Before the click painted red on the lovely wall opposite.
Paint was made to paint.
But of course, we're interested in her story. We're interested in her magic. We're interested in every step that Ada took that led her here.
Ada was always going to die young. Why grow old? Why let time ravage
and
take
advantage?
Why?
-
When Max entered the Edgeworth residence, the lives of four people would be changed forever. And Izzy's. But Izzy lingered for so little she's not much more than a footnote, a tiny snail's trail, a smear on a sparkling window.
"Andiamo, Ava!"
Ada crosses her arms and waits. Max looks at all of her and she's almost oblivious.
Ava speaks. She speaks for Max. She aligns her profile to match his view. Max is almost oblivious.
Movement. From the puppy basket. With the frills. All pairs of eyes move at once and contemplate tea-time.
Ada, bewildered, becomes aware of Max. Max is transformed. Transformed.
Ava is quick sand, a swan extending wing, a crescent moon, a forest rustle, hare's heartbeat. Ava is.
-
Max is trying to write a poem. For Ada. For what she's done to him. Nothing but ink all over his hands.
Hands.
Tense, white mechanisms of fault.
Hands, hands-hands.
-
Ada is training for dressage. Her green velvet cascade. Cascade. Her eyes are steady and her horse is hot.
Ever since she was little, Ada could not control her anger. It wasn't that she was inarticulate. She was aloof, in her own world, perpetually mesmerized. Because Ada was one of those people who always reinvented the wheel.
Ada always had Ava. Always had Ava's lovely face and beautiful mouth to enunciate the words that would calm her. Ada was fire and roaring waters without Ava. Ada, without Ava. There was no Ada without Ava.
-
Of course, there was Ava without Ada. Ava, infinitely composed and calm. Ava, whose needle was mightier than her sword. Boarding-school excellence, temperament excellence, perfect at bridge, never exhausted, never alone, never lonely, never aloof, always clever. Nature enthusiast, calming effect on children.
-
Grandfather is accompanying Max to the sisters' house.
"Adam, well I..well I daresay I ought to thank you"
Adam is my grandfather. Darkened eyes, focus. Diamond-focus. Anger. Anger underneath the most delicate of facades.
-
This is the second visit. Following this visit, Maximilian will ask Ada's hand in marriage. These are the rules.
Yes, of course. Rules.
-
Grandfather hides a copy of Milton in his pocket.
-
Max hides a copy of his poem in his. Pocket.
-
Ava is brushing Ada's hair. Identical hands brushing identical hair. The mirror would melt and smile and die a happy death if it could. Such brilliance, such happiness.
-
Knock. Rap rap rap.
-
There's a silence that encompasses the roaring.
Ada's eyes on Adam. Adam's eyes on Ada. Adam's eyes on Ada with what feels like the force of a ton of bricks.
-
With trembling hands, Ava is pouring the tea.
-
With pristine politeness, the drawing room holds four capable individuals.
-
Ada becomes aware of her flaws. Ada, innocent angry Ada, realizes she is not prepared.
-
"Well of course, we were expecting you nearing four thirty and imagine our very surprise when the earlier bell rang!"
Ava is entertaining
Grandfather laughs and sizes her up. A toy, a piece of joy, a mermaid. Yes, a mermaid. She reminds him of a mermaid. He won't look at the other one. The other one who would fit into his body. Like a doll in a coffin.
All is lost, all is over.
Their death, her white veneer, his solid strength protecting her at least in death.
All is over, all is lost.
So, he laughs louder. He drinks more. Because he loves Max. Because his love for Max surpasses all.
-
Ada is swimming. Ada is swimming in Adam's mind the way she swam in Provence that short summer when the rains in London became the opportune excuse for her family to travel through southeast France.
Cote D'Azur. Toulon.
The Toulon nights with diamonds for stars and endless endless endless waves.
Waves that transported Ava. Waves that brought new pulses of life to her. Waves she needed for breath.
-
The visit over, Maximilian holds Ada's hand a little longer than deemed appropriate. On both accounts. On all accounts. Adam would hit him. Would kill him, then her, then himself.
-
Adam falls asleep on the journey home. Exhausted with the surprise, the heartbreak, the emotion left to grow unattended, all coming together and breaking over him.
He dreams the happiest dream.
There's a sunny field. With lavender. The sun shining and beating on the dirt, on the upturned roots, on the world. Two great birds materialize like fire, like flames. With steady eyes. Once angry eyes that are steadied. Once tortured, now calm.
And they are overwhelming, they are enormous. Opening their wings, they take flight and there is no dreamer in this dream, no protagonist, only a consciousness perceiving flight. And flight performed for the conscious. This beautiful understanding survives and reproduces. This moment in flight goes on forever.
Every grain of sand ..
"Adam, Adam mate.."
Hell. Hell, all gone to hell.
"Adam, I think tomorrow I will write her and arrange for a Saturday visit. D'you reckon, I mean to act forthwith..that she'll take to a Saturday visit? Morning?"
"Quite perfect, I'd say"
"Yes, it is perfect isn't it?... Mamma would suggest to me, but I dare not breathe a word to you, that perhaps you found Ava a grand investment? But of course, I wouldn't dream of such symmetry in love!" Max laughs. Sparkling. Max's happiness. A peaceful entity. A most comforting episode. Max's happiness. Such decency. Such honour. Oh, such...undisputed calm.
"Well I shall mull it over shan't I?"
Anger. A is for anger. A was always for anger.
-
Adam has requested an audience with Ava. She appears. She is wearing her revealing chiffon. She has found cherries and put them in crystal and laid them out on the table. She has opened pomegranates, has invited Ceres and Aphrodite to visit with them, has powdered her lovely nose, has extender her neck, has starved her body, has prepared.
Ava has prepared.
Adam, with cruelty, watches her lovely body and wants it. Oh, Adam will disappoint and sin and Adam will be sent away. Most unfair.
"I found the most exciting passage in Spenser"
"Oh you have, have you?"
She does not read. She shows him. Her finger, a most ridiculous orator, points and sits on the page. Dumb.
His Ladie seeing all, that chaunst, from farre
Approcht in hast to greet his victorie,
And said, Faire knight, borne vnder happy starre,
Who see your vanquisht foes before you lye:
Well worthy be you of that Armorie,
He would laugh of course. But rather, he'd sit. Sit and wait. Curious, he watches her face. Her synonymous face. Her strange face. Her stranger face. Her stranger's face. How similar, how unlike, how determined to disappoint.
Why so cruel?
The full lips and the fair, high forehead. The same eyes stare into his and there is only a discordant song. It sings of doom. It does not sing at all.
It does not sing.
"I must get going before I become ridiculous"
Rustle. Noise from upstairs. Perhaps Ada? Perhaps she has moved her body in space above him and he, through layers of wood and staircase [imported from a castle in Rhones], can receive the sound-waves. Perhaps this is as close as it can get for them. Reverberations in space, echoes clumsily bumping along until surely [ for fate has allowed] the message is received. Received and enjoyed.
And if Ada knew, well she would learn a new music, She would learn to speak with her heels, she would only dance above him when she knew he was there, she would leave traces of perfume in the hallway, she would touch his soul miles away. Ada would.
Ada. How perfectly she fits in Adam. How perfectly they fit no?
Empty, he returns to the world.
Emptying her tea-cup Ava appreciates her success. All perfect, all understood. How glad she is to be incorporated into the gleaming few. The blessed.
E-van-ge-line.
-
Upon exit, Adam waits for the carriage. He steals a glimpse at her window. The softest light on. The curtains flutter. Then darkness. Darkness. He smiles because she knows. She knows his position in space. Below her. The darkness she authors is the only acknowledgement she can afford.
Doomed? Because darkness has become the only way to celebrate a union?
No. Rejoice for the strength to author. For him and for her.
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