In Another Life
by A. Leigh Corbett
First eyes almost meet—she, a chambermaid to the princess, he—betrothed to the princess; there’s no room to talk or space to walk near or make herself known, but he sees her and she sees him. Intoxicated by lust—frozen in an expired instance they can’t leave—can’t stay. It’s inevitable.
As if each were a magnet drawn to its opposing polarity, glances shift towards equilibrium—their first tangible connection. She knows to look away, she was taught to look away, but she couldn’t—not while he stared intently. He opened his mouth to speak but the princess rounded the corner to the hall; the chambermaid darted away.
He marries the princess—they smile and laugh together, flaunting their love for the kingdom to see, but inside is nothing—unfulfilled and devoid of true happiness until the day he dies. Maybe things would be different if fate hadn’t intervened, but fate had to intervene. Some things are just meant to be—others are not. The chambermaid dies of a cold shortly after the wedding. A more concerned doctor might determine it wasn’t a cold at all—but a broken heart.
***
First eyes meet—a wealthy-looking girl wearing a white charlotte dress enters the breezeway and steps into a dressing room adjacent to the stall—she’s stunning, immaculate; he just stares at her with innocent doe eyes. He’s grungy and dirt-covered poor. Aligned beneath vaulted ceilings and chandeliers, their lives cross.
Clearly in his teenage years, the boy stands attentively next to a young sport horse tacked and ready for a ride—his first job since moving to America. The girl steps out of the dressing room; she’s wearing riding breeches now and moves towards her mount as she sets the dress down on a nearby chair carelessly. Placing her hand on the gelding’s nose, she pulls him towards her and kisses him. The boy says nothing. When she looks up, he catches a glimpse of her candid smile—embarrassed, she turns away whispering something to her horse; she kisses his nose once more.
Finally, their eyes meet again—universal pause, stillness—then everything fast-forwards up to pace—the girl swiftly unlatches the horse from the crossties and walks him over to the mounting block. She moves up the four steps and places her left foot into the stirrup then swings her right leg over the saddle, sitting down on the horse’s back as if the saddle was made of glass. She looks over her shoulder at the boy once more before squeezing her mount forward—he’s still staring. Sitting the trot for a few steps, she picks up a canter and moves gracefully down the long dirt driveway and away from the estate. Nothing in sight but a tree tunneled road and path leading her to an alternate ending.