I agreed to the plan and hurried out the door, barely remembering to bring my purse along with me as I ran through a string of minor errands around town.This corner of Maine had surprisingly little in terms of shopping and restaurants.Most people went to Mount Desert Island when they wanted to vacation.Illumination Point had only a few small diners and bars and one or two more expensive places further out of reach.
In the end, I settled on a cafe, the only one I could find that would be open late enough for us to sample the pastries and grab a pair of hot drinks while sitting next to a tall glass window.The venue embodied New England chic with stone and iron decor and a few French curlicues around the chandeliers and high stools.
I couldn’t see much of the menu from outside, but from the views I got from outside, I grew excited at the thought of driving back out here a few hours later.
When I returned to the house, I found Aster waiting for me right inside the front door.He looked impish this afternoon, like a child who had committed a piece of mischief in order to give me an unconventional gift.I wondered what brilliant changes he’d given my draft.
“I found someplace we could check out,” I said.“It’s called Red Sails Cafe.They don’t have a lot of food, but the atmosphere looked good from what I could see on the street.”
Aster appeared not to have heard me.Oh, this is very good,he said.I was wondering when you’d come back.I didn’t want to wait.
“Really?”I asked.“What did you do to the book?How far did you get?I want to take a look.”
Leaving the front door open a crack, Aster walked back around me to the living room.He pranced around as if struggling to contain his energy, and I figured his excitement must have come from the fact that I had left this place without him.Perhaps muses needed artists for their own stability.
Read?Oh, I didn’t read any of it,he said, and he loitered near a window while I walked to the desk.
My laptop’s lid was shut, and when I opened it I realized he had turned the device off.I pushed the power button and waited a few seconds for it to turn on.
Reading takes too much time,Aster continued.You know how it is.Word—word—another word.All stacked together like bricks making a printed black page on a white wall.
“I see,” I said, more confused than ever.
Do you?I don’t.Not anymore.He frowned and continued to pace.What’s the point to it, anyway?The task is impossible.
“The point?”I asked, confused.“I thought you wanted me to write.Before I left, you couldn’t talk about anything else.”I scanned my documents for my draft in progress, but I didn’t see it.My heart sped.I had tens of thousands of words on that draft by now in addition to the five thousand I had written earlier.I knew Aster could at times be demanding and eccentric, but if he had hidden the file somewhere from me, I wanted to know why.I turned around and tried not to panic as I searched his face for an answer.
If you’re mortal and I myself might be temporary, then we only have time for things that matter,said Aster.I don’t want to waste it on your project.That’s not what I really want.Or what you want, either.
I shook my head in bafflement.
All I ever wanted was you,said Aster.He looked down for a moment, and his expression turned grim.When you were gone, I felt like my brain wouldn’t stop spinning.I tried to read your book, but every time I got past the first few lines I had to stop.
“Aster,” I started, placing one hand over my heart.
Aster nodded.He took a single step forward and planted his hands on his hips.I know.I insisted on the rules, and I can’t keep myself straight.But there’s a reason for that.The truth is, I never wanted your work.I never wanted your writing.I wanted to be inside of you, to be you, to feel you against me and your breath giving life to my lungs.Your book was taking you away from me.And we can’t have both.
By now I could almost hear my heart beating in my chest.I took my eyes from the screen and turned around.Aster stood breathless in his crimson jacket, hands clenched into fists, eyes gleaming with desire.He looked like a predator, and for the first time around him, I felt like prey.
“Aster, where is the book?”
He snickered as if dangling a present out of reach.Over the hills and far away.The lands where the children like to play.
“Aster, I’m being serious.Where is the draft?What did you do with it?”
He crossed his arms and looked to the side with a pout.Your writing is you.There’s no difference.Every word was one drop of your soul, poured out from your very spirit.The book is nothing, and it never was.
“Tell me what you did with my draft.”The command did not come easily from my lips, but my own writerly anxiety was growing by the second.
I deleted it.
The words and simple honesty behind them made me panic.I’d been here at Illumination Point for over six weeks now, half of the time allotted me to accomplish something great.Suddenly the time felt suffocating.If I had no draft, then what did I have?Had I been reckless?Had coming here been an embarrassment, a waste of time?I’d only won this residency by a stroke of luck.I couldn’t repeat it.
I turned back to the laptop and checked the trash.Perhaps Aster was not as good at technology as he thought.Maybe he figured that deleting the file on the surface level would be enough to banish it through my sight.
You won’t find it there.Or anywhere else.
“Aster, you couldn’t,” I said.
