Chapter One – The Beauty of Life

In the meantime, Vincent Lavender was preparing himself for another sort of climax. Sitting back tiredly in his withered divan, he listened with peaceful delight to the music that was playing in the other room.

"Mozart's 41st," he whispered. "What a beautiful prelude to Death." His features, though handsome once, had been too wearied by agony and experience to be called anything more than grisly. For someone about to put an end to himself, he looked uncommonly calm. Considering what he was going to do, he even looked a little happy.

He continued like this for some two minutes. The music scaled upwards and down, inspiring Vincent's long-sought satisfaction, but was suddenly interrupted by an unfamiliar racket that pervaded even the deepest regions of his forlorn villa. For a moment he resolved to get up and investigate the cause of such a disturbance; when it ended after some seconds, he forgot all about it and listened to the rest of the composition with his eyes closed. After the last note had faded, he opened his eyes, and they fell on the most beautiful woman he had seen in at least ten years, or as far back as he could remember for that matter. She was in complete contrast to the melancholy darkness of the room surrounding her.

"Mr. Lavender?" she asked him.

"That's my name."

"So you can remember that, at least. I heard your memory had been severely damaged."

Vincent narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "My memory's fine," he grumbled. "People say the nastiest things about you once you cease to care."

She nodded slightly. "I can tell that public opinion is not the only thing you've ceased to care about." She looked around. Old records lay strewn across the carpet, dust had settled in every corner of every nook. Behind her, red curtains barred most sunlight from entering the house at all. The landlord looked even more depressed.

"Who are you, anyway?" he inquired. "I was listening to the Jupiter! How dare you disturb the maestro's final symphony with something as vulgar as begging for entrance to a dead man's mansion!"

"The door was open," replied the girl coldly. "And you are hardly dead, sir. Anyway, you can call me June Evadne, if you want. I am here to…"

"If you are not here to kill me, I have no use for you!" bellowed the old man. "If you have not come to put an end to my miserable life, you might as well leave, or I will make you!" She stared at him in astonishment. "Well, silly girl," he continued. "What's it going to be?"

"Perhaps I am here to kill you, Mr. Lavender," she stated harshly. "Perhaps that is the only thing I can do to help you in your present state. Or perhaps you are too ignorant to see that you can be saved. Or could it be that you want someone to feel sorry for you, sir?"

He sniggered malignantly at this notion. "Do you know, perchance, what I was planning on doing after that music had ended to enchant me?" He waved his hand rhetorically. "Of course you do! I have suffered too much until today to want to see another tomorrow. After the 41st had stopped its spell, I would have stabbed myself in the chest with that knife over there." He pointed at a far off table. "Now explain to me what it is that you want from me!"

June balanced herself, motionless, peering down at the lamentable old hag. His hair was still dark, but gray slits were starting to appear here and there. Wrinkles and frown told her he was tired of his life, though he looked at worst no more than fifty. His clothes were elegant once, but had been left in an obvious state of disrepair for too long to look as if they belonged to someone wealthier than a vagrant. She took pity on him as she answered his questions. "At first, I came here out of selfish reason," she whispered carefully. "But now, I see that you need me more than I need you. Let me help you, Mr. Lavender."

Her kindness bore no fruition. "What are you, an angel?" he asked.

"Maybe."

"I think that you're after my money. Please do not deny it."

"Do I look poor?"

He looked at her seriously for the first time. She was definitely exquisite in appearance. Dark blond hair, dark blue eyes, a long, lean stature. Though unquestionably attractive, she seemed also to possess a rich character, and resourceful intelligence. She really did seem an angel to a man who had not seen a young woman in many years. "You appear wealthy, I admit," Vincent muttered. "But you also seem too smart to come here looking shabby. What is your story?"

"I want you to allow me to help you."

He frowned at her in irritated wonder. "Do you know who I am?" he asked.

"Why don't you tell me?"

"I can't…"

"Because the rumors are true?" she proposed. "Because you don't remember?"

"Because I don't want to remember…"

She walked to the window and opened the curtains. "Don't you see?" she asked him. "Don't you appreciate what life has to offer. Can't you appreciate the beauty of life?"

"The beauty of life is that it has to end," he replied. "I can appreciate that."

She seemed privately hurt. "What… what can I do that will allow you to accept me, sir?" she stammered. "What can I do to give your life meaning?"

But the master of the house was resolute. "All you can do is kill me, or leave."

June seemed to show a tear, but even she did not know if she cared for him that much. She took a small card out of her purse, and set it down on Vincent's lap. "If you want me to come back, just call that number," she said. "Until then, I hope you will take good care of yourself."

"You have no reason to give me that card," he grumbled.

June, who was walking away from him, edging closer to the door that would lead her away from the wretch, suddenly halted. "And why is that?" she inquired. "Because you'll kill yourself anyway, the moment I leave you?"

"Partly…" She looked at him with uncertainty. He cast the card aside. "But mostly because I can't read print this small anymore. My eyes have suffered too much indignity."

The girl approached him gradually. "You mean you're… blind?"

"Just a little," he answered. "I just can't read too well anymore, that's all. Now get the hell out of here!"

Hesitating not a second longer, she ran out of the mansion, and back into the forest.