Page 43 of The Stranger in the Mirror

When the waiter brings our dinner, I see four musicians with their instruments seat themselves behind the dance floor. “Look, live music,” I say, pointing to the stage. They begin to play, and suddenly I am swept back in time. My breathing grows rapid. The song. It means something. I close my eyes and try to see what it is, but like a puff of smoke it’s gone.

“What is it?” Julian’s voice brings me back.

“This song. I know it.” My pulse has begun to slow a bit.

“‘All of Me,’”Julian tells me. “Cassandra.” He looks at me with tenderness. “This is the song we danced to the night we got engaged.”

I am staggered. No matter how fleetingly, I’ve remembered something. I feel hope, and when I look across the table, Julian rises and extends his hand to me. “May I have this dance?”

I close my eyes as he wraps me in his arms, and we glide across the dance floor. I breathe in the familiar scent of his cologne. He holds me tightly to him, and through the thin material of my dress I feel the warmth of his hand on my back. I move my own hand from his shoulder to his neck, pulling him closer to me. He tilts his head so that his cheek is touching mine, and suddenly there is a tingling throughout my whole body. We move together as if we’ve done this a thousand times, and before our dance has ended, I feel like I’m finally home.

− 40 −

Cassandra

We are quiet on the drive home from the restaurant, as if to speak would break a spell. I feel dreamy and happy. This must be what it’s like to be a teenager on the brink of something big. I look over at Julian, my eyes moving from his chiseled profile to his strong hands on the steering wheel and the gold wedding band on his finger. I look away and at my own naked finger, wondering what kind of ring I wore.

When we arrive home, he comes around to my side of the car and opens my door. I look up at him as he takes my hand, and I can see the same excitement in his eyes as we enter the house and climb the stairs together. Words feel unnecessary. We both know that I will not pass our old bedroom and continue to the guest room tonight. Julian stops and opens the door to the large room and waits for me to enter first. It looks different than it did yesterday when I went through my old closet and felt like an intruder. Tonight it’s warm and welcoming, and I know I belong here.

I move nearer the bed and turn to Julian. I’m not sure what to do next, and he, seeming to sense my awkwardness, comes to me and takes me in his arms. I breathe him in again, my head on his shoulder. We stay like that for a while, wrapped in each other’s arms, swaying gently. Then he pulls away and carefully guides me onto the bed. He lies next to me, and as we face each other he runs his hand along my cheek, letting it come to rest on my lips. And then he kisses me, a long, sensuous kiss that makes me shudder with desire. I watch as Julian gets up and removes his clothes.His body is toned and fit. He comes back to the bed and slowly undresses me, caressing my body until I am completely naked. He straddles me, taking my hands in his, and, lifting them to his mouth, kisses the scars on my wrists. I feel like I am drowning in him. When he lowers himself and our bodies meet, I am on fire.

Julian is asleep next to me when I awake in the morning. I realize that I have slept more soundly than I can remember and without any bad dreams. I lean on my elbow and rest my head against my open hand, watching him. His hair is tousled, and he’s on his stomach, his face toward me. He’s so handsome, I think, and shiver with delight as I remember last night’s lovemaking. My shoulders start to feel cold, so I lie back and pull the covers up around me. The movement awakens Julian, and he moves over until our bodies are touching.

“Good morning, beautiful.” He kisses my neck as he whispers the words.

“Hi,” I say, feeling suddenly shy.

“I love you. Last night was incredible.”

I smile and snuggle closer to him, feeling like I could go back to sleep again. After a few minutes, Julian turns away and gets out of bed. I immediately think I’ve done something wrong, disappointed him somehow. I sit up, holding the sheet over my breasts, and watch as he puts on a robe and walks to the bureau. He opens the top drawer, removes a small red velvet box, and comes back to sit next to me on my side of the bed.

“I’ve waited to give this back to you,” he says, handing the box to me. “Now seems like the right time.”

I take it from him and close my eyes, holding it for a few seconds before opening it. I know it must be my engagement ring, and I try to visualize it, to bring the memory back before I look at it, but there is nothing. Sighing, I open my eyes and lift thelid, and there it sits, the ring I wondered about when I looked at the wedding band on Julian’s finger last night. I’m struck by its beauty—a magnificently faceted emerald flanked on either side by brilliant diamonds in the shape of sparkling triangles. I look from the ring to Julian, stunned by its opulence.

“It’s gorgeous,” I say in wonder. “This was mine?”

Julian nods. “Your engagement ring,” he says, taking it from the box and slipping it onto my finger. It fits perfectly, and I hold my hand out with fingers spread apart to admire it. Julian puts his hand under my chin, lifting my face to his, and kisses me on the lips. Then he puts his hand in the pocket of his robe and takes something out. “This is your wedding ring. You left them both on the dresser.” He opens his hand, and resting in his palm is a thin gold band. I remove the emerald ring and hold my hand out so that he can place the wedding ring on my finger. I feel like the luckiest woman in the world.

“Julian,” I say, “I’d like to move back into our bedroom.”

His smile goes from ear to ear, and he hugs me. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

We hear the sound of Valentina’s voice, and Julian stands up. “She’s up,” he says. “I’ll take care of her. You take your time. You have some robes in the armoire.” He points to the tall piece near the window as he leaves the bedroom.

I throw the covers back and get up. The room is quiet, and as I walk to the armoire my footsteps make no sound on the thick Oriental rug that covers most of the wood floor. Taking a blue silk robe from its hanger, I slip it on and tie the belt around my waist. I see the room with different eyes this morning. The ceilings are tall, just as in all the rooms in the house, and in one corner are two deep-cushioned chairs in off-white linen. I wonder if Julian and I used to sit in them and talk before we went to bed.

Enough, I think, and head to the guest room I’ve been occupying. There’s not very much to move, and I begin carrying to our shared bedroom the things I want to keep. I decide to leave some of the clothes I had in Philadelphia; they don’t seem like they are me any longer. I’ll ask Nancy if she knows anyone who could use them, and if not, I’ll give them to charity.

After I’ve emptied the closet and drawers, I take the stack of books from the night table and turn to leave. But then I remember the book Valentina made for me. I drop the books in my arms and open the drawer to retrieve it. But as I open the drawer wider, I frown. It’s empty. I scan the room. The book is nowhere to be seen. I know I put it there. Didn’t I? Frantically I begin to search the room, opening every drawer, running my hands along their insides. I even check the bathroom, flinging open the vanity doors and drawers. Nothing. I sit on the bed and try to think. Did I put it somewhere else? No. I’m sure the last place I put it was in that drawer.

But I can’t think about the book right now. I need to go downstairs for breakfast with Julian and Valentina.

Valentina is sitting at the table with a glass of orange juice in front of her, and Julian is at the stove, his back to me.

“Mommy! Daddy’s making waffles,” she says happily. “I want ice cream on top instead of syrup.”

Julian and I laugh. Ever since she outgrew her milk allergy, she asks for ice cream at every opportunity. “I don’t think so,” I say. “We can have ice cream later. Promise.”

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