The Vampire of the Heart Part One: "Jasmine"

It is difficult to sit down and try to reconcile these memories with what makes sense. With what one might expect people to do. With what you might believe. But this is how it really started. I was stationed in the military, in Spain, and I met a girl. As it turned out, she was a married girl. When I found out that she was married, I was so torn between love for her and determination to not ruin a marriage that I neglected my duty. Plain and simple. Marlene.


I was ashamed. Not ashamed that I loved her. She was a good girl to love. I wasn't even ashamed that she was married. She didn't wear her ring because…. the reason was lost in the pain of knowing that I loved a married woman. I wanted her, loved her…. needed her… and couldn't have her. It tore me apart. I didn't want to eat or sleep or do my work. And that had been the end of my Air Force career. I left her alone. I didn't pursue her. I didn't try to sleep with her. No, I did okay there. What shamed me was that I couldn't handle it. I loved her so much, and was so in love… and I couldn't have her.

But that is past now. I was a civilian. The uncomfortable silence from family who don't know what happened, and had the grace to not ask... that has faded. And when I thought I was past Her, and I could pretend that I hadn't wasted almost ten years of my life- she called.

It was a quiet Sunday morning, and I had breakfast and a newspaper and nothing else. The phone rang, and I was annoyed because someone was bothering me on a Sunday.

A voice from the past. "Kesla. Kesla... we've moved to Illinois." I honestly do not remember the entire conversation. I knew that she was still with Daniel. I thought, behind the excitement... why is she calling me? I don't need to see her with Daniel. I mean, that almost killed me once. Why oh why would I want to go under that knife again?

"Just come out for a week."

What I found was… not entirely unexpected. Daniel was away. Out of town. Marlene was convinced that he was straying. So I stayed with her, in a small house on the outskirts of Rantoul. She never made any advances on me. She never hinted that she was interested in straying herself, and I would not have had anything to do with that anyway. It would be just as wrong as it would have been in Spain.

But there was her perfume.

I don't know precisely what it was called. Jasmine… something. In truth, the name was not important. But it was her. It smelled like her. And on those few occasions that had her out of the house, and I was left to my own devices, I felt an irresistible compulsion to go to her vanity and smell the perfume. I felt guilty doing it. I felt like a voyeur doing it. I felt dirty. But the Jasmine smelled of love and life and pretty feminine things … and it smelled like her. And when time finally ran out on the little week away from reality, I could still smell the Jasmine. It was in her jacket... and in her hair.

So when she took me to Rantoul's small airport, she wore the Jasmine, because I had told her what it did to me. We took time for coffee and sweet rolls before my flight. "I love you...", I said. Now I look back at the words with almost hatred. "I have never felt like this…"

She was small and pretty and powerful, and I had spent so much time wanting her that I sometimes felt as if there never had been a life when I didn't want her. Sitting here in the airport waiting for the flight back to California, it was possible to pretend that a string of disasters had not preceded this lovely spring day.

I could forget meeting Marlene in Spain. I might even forget falling in love with her. Then she smiled that smile, as the small airport in Rantoul started to wake up with arriving families, and opening shops, and flight announcements. That smile that had torn my heart in two when I found out that she was married. And as she left, I saw her go back to the little red car that she had always driven too quickly, with Tom Petty always playing far too loudly. She yelled out across the tarmac. "I love you!"

I felt something then. A twinge. Something was not right. I was not meant to leave women at airports as they shouted their love for me. I felt, in fact, self-conscious. I didn't feel right… but I had to answer her. "I love you too!" And I felt foolish. But the Jasmine that I now smelled on my jacket clouded all of that, and doomed me to my fate.



Six months later, and another Sunday. Another phone call. Daniel was gone. Gone. And she was there. Alone. Single. It seemed like a good idea. It really did. I loved her. I remember thinking that I didn't even need to hope. because I had her. I had done my share of hoping and wanting. I could be one of the people who had someone that they could love, and that loved them back. I thought it was okay. I really did. So I took the plunge. I packed everything into that Trans Am and drove two thousand miles to be with her.






To Be Continued...