Romany Bonds

In this life, there are people who believe that nothing happens by coincidence, how we arrive at the big moments in our lives may not follow a distinct pattern, but the events themselves are predestined, laid down in a plan created by one or more higher beings. There are also those who believe that through many lifetimes we travel within a group of souls whom we are destined to meet up with time and time again. If both of these are to be taken as truth, then surely it would also stand to reason that the various journeys a soul makes before it finally reaches eternal rest are all part of the larger plan. Delicately interwoven strands mix and cross to form part of a complex matrix, which we will only ever understand a small fraction of, for in this cosmic spider's web, each individual soul is nothing more than a single thread.

*

Amber was lying on top of the covers, watching him sleep. She remembered the first time they had shared a bed, the way they had both laid on top of the navy blue quilt. She had slept fretfully that night, waking frequently and only managing to doze off momentarily before opening her eyes again. She had been grateful for his presence, even if he did grind his teeth in his sleep and snore like a steam train. Knowing he was there had been enough to calm the then miserable Amber who had just split up with her girlfriend.
Leaning forward, her auburn hair that had been cascading down her back and onto the pillow moved with her so that when she bent forward to plant a soft, almost unearthly kiss on his forehead, it brushed his cheek. George shuddered, and she knew that soon he would once again ask the question he had asked her every night she had stayed with him during the past few months. He wouldn't wake when asking, the question came from his subconscious mind, and the conversation that followed was never completed although it became longer, over time. He rolled onto his side, eyes still shut, the dim ray of moonlight that peeked through the curtain shone on his face and opened his mouth to speak.
"Why, Amber? There was the familiar sorrow in his voice that she had come to expect.
"Because it had to happen. It was meant to happen. She spoke with the voice of a patient mother. Odd considering he was nearly twice her age.
"But it shouldn't have. Not this way. Not yet. Not to you. A tear hit the pillow, falling from a closed eye.
"Neither you nor I had any control in the matter, you know that. It was the same the last time, when it happened to you first. Amber sat and ran the fingers of her right hand through her curls, her left hand rested gently on his shoulder. She marvelled momentarily at how quickly her hair had returned to its natural state, the way he liked it. No longer short and straight as she had taken to wearing it, but long and flowing, curls cascading around her face.
"It just seems so unfair. The natural order of things¦ He trailed off, unable to finish his sentence as he awoke with a jerk. George looked directly at where his beloved goddaughter sat and straight through her to the wardrobe behind. He could have sworn she was there, that he had heard her voice, that he felt her presence next to him. He took a deep breath and caught a faint whiff of Emporio Armani, the scent he had once given her. She was there after all, but now he was awake enough for his conscious mind to be taking over and his eyes could not focus on her ethereal body.

*

Amber had slipped back into George's radar on the day before her 21st birthday. He had recognised her instantly when she walked into his place of work. Young and naïve in appearance, she was still his Amber. Her aura had been a dead give away to the Romany man. Yes her looks had changed, and he knew that this time, their connection would be different, but it would still be there, just as strong, just as unexplainable as it had always been. In time she would recognise it too. For a while though, he had to stay back, not rush at her directly. Instead he had glanced up and looked across at her whilst doing one of his regular sweeps of the room. Their eyes had connected for a moment and then he had broken the connection, realising that the song was ending and it was time to announce the next one.
Amber on the other hand was completely oblivious to George's search for her. She was already slightly tipsy after having been to a family get together to celebrate her birthday. The young woman had only just begun her life on her spiritual path, regaining her family heritage through time and study. She had entered the club where George worked in a flush of excitement, surrounded by those she loved and trying to convince her best friend that it was perfectly normal to enter a place where the DJ was a drag queen, even though she had never been there herself. As she looked over to the DJ Box, taking in the sight of the female impersonator behind the decks, George looked up and their eyes locked for a moment. She couldn't explain why, but for some reason she had felt as if, finally, she was home. All she knew was that it wasn't the place, but the man in drag who stood in the DJ Box that created that feeling.

*

It had not taken him longer than a few months to begin to work his way into her thoughts. He hadn't done it in an obtrusive manner, just broken the outer limits, with slow, gentle pushes. George did not want to scare her. Amber had to search him out on her own. He was merely opening the gate to the path. He remembered the original startled look in her eyes when she had seen him out of drag for the first time and how that look had been quickly replaced by acknowledgement. That was the first night they had hugged. That moment had changed everything, and George knew it. Amber had felt the electrical charge shoot through her body as their souls once more connected. The small shudder that passed through her delicate frame had been imperceptible to everyone there, except that is, for the two of them.
It had been a rather unusually balmy April day, and Amber was sitting outside with her usual gaggle of friends, waiting for a taxi, when George had poked his head around the door to retrieve a champagne glass one of them had walked out with. She had glanced in his direction as the door opened, but not recognising him, she had turned away and carried on her conversation. That was until he asked why she wasn't going to say goodnight. Shocked by the transformation, Amber had stood there for a moment, unable to speak, then had walked over to George, wrapped her arms around him, and said goodnight. In that instant, the stars faded from view, her friends no longer existed. Every hair on her body stood up, and she had the familiar feeling, which occurred when she made or reaffirmed a long forgotten psychic bond with someone. But by the time the hug was over and she was back amongst the throws of her friends, she had brushed the experience aside as just a drunken moment. Although she had puzzled over it later that night when alone in the safety of her own bed.
From that moment on, whenever George gently began to push his way into her head, she had felt it. The following Halloween was a classic example of this. Knowing that he couldn't just turn round and stir her past life memories too fast, George had steadily been opening the gate that little bit further each time he had seen her. On Halloween (or Samhain as it is called in the Wiccan calendar), however, he wasn't working; he was merely upstairs in drag, watching as the guest drag DJ ran the night's festivities. George's eyes had followed the young Romany around the club upstairs all night. She was growing tired of it. She had caught George staring directly at her at several points, each time, the hairs on the back of her neck had stood up, and it got to the point where she had to go into the ladies toilet in order to escape those deep brown eyes. She was sure he had been attempting to get inside her head, and she voiced those opinions to the friend that was with her whilst inside the relative safety that the bathroom provided.
"Millie, I'm sick of it. I mean his eyes are on me constantly! She threw herself against the wall opposite the sinks, frustration brewing.
"I'm not going to deny the fact I've seen him watching you, but did you ever think it's because he really likes the dress your wearing and is debating on getting a similar one? Millie laughed, her blue eyes twinkling.
"Mill, if you haven't noticed, I'm wearing trousers¦. Amber's anger dwindled momentarily, as she stared incredulously at her childhood friend.
"Well if you're that bothered by it, talk to him about it.
"It's not that simple. I mean I hardly know him. As the words left her mouth, she knew within an instant that what she had just said was a half-truth.
Amber was certain that she and George hadn't met before the night she walked into the club to celebrate her twenty-first birthday, yet, had she not felt that twinge of familiarity when she first laid eyes on him? How was it that she knew when he was looking in her direction? Why did she have the insane urge to hug and throttle him at the same time? Every time the pair made eye contact, Amber wanted to run into George's arms, and that feeling scared her more than anything. He was, to all intents and purposes, just an acquaintance. Yet the impulse was there, she was drawn to him for a reason she knew that. She just didn't know how to bring up the subject with him.

*

Three days later, George sat in his one bedroom apartment, trawling the Internet for new music to add to his collection when he heard his mobile phone going. "Amber he muttered and pushed himself off the couch and walked into the bedroom to grab the phone.

"George can we meet up and have a chat?
Suzie
Xxx

He replied quickly with, "Am free all day Hun if u want to pop up. Or could meet in town. And headed back into the lounge to pack away his laptop, knowing that she wouldn't be signing off under the name her parents had given her for much longer. By the time the reply came through he was ready to head into town to meet her. Mentally mapping his route to the Arts Centre, the place he knew she would suggest meeting at, he slipped his shoes on. It would take him about fifteen minutes to get there. He put on his jacket and headed out the door just as his phone beeped. He replied with "be there shortly and made his way down the stairs.

*

Amber sat next to the window in the Arts Centre, wondering how on earth she had plucked up the courage to text George. Her auburn hair caught the last rays of autumn sunlight. Winter was due to set in, and as soon as Samhain had been and gone, the weather would begin to turn. She sipped her hot chocolate and waited. The open laptop in front of her was neglected as she sat deep in thought. The screensaver flicked on and the moving fish caught her eye momentarily before she moved the mouse, bringing up the document she had been working on. Suddenly, she couldn't face the idea of writing her latest article for the women's magazine she worked freelance for. Pulling her blue jumper over her head, Amber looked to the door and waited for the moment George would walk through it. As she did so her senses seemed to travel further than she thought possible. She saw the street outside and George coming round the corner.

*

George could feel her watching his arrival. Amber was scared, that, he knew. He needed to get her away from the Arts Centre and to a place where they could be alone to talk. Having the conversation in a public place would mean that they would run the risk of being overheard or of Amber bottling it and running away. As much as he had to let her do most of the talking and take her time, George also knew that this conversation had to happen in one go and not become a stilted ongoing thing that would take forever to complete. He pulled up the collar of his sheepskin coat to stop the wind from causing a draft around his neck and arrived at the door to the Arts Centre just as Amber finished her hot chocolate.

*

It had taken George all of five minutes to persuade Amber that they needed to go to his work as he had forgotten to set his costumes for the show that night. Thankfully that wasn't a lie. They arrived there quickly and she waited patiently for him to make sure that his dresses were in the right place and in the right order on the rack and tried to work out what she was going to say to him when he asked why she had wanted to meet up. The large dressing room come costume room was cold, and she let out an involuntary shiver. George flicked on the heater nearest her as he sat down to join her. She took a deep breath and looked into his eyes as he spoke.
"So what did you want to chat about? He looked at her with compassion; he knew that this wasn't going to be easy for her.
"I¦I¦. Amber couldn't find the words.
"Maybe I should ask a different question. She looked at him with startled curiosity.
"Let me see¦. Do you remember when we first laid eyes on each other? George looked at her with so much intensity that Amber had to look away.
"Of course I remember. It was my twenty-first birthday part¦ wait¦ no it was before that. Something struck her conscious mind like a lightning bolt. A part of her mind opened and suddenly Amber was aware of something that had lain dormant in her subconscious for her entire life.
"Ma sat me down on the blanket next to you. We couldn't have been older than four or five years old and she turned to Da and said, 'They'll always be together, from now on.' She frowned, that couldn't be right. In the memory that had just appeared in her mind, both she and George were the same age, but he was older than her, he had been in his late teens when she was born.
"And we've never lost sight of each other for long since. George's answer confirmed what the memory had told her, yet Amber still found it hard to believe. Her face contorted as she tried to wrestle with the fact that could have quite easily been fiction.
"How can¦? She stopped short once more.
"How can that be true? Is that what you want to know? Go back to your twenty-first birthday. Do you remember that feeling you had that you knew me from somewhere else? The realisation that you were finally home? George placed his right hand on hers and pulled her face upwards with his left. She looked further into his eyes and gently nodded her head once. It was true, it had to be, there was an honesty in his eyes that couldn't be hidden.
"Ma always said that we couldn't be parted. Yet you left me. You went away. I lost you just before I turned¦ just before I turned sixty. You went out that day and never came back. This wasn't quite how she'd thought the conversation would go.
"Not physically, no. But I was with you everyday until you joined me. I watched over you until you crossed. He smiled gently, the tears were falling down Amber's cheeks as she relived the memory for the first time in twenty-five years.
"That you did. And the first thing you said to me when I got there was, 'My darling Amber, you've returned to me.' A fleeting smile crossed her face.
"Amber¦ that was¦ is my name. I remember it so clearly. Suzie never seemed to fit me and I couldn't explain why. But I think that maybe I can now. George waited for her to continue, his hand still on hers, he squeezed her delicate fingers softly.
"Amber was the first name I was ever given. I was named because of the colour of my hair. Da thought Ma was an idiot for doing it, but he grew to like it. I remember you saying my name for the first time and the way it rolled off your tongue as if it was meant to sit there. She blushed involuntarily. Anyone overhearing the conversation would have been confused, she knew that, a lesbian talking to a gay man as if they were lovers was an odd situation to come across, thankfully nobody did.
"What else do you remember? It's alright if you don't remember anything else, but I think you do. He still looked at her with those brown eyes, and Amber had to break eye contact in order to continue. She stood and walked to the opposite wall, away from the mirror that ran across one side of the room. She pulled her arms around her to protect herself from the cold and raised her head,
"I'm not sure. It all seems so foggy. Almost as if I'm coming out of a deep sleep, nothing seems to be making much sense and yet it is making more sense than anything ever has done. It's like I'm the princess in some twisted fairytale and you're my Prince Charming¦ no my¦ Fairy Godfather and you've managed to break the spell that some evil enchantress placed upon me. She spun round and smiled.
"Just take it slowly. I'll help you. He rose from his seat and walked over to her. Taking her hands, he looked into her eyes.
"Help me how? Amber knew the answer to her question before it had fully left her lips.
"Come and sit back down. He took her hand and led her back to the stool on which she had been perched.
Sitting down opposite her, George held both of Amber's hands and looked into her eyes. In front of her the world began to spin, and the only stable thing in the room appeared to be the man she had just called her Fairy Godfather. As things moved out of focus, she started to see images of lives that they had shared together. In each one they had found each other. They had not always begun their journeys together, but they had always crossed each other's paths at some point. Several life times crossed her path of vision before she returned to the dressing room. As the real world came back into focus, Amber had slumped on her seat in exhaustion. It was as if every doubt she had ever had about whether or not she would ever find somewhere in the world where she did not feel an outsider had vanished. Finally she had found a connection that meant something. There in front of her sat a man whom she had known in some form or another forever.

*

Two years later, all Amber could do to comfort her adopted godfather was to watch him sleep at night, to sit by next to him and wait for the conversation to start up again. George blamed himself for her death, she knew that, but it wasn't his fault. If the crash hadn't have happened, she would have passed another way. One thing that Amber knew, and that she knew George knew deep down, was that when your time is up, it doesn't matter how it happens, it will happen. George drifted back into unconsciousness and Amber lay beside him again. One day they would be together in mortal life again. Until that time, she would wait and watch.

Copyright - Toni Le Brun