JadeTalisman

I was drawn to it the moment I saw it lying in the window of that dusty little shop. A cat fashioned from a shard of fine jade, its front paws stretched out and its back sensuously arched. Come on, you said, let’s have a look at it, no harm in looking. The moment it was placed in my hand, a small thrill ran through me as I sensed the love that had carved and shaped it, revelling in the leafy translucence of the material. Rubbing a finger across the curve of its back I marvelled at its cool beauty, its perfect, simple lines. You smiled, cupping my upturned palm in your own to view the treasure more closely. Our eyes met, and for a breathtaking moment time was suspended and our friendship revealed as what it really was. I saw every second we had spent together and heard every word we had exchanged with startling clarity. All falsehoods fell away.

The jade cat became at once a talisman; one that I did not want to relinquish for fear of breaking the sanctity of newly discovered truth. I leaned impulsively towards you and I will never forget the power of that first kiss. It sent shockwaves of honesty rippling through my body, and I felt the same response in you. The cat pressed itself into my palm and our love was sealed.

Victorian, the salesman told us, rather red faced and flustered by our public show. The Victorians were fond of cats; they represented harmonious domesticity and contentment. There was a kind of delicious irony in discovering the age of the cat. The good Queen would most definitely not have been amused by our relationship. I wouldn’t let the shopkeeper wrap it. That little cat had released us; how could I then bind it?

We made love for the first time that afternoon. The sun danced around the magnolia-washed walls of your apartment and the sound of traffic from the streets below floated like dust through the balcony doors, flung wide to greet the summer air.

It would be easy to say that everything was perfect from that moment on; easy, but not truthful. I wanted to believe that the little jade cat had cast a spell, that as long as it was in my possession nothing would change. We would go on forever in a state of heightened perception. You always said I was childlike in my naivety. Cats may have represented calm domesticity to the Victorians, but alas I was not made that way. I was volatile and impatient; conflicts inevitably rose between us. Like most couples we had our share of bad times, but we weathered them, with you calmly standing your ground while I raged and stormed. Our love held - more subdued, less intense, but constant beneath the surface. I knew I could always rely on you, even when I’d done something totally outrageous. The cat could not spin magic; of course I knew that, but I believe it bound us together somehow. When things became strained to breaking point and I feared that I had finally pushed you too far, I would hold it in the palm of my hand, willing it to give me the strength and courage to own and put right my mistakes. I can sense you smiling within yourself. I can hear your voice telling me that the strength came from my inner self and not from an inanimate object. Still, indulge me, my dear.

I was not always faithful to you, not even in the beginning, and not once the first flames of passion had cooled. I was too immature to see this diminution as a natural development in any relationship. I craved the heat and high excitement of initial attraction and sought shallow diversions, while knowing that I could not bear to lose the loving stability that you had brought to my life. You were my anchor. I never tried to conceal anything from you. Perhaps it was a way of testing your love for me? And I never lied, not from a desire to humiliate you or because I was insensitive to your feelings, but because I respected your intelligence. I knew that lies, even more than my selfish infidelities, would be intolerable to you. You never condemned; oh, you made known your disappointment, but you never condemned. You made me realise that I acted as I did because of a lack of confidence and belief in myself, the insecurities of my past shadowing my present. You know my mind almost as intimately as you know my body. You made me understand why I felt the need to continually test my sexual attraction, to court attention. And although you always forgave me, you tried to make me see that my actions damaged both of us. Consequences – all actions have consequences, you said, and the pains of one’s past were not to be used as an excuse for hurting others.

You too had a moment of confession, do you remember? Of course you do. Oh my love, I thought the world would end that day. I wanted it to end, demanded that it should end. A brief affair, you said, arms folded, daring me to interrupt, to make a scene. Of course I didn’t disappoint. Scenes were my speciality. You always said I could create a scene far better than Alfred Hitchcock. You halted my performance that day by forcibly turning me over your knee. I was so shocked; but it worked, you had my full attention and when the furore was over you calmly told me that it had been a brief experiment provoked by and following in the wake of some indiscretion of mine. You took hold of my hands, kneeling before me like a supplicant as I wept. Sex is not love, you said, and in asking me to accept this for you, you implicitly accepted it too. I could hardly deny the truth of that, although I wanted to. Tracing a finger down my tear-soaked face you softly said that what we felt for each other went far beyond the physical, and that was where real love lay. I think I finally grew up that day.

With your guidance I came to appreciate that the emotions and the intellect act independently. Understanding something at an intellectual level doesn’t necessarily negate the pain that is felt in the psyche. Such knowledge allowed me to finally grasp how deeply I hurt you with my foolish flirtations. Ashamed, I held my talisman and allowed it to transport me, back to that moment in the shop when you awakened me to who I really was … a far more precious gift than even my beloved jade cat.

The years passed, and age as well as your loving reassurance calmed me. I can sense you smiling again. Me grown wise – whoever would have thought it? There is nothing like the vicissitudes of age to tame desire. It becomes almost a sin to delight in sensuality once a certain age is reached. The truth is you love me as much as I love you and that’s all that matters. All else is water that has flowed to the sea. Why am I talking like this about things you already know? I suppose I need to talk if only to deter fear.

I have our pet with me, the jade cat, stretched in the palm of my hand. How can it be over thirty years since you first placed it there? When you first became ill, when the dread word was spoken, I did not pray. I lost that gift many years ago. I simply held this creature in my hand and willed it to make you well. It had awakened in us the realisation that our friendship was so much more; it would not allow us to be parted. It would work its magic and heal you and for a while it did, or so I believed. I know that to be false now, know that the cat has no power to cure you. I’m smiling now. Intellect and emotion are vying with each other. My mind is creating words that my heart refuses to accept. Deep down I still hope for magic to be wrought. ‘Alan, Alan,’ I can almost hear the amusement in your voice, the teasing note. I miss your teasing so much and your indulgence of my many foibles.

She always comes too soon, the nurse with her disapproving looks and busy youthfulness to hurry me away, to remind me that the bell has rung and visiting is over. If you and I were other than who we are and if we accommodated the rules of convention she would afford us more respect, more time together. But we have no marriage lines, no legal approval to make me acceptable after hours. Here she comes. I lift my coat from your bed to show I am obedient to Time’s call. Good night, David, I say, I love you. I’ll see you tomorrow and I promise to talk less if you promise to say at least one word, if only my name, to show that I still exist somewhere within your consciousness.

Well, I didn’t get to go home tonight after all. I had just reached the end of the corridor when the nurse called my name, telling me to hurry back, that you had asked for me. She was kind in the end. I misjudged her, deeming her uncertainty and inexperience to be indifference. Listen to me, it’s all over and still I’m talking. Forgive me. I’m not ready to let you go. Thank you for speaking my name and for telling me one last time that you loved me. Our final kiss, like our first, will remain with me forever.

Our friend, my feline fetish, is still here. Yes, part of me believed right up until the end that magic would prevail. I’m not bitter or disillusioned. You and I had thirty years together. I will go on, manage a life, though without you it will be a smaller life. I take comfort from my talisman. This little trinket will always be special to me. It has no intrinsic power. Its magic lies in the power of association. Whenever I look at it or hold it, you are with me. It holds memory, the home of immortality. As long as I live you will be a part of me. I hold you within my heart and mind, just as I hold our friend in the palm of my hand. My dear David, your essence will remain as tangible to me as fine green jade.