Newsletter 8.27.21

The Mortal Feelings of W. Somerset MaughamPart 13

Early the next morning, Aarav awoke and left the bed without a word, dressing methodically as Somerset watched silently. From the dim, leaden blue light coming in through the windows, Somerset could tell it was going to be an unsympathetically cold day. He peered at the clock on the wall across the room, but it was as if time meant nothing anymore; Aarav was slipping out of his hands, and an impermeable heartbreak had filled every atom of the world in a grim orgy of shattering hopes and lonely despair. 

“I’ll miss you today,” said Somerset, breaking the silence with a platitude that he had uttered other days without a thought other than the elation the eventual reunion would bring. But that had been in an irrevocable past, infused with optimism and an ecstatic longing that seemed as remote as the moon on a moonless night.

“I’ll miss you too,” said Aarav, not smiling or turning. Somerset could feel the invincible stone of Aarav’s surreptitious plans, whatever they were, hidden deep within his lover, no doubt intertwined with fear, anxiety, and maybe, some excitement. Aarav bent to pick up his socks and then sat upon the edge of the bed. 

“Are you nervous, darling?”

Aarav took a second to respond. “Not at all,” he said. Somerset knew he was lying. “It’s just a trifle,” said Aarav, pulling on his socks. “It will be over in a few hours.”

“And when will I see you?”

Aarav scratched his cheek. “Tonight, I think?”

“When?” Somerset could hear the trepidation in his voice. 

“I do not know what the day will bring.”

“But we will see each other?”

“I just cannot think that far ahead, Will.”

“You said we would see each other tonight.”

“I just do not know when.”

“I have to have something to hold on to, darling.”

Aarav sighed. “Alright. I understand. Let’s meet at the cathedral. At eight.”

Somerset crawled across the bed to embrace Aarav’s shoulders. “Thank you, darling.” He kissed Aarav’s cheek. Aarav tilted his neck, so their foreheads rested against each other. 

“I do love you, Will.”

“Don’t say it like we’ll never see each other again.”

“I’m not. I’m not. I just want you to know that you are still foremost in my thoughts.”

Was this true? Somerset had known this feeling before, at a point in an affair where you’re still madly in love, but the realization that it will never work is starting to eat into you by a ravenous maw of doubt. 

Aarav stood up, pulling himself from Somerset’s arms, and turned his head around the room, looking for his shoes. They were under the table. He picked them up, loosened the laces, and stepped into them. “I have to go.”

Pain slid down from Somerset’s heart to his stomach. “I love you!” He pleaded.

Aarav smiled at last, bending to kiss Somerset. Their lips had known many kisses together, and they could communicate their feelings better with the subtle sensations of their lips than with words. And this kiss was no different – Somerset’s lips tugged on Aarav’s, fiercely grasping his fleeing lover in a way his arms never could. Somerset felt dizzy; he sucked air through his nose as he gripped Aarav’s waist tightly, trying his best not to fall back into the real world.

Aarav broke the kiss first, and the Somerset felt everything drop underneath him. Aarav cupped Somerset’s cheek with his hand and then looked into his eyes. 

“I will see you tonight. Eight o’clock. I promise.”

Aarav turned to leave, and a horrific despair rushed through Somerset’s body. 

“Don’t go!”

Aarav froze in his steps. “I’m sorry, Will.” He pulled the door open with a creak. “I’ll see you tonight.”

After Aarav left, Somerset lay motionless in the bed for a few minutes. Will he ever see Aarav again? What had he done wrong? There was a gaping, ravenous vacuum in his heart, feasting on his anguish; he had never felt so powerless and lost, it was all gone, he had lost Aarav, it was over. What if he leapt out of bed, ran half-naked down the hotel corridor, rode the painfully slow lift down to the lobby, chased Aarav into the streets, embraced him, never let him go?

Somerset pulled himself out of bed and stood unsteadily. He took slow, short steps to the bathroom, as though the floor might fall out beneath him. He was unprepared for the mirror once he had switched the light on; his desperate visage greeted him like a bloodthirsty Mongol. He sighed and his eyes widened as he looked upon himself – his hair was ruffled, a brown-gray skein of stubble covered his cheeks and chin, and his skin was splotchy. He saw that there was a lilac-colored, coin-shaped bruise in the left hollow of his neck – Aarav. He raised his finger and touched it lightly; it did not hurt. He realized he didn’t even have a photograph of Aarav, that he had no keepsakes, they had never bought each other gifts. If he never saw Aarav again, this bruise would be all he had left of their love; and it a few days it would fade, disappear, and there would be nothing. 

It was turning into a beautiful, cloudless day. Somerset took this to be an a good omen – Aarav would return to him. But time had never moved so slowly. 

He stood and gazed at Lake Geneva. The morning sun crashed into the blue waters in an splash of shimmering rays of light, and Geneva stood majestic around it; antiquity suddenly felt as though it wasn’t so far away after all, and Somerset was consumed by the weight of millennia; all the heartbreaks of history descended upon him, like a crowd of vengeful demons, and his knees buckled. He fell to the floor and wept. 

TO BE CONTINUED IN PART 14

Happy Friday, friends. I’ve got a lot of work to do this weekend… writing work and a lot of other stuff. So I’ll be busy. But I’ll also be posting fun stuff to read!

Your Dream of Dark Angels

If you haven’t read this (not-Batman) novel, I’m refining it and reposting it over on Medium. I endlessly tinker with these things, so I’m afraid that’s just how it is. 

You Dream of Dark Angels, Chapter 1 on Medium

Literature Unbound on Medium

I started a “publication” on Medium, which is the best way I’ve found so far to archive and present my stories online. This is evolving, but definitely something I’m putting a lot of time into. 

Literature Unbound on Medium

Evil Summer Audio Book

As a Friday surprise, included in this post/newsletter are two mp3s of poems from my audio book of my poetry collection, which I did a couple years ago. I would really like to do more of this… I’m not the best speaker, but it’s SO fun, and plus I make thematic music for the backgrounds, which is a lot of fun too. This audio book was mastered by Adam Matza at Magic Ears Mastering. Best ears of anyone I’ve met. 

Here they are: 

1 More Snow_Magic Ears masterDownload2 Harvest_Magic Ears masterDownload

I hope to post two of these each Friday, and new audio readings after that, hopefully.

Anyway, that’s it! See you tomorrow.

Matt