I stood still and waited for Aster’s return with crossed arms.I had forgotten this house came with a cellar, since it stood apart from the lighthouse and needed to be accessed from the outside, near the garden behind the garage.
When Aster returned after a minute, he carried a tinted glass bottle in his hands.I glanced at the label.“What’s that?”
Merlot.Open that drawer over there, and you’ll find a bottle opener.You’re going to have a proper evening before we do anything further, Stella.You can’t distinguish yourself any other way.
My breath was whisked away from my lungs.Aster was treating me to an evening of fine drink.This wasn’t a duty I would have assigned him.A part of me felt that I was abusing my fortune in moving forward with pleasure instead of redirection.I was irresponsible, distracted.Straying.But I was the pupil in this scenario, not the teacher.
Aster watched me intently as I discovered the wine opener exactly where he had indicated.I pulled out a pair of wine glasses as well, thin and reflective.Aster accepted one and filled it halfway, and then he presented the glass to me.Now take a sip,he said.This is our initiation.This is when we start working together.
I’d only tasted wine a few times before, and had never thought much about it.This was different.The merlot was rich, dark red and fruity with a light chocolatey aftertaste.This had not come from a cellar, especially the one here.I wouldn’t trust any food left behind on this estate beyond the pair of complimentary mints and bagged teas I found near the guest book when I first settled in.
With the remaining half of the baguette, I made two miniature sandwiches, preparing one for Aster and keeping the other for myself.He led the way to the dining table, a round Amish table with a single pedestal that sat near the stairs with a white doily tablecloth over the top.Our communion was complete.
I didn’t know how much time had passed since my last proper meal at a dinner table.I had never understood the point of formal dinners.During my childhood, my family almost always ate supper together.I had to set down what I wanted to do, delay my plans for the evening, and talk about the weather or changes in the television schedule.On my own, the habit died as soon as I left my parents’ house.
College certainly could not afford any such luxury as a dining table in a dorm room.Even if it had, I preferred to busy myself with my own projects.I had started off on a quest for greatness, and in pursuit of the colored flags that waved at me from the finish line, I had failed to look for value in the journey itself.
When I sat down across from Aster, I brightened with satisfaction.“It’s about the experience, right?About living every moment to its fullest so that I can write better.”
He tilted his head to the side in amusement.Do you think so?
I curled one foot behind the other under my chair, an antique Windsor chair with a walnut finish.“Of course,” I said.“And I agree with you.Maybe I have been too narrow in my life.You can help me.”
I want to help you, Stella.However, you must indulge me: what do you think I can prevent?
“Prevent?”I asked.“Oh, I don’t know.I didn’t summon you to prevent anything.”
You’re motivated by fear more than anything else.I can tell.What are you afraid of?
I swallowed.“I’m worried that it won’t lead to anything.That my books will gather dust.That my novels will die before they’re even discovered.That my greatest poems will fizzle in a niche magazine where the only people who will read them are two professors and an assistant librarian.”I stopped and sipped my wine, and for a second I was haunted by the curiosity in Aster’s eyes.“I suppose to be able to create something great, you have to learn to recognize it first.”
Recognize what?Greatness?
For the first time, Aster’s questions made me uncomfortable.He had a mischievous minx quality that came through whenever I misread him.In fact, I could believe that he wished to tell me that just now: that I didn’t understand him, and he wanted to see how far he could press me forward before I corrected my own mistake.
I sat back.I placed the wine glass on the lacey tablecloth and looked at my uneaten sandwich on the floral China plate, suddenly not at all hungry and not at all sure what to do.
I can take the rest of that if you’re done with it,said Aster.
“I’m confused,” I said, grabbing the sandwich and preparing to take a bite.“What are we doing?What do you want me to learn?”
Aster glanced at his own plate for a second.I thought we were having dinner.Food, drink.Conversation.
“Stop with that,” I said as soon as I could swallow.“I want answers to this.I want you to be direct.What were you thinking with the wine?What did you want to teach me?”
His eyes lingered over my face for a long moment.I am not a teacher.That’s not what I do.Not intentionally, at least.I think I’d be bad at that.I’d get terribly off track.
Now I shifted in the seat of the Windsor chair, suddenly regretting my outburst.“Then could you just tell me who you are and how any of this is supposed to work?
I apologize if my personality offends you,Aster continued.I don’t play by the same rules as you.If I did, I suppose I’d be more like you, and our time together would be useless.So even if I did try to teach you in this way or that, our efforts would collapse.Anything you tried would only amount to what you’ve already done.I can only operate on a single moment, a single now.And if I left that, I would cease to exist.I can’t reach forward or tell you what to do in the future, because all I have access to at the moment is the present.Your present.
“Dinner,” I said.
He nodded.If you’re writing, then I see you writing.If you’re eating, then I see the food.It’s how it’s got to be.
“And what do you see right now?”I asked softly.I leaned forward so that he could get a better look at me if desired.
Aster matched my pose and reached forward with his hands, palms open until I took them in my own.I imagined a phantom warmth in his touch, though the sensation died as soon as I focused on it too much.
