M’ill and H’ill: Part 4

The concert was scheduled to begin at 9 o’clock. We arrived fashionably late, but the musicians still seemed to be tuning their instruments. After nearly a quarter an hour of this, I was beginning to wonder when the show would start when Mr. Charming leaned over and whispered, “Wonderful, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“The music, of course. So innovative!”

“Are they actually performing now? Why, they’ve all started at different times and in different keys! I’m not sure if they are even playing the same song.”

“Isn’t it wonderful? Completely original, doesn’t even require a composer or conductor.”

I closed my eyes and tried to drown out the cacophony. In H’ill, the rule writer started everyone’s songs. He was the pitch pipe. When someone wanted to sing, they would listen to his voice and the tap of his fingers as a metronome, then they would begin. There were lovely melodies and exciting harmonies and exploration of rhythm. Some played drums, others stringed instruments, some brass. All sang. I smiled thinking of the little gap-toothed boy doing his best to the play the violin. Little had I thought I would prefer his unpracticed efforts to this.

I nudged Mr. Charming, “Do you have any children?”

He looked at me aghast, “Certainly not! I hope I never do.”

“Why not? Come to think of it, I’ve hardly seen any children in M’ill. Why is that?”

“Children are terribly out of fashion. Besides, who wants a three-year-old exerting their will over you? Little monsters!”

As I considered this point of view, he suddenly grabbed my elbow. “You don’t seem to be enjoying yourself. Let’s go, I’ll never forgive myself if I’ve spoiled your evening.”

“Oh, no, it’s quite all right.”

“Nonsense, why you’ve been half asleep the last movement. In truth, even I am getting a little bored. I know of a hole in the wall for dinner and dancing. Come along, come along.” He took my arm and pushed me in front of him, out of the row and down the aisle. I noticed he seemed to be looking over his shoulder at a very heavy man in spectacles who was trying to make his way towards us, but couldn’t easily fit down the rows due to his girth. I recalled Milly’s fear of the woman getting on the bus. I wondered what Mr. Charming had done to this man and what revenge he feared. I didn’t find out though because we found a taxi right away.

I ate a little dinner and had a glass of wine…and then another…possibly a third. I was still so thirsty! I was feeling sleepy, but Mr. Charming insisted on dancing.

The club was crowded and there were all sorts of dancers on the floor. Some very talented and well matched couples, others at complete odds. The music seemed to be rather waffling too, as if it couldn’t make up its mind what kind of dance to play. The couples on the floor bumped into each other and each pairing seemed to be in a contest about who would lead the dance. Mr. Charming, of course, was an excellent dancer. He seemed to find the rhythm easily and smoothly moved across the floor. I gave up trying to find the rhythm and decided I would just follow Mr. Charming.

“Very good, my dear. Just follow my lead. I can see you know how to dance. Most girls don’t now a days.”

I responded to this flattery with something mundane. I noticed that as he danced, we slowly drew closer and closer and he sometimes led in an unexpected direction, pressing my body against his. He was close enough that I could smell his tastefully applied cologne and hear his breathing as the dance became slower and slower. Eventually, our step was locked in a slow sway and he nuzzled in my hair looking for places to plant kisses, all the while murmuring, “Such a wonderful dancer, absolutely terrific. Just follow my lead.”

I nestled my head deeper in the pillow. I didn’t want to get up yet. Slowly, as consciousness dawned on me, I tried to sit up. The sunlight seemed to pierce my eyes. Oooh, my head ached so and my stomach was full of butterflies. When I got up the courage to open my eyes, I could see that I was not in my simple, cozy room in H’ill. I was in a huge, palatial suite, hung with rich curtains and large paintings in gilded frames. The bed had silk sheets and was piled with pillows and down comforters. It was Mr. Charming’s bed.

I covered my face with my hands and fell back into the pile of pillows. What was I doing here? I tried to think through the events of last night. Had he exerted his will upon me like the night in the garden? No, not this time. I had been willing, following all his dance steps, following him all the way here. He’d said I could spin him like a top. Ha! Now my head was spinning. I hadn’t even wanted this! Through the window, I saw a large sign on the adjacent building, “Be Faithful.” I let out a little embarrassed cry and rushed to close the curtains to block it out.

I was still wearing my white dress. I found the red evening gown and shoes in a corner. I opened the door of the bedroom and peeked out. Mr. Charming didn’t seem to be in, but as I encountered his maid and valet, they both winked and smiled, much to my shame.

As I got on the elevator to descend from the penthouse apartment, the valet held out an envelope to me. Inside were a few bills, not even very much. At the last minute before the elevator doors closed, I tossed it back onto the penthouse floor.

It took me a while, but I found her apartment again. When she came to the door, I held out the folded gown and the shoes.

She looked at them in surprise. “What is this?”

“I said I’d bring them back. I meant it.”

“Come in. Have some coffee.”

Once we were seated with a large cup of coffee each, she asked, “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Did you take his money?” She seemed to take for granted all that proceeded his offer of money.

I shook my head.

“What are you going to do now?”

“Go back to H’ill.”

She took a sip of her coffee. “Why?”

“Because…because he’s waiting for me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I mean, he said he would be waiting. He’s always done everything else he said he would.”

Her eyes again went to my simple white dress. “Was that from him?”

“Yes, I think it was.”

“Would I be welcome in H’ill if I came one day?”

“All are welcome. You should come. Everything is real and good, but it also feels hard and solid after M’ill. I’m still not sure why I left it when I loved it so much. M’ill has some kind of magnetic draw, though it leaves you feeling so dirty.” I gave her the directions to H’ill as best as I could.

When I left, she squeezed my hand. “Maybe I’ll see you again soon.”

It was high noon when I reached the base of H’ill. The sun beat down so brightly that I couldn’t see if he still sat there waiting. The ascent was difficult, ever so much harder than it had been before. As I climbed, I rehearsed my defense. I slipped over and over again. Finally, I sat down, only about halfway up, and cried. My defense was falling flat even in my own ears.

“Please,” I whispered. “Please don’t be mad. Please forgive me.”

There was a disturbance of dirt and pebbles far above me. The noise came closer and closer as someone came down from H’ill. I rested and waited, my head down on my knees.

Eventually, the footsteps stopped in front of me. “Carissa?” He knelt down and put his hand on my shoulder.

I tried to swat away my tears, “I…I…I really didn’t mean to stay so long. I’m sorry. And you shouldn’t call me Carissa. I did something terrible.”

I dared look up. His eyes were welling with tears which made me start afresh. He touched his forehead to mine and gently dried my tears with his hand, “It’s forgiven. You are still my Carissa.”

“I’ve broken a rule, the gravest one of all, I think. Will that policeman come again with a warrant? Will he take me away like he took Milly?”

“No, Carissa. But please, please stay in H’ill. I know it is the very best for you. I don’t want you to miss any of the beautiful gifts of living here. Come, let’s go up together. I’ve walked up His Will before too. I know it is hard.”

He helped me up and we began to climb together. I leaned on him and let him guide me over the rough patches and around the unexpected turns. As we crested the top, we both sank down to the ground and watched the sunset. Its beauty overwhelmed me. How could I ever exchange the beauty and clarity of this view for the smog of the valley of M’ill? Behind us, the lights of H’ill were slowly lit, not all at once as with an electric switch, but one by one, unhurried and gentle, beckoning us home.   

Photo by Samuel Sianipar on Unsplash