MIRACLE, MIRAGE?

“Knock, knock, who’s there?” knocking at the door, Godfrey murmured to himself, listening to the heartbeat in his ears.

It had been years. Eras. And the feeling was still so strong. Listen to the heart beat. Feel the heat. And taste the passion of the organ. The desire on fire. His lips went dry, and he looked up at the sky, (as if praying).

The sun looked preciously beautiful, on this cold winter morning. It gave you hope, the bright sunshine hope. “Valentine’s Day, true love being tested, and there’ll be love and laughter, and happiness ever after,” he whispered the wish and knocked again.

The pregnant silence.

Then, a princess's voice, (followed by the laughter of a bass), from the house, "I bet my sweet Sweden ass it is Santa Claus."

The door opened, and she was there, in the sunshine.

Exactly the same. The same dame. The same gem. At the doorway, in the sunshine, a live dream.

A second? Two? Three? One million? All of a sudden, all out of the blue, time lost its track, universe forgot its existence; Godfrey and Mary just stood there, looking each other in the eyes, in the souls, in breathtaking silence.

The sexy and soulful sunshine.

Emerging slowly and echoing strongly in his mind, the little song he had written for her: “Once upon a time / love lives a line / a line of sunshine, a line drenched in wine / when two souls find each other, in this cold lonely world / when they embrace each other, and completed as one / life becomes love, love becomes life / sweeter than sunshine, warmer than wine / dreams come true, two become one / and the story holds this line, kissing in the sunshine…”

…

That mellifluous masculine voice woke them up, "who is it, Honey?"

Removing her hand from the gasping mouth, she said faintly, "oh, it's... Godfrey."

(Drop dead gorgeous.)

Godfrey was a grandson of the famous Cain Paine, the once thirteenth richest man in America, whose company had been churning out guns and bullets since World War II. And by the time he died, Cain had made about a third of American’s guns and bullets, married about a thousand and one times, and produced or reproduced about an army of offspring… (However, Godfrey's father, George, had never taken his own children to see the grandfather)...

Then some years ago Godfrey joined the army, saying that he was going to pay back a little of the big fat debt his grandfather had owed to humanity…

Now he came back, reporting to the…“Hello, Merry Mary, long time no see.” A slow, slightly soured smile surfacing on his visage.

He’s loving it, enjoying the pain. Somehow he had learned to like winter, love it. “Because,” he said these before leaving her, “life, sometimes, means pain, means winter. Winter, summer are all part of the plan, the package deal – how could anyone fully appreciate summer and spring if he had not experienced the real weather, the coolest winter?”

Now he was smiling, but she looked about three steps away from bursting in tears…

For sadness, or for happiness, he wondered… as they finished the “routine” welcome ceremony and sleepwalked into the living room.

A tall, good-looking guy stood up, extending his hand - obviously not an anti-social type - and spoke with a British accent: "Hi, I'm Adam. I've heard a lot about you from Mary."

"Oh, really?" Godfrey looked again at his girl in dreams, suddenly became unsure. Everything seemed to start to feel unreal… surreal.

“Oh, really, long time no see,” she retorted quietly, floating towards the kitchen, “I don’t know about you two guys, but I need a drink. Badly.”

The girl-hungry frontline soldier marveled at the way the little lamb moved her hips, licking his chops, and said to Adam: “She seems hung - happy, doesn’t she?”

“When have you seen Sunshine sad?” A curt, courtesy reply.

And those Brits, always talking about weather.

The two men sized each other up, in harmonious manly silence.

The sunshine reappeared, strolling back in high heels, three drinks at hand. "Yeah, I told Adam that you dumped me for the war against, bikini-haters. I told him that you’re going to liberate all the women in the world, above the age of fifty, to wear bikinis, for the first time in their life,” a ghost of the sunshine smile, “that you are going to educate them about how bikini gets its name – it’s about the big bomb some fashionable French tested on a beautiful tropical island."

"Hey," Adam said with a sincere smile, "You are my hero."

Watching Adam’s face lit up like a 300 watt incandescent bulb as Mary sat down beside him, Godfrey remembered that time when he and Mary went to see an old movie "Waterloo Bridge" -

She cried there for the sad ending. While he shrugged and thought that if he were that hero, he would not ask Vivien Leigh to marry him, would not even let her to fall in love - when he knew that he was going to war, when he knew there would be a huge chance that he might be killed or "maimed"… in a word, he would not take the risk to bring pain and heartbreak to the girl he loved - so he would just keep affection at bay, keep love at a distance.

"You from England?" Godfrey smiled back at Adam, "we fight together in Afghanistan."

“Yes, hard war there, isn’t it? Some people just think differently,” Adam looked like having read a lot of books, “you know that after World War II, some Japanese soldiers carried out guerrilla war for about thirty years and did not believe the war had ended. There is this Jap chap in 1974 who had to have his former army commander, now a bookseller, coming all the way from Japan to Philippine jungle to read him the surrender order before putting down his relic rifle.”

"Sounds like a morally committed martyr. But our president George called us soldiers to fight for freedom.” Stealing a look at Mary, he changed the conversation direction, “but Japanese people are interesting. I heard a woman there tried to murder her husband, by setting the house on fire, but got trapped in the flame herself, the hubby then ran back, risked his own life, and saved her.”

“I wonder which one of you would do that for me.” The sunshine chipped in.

Warm and tender, Godfrey’s voice, “which one of us you want to murder?” a matter-of-fact tone, “you marry that guy first, and then he would do anything, everything for you. Guaranteed.”

Mist mustered up in the girl's beautiful eyes, the tears she had been holding since his arrival. She tossed her golden hair, stood up, tangoed to the stereo, and put on a CD, without a word. Instantly, Adele's song "Someone Like You" was soaring (sadly) in the air.

Godfrey ignored the glare from Adam and kept his eyes on the floating flower. This song reminded him of the time, the moment, and the expression on her face when they first heard Taylor Swift's "You Belong With Me" - when she declared solemnly, with solemn sweetness, "This is our song." He wondered what was her and Adam’s song.

He turned back to the man, "What do you do for a living, if you don't mind me asking."

"Ah, I work for the British government, the secret intelligence agency. James Bond. 007. I have a license to kill, too. My profession prevents me from having a relationship. But, in those moments of life-or-death, love and relationship is all I want."

“James Bond doesn’t have a relationship; he has tons of affairs. He would certainly enjoy VD. VD, today, Valentine’s Day.”

“Oh, happy VD to you too. Soldier.”

“Adam, can I see you for a moment?” Her voice left no room for negotiation or hesitation. She led 007 Mr. Bond into the kitchen – probably to fix a drink “shaken, not stirred.”

Godfrey looked around at the familiar place, and noticed a painting on the wall above the stereo. A painting of Mona Lisa. The Mona Lisa smile.

Stretching his legs, he picked up a book from the table, and opened it randomly. The music, rolling in the air, was calming him down.

And these words popped up from the print: “Miracle: every day leave a little room for miracle and dreams. Day or night, it doesn't matter; real or unreal, it doesn’t matter. Just find a little space and place for your dreams, for miracle preparation... In this day and age, do still believe in dreams, do still believe in miracles, do prepare to be blessed with miracles. Especially for those souls thronging and shoving, wandering and wondering in the suffocating concrete jungle with invisible ceilings and cold steels and sharks in suit all around...”

“What this load of crack is about?” he put down the book, and suddenly got caught off guard by a cat that was gazing at him in a very, very strange way, almost eerie.

The cat, one eye green, one eye blue, watched him as if guarding a treasure, as if studying a scripture, as if being hypnotized, as if... “as if you know me,” Godfrey addressed the green-blue eyes, “hello kitty, holy cow, you look familiar, some reincarnation stuff? Hope you were not my lover in some previous life.”

And the cat said: "Meow."

A new piece of music materialized, gliding in the air. A piano was singing solo in the stereo, the tune peaceful and serene, like a mother telling bedtime stories to her baby.

Dreamlike.

When the two returned, Godfrey stood up before they could speak, "I think I should leave now. I’m in a hurry actually," he nodded to Mary, the same sour-milk smile, "to become a priest. You will see me pray. I will pray in the morning, pray in the evening, pray at lunch, and pray on the toilet. Pray like two priests - one male one female. I will pray, I will always pray; I will pray before going to bed, pray after getting up, pray during the rush hour, pray while in shower… and, I will pray to be gay, or pray to become a gay. Wish me luck."

“Good luck,” said Adam.

“Baby,” she rebuked Adam, “you promised,” and then to Godfrey, “pray to stay, honey!”

…

Another morning, sunshine, beautiful, musical. The breeze, cool, refreshing. And Godfrey opened his eyes, finding himself facing an army nurse in a complete new place. She said: "Good, you wake up, there's a girl been calling you for days."

Then on the screen showed Mary’s face, all worried and stressed. "Hi, honey, you come back!"

"Hi," he said weakly, "I think I just had the strangest dream."

"The army said your patrol car has been hit by a bomb. And you have been unconscious for three days!"

"I just had the strangest dream." He smiled softly, "I dreamed I went back home to see you."

"No! You were HERE!!! You did come!!! I met you in my home, at my own house!!! And then the next day they told me you were in hospital!!! I thought I went crazy!!! I'm crazy now! Am I crazy?"

"What?"

"I saw you, I met you in my house, at my own home, the exact moment you had the accident in Afghanistan!!!"

A long awe-inspiring silence ensued…

Then, Godfrey, closing his eyes, ventured out these questions:

"So, was HE there? Is HE real?"