she should continue,
did. "He was my Master," whispered Georgina at last, her face etched with grief.
She rubbed her wrists as if reliving the clasp of steel, rope or leather that
once bound her to him and the gypsy nodded in silent recognition.
"I understand," the old woman murmured. "It is a primal instinct, a base urge,
this thing you speak of, but it doesn't live in many these days, and for those
it does inhabit, most ignore it in these sterile, modern, 'civilized' times. But
such practices are ancient and beautiful, almost mystical in the way they bind
two halves of a whole, child, and you should not be ashamed of the urges within
you."
It was the longest sentence she'd ever heard the woman speak, and a lone tear
trickled down Georgina's cheek with the woman's kind, simple words. "I was
ashamed," Georgina admitted. "I didn't recognize it then, but I do now. And I
didn't understand it. I wanted to serve him, to fall at his feet, to give him
everything and he allowed that of me, wanted that from me, demanded it of me,
and so we melded and became one, so close I didn't know where I ended and he
began." She paused for a moment, exhausted as she released memories she'd buried
for so long.
The old woman sat silently as the younger woman exorcised her demons. "We were
an obsession for a time, and I craved him like a drug, but things changed and I
thought he didn't love me, didn't want me anymore. I was stupid, I refused to
accept change, but although he was a man who changed with the wind, his core
remained constant. Upon reflection, I know that now," she admitted, her eyes
meeting those of the gypsy's. "I relished the shallow waters, yet I couldn't see
the deeper currents that flowed between us. I tried to hold on to what I knew
and loved, but I drowned in the process. And so, the very thing that bound us
together broke us apart and we split," Georgina said and the old woman nodded.
"But you are married?" the gypsy asked, glancing at the gold band gleaming dully
on Georgina's left hand.
Georgina splayed her hand in front of her as if to confirm that, yes, the ring
was actually there, and nodded slowly. "He got me by default," Georgina said
quietly, unconsciously looking over her shoulder as if she expected to see her
husband listening to her words of betrayal. "After we parted, I was devastated
and the thought of loving anyone else was alien to me. I thought time would help
but it didn't," she said sadly. "Every man I met, I compared to him. And they
were all lacking. Another Master? Impossible." Georgina shivered in horror at
the very thought, then raised her head and looked steadily at the old woman. "I
finally realised I'd measure every man I met against him for the rest of my
life. I couldn't help it, I just loved him so much."
The gypsy nodded slightly, her dark eyes flashing. "And so, you settled?" It was
not an admonishment, just a question, and Georgina sighed.
"I was so lost without him." She hung her head. "I'm not proud of what I did,
but my husband and I were old friends, and he'd been in love with me for years.
So, I married him," Georgina said simply. "He kept me focused and for that, I'm
grateful. In the early days, concentrating on my marriage probably kept me
alive," she said bluntly. "But it was wrong of me, I became a carousel horse,"
she added softly, almost inaudibly. "Do you have news of him?" Georgina asked, a
challenging note in her voice. "Is that what this is about?"
"Something calls you through me, and you answer," the gypsy said, and Georgina's
face went white as the gypsy spoke.
"I don't understand, you're crazy," Georgina snapped, but the old woman hushed
her impatiently.
"You know it's true, that's why you're here," she said simply. The gypsy fell
silent then, her eyes closed tightly in her wrinkled face as she muttered
strangely under her breath. Georgina watched, fascinated despite herself. Then
the gypsy's eyes sprang open, though her face seemed curiously vacant. "Look,"
she said softly, gesturing to the ball. "Look at what calls you. Look!" the old
woman repeated impatiently. "It will not be for long, you must see!"
Shrugging, Georgina stared intently into the ball, her jaw dropping in
amazement. "Wha...?" she started, then fell silent, the colour draining from her
face as the vision became clearer. "How can this happen?" asked Georgina in
wonder, her eyes wide and her body trembling as the mists cleared in the crystal
before her. "It's us," she whispered, her voice cracking. "Look, it's us!"
Visions flashed quickly, magnified by the crystal. A house on a beach, golden
sands, blue ocean. A couple wandering hand in hand along the scalloped shoreline
as gulls wheeled overhead. The vision changed then, and the interior of a house
came into view, an open plan house with sweeping views of the crashing surf from
huge glass windows. It was filled with light and the sound of soft music and the
tinkle of laughter and excited chatter was faintly discernible. Another change,
and the room was dim, lit by candles as the moon cast an eerie glow of the water
outside. The two of them on an overstuffed couch wrapped in each other's arms,
caught in a long, deep kiss.
"How?" Georgina asked roughly, her throat thick with tears. "Is this a joke, a
cruel trick?"
"No tricks. There are many worlds, not just the one in which we walk," the gypsy
explained, her bracelets dancing as she talked with her hands.
"You can see all these worlds?" Georgina asked incredulously, her eyes darting
back and forth between the old woman and the ball in front of her, which was
still alive with flickering images.
"No," replied the gypsy briefly. "Just the ones which beckon me." A dark look
passed across her face. No more questions," she added sharply. "Just acceptance,
or our time together is finished." Georgina nodded hastily, anxious not to upset
the woman.
"We're happy," said Georgina, her tears flowing freely now as she watched the
couple through the crystal, living vicariously through the images. "We talked
of these things, planned where we'd live, what we'd do. We did it, we're doing
it" she said softly, greedily drinking in the scenes playing before her,
clutching each shifting vision to her as if cradling something immeasurably
precious. "Is it real," she asked suddenly, desperately. "Is it true?"
The gypsy nodded gently and said, "When we make choices, life altering choices,
the path of destiny forks. This was another path for you, that is what you're
seeing."
Georgina bit her lip as a thousand questions flashed though her mind. "Does he
know?" she asked finally, gesturing to the ball, "does he know about this?"
The gypsy shrugged. "That I cannot answer. It's the connection, I think. The
couple you are there," she said, waving her hand over the ball, "have such love,
such powerful love, and I think it feeds on what remains between the two of you.
Maybe they call to soothe you both, I don't know."
Fierce, tender hope flashed in Georgina's eyes. "Can I see him now? As he is?
What he's doing?" Her voice was low and quiet, almost defensive.
"I'm sorry," the gypsy answered, and Georgina's face crumpled with her words.
"That is not for me to do, it isn't possible. But he's alive, you must know
that, he's alive, or he would not appear here."
Georgina nodded silently as she watched the scenes still playing in front of
her, living her dreams in the quiet, cool calm of the gypsy's tent while the
fair went on around them. Then, slowly, imperceptibly, the images began to fade
and the mist swirled in again, clouding the crystal ball.
"No!" Georgina whispered as the figures vanished, "bring us back, can't you
bring us back? Just a few more minutes?" Her eyes were wild, and her hands
clutched the ball as the mists cleared to reveal nothing, just a clear, crystal
ball. "Please, can't you bring us back?"
The gypsy shook her head, and Georgina, overcome by events, lay her head in her
arms on the table and cried silently for everything they were, and everything
they weren't.
The old woman watched her calmly, then handed her a tissue as the younger woman
raised her head and wiped her eyes. "I should go now," Georgina said after long
moments, her voice cracking as the shadows lengthened outside. She'd been there
for just under an hour, though it felt like a lifetime. She reached across the
table spontaneously and clasped the old woman's ancient, wrinkled hands in hers.
"I - I don't know how to pay you, or how to thank you," Georgina said
hesitantly, gratefully.
The gypsy shook her head, her earrings tossing against her hair with the
movement. "It is nothing," she replied. "All day I tell fortunes for stupid
people, tell them what their greedy ears and empty heads want to hear. So, it is
good for me to use my eye for what is true. Besides," she added wryly, "he calls
to you through me as well. It will be a relief to get some peace at last, he is
a most insistent man!" Georgina laughed at that, and the two women shared a
moment of silent understanding and mutual respect.
"Thank you," she said again. "I think I know what to do now." The gypsy nodded
in reply, her dark eyes glinting.
As she walked from the tent to collect her child, a feeling of peace crept
through Georgina and she smiled softly, her eyes glistening with fresh tears.
The faint sound of thunder rolled across the horizon and once again, the path of
destiny forked.
sonsoleil@hotmail.com
