LOVE
My eyes snapped open. I was lying in the corridor again on the cold cement floor. Every muscle in my entire body quivered, and I could still feel the electrically-induced convulsions running through my system. Haley still stood above me, only now she was pressing into my right shoulder with her heeled shoe. From this angle, I could see all the way up beneath her skirt, where her silky red underwear gripped her thighs. Her thin stiletto felt like a knife stabbing into the muscle, which sent painful jolts down my arm in spasms. I tried to struggle free, but with each movement she only pressed deeper. I cried out.
“You won’t get out that way,” she sang teasingly. “My dear architect, the more you try to escape, the more I’m going to inhibit you from doing so.”
“What is it with you and hurting me?” I asked through gritted teeth. Haley smiled, then finally released the pressure on her heel and stepped off of me, walking a few paces away.
“People hurt each other all the time. Pain changes hands more often than money―in fact, it’s the true currency of your society. It is the fabric of interaction. Whether you take the train to work every morning or simply walk through the city, you put up a shield against the pain of others. That’s why people tune out the rest of the world; if they only listened, they would become cognizant of the onslaught of pain emanating from everyone around them. It’s so much easier to get through the day without this knowledge.”
“Well, why should I care about other people’s pain? I have enough problems of my own!” I argued, trying to push myself into a sitting position. The spasms began to die down.
“My dear, poor architect,” Haley crooned, “You have no concept of true suffering. Someday, when some evil people actually do get their hands on you, you will find out. And when you do, you will regret ever believing you had suffered before.” Her eyes took on an unnerving intensity with those words. A shiver ran down my spine as I wondered whether she had ever administered this type of unforgivable torture.
Haley snapped out of her brief reverie and ordered, “Get up. Get moving. We have more rooms to visit.”
I had somehow managed to come to a standing position, although pins and needles still ran through my extremities. Unsteadily, I made my way to the familiar doors at the end of the corridor. This time, the two arrows read L and H.
“Love and Hate.”
The choice seemed obvious to me, but then again, these rooms seemed to be designed to harm me no matter which decision I made. Furthermore, the terms were so abstract that I had no idea how to proceed. Isn’t everyone’s definition of Love different? What about the types of love: familial, romantic, sapphic, etc.? The same was true for Hate―it could not be reduced to a single action or definition. Hate is a mutable, transitive verb, the roots of which are a mystery but the fruits of which can result in the worst of human atrocities.
“Haley,” I started, calculating how to proceed. “What’s the point of this one? These terms are too abstract.”
“They may be, darling, but even so, there is a thin line between them. Wherever and in whatever form Love manifests itself, Hate runs just below the surface. They have a synergistic relationship, and they switch roles between marionette and puppeteer. Only your petty illusions can separate them, but if you take a closer look, you will see that they share a core.”
“If it’s all the same then, might as well choose Love.” I started toward the door on the left. A malicious grin spread across Haley’s face. I took a deep breath, pushed open the door, and stepped inside.
Smoke hung heavy in the air, the kind that slaps you in the face and saturates every pore of your skin and every fiber of your clothing. I always hated the smell, and the idea of willful self-contamination never appealed to me. I never understood why this, mixed with the sickeningly sweet alcohol wafting through the haze, constituted a “social atmosphere.” I took in my surroundings and instantly recognized the red barstools and blue velvet couches of a classic bar in Berlin. This was where I used to come whenever I went out―or, in my case, was forced out by my friends. Without alcohol, however, I found it absolutely impossible to withstand the sickening environment for more than an hour at a time. In line with old habits, I went straight to the bar counter and shoved my way through the already fairly intoxicated bar patrons crowding together like a flock of birds.
In front of me, I recognized a familiar blonde ponytail; it was Lizzy, my old friend from high school. The very same young woman who had been in the alley, but the Lizzy I saw now was a complete antithesis of the drug addict slumping against the dumpsters. She was heavily made-up and dressed in a light blue blouse with a purple shawl. She was talking to another woman with jet-black hair and a lacy black dress while gesturing and glancing in my direction. When her companion finally turned around, the world fell away; she was a goddess with olive skin and piercing gray eyes that seemed to read my every thought. A slow smile spread across her bright red lips as we made eye contact. I instantly became dizzy, but her eyes anchored me to reality. They poured themselves into me, infecting and saturating every pore of my being. My heart hammered away in my throat.
Lizzy and the beautiful woman got up from their barstools and made their way in my direction. “Hey, stranger. Long time no see,” said Lizzy as she leaned forward to hug me. The woman with the black hair stood beside her, shifting expectantly. The hug lasted a second too long, and I broke it off awkwardly, unable to take my eyes off the other woman. Lizzy cleared her throat. “This is Patricia. We went to university together.”
Patricia. Her name echoed in my mind. I stood there for a moment, trying to think of something charming or clever to say, when I noticed with a start that her hand was extended, waiting to shake mine. Embarrassed, I reached out and shook it hurriedly.
“Well,” said Lizzy with a mischievous wink, “looks like someone has been hypnotized.”
“We’re sitting up at the bar. Would you like to join us?” said Patricia. I could only nod. They led me to three open seats. Patricia took the leftmost, and Lizzy sat next to her, leaving me to the right.
“Can I get you ladies something to drink?” I asked, flagging down the bartender.
“Sure!” they answered in unison, then looked at each other and giggled. The bartender came close to me and cupped his ear.
“Two raspberry margaritas for these ladies and a pint for me.” The bartender nodded and hurried away.
In an instant, the three drinks appeared before us on the bar. We toasted and sipped. An awkward silence had descended, so I turned to Lizzy. “So, how are you? It feels like it’s been forever since I last saw you.”
“Actually, I’ve been pretty great! I haven’t really found anything concrete yet, but there are a few things in the works. I’ve actually been . . .”
She continued to speak, but I had absolutely no interest in whatever she was talking about. Patricia held my full attention, and I found I couldn’t even take my eyes off her. It was as if a magnet were directing them in their sockets.
“. . . and it’s been difficult with the move and all. But we’re still trying to―” Lizzy continued.
“Uh-huh.”
“Ahem. We’re still trying . . . Hey, are you even listening to me?”
“What?” I snapped back to attention. “Yes, yes, of course, go on.”
Lizzy grabbed her purse. “No, I’m done talking. I have to use the restroom. Excuse me.”
Relieved that Lizzy had left us alone, I turned my attention to Patricia. “So, Patricia, tell me something about yourself.” As hard as I tried to keep my tone neutral, my voice came out artificial.
Patricia smiled in response. “Come now,” she said, almost laughing. “That’s what you really want to know? Not something else―like, for instance, if I am as attracted to you as you are to me?”
Whoever this woman was, she had just broken the rules of the game. I had never experienced this level of honesty before. In my encounters with women, there was always a script to follow: an exchange of meaningless banter and flirtations until the obvious was impossible to ignore. Patricia, it seemed, was following a script of her own. The only problem was, I had no inkling of what my next line should be.
“Well, ah . . . I guess that would make things a lot simpler, wouldn’t it?”
Patricia shrugged. “Perhaps. It really depends on the kind of person you are. Rare few want to hear the full truth, no matter how painful it is. The majority would rather be lied to, especially men. You have to be careful with them―when faced with too much truth, they turn into a child who throws a tantrum because he can’t have the candy behind the glass counter.”
Undeterred by her bluntness, I replied, “Fascinating. Well, if you’ve already gone through the trouble of pointing out the truthful question here, the least you can do is answer it.”
Her eyes narrowed. The game was back on. “Yes,” she said, considering. “I can’t deny that I am attracted to you. You’re an interesting person who happens to be my physical type. But . . .”
“But what?”
“First impressions are often mistaken.”
“Are they? Well, you know, the best way to ameliorate that is to have a second one,” I said, hoping I sounded more confident than I felt. “It seems to me that the only logical solution is to see you again.”
There it was: the blush of surprise in her cheeks. Whatever game she was playing, I was winning. “Very well. You’ve convinced me. But I need to know something. How far would you be willing to go for me? I need to be sure that I’m making good on my investment.”
“You just leave the chasing to me,” I said, my confidence growing steadily in spite of my heart pounding in my ribcage. “I’d go anywhere for the chance to be with you.”
“Oh?” Her eyebrows raised in surprise. “Well, that’s convenient. I forgot to mention―I actually live in Sydney. Lizzy only invited me for the weekend. My flight leaves tomorrow. You’ll come with me, won’t you?”
The rational part of my mind fought for control, reminding me of my flat, my job, and all my friends here in Berlin that I’d be leaving behind. Yet, in Patricia’s enchanting presence, all of those things seemed miniscule, replaceable. Now that I considered it, I could start over in Sydney. After all, it wasn’t like I had any particularly strong ties to my old life. In Patricia’s eyes, I saw the prospect of a new one, and it was extremely tempting.
“I’ll go. I’ll have to quit my job and sell my flat, but that will all work itself out. After all, I’d be with you.”
“Really?” she smirked. “You would give up your entire life to follow a stranger to another continent even though you only met her fifteen minutes ago?” She sighed and took a sip from her drink, grimacing.
“But I love you!” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. It was true. I didn’t believe in love at first sight until that moment, and I was absolutely certain. In fact, I couldn’t remember what the world was like before Patricia. Time seemed to have accelerated, and I had lived an eternity in those fifteen minutes.
“I don’t doubt that you do. What you call ‘love’ is a very powerful emotional drug that hijacks the system. You don’t fall in love with a person, you fall in love with how that person makes you feel, and that is the most pathetic form of addiction. For instance, had you told me, ‘No, Patricia, I can’t come with you to Sydney because I already have a purpose and a path of my own,’ you would have earned my highest respect. I might have even left everything behind me and gone anywhere with you.” She sighed wistfully and stared into her glass. It was then I noticed that she had a few wrinkles under her eyes and around her lips that only revealed themselves when she wasn’t smiling. She looked at me again, and this time, the electricity in her eyes had been unplugged. “You can’t make another person the purpose of your whole life. In spite of what you believe in the beginning, they are not all-powerful. They cannot fix you or fill the void of your existence. They are human, just like you, with their own insecurities and flaws. And, if they are worthwhile people, they will have purposes in their lives that have absolutely nothing to do with you.”
“Yes, but what if you can share a purpose? Isn’t that what marriage is? Forming an alliance for a common purpose in life?”
Patricia laughed. “Marriage? It’s funny how people treat marriage as a perfect juncture of two people, as if they had cut out their minds and fused them together. It’s an illusion, and the result is always the same: two isolated people standing in each other’s paths until they start hating each other, then move in separate directions.”
I was starting to get extremely uncomfortable with the conversation, and I glanced around the bar to see if Lizzy had come back from the restroom yet. I found her standing near the entrance doors, talking animatedly with another man. Hoping she could rescue me from the situation, I started to excuse myself to the restroom when I felt a hand on my arm. It was Haley.
“Darling,” she reprimanded, “I barely turn my back, and here you are, already flirting with another woman?”
“Excuse me,” Patricia got up hurriedly and shot me a venomous look. I got the feeling that she would not be returning to the bar. I was about to protest when Haley cut me off.
“How wild and unpredictable love can be. You fell hopelessly in love with that woman, and you managed to lose her in less than an hour. I must say, I’m a bit impressed.”
I wasn’t in the mood for her teasing. “Fuck off, Haley.”
“Oh really? Keep in mind, Architect, I’m not the one doing the hurting here. You are so oblivious! How could you have missed what was in front of you this whole time?” She pointed at Lizzy, who was starting to break away from the man she was conversing with.
“Lizzy? What about her?”
Haley’s eyes glinted with mischief. “She’s in love with you. She always has been, and she has contained it for years. It’s remarkable how you people talk about love as if it is a feeling―something that you have no control over, like a leaf blowing haphazardly in the wind. It’s the exact opposite; love is a seed that must be watered daily, tended to, grown with attention and patience. When it germinates, it must be allowed to grow from a seedling into a fully fledged plant, and even when it breaks free of the soil, it must be strengthened, maintained, ever expanding toward the sun. If not, it will die. Do you choose whom you fall in love with?”
I was still trying to process what she had just professed: Lizzy was in love with me? The Lizzy I had known since grade school was in love with me? I couldn’t make sense of it. “No,” I answered Haley’s question. “Otherwise we wouldn’t fall in love with the people who are worst for us.”
Haley shrugged and took a sip from the raspberry margarita that Patricia had left behind. “You don’t get to choose the best life circumstances either. You work with what is bestowed upon you.”
I had to get to Lizzy. I had to know if it was true, but from her. As I watched from the bar, Patricia walked up to Lizzy and told her something. Then, they both looked at me. Disdain flashed on Lizzy’s face. She walked over to me.
“We’re heading out. Patricia isn’t feeling well. It was good to see you again.” Her tone was cold. I could tell that wasn’t all Patricia had told her.
“No, it wasn’t,” Haley snorted. Lizzy glared at her.
“Excuse me, and who are you exactly?” she asked.
Haley responded, “I’m just a friend, like you. Except I was never stupid enough to fall in love with this man. But don’t take issue with me―he’s the one who never even noticed.”
The shock resonated on Lizzy’s face as the insinuation sank in. I knew in that single moment, from her eyes, that what Haley said was the truth. She bowed her head and walked away.
“Lizzy, wait!” I started after her, but Haley held me back.
“Let her go, darling. It’s for the best.”
My mind spun, and I felt as if I were going to collapse. Over the course of a single night, I had fallen in love with a woman, lost her, then discovered the suppressed feelings of someone I considered a lifelong friend, who, perhaps, wished to be more. As the door swung open and she disappeared outside, I felt my chance slipping. I broke free from Haley’s grasp and shoved my way through the stumbling drunkards in the bar until I finally made it to the door. I opened it and strode through, straight into an empty corridor.
“Let them all go, Architect,” Haley’s voice floated from behind me. “Love will find you. When it does, it will break you, then build you stronger than before so that you can be reborn. To love is to offer your life to be shared.”
I stared into the empty space. Piece by piece, reality was settling back in. I was in a castle somewhere in the countryside. The reality of the room had taken me over like a dream from which I was now gradually waking. Haley gently prodded me forward.
“Come, now, my architect. It’s time to move on.”
>>> This is a chapter from the book: THE MANUAL: FOR A LIFE THAT CAN STAND THE TEST OF TIME
