| §*ß*§ Chapter Two §*ß*§ Christmas Past Choices There was a gleam in her eye as she recognized the young woman who stood before the large oval mirror. She came up close behind her, placing her hands on the other woman's delicate shoulders. Helena was positively enthralled with the reflection that the girl cast. "You," she said, wrapping a long strand of blond hair around her index finger, "are beautiful. So very extraordinary....what do you think, Luke? Is she beautiful?" Luke looked up from the drawer he was rooting through. "Yeah, I guess so." Helena tossed her head back, leaning closer to the girl. "What I wouldn't give to do it all over again. To be you again..." Young Helena, oblivious to the presence of Old Helena and Fake Luke, pulled a wad of napkins out of a drawer and began to stuff them into the bodice of her strapless red voile dress. She arranged them carefully, so that they could not be detected. She admired herself in the mirror, sticking her chest out to make sure that the front of her dress looked right. "And here I thought you were a natural type gal, Helena," Luke said disapprovingly. Old Helena smiled. "It was my friend's dress. It didn't fit. I had to pin it in the waist and fill out the bosom. I certainly did not care, though. It was a beautiful dress and I looked beautiful in it." Helena patted her youthful counterpart's shoulder and moved to stand in front of Luke. "Tonight is the night!" "The night for what?" "Tonight, this night...Christmas eve....This is the night that Mikkos asks me to marry him! I knew he would. That's the reason I had to have Margot's dress. I had to look incredible." Luke tried to feign interest as he flipped through Helena's diary. "So, if Mikkos has your heart...can you believe I didn't choke over those words...then why is there all of this gushing over some man named..." He flipped back a couple of pages, then said, "Crispin...who's Crispin?" Helena's face fell. She angrily snatched the diary away and put it back on the nightstand beside the narrow twin bed. "You have no right to invade my privacy! Besides, you couldn't have possibly read a word in that diary. It's written completely in German." "You got me. I didn't read it, but I know all about your buddy Crispin." Helena walked away, sitting on the bed and turning her attention to the woman who was carefully applying cosmetics. "Prepare yourself for the life you have always dreamed of-" There was a knock at the door, cutting off Helena's speech. Young Helena turned around as the door opened. "Irene! Please, give me a few more minutes." Helena's teenage sister came swaggering in, leaving the door partially ajar. "Well?" she asked, shoving her sister over so that she could see herself in the mirror. "Well what?" Young Helena asked, ripping her silver brush from Irene's hand. Irene put her hands on her hips and stared at her sister as if she were mentally slow. "Are you getting married or not?" Young Helena smiled slyly, walking away from the mirror and over to the closet. She reached in and pulled out a mink stole. In the regal voice she had been practicing, she remarked, "We'll have to wait and see, Irene. He's yet to even ask the question." Irene's seventeen year old face fell in confusion. "Of course he asked you already! I was there, Helena." "Believe me, if Mikkos had asked, I would certainly remember." "MIKKOS!" the young woman shrieked. "You are not still seeing that....that...that brute, are you?" "Who did you think I was referring to?" "She probably thought you were referring to me," a lanky man with brown curly hair said, pushing the door completely open and slipping through. Young Helena opened her mouth to speak, but couldn't. Instead, she turned her back to him and occupied herself with her rouge. "Crispin..." Irene started, giggling, as was her habit when Helena hit one of her mean streaks. "I had no idea you were coming over....It's wonderful to see you..." Crispin kissed her gently on the cheek. "Do you think you could give me a few moments alone with Helena?" Irene squeezed his arm before leaving. Crispin stood directly behind Young Helena. He placed his hand on her back, his finger slipping down beneath the fabric of her dress. She felt tremors at his touch, her head falling forward as he began to massage her bare shoulders. "Helena...you are so beautiful...all over..." Old Helena sat on the bed watching, her blood pulsing as if she could actually feel his hands. Crispin... She still thought of the man every day of her life. Crispin ran his hand through her hair, raking his fingers through it and pulling it over her left shoulder. "Are you going to speak to me?" "Hello." "Who's Mikkos?" Young Helena kept all expression off her face. "My future husband." Crispin grabbed the back of Helena's neck and pulled her back against him. In unrestrained anger, he hissed, "I thought I was going to be your husband." "You thought wrong..." The fingers digging in her neck were painful, but she maintained her calm. "It's time we went our separate ways." "Separate ways? After two years? What? Did you or did you not tell me, YESTERDAY, that you loved me? Wasn't that you lying in my arms? Wasn't that your body next to mine? Wasn't that YOU?" "You're hurting me, Crispin." "I'm hurting you?! I come to see you and I overhear you telling your sister that you're marrying some man I've never even heard of...and you're the one who's hurting?" he growled, his voice rising with his anxiety level. His grip on her tightened. "Is this a joke?" Pain was coursing through her neck. "A joke? Maybe, but not of the comical variety. This is a sad joke. One you played on yourself." "What are you talking about?" "I never told you I would marry you. I never made any promises to you." "You told me that you loved me!" "Don't be so gullible. Do you believe everything that you hear?" "Helena, I asked you to marry me." "Why would I marry you, Crispin? What do you have to offer me except for a minimally furnished artist's flat and a life of poverty? Really, weren't you paying any attention when I told you what I wanted out of life?" In his reflection, she could see the broken anguish in his soft gray eyes. "Yes, I listened. I know your dreams by heart. I took those dreams and I made them mine. I intend to give you everything you want. I had our whole life planned. I would be discovered in a couple of years. My paintings would change the entire face of the art world-" Helena snickered, her light eyes growing dark. "That surrealist garbage of yours isn't going to change anything. Don't you get it yet, Crispin, dear? You have no future. If there is one thing my mother taught me before she died, it was that only a fool goes down with the ship. I'm moving on." He screamed, wildly pulling her closer to the mirror. He pressed her face up against the glass. "Look at yourself! Who have you become?" "Crispin!" she moaned, finally letting the fear seep through. "You gave me your body! You gave me your love....how can you just walk away?" "Crispin!" He stopped suddenly, staring in horror at what he was doing. He jerked his hand away, falling back against the wall. Helena's knees gave out and she fell to the ground, rubbing her bruised neck. "I'm so sorry," he exclaimed, rushing to her side to help her stand. "I hurt you...Helena, I'm sorry. I love you..." "Get your hands off of me!" she shrieked in a rage. "No," Crispin said, pulling her to him again. He kissed her face, her neck, her shoulders. "I love you. Please know that. I just couldn't bear the thought of losing you to another man!" She began to struggle, but he pressed her against him. His eyes were filled with burning tears, and, in a wild, irrational voice, he said, "Mikkos can't possibly love you as much as do. Can he make you feel love? You've never known love until me..." Helena broke free, swiftly slapping him across the face. Harshly, she hissed, "Don't you ever lay another hand on me and expect to live. No one manhandles me. Not anymore. Now, I want you to leave this building. But before you go, I want you to know that I despise you! I always have. You're a fool that I used when I needed help. That's it. Whatever fairy tale you made for yourself had nothing to do with reality." "Our love is reality-" "No! Reality is that you're poor, untalented, and pathetic. Reality is that I am about to become the very rich wife of a very rich man. Reality is, that when all is said and done, I will live the life I deserve, and you will still be stuck here. You have nothing. You are nothing. You had to have known that I would see you for the weak, ineffectual person you are, Crispin. You had to know that I wouldn't want you. Who would?" The young man covered his face with his hands so that he would not be further humiliated by letting her see him cry. She stared at him, thoroughly disgusted. She turned her back, sifting through her cheap costume jewelry for the gold choker. She found it and fastened it around her neck. She hid her bruised neck with the skill of an expert. "This man...Mikkos," Crispin started, barely able to say the name without gagging, "he may be wealthy, but he will never love you the way you need to be loved. He doesn't know your soul, Helena." Helena laughed, picking up her mink from the threadbare carpet. "I don't have a soul, Crispin." "Don't fool yourself. You have a soul...I've seen it." "I've grown tired of your presence." He grabbed her yet again, this time planting a long kiss on her red lips. She pushed him away. His gray eyes were watery as he declared, "Marry that man! Go ahead! But be warned that you haven't seen the last of me. Neither has your new husband. I wonder if he knows who he's marrying. If he doesn't, I'm sure I can fill him in-" "You stay away from him or you will regret it," she shouted, sticking her finger in his face. He continued as if he hadn't been interrupted. "-on all the details. Did I tell you that I finished the portrait? It's not any of that 'surrealist garbage' that you detest. I bet your new husband loves art. Maybe I'll send him the painting. I would love to hear you explain to Mikkos why you took off all of your clothes and posed for me." "Get out!!! Get OUT!!" "Just remember what I said. You haven't seen the last of Crispin Faison." Young Helena pushed him out the door, firmly closing it behind him. Moments later, she rushed to the bathroom to retch. Old Helena was pale, gazing at nothing in particular. Luke, who was now sitting next to her on the bed, clapped loudly. "That was quite a show! Old Crispin seemed really pissed there." She turned to look at him. "Crispin had a fondness for melodrama." "Looks like you tore the poor lad's heart out and fed it to him." Helena sprang up and began pacing back and forth in front of the bed. "Crispin was overreacting! He didn't love me in the first place! Everything that I said to him was for his own good...he needed me to help him face reality. His art was tasteless. He couldn't have possibly given me anything worthwhile." "Why are you all worked up if he didn't mean anything?" Helena stopped pacing, tossing her head back grandly. "Take me home, Luke. This stroll through my past is not accomplishing anything. I don't see the purpose." "The purpose is to show you the nauseating, repulsive, disturbing effect that you have on people. The logic is, that if you see the harm your actions have caused, you will reform and be a better person." "That's not going to happen." Luke shrugged his shoulders, heading towards the door. "That's not my problem, Doll. I'm just the tour guide in the goofy hat." "If we must continue, let's stay until Mikkos comes. I would love to relive the rest of this night." "Not gonna happen. We have one more stop." "Surely, we can spend a few more minutes here..." "Nope! Don't worry, Mikkos will be in our next little adventure." Helena glowered at him as they both exited into the dark void. "One more thing..." "What?" "Is Crispin Faison related to the pimply little freak who held me hostage?" Helena smiled brightly, playing with the fuzzy ball on the end of Luke's Santa Claus hat. "Wouldn't you like to know!" |