The Good Life …Part 11 …Self-Appraisal
and derided by vanity; my eyes burned with anguish and anger
—James Joyce
All my conjectures about Sylvia proved to be untruths—there was no spark of vitality, let alone romance in her. She was the deadest thing I ever encountered.
With a heavy heart, I motored back to the lodge and we tied up at the dock unseen and unheard by guests near the house.
But as we walked back along the pier, we ran directly into Victor and Tess watching the aurora above the lake.
“Out for a cruise to see the Lights?” Victor smiles.
“Yes, we were,” Sylvia bristles.
Tess notices Sylvia’s sleek hair. “Oh, you’re wet.”
“I fell in,” she says defensively, her hand fluttering to her forehead to push back her damp hair
Victor glances at her dry clothes, then tilts his champagne flute in my direction—as a subtle toast.
Tess looks as if she’ll be sick. She turns and hurries away.
Sylvia shrugs at Victor and me and sidles off in the direction of the bar.
“Walk with me, Gray.” Victor motions with his champagne flute in the general direction of the garages. I dutifully fall in step.
“Tess is a beautiful woman, you know. Very warm—vital, but at the same time remote. Don’t you agree?”
“Remote? I don’t think so.”
“I’m sure you don’t,” he chuckles.
I’m not quite sure what his remark means. I’m turning it over in my mind, as he continues on.
“Sylvia, on the other hand, lacks mystery. Did she take you to that small cove near the peninsula?”
I’m thunderstruck—totally unprepared for this.
He reads my expression, and gives a brittle smile. “I suppose it can be awkward at times—a little indelicate perhaps, being privy to the private disclosures of older men. We do have a life you know.”
“I never doubted it a minute, Victor—but Sylvia? Honestly, I didn’t see that coming.”
He shrugs philosophically.
“She reminds me of a Hesse poem. She can speak love's words without knowing she’s lying. She kisses rarely and deep. And all she knows about life is that we all have to die.”
A deep silence falls between us. By this time we’ve arrived at the garages, and Victor still seems nonplussed by recent events.
“I want to show you something, Gray.”
He punches in a code on a keypad by the door and we wait while the folding door rises silently. There, gleaming beneath lights is a black 2025 Porsche Cayenne like mine.
“You have a demo too?” I ask incredulously.
“No, no, my boy, not a demo—a production vehicle.”
My jaw drops. “I didn’t think that possible.”
“Oh yes, money and connections, you know—with those, anything is possible”
I nod dumbly, and infer his words to apply also to Sylvia.
“But is it advisable? He continues. “Yes, advisable is the operative word, Gray.”
I shake my head in bewilderment.
“I sent her away, Gray—I’m talking here about Sylvia. I sent her away. I could have had her—kept her like this lovely machine here, but what would be the point? After a day, a week, a month, the thrill is gone—and it becomes a burden. Something else to concern myself with, and frankly, I’ve adapted to being a free agent in the universe.”
“I don’t have that problem,” I say glumly.
He eyes me narrowly, and says softly, “No, you don’t. You have a real treasure—Tess, and she adores you. She’s more woman than you can manage or deserve. But like all young men, however, you don’t know what you have.”
He turns, leaving me standing in his garage with the Porsche—the production Porsche I coveted.
I stay there a good long while staring at it. Finally, I go out, and softly close the door.
I've been justly chastened by an older and wiser man and I feel sick as I reflect on my shallowness
Thank you!