The Wall Crossers

December - Gentle in the Language of Stars

Leida's perspective

I am sitting in Café LebensArt (Way of Life) on Clayallee, in downtown Zehlendorf, and close to my home. I am waiting on Olivia to arrive—if she does arrive. There is a chance she will not show up to have this dinner with me. But if I believe in the paths of the stars, which I do, then she will be here!

I am sipping my bier and sitting at a table that is not my usual one. I do not want the same table to be a reminder of our last meeting here. I glance at my watch—6:50.

I feel nervous because—this is so surreal! How someone I met only once is to be, in the mind of my Hellseherin (Clairvoyant), and thus in my mind too, the center of my life as guided by the path of the stars. I guess you may say it is apparently a match made in Heaven!

Both Hellseherin Elisabeta and my editor, Karin, who introduced me to Frau Elisa, are ebullient in this, in spite of the inauspicious, even destructive, beginning that Olivia and I experienced together, last month. And I do trust them totally. And I do believe in the paths of the stars.

But, I do not know what I will do if this fails. What would that mean to me? To my life's pursuit of harmony with the ever-emerging world of my starry future? To the career options that this happenchance is now a key factor in?

I look down at my ring—on my left thumb now. I move it just so, and it catches the light, producing that beautiful star. This much is for certainty: I am prepared to take a very big risk tonight... on her.

I am watching every time the door to outside opens. But it is not her. So I look down at the menu for a moment, and suddenly, I look up... and she is there, just inside the door, at the host stand, and she is looking at me. It is a look that is empty of strong emotion, as of yet, but more a looking for reassurance that I am the one. We only met once, after all!

The host comes to her and she breaks away from her look at me to shake her head No and point to me. He takes her long coat, and I see: under the coat she is wearing what the mod fashionists call a Twiggy mini-dress. It is light green and very short and she has no shirt underneath, but instead a dark blue sweater covering the likely bare shoulders and arms, given the type of dress, and is wearing leggings that are mod and of many colors with glitter embedded to scatter light like sparks and to draw attention to the long slender legs, which gives me a sudden jolt of memory of that night and my bare smooth legs wrapped around hers in an agony of passion, and gives me a stir that distracts my thinking from my purpose to a lesser though powerful want.

As she stands looking at me, I see her shortish hair pulled back with a tiny clasp and her eyes have very heavy make-up on, red lipstick just a shade toward dark, red nails, and a small silver chain looping just above the unusually low-cut neck for a Twiggy and above her breasts, which show a bit larger than mine... but I know the tactile memory truth in my lips of this, and I get that stir again from that night.

She wears black 3-in heeled Oxfords, I think. And a small black clutch on a shoulder string.

She brings no gift, and why should I be surprised at this? I myself have a very great gift to give—she cannot imagine this at all, unless... unless the stars are telling her. But then... she is the gift for me, and just does not know this yet. Of course... there is one more test that must be done. Yes, just this one more.

I am remembering she did not have so much makeup on last time and why now? Then realize I should stand so to be inviting, which I do, making her smile—both in her eyes and mouth. I see the green hint of her eyes as I stand and I admit—it does pierce my heart, and so the channel of the stars is open. I return her smile.

Olivia's perspective

As I walk up to the door of Café LebensArt, I pause to look at my reflection in the glass. Though it is quite dark, the neon light of the café lets me see someone who stands with uncertainty... about this meeting—it's purpose and possible outcome. I would never have imagined I would be meeting ever again with Leida—after that first, and last, time. Plus, I did not divulge this dinner meeting to Anja. She was tired today... out of sorts. So we just did not make any plans to meet tonight. We probably will be together tomorrow, Saturday. If Anja knew about this liaison, that would be the end of us. But really, Why? We are very close friends, but not committed. Not really. Not to each other.