Okay. Stay calm. Don’t panic.
How can I not panic? I could barely keep it together when the crazy was tucked away in my head but now it feels like my insides have snaked their way out. If it wasn’t so exciting, I don’t think I could take it.
I smooth out the ripples in the red silk tablecloth. Everything has to look whimsical. Romantic. Put together. If Joshua suspects--even a little bit--that I’m nervous or rattled, it’ll ruin everything. I press down on the card table, making sure it’s not wobbly, before lighting the three ivory candles surrounding the chalice in the center of the table.
I can’t even guess what the chalice is made of. The cup itself is like opalescent glass, but it blends seamlessly with the two gold sphinxes perched on opposite sides of the rim. I’d thought there was only one sphinx but I guess in the painting, the other was just hidden, immersed in the eye’s tears. The sphinx’s tails intertwine along the length of the glass stem, both ending in snake heads, linked together, mouths open wide. Kissing? Or trying to consume each other?
I look up at the window in Evegale’s room, surprised to find the sky pitch black. How did it get so late? Joshua’s lecture would have ended hours ago. Why isn’t he home? He does sometimes get suckered into helping the students who can’t keep up. Maybe that’s it. I keep telling him that’s what office hours are for but he just doesn’t have the heart to turn them away.
Of course, it’s possible he’s not with a student at all. Or even if he is, the handsome professor sleeping with his beautiful, impressionable students is cliche for a good reason.
I wonder if he runs his lips along the nape of her neck softly while holding her so tight against him she can hardly breathe; as though he can barely hold back from devouring her, the way he used to be with me…
Stop it.
Going down this path never does a damn bit of--
My thoughts are interrupted by the rattling doorknob and the creak of the front door opening. I scramble to get the last details right, tugging on the velvet chair covers; adjusting the chalice to make sure both sphinxes will be immediately visible when Joshua walks in. Finally, I turn out the light and settle into my chair on the far side of the table, directly facing the doorway to the hall.
Listening to his plodding footsteps ascending the wooden stairs, I lean back into my chair, trying to look casual, but I lean a bit too far. I barely avoid toppling completely over and am recovering my composure when he pops his head around the doorway, talking before he looks my way. “Hey, I’m just gonna take a quick showe--”
He trails off, confused, as he takes in the table, the candles, and...his eyes widen when they land on the chalice. “Is that...?” Gaze fixed to the cup, he crosses the room and runs his fingers softly over the wings of a golden sphinx. “It’s exactly what I saw in my head when I painted it. But I never got close to this level of detail. How did you do this, Theia?”
I shrug as though it’s nothing. As though my heart isn’t trying to hammer its way out of my chest. I can actually feel my arteries fluttering above my collar bones. It’s only a matter of time before he notices. I have to move fast.
“Remember what I said about keeping an open mind? About Evy?” I curl the edges of my mouth into what I hope is a playful smile and nod my head toward the empty seat.
“I remember.” He sits lightly on the edge of the chair and runs his hands nervously along his pant legs. “But what exactly are we talking about here with this ‘reaching out?’ Do I at least get to know what’s inside the cup?”
I shake my head, my grin turning more genuine the more awkward he becomes.
He leans forward, peering into the cup. “At least tell me it’s not like, I don’t know, hardcore hallucinogens, or something.”
A laugh slips out before I can suppress it. “It’s not like that. No drugs.”
It’s now or never. If I hesitate, I might lose my nerve. I lift the chalice to my lips, so quickly the liquid sloshes over the rim. I take several big gulps, grimacing at the bitter taste. Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I hold the cup out toward Joshua.
He doesn’t reach for it. “Why can’t you just tell me what it is?”
“Don’t you trust me?”
“Of course I trust you.”
“Alright, then. Take a sip. I’ll tell you what it is after. I promise.”
Hands trembling, he reaches slowly for the cup. “I don’t know why I’m so nervous…” He lets out a clipped laugh.
As his fingers slide around the cup, our hands meet. It’s been so long since we’ve touched. Outside my dreams, at least. I feel dizzy, like I have vertigo.
Abruptly, I’m struck with a memory:
I watch myself showing a picture of the chalice from Joshua’s painting to every glassblower and sculptor I could find in New York but, while some said they might be able to get close, no one thought it was possible to recreate it exactly.
Eventually I was led to a fiery-haired woman who lived in the Meatpacking District. She swore she could make anything. Her studio consisted of a welding machine, a kiln, and a tiny cot in the corner of an old warehouse. The walls were streaked with greasy black pitch. Not exactly inspiring but I’d exhausted all other options. The project took her over and month and her fee was exorbitant but it was worth it. It was perfect.
Now I find myself simultaneously inside the room with Joshua tonight while inside my bedroom this afternoon. I watch my earlier self grope inside the upper drawer of my nightstand until I find Evy’s bag of cyanide taped to the roof. Why on earth had I kept it?
Horrified, I stare at the earlier version of myself pouring the powder into the chalice. All of it. It’s surprising, how invisibly it blends with the tap water, like it’s not there at all…
Joshua holds the cup to his lips.
“No!” I shriek, knocking the cup out of his grip with both my hands. It flies across the room and shatters against a bookcase. Delicate shards of glass skitter along the hardwood, tinkling like chimes. The cyanide splatters over the walls, books, and across the floor.
“It’s not...I’m so sorry.” My nose and the tips of my fingers are tingling.
Joshua grabs my shoulders. “It’s not what, Theia? Theia!” He shakes me.
“Not what I thought. I think I just took Evy’s cyanide.”
“What?! Oh no. No, no no no no...” He freezes, eyes locked to mine like a deer in the headlights. “Theia, just hold on, please, hold on…” He scrambles out of the room and down the stairs. His voice sounds hollow and tinny as he yells into his office phone.
I can’t feel my toes. No matter how fast I breathe, I can’t get enough air. And how did the floor get smashed up against my face? Joshua is back, his eyes wild, his face so close to mine now. Cradling my head in his hands, he’s saying something but it’s hard to hear past my ragged breaths. I try to focus on his lips.
“Theia, that note on the calendar. I finally remember. I remember everything.”
He presses his lips hard against mine in a desperate, salty-sweet kiss.
Suddenly, the only thing I regret of my whole life is not kissing him on that foggy day when we stood so close together by the car. Of course we’re still those stupid kids beneath that endless night sky. How could we not be?
He pulls away abruptly.
Confused, I open my eyes to find him still kissing me. I just can’t feel it. I can’t feel anything.
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