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"Don't you make me feel guilty! You aren't going to use emotional blackmail to get me to be your little pet."
He grabs hold of my shoulders and glances around, then shakes me.
"Calm down."
"No, I'm not going to calm down," I say. "I've had it up to here with this! You and yourI need you Eve. You're in my face wherever I go, trying to tempt me to be your little squeeze while you fight your war. Do you really think I'm looking for heartbreak? Do you really think I'll choose it?"
I hit him again, but it's a paltry attempt.
"Eve," he says and shakes me just a bit harder. "Listen, look at me. Let me tell you about something." I try to leave, but he won't let me, pulling me back into his arms. Finally I give in and stand there, fighting back tears.
"I have a telescope, a nice telescope. I attach a camera to the tripod and take pictures of stars and planets. I took one once of Tycho's Nova with a long exposure to let in as much light as possible. It's all purple and green and red, like a giant celestial flower on acid."
I look at the water, at the birds sitting along the lampposts, anywhere but in his eyes.
"It's a remnant of one of the brightest explosions in the universe - a Type 1a supernova. It happens when a star explodes after millions of years circling another, sucking up the other's matter until it passes critical mass. The small one's a dwarf, a pretty little thing, all shiny and burning bright white. The larger one is a giant, a big red seething angry fellow."
"Look," I say, fighting against the hypnotizing effect of his voice. "I'm sure this is a nice story, but I have to go."
"Just wait. Let me finish. The dwarf," he says and turns my face to his, smoothing my hair. "The dwarf isn't the kind that explodes on its own. It's too small, but put it next to the giant, bring them together close enough and a maelstrom forms, a violent convection that pulls them even closer until they're together so tightly that the giant's mass flows into the dwarf. Eventually, the dwarf passes this critical mass called the Chandrasekhar Limit. When it does, the explosion is five billion times brighter than the Sun."
I look up at him, unable to turn away.
"Eve, if the dwarf stays alone, it never passes that limit. It slowly dies, becoming so faint that no one can even see it anymore. But when that red giant gets close enough? For a brief second, a thing of beauty seen right across the universe."
A sense of deep anguish fills me.
"But it's destroyed, isn’t it? The dwarf dies."
He sighs. "Every human dies. What counts is how you live."
"I was living before you and Michel came along," I say, but I know it's a lie.
"You were alive. You weren't really living. This," he says and pulls me closer, his lips almost touching mine. "This is living." He kisses me, pressing his mouth against mine – softly at first, and then with more passion, his lips parting, his tongue touching mine, his embrace tightening. A connection forms between us and I feel his desire for me, his need, and it makes me dizzy in its intensity. Finally, he lets me go and he's the one to turn away. He walks to the car where Vasily stands with the door open. He sits in the back seat, the door closing, the darkened windows blocking my view of him.
The morning goes slowly for me. I don't feel the enthusiasm for the work the way I did only yesterday. Julien's words at our parting haunt me, the image of the colliding stars, the explosion – it's a scary metaphor for the two of us. Part of me says to run, to call the police and enter the witness protection program, go into exile. The other part says to run to him, to lose myself in him, to feel completely possessed for once in my life – the way I thought I’d feel with Michel.
After lunch is ordered in, I say my goodbyes and promise to return, then go outside the building to find Vasily sitting there in his rental car reading a paper. He hops out of the vehicle and opens the back door, waving me inside.
"There's an envelope on seat beside you, Eve."
I pick up the envelope and open the flap. Inside is a receipt from a local printing shop, and a photographic image with fiery reds, brilliant violet purples, luminous greens all roiling together against a black background. Tycho's Nova. On the back, hand-scrawled, is a simple note:
Imagine it. Julien
I put the photograph down and watch out the car window as the streets of Norfolk pass by.
Chapter 6
“Avery small degree of hope is sufficient to cause the birth of love.”
Stendahl
We arrive home in the late afternoon and my head aches so I go to the fridge for a bottle of OJ to wash down my Tylenol. I wander over to the office where Vasily sits, drinking his coffee and watching the video cameras.
"Where's Julien?"
"Meetings," Vasily replies, turning to me and smiling.
