thought I would die of heart failure. Was I too late? It had to be past noon by now. When I arrived at Beethoven’s flat, I pounded on the front door.
“Herr Beethoven,” I cried. “Herr Beethoven.”
There was no answer.
“Ludwig!”
A servant cracked open the door. “ Ja?”
“Is Herr Beethoven here?” I gasped, still short of breath.
“ Nein, Fraulein. He had to depart earlier than expected, just a few moments ago. He left you this letter.” The servant thrust an envelope into my hand.
I turned, caught a glimpse of Beethoven’s carriage rounding a corner two hundred meters in the opposite direction of where I had come. I saw, through the trees, the horse’s head bobbing as it pulled the carriage along another switchback. Frantic, I dashed into the woods and cut down the slope. I emerged on the path’s fringe, only a moment behind the carriage.
I shouted at the back window. “Ludwig, Ludwig! Please stop. I love you. Yes. Yes, I want to marry you … Stop, please …”
His head was down, possibly looking over a music composition. He never lifted or turned that handsome brow my direction. He could not hear me!
I tried to keep pace, screaming as loud as my lungs could manage over the thundering hooves, yet to no avail. Dust swirled around me. Dirty, wet, and despondent, I watched the carriage crest a small rise and disappear.
“Ludwig …”
I plopped myself on a roadside log, sweating, mopping my forehead with my sleeve. Defeated, I sobbed in frustration. My fingers curled around the letter still in my hand. When my crying stopped, I tore open the envelope and read:
Dearest Love of My Life,
I waited for you until twelve, and realized you would not be coming.
How will I live? How do I go on? This I do not know. You are my all, my everything, and the light you brought to my world has now left only darkness. I will love only you, though we will never live together as we dreamed.
As I write these words, your touch stays with me on my skin, but I know I will never feel it again. My beautiful and brilliant lover, the smell of you still lingers and keeps you as close to me as breath.
I hope you will be happy in the life you have chosen. I will try and be happy for you. Please remember me, my life, my all. Be well.
Love now and forever,
L. V. B.
In the bottom of the envelope, wrapped in plain white tissue, the glittering surface of the canary diamond ring brushed my fingertips. My thoughts spun, sucking me down into darkness …
***
I awoke in my New York City apartment, in the present once more. The ring was gone. I was no longer in the chair where I had been listening to Beethoven’s music, but on the bench at my upright piano. I gripped the seat, fighting dizziness and confusion.
Not again. Not again. Why had I been ripped away from love once more?
On the piano’s music stand, a handwritten sheet of notes and stanzas caught my attention. I recognized the composition’s unique flair, and my mouth fell open. For God’s sake, I never had bought any classical music since I was ten years old. I could not believe my eyes. This was titled, “Concerto in C Minor.”
My hands flipped through the pages, and there, in barely legible writing at the bottom of the last sheet, I found these words:
For Ariel, My Immortal Beloved,
Ever mine, ever thine …
Love,
L. V. B.
Journal Entry
It has been some time now since I left Ludwig behind, and returned to the present. Today, I’ve had an epiphany. I think I’m in love with my shrink.
Yes. There. I’ve said it. I’ve known this was coming for some time now. Tonight, along with a cold rain, I am falling … falling. There is a longing that gnaws away at my insides the way that a dog gnaws away at a bone. I am in pain. Serious pain. I have not been able to wrench him, whom I’ll call Mr. Perfect, from my mind. In my mind, he is perfect. After all, here is a man who is totally there for me and
“Herr Beethoven,” I cried. “Herr Beethoven.”
There was no answer.
“Ludwig!”
A servant cracked open the door. “ Ja?”
“Is Herr Beethoven here?” I gasped, still short of breath.
“ Nein, Fraulein. He had to depart earlier than expected, just a few moments ago. He left you this letter.” The servant thrust an envelope into my hand.
I turned, caught a glimpse of Beethoven’s carriage rounding a corner two hundred meters in the opposite direction of where I had come. I saw, through the trees, the horse’s head bobbing as it pulled the carriage along another switchback. Frantic, I dashed into the woods and cut down the slope. I emerged on the path’s fringe, only a moment behind the carriage.
I shouted at the back window. “Ludwig, Ludwig! Please stop. I love you. Yes. Yes, I want to marry you … Stop, please …”
His head was down, possibly looking over a music composition. He never lifted or turned that handsome brow my direction. He could not hear me!
I tried to keep pace, screaming as loud as my lungs could manage over the thundering hooves, yet to no avail. Dust swirled around me. Dirty, wet, and despondent, I watched the carriage crest a small rise and disappear.
“Ludwig …”
I plopped myself on a roadside log, sweating, mopping my forehead with my sleeve. Defeated, I sobbed in frustration. My fingers curled around the letter still in my hand. When my crying stopped, I tore open the envelope and read:
Dearest Love of My Life,
I waited for you until twelve, and realized you would not be coming.
How will I live? How do I go on? This I do not know. You are my all, my everything, and the light you brought to my world has now left only darkness. I will love only you, though we will never live together as we dreamed.
As I write these words, your touch stays with me on my skin, but I know I will never feel it again. My beautiful and brilliant lover, the smell of you still lingers and keeps you as close to me as breath.
I hope you will be happy in the life you have chosen. I will try and be happy for you. Please remember me, my life, my all. Be well.
Love now and forever,
L. V. B.
In the bottom of the envelope, wrapped in plain white tissue, the glittering surface of the canary diamond ring brushed my fingertips. My thoughts spun, sucking me down into darkness …
***
I awoke in my New York City apartment, in the present once more. The ring was gone. I was no longer in the chair where I had been listening to Beethoven’s music, but on the bench at my upright piano. I gripped the seat, fighting dizziness and confusion.
Not again. Not again. Why had I been ripped away from love once more?
On the piano’s music stand, a handwritten sheet of notes and stanzas caught my attention. I recognized the composition’s unique flair, and my mouth fell open. For God’s sake, I never had bought any classical music since I was ten years old. I could not believe my eyes. This was titled, “Concerto in C Minor.”
My hands flipped through the pages, and there, in barely legible writing at the bottom of the last sheet, I found these words:
For Ariel, My Immortal Beloved,
Ever mine, ever thine …
Love,
L. V. B.
Journal Entry
It has been some time now since I left Ludwig behind, and returned to the present. Today, I’ve had an epiphany. I think I’m in love with my shrink.
Yes. There. I’ve said it. I’ve known this was coming for some time now. Tonight, along with a cold rain, I am falling … falling. There is a longing that gnaws away at my insides the way that a dog gnaws away at a bone. I am in pain. Serious pain. I have not been able to wrench him, whom I’ll call Mr. Perfect, from my mind. In my mind, he is perfect. After all, here is a man who is totally there for me and
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