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I keep playing.
"It's so strange," I say. "I don't even know what I'm playing. I have no memory of it, but my brain knows how to play it."
"Memories aren't made up of one sense,” Michel says and clears his throat. “They have layers. Sight. Sound. Smell. Taste. Feel. Emotions. They get cross-referenced to other memories, other senses. You might lose one part of a memory, but not others."
Vasily leaves us alone and I get up from the piano to walk around the room, inspecting his books, the art.
Michel sits on a couch. Finally, I sit on the chair across from him.
After a pause, I take in a deep breath.
"Why me?"
He frowns. "What do you mean, why you?"
"Why did you want me? Why were we lovers?"
"Why?" He shakes his head as if the question's ridiculous and stares at his hands. "Why does a man ever want a woman?" He looks at me. "Because her smile makes his heart hurt." He looks away. "Because being with her, in her arms, inside her body, is about the only time he feels truly happy, like existence is bearable, and all the pain, sadness and disappointment is gone, even if only for a while."
His words make me so sad. “How did we meet?”
He doesn’t answer at first, just sits there, shaking his head, looking at me with those way-too-intense eyes.
“We met. That’s all that matters. Fate brought us together. We fell in love.”
“I don’t believe in Fate,” I say. “There’s just random and non-random events. You made decisions and I made decisions, events happened that led us to meet. That’s all.”
He smiles, but it’s one of tolerance rather than acceptance.
“Fate parted us. Now it’s put us back together and I don’t ever want us to be parted again.”
The sound of his voice makes my throat constrict.
“But you’re a vampire… How can we be together? Don’t you kill humans?”
“Eve,” he says. “You loved me. That’s all that matters. Forget what happened before. It’s the past. It’s gone. You’re safe now. I’ve done things. I’ve arranged things so that you’re safe. No one knows you’re here but me. You can start a new life. We can start a new life.”
“What was wrong with my old life?”
“You were in danger. It almost killed you.”
Finally overwhelmed by it all, I hold my head in my hands. My emotions overcome me and all I know is that I want him to hold me. I want to feel his arms around me, despite the fact I barely know him. I wipe my eyes, and try to get under control. I get up and stand in front of him.
"Can I sit with you?"
He looks up at me.
"Yes." He motions to the couch beside him, but I shake my head and instead, straddle him, one knee on either side of his hips. I don't know why, but I feel such an incredible need to sit with him this way. I put my arms on his shoulders and lean my forehead against his. He exhales heavily, his breath shaky.
"I don't remember your face," I say, looking at him, at his beautiful blue eyes rimmed with thick black lashes, at his strong jaw, the black hair tucked behind his ears. "I don't remember your name." I lean in, my face beside his, my cheek touching his. "But I remember this." I squeeze my arms around his neck and he reciprocates. "My body remembers you."
I kiss him and it feels so right, it feels so familiar, as if finally, I'm where I should be.
I wake and glance around the dim bedroom. Dawn - the faint light from the open sliding glass doors to the deck slowly brightens the room. The king-size bed is covered in white cotton. I'm naked under the covers, and my body feels well-used as I remember the evening and night of tears and pleasure as we made love like first-time lovers, except our bodies felt like they fit perfectly together.
He comes back in through the open patio doors and goes to a closet. He's wearing a pair of boxer briefs and nothing else. My gaze moves over his body greedily as I remember our lovemaking, his arms wrapped around me, him kissing my face, my neck, biting me as we make love and the pleasure was so intense, I can't imagine ever giving it up.
He retrieves a men's dress shirt and comes to the side of the bed.
