Chapter 1: Nostalgia
“That’s the last of it, love.”
Aron set a large cardboard box down on the worn wooden floor with a heavy sigh. Sweat glinted off of his bare chest and he wiped absently at a drop that slid down the line of his jaw. It was mid-June in Ohio, and Aron and I had just finished moving the last of our belongings into our new home.
“You look like you could use a cold drink.” I handed him a bottle of water from the older model fridge that remarkably still worked. The air-conditioning unit hummed merrily along, and the ancient fan I’d found in the hall closet was plugged in and doing its part to cool the house down.
The poppy, cheery strains of “Ticket to Ride” by the Beatles trickled out of the stereo system that we had set up before doing anything else, and even though the living room was littered with an assortment of suitcases, boxes and crates, the place already felt like home.
The furnishings, which had been included with the century old log cabin we had purchased, hearkened back to the heady days of the 1960s and 70s, and coupled with the music, which was only part of the extensive soundtrack of our lives together, gave the place a comfy, nostalgic feel.
“Come take a rest before you pass out from the heat.” I took Aron’s hand and led him over to the clunky wooden-framed couch with the burnt orange and tan pattern on it. He took a grateful and hearty swig of the cold water and followed me without protest.
He leaned back and I fanned him with the folded up note the realtor had left pinned to the front door welcoming us to our new home and he sighed appreciatively. With his well-toned chest, golden tan and classical good looks, he looked like a Roman emperor being attended by a courtesan.
“That feels wonderful. Part of me wishes that I had passed out. Then you’d have to give me mouth to mouth to resuscitate me.”
“You don’t need a medical episode for that to happen.” I leaned over and pressed my lips firmly to his, savoring his heat and scent. He kissed me back hungrily and enthusiastically, but before things could progress I pulled away. “Stop that. We still need to finish unpacking, and besides the bed isn’t set up yet.”
He grunted, clearly disappointed. “Like that’s ever stopped us before? Besides, the couch seems sturdy enough.”
I laughed and playfully swatted him on the arm. “You’re incorrigible.”
“And you love me for it.”
I nodded. “Yes. That I do.”
I sighed and lay my head on his shoulder while he closed his eyes and took a much-needed break. The van in which we’d driven in from New York had been loaded down with all of our personal possessions and clothing, which given we’d been together for nearly five centuries, added up to quite a bit of cargo.
After we’d gotten out and gazed up at the place that was to be our new home for an indefinite amount of time, Aron had carried me up the rickety porch steps and to the front door. He carefully maneuvered me across the threshold when the door swung open, and our first thought when we had seen the small but well-appointed living room with its assortment of amorphous white-draped furnishings, was that we had finally come home.
Now, some three hours later the place was slowly coming together piece by piece as the bits of various items that categorized our time together were carefully unpacked. On the mantle lay a heavy bronze sculpture of a boar, purchased over a hundred years ago when we had completed the Grand Tour of Europe as part of a reunion with our old brethren, Honora and Paolo.
Without opening his eyes Aron pointed a finger towards the sculpture. “Gads, that thing again? Perfectly ugly, it is.”
“Ugly or not, it has sentimental value. It reminds me of the first time we met.”
“Hard to forget that, love. You were like a goddess emerging from the woods when you confronted the beast that would have disemboweled me.”
“You and I have very different memories of that moment. I was filthy, caked in blood and mud in equal parts, and I hadn’t assumed a human form in decades. I could barely remember how to speak, much less appear goddess-like.”
“You were.” He reached over and drew me closer, his hands playing idly with the strands of my hair. “You saved my life that day, in more ways than you can imagine.”
“I know. The same holds true for you. If our paths hadn’t crossed, there’s no telling where I’d be right now.” I snuggled into his warmth, grateful for the simple yet profound comfort the proximity to one another could elicit. It seems that in all the time we had been mates that physical distance between us was nearly unendurable, and the pain and discomfort did not abate until we were reunited. Scent and touch were crucial to our well-being, as surely as the air we breathed or the food we imbibed for sustenance.
His scent clung to me and I inhaled deeply, feeling a peaceful lassitude steal over me. If our paths hadn’t crossed that fateful day five centuries before, I knew exactly where I would be.
I’d be miserable and alone.
“Now, don’t you go and get all maudlin on me, love. This is supposed to be a happy occasion. We’ve just moved house and are starting over. Everything is supposed to be new and exciting.”
“I am happy, I’m just…feeling a bit nostalgic is all.”
“Nothing wrong with that. Here, how about I help you unpack and then we can decide how to arrange everything in its proper place?” He reached over and withdrew a wrapped bundle from the wooden crate at my feet, which had been in storage while we had resided in New York. Our apartment had been spacious enough, but the items that were in the crate were of a varied, and shall we say, unique bent.
“Ah, I’d nearly forgotten about this.” He pulled back the bubble wrap to reveal a table-top version of a statue of a she-wolf suckling two human infants, Romulus and Remus. This was yet another souvenir from our Grand Tour, and Aron and I jokingly referred to it as a family portrait. We had no records or images of our own ancestors to speak of, and it seemed oddly fitting that this of all things represented a true picture of our heritage.
“How about we put Lupa in the spare room, the one I plan on using for my office?”
I arched an eyebrow. “Your office?”
“Correction, our office. That way I feel like the ancestors are watching over us while we work.”
“Fine with me. There’s a few more things in here that may go in there as well.” I pushed aside the layer of mothballs that had been added to protect the more ancient and fragile treasures, and a rectangular package that had been carefully wrapped in crackling acid-free paper was revealed.
For a moment I simply stared at it, unable to bring myself to remove it, much less open it. Encased inside the wrappings was something that at the time I acquired it, I felt that I needed to remind me of who I was and where I had come from. It had served a cathartic purpose to allow me to make peace with the past as I set out to embrace my future with Aron, but it had largely lain forgotten all these years.
Now that it was here literally staring me in the face, I found myself conflicted as to whether it still served that purpose or merely represented something I had long outgrown and no longer needed. The past five centuries with Aron had been happy and undeniably fulfilling, yet what was contained in the package was a tangible reminder of the brief and innocent joy I had felt when I was still a young girl, a mere child compared to the fifteen-hundred year old woman I was now.
Aron’s hand was warm as he took mine. “You don’t have to ever open that if you don’t want to, but if you feel that you need to,” he raised it to his lips and gently kissed my knuckles. “I’ll understand.”
