Page 82 of Chasing Eternity
What we do now, echoes in eternity. - Marcus Aurelius
I interpret it to mean the final phase of this game has now started.
By the time the notification arrives, informing me that I’ve been summoned to Trip, I’ve been prepared for what feels like a lifetime.
When the knock sounds at my door, signaling the arrival of my escort, I call out, “Just a minute!” wanting to savor a few final moments in this small, luxurious space that’s served as my home.
It was here by the hearth where Braxton gave me my talisman.
It was there in that bed where we shared so many intimate moments.
On those walls is the art I was rewarded with for bringing Arthur his Gets—pieces likeVanitas,The Persistence of Memory, and, most recently,Judith Slaying Holofernes.
The knock sounds again, but I choose to ignore it, drawn instead to the window for a final gaze upon the tarot garden below.
I press my hands to the chilled glass, trying to summon the vision of the labyrinth and the girl in the red cape who looked so much like me. But once again, the image eludes me.
Instead, my eyes linger on the deliberate placement ofThe Magician,The High Priestess,andThe Wheel of Fortunestatues, the three intertwined by the sinuous form of a serpent, a symbol of their eternal connection.
When another knock sounds, this one sharper, insistent, I turn away from the window and stride toward the door, ready to embrace my destiny with open arms and a determined heart.
Navigating a maze of corridors and passing through multiple security checkpoints, where we present our slabs and prove our identities, we finally reach the top-secret command center. It looks like it’s been yanked from the faraway future and plopped down on this rock of an island.
Standing here now, I have the same feeling I did on my very first Trip—a tangled knot of anticipation roiling in my belly, growing larger by the minute.
Unlike that first time, today the pressure is immense. As my eyes settle on Arthur—the man who’s orchestrated my life for longer than I can probably imagine—my heart stalls in my chest.
No longer wearing the Roman emperor armor of last night, today marks the first time I’ve ever seen him opting for a crisp white shirt and blazer over his usual cashmere sweater.
Arthur is dressed to reunite with his long-lost love.
And I’m here to make sure that he doesn’t.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, giving me a thorough once-over. “You left quite early last night. Everything all right?”
Knowing honesty is always best, I say, “I had a feeling I’d be Tripping today, and I wanted to be well rested and ready. I know how much you have riding on this.”
He surveys me with those scrutinizing obsidian eyes, not missing a thing. Once again, I wonder if he knows that Braxton and I witnessed his ritual of grief. But I quickly dismiss the thought, convinced his sorrow rendered him oblivious to everything else.
“Can you locate it?” he asks, his tone uncharacteristically hopeful.
“I’m confident I can,” I assure him. “No need to worry.”
“In that case,” he says, his voice brisk and authoritative once more, “head over to makeup and wardrobe. Charlotte’s waiting for you.”
As I make my way to see Charlotte, I cross paths with Keane. Knowing it’s not safe to ask, I shoot him an inquiring look. He answers with a reassuring nod that instantly fills me with relief. Then he discreetly hands me the key to my dad’s New York apartment, now programmed to serve as a clicker.
Everything is unfolding according to plan. Mason, Oliver, and Finn have departed, and Braxton’s journey has begun. Now I’m the final piece awaiting my turn.
Charlotte greets me with a wide grin. As I take in the warmth of her gaze and her flushed cheeks, I realize how much I’m going to miss her, and it’s all I can do to fight back the tears.
Noticing the way I dab at my eyes, she says, “You are feeling all right?”
I manage a nod, fighting to regain my composure, and ease into the familiar routine of preparing for a Trip. My face is lightly powdered, my lips and cheeks tinted with rouge, and my hair is arranged in soft, face-framing curls, while the rest is swept up into an intricate bun at the back that’s meticulously adorned with a scattering of pearls.
When Charlotte unexpectedly adds a dusting of gold powder as a finishing touch, I’m surprised to find that, in a certain light, I look almost blond.
“And the dress?” I say, eager to see it. Despite the weight of the challenges ahead, it’s hard not to get at least a little caught up in this elaborate game of dress-up.