If I really tried, I might be able to remember the name. It was beautiful Indian name,the name of a lake I once escaped to for a day. It was a gorgeous name. I adore those Indian names that grace towns, rivers, and lakes scattered about the northeast - Massapequa, Winnipasakee, Lackawanna, Susquehanna, ... and if I did recall this name, the name of that lake, which lay frozen at the bottom of a mist filled gorge ... if I could cut through the mist of my memory and thaw the frozen block of my recollections, this name would surely be the most beautiful of all. If I remembered it.
But I don't ... and won't ... though I yearn to recall all the poignant details of that day - her name, his name, the pattern and color of the scarf, I won't. This memory is too dear. I dare not touch it directly, too rough or rudely. That day was magic, and magic falls apart if spied on too closely, dug to deeply, explored with a scalpel, pried open with a clamp, exposed, it's bleeding choked by hemostats. No, I won't subject it to the forensics of surgical recollection, even if the muscle of my memory was capable of such a task.
I will tell you what I remember as it comes to me and I'll try not to explain. It won't be chronological, it won't be a story, and it won't have much of a point.
His car was red and the trunk was small, but then, so was I. Small that is. I hid in the trunk as we went in ... to save the additional admission. That someone would be charging admission on such a day seems odd. But I didn't mind. It was a cold damp day. Low visibility. It was very much "off season".
Her hair was red and she had many freckles. She was tall and thin, flat chested. She was perfection. I cannot recall her face exactly but you must believe that it was sublime. Her hair was very long. Deeply colored near her face and wispy near the edges were it would do wonderful things to the light. Light would positively swim in the proximity of her hair.
We escaped. We escaped laughing. They were both much older then I. All my friends were older. I say "all" but it wasn't very many. I was feared and despised by my classmates. For being both what I've never quite managed to be, and what I can't completely deny being - that is, intelligent and jewish. But he was my friend, so none of that mattered. Indeed he was, at the time, my best friend. You may have doubts. As I admitted, I can not even recall his name. Or won't. Accept that he was, at least by comparison, old and wise and powerful and that he was my protector and savior. He was the golden boy of promise. He was the head proctor. He was of ivy destiny and beneath his noble and privileged wing I found a refuge from the stupidity of my peers and their ceaseless derision. In his room I found respite from the gothic nightmare of that boarding school. There I found friendship ... or something like friendship. Perhaps my memory distorts pity for affection. Still, I believed he loved me. And after all, he brought me with him on that day. The day he and I ... and his true loved escaped.
Likewise she was royalty. Prom or homecoming or some something queen. From the sister school. Saint whatever's. She was grace made manifest. I worshipped her. She was a saint. Holy virgin of the spirit if not the flesh. Our lady of the blessed flirtation. She let me touch her and I did so quakingly. I was her pet, her little bear. When she held me in her arms I felt pure as the baby jesus. She was mother, sister, goddess. My love for her was pure, not exactly innocent, but unadulterated. Though not adult it had its maturity, though I was adolescent. None the less, it was transcendent.
They were lovers. Or soon to be. We pretended I was their son. We were a noble family on a quest of leisure. We drove up to the hotel perched atop the mountain overlooking the gorge. The gorge was filled as if with a cloud. Above it this hotel stood, old and splendid and nearly empty. I recall no other guests. There was a bar with a piano. We were convincing in our roles. The barkeep served them drinks without batting an eye and looked the other way when they brought drinks to me. The place was ours, we owned it. I played the piano for them. Time didn't stand still, we stood apart from time. I played and played and they sat enraptured.
Later we descended to the lake. Was it before or after the drinks at the bar? Let's say after. That would have us even more giddy from the drinks. It was a steep climb down. There where stairs part of the way. We abandoned them, and went down amongst the trees. We used her long scarf as a lifeline as we descended through the fog.
And then we were on the surface of the lake, breathless and in awe. We glided away from the shore, arm in arm, and were completely engulfed by the mist. Every thing was a soft white. The light came from nowhere and everywhere at once. We skated through it as it swam about her. He and she twirled about with the scarf. We laughed and ran off losing each other. We lost each other ... and called to each other ... and found each other again. He lost his queen and I found her for him. I cried out across the frozen tundra for my mother whom I missed ... and he came for me and lead me back to her. I ran off. I came upon them ... found them in an embrace, kissing, and we all giggled. "Kiss me" I said. "Kiss me" and she did. And he smiled. And she laughed and gathered us in her arms. And she kissed me again. And it never ended. And it will never end. We are still there, out of place, out of time. Above and below it all.
And I said, "Kiss me" and she did and he smiled and we laughed and she kissed me again.
And it never ended. And it will never end.
