of naked acceptance of the truth.
—Ellyn Stern
Cellar Stairs
After my fall on the wine cellar stairs, I’m laid up for a week with a sprained ankle, but Felicity arrives every day to nurse me like an angel on assignment.
I have to admit I’m enjoying wearing bedroom slippers and spending romantic afternoons with my lovely enchantress.
But I also realize with a wistful sadness that I’ll soon be healed enough to get around my apartment without a cane or any other apparatus—and that includes leaning on Felicity to steady my balance or help me pass the long hours.
One day Ange drops by to check on me and asks, “Why can I never meet your mystery woman, Paul?”
I shrug, offering empty palms. “It’s the damndest thing, Ange. Sometimes, you just miss her by moments. Tell you what—let know me next time you’re coming and I’ll make sure she stays.”
But it continues that way the rest of the week, with Felicity spending the days with me and just missing Ange when she arrives.
“Damn rotten luck,” I explain.
Ange, however, seems to take it personally, her mood darkening each time.
Finally, on a Friday afternoon she confronts me.
“Look, Paul—I’ve been worried about you for some time.”
“Why on earth would you be worried about me Ange? I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not. Adolph is worried too.”
‘What’s going on, Ange? You’re treating me as if I’m sick or something.”
“I’m beginning to think you are, Paul.”
I feel my body go cold and limbs tingle. The room suddenly seems brighter. I fight the panicky feeling rising inside me.
“What are you talking about, Ange? You’re not making any sense.”
She looks me dead in the eye. “There’s no Felicity, Paul—nobody of that name or description works at the restaurant.”
“Don’t be silly, I protest. “We work together all the time. She helps out periodically—everybody’s seen her.”
“No, Paul,” she whispers, “that’s the problem—only you have seen her. I think you’ve made her up in your mind.”
“That’s insane—why on earth would I do that? Do you think I’m crazy, or something?”
“We think—I mean, Adolph and I think, you need to take some time off, and see someone.”
I’m in shock—totally flabbergasted. I don’t know how to reply.
Ange is being gentle and kind—a bit too kind. I feel patronized. She’s treating me the way people treat delusional people.
I feel myself getting angry, but don’t care. This is insane—an insult to me.
“I’m going to have to ask you to leave, Ange. I may not be able to get around very well just now, but when I do—I’ll prove to you—both you and Adolph that Felicity’s real. Hell, she’s not some figment of my imagination, Ange. She’s real.”
After Ange leaves and I calm down, I begin to experience the first niggling of doubt.
I have to admit the coincidences are piling up and straining credulity. Then, there’s the accident—the ghostly arm appearing out of nowhere, pushing me back.
A sense of horror rises inside me.
I realize Felicity never was real—she was a fiction of my loneliness and need.
There was no arm. I fell and struck my head and this entire relationship with Felicity was all a grand illusion.
I feel sick and can’t stop trembling.
Over the next few days I gradually piece together what has happened to me.
Every time I felt abandoned and alone I fantasized Felicity—she was a combination of all the attractive and caring women I had known in my life.
I feel embarrassed to admit that somewhere the line was crossed between illusion and reality and I convinced myself she was real.
It seems so childish— like a child making up an imaginary friend, but sometimes isolation can play tricks with your mind.
Once I accepted what happened my recovery was rapid but I still needed therapy and time to put my life back into shape.
Thankfully, Ange forgave me for doubting her and strangely the whole sad affair had a positive outcome—it brought us both closer together.
We’re actually dating now and sometimes I see her sneaking a glance at six-year old Hope and she seems lost in thought.
Is she contemplating a future marriage with me, complete with a little girl of our own? I can only hope so, I muse.
All in all, it's finally clear to me.
Felicity was a lovely dream, but Ange is my life and my future…
It's amazing what loneliness can do—I ended up creating an alternate reality—one that made me feel comforted and loved.
But as comforting as the dream was, I needed to shipwreck that fantasy so I could embrace the real woman Fate had planned for me.
And who knows, maybe Ange and I will have our own little Hope—a beautiful child all of our own.
Perhaps, my fantasy with Felicity wasn't totally in vain, but marked a turning point in my life.