Nymphaea

Chapter 13: Maturation

There were two things in Stephen’s life: Lissy (as he resumed calling her in Paul and Anne’s fashion) and his career. Period.

After a small low point with a few early tournament dropouts due to the increased amount of obligations Stephen had to take care of, he rejoined with the old trainer he had had in his teen years. Having formerly parted with him because of his hard exercising schedule that hadn’t allowed Stephen any spare time, he now rehired him exactly because of those methods. By the end of the next season he had won the title of World Champion for the fifth time in six years. After being beaten on the final black in the following season, he managed to regain the trophy the year after.

At the age of twenty-seven, he was offered a partnership in the management company he had been client of ever since his career had started and that had grown successful alongside him. Stephen accepted the offer gladly, considering it to be a good investment and also a good perspective for future years when his body would age and keep him from playing as well as he did presently.

Lissy on the other hand was an easy-going child. A perfect angel. The two of them inhabited a few rooms in the upper storey of the house they shared with Paul and Anne that were accessible via a separate entrance. It was a perfect little apartment with a spacious bathroom, a small kitchen, a nice room for Lissy, a living room and of course a bedroom for Stephen. There was a balcony attached to the living room that had a view to the left side of the estate were Anne had planted a few rose bushes.

Anne of course had also exceeded in equipping the perfect room for Lissy. After carrying twins and the preterm delivery, the doctors had advised her not to risk another pregnancy. Therefore Lissy was the closest she would get to having a daughter and she did whatever entered her mind to make the little girl happy. Accordingly, the room was stuffed with kitschy, girly things. Stephen was glad that Anne at least had chosen the theme of butterflies rather than creating something like a princess room. It turned out quite beautifully.

Although the apartment would have given them the freedom to live independently, the daily life of Stephen and Melissa was intimately connected with the life of the McCourt family. The day started of with an early shared breakfast, proceeded by the men going to their training while Anne did the housework and looked after the children, went on with one of the men relieving Anne so she could go to work for four to five hours in the afternoon and often ended with a mutual dinner. Of course, the many travels of snooker players disrupted that routine continuously. In such cases a day mother looked after the children while Anne was at work.

But the after dinner time was Stephen’s and Lissy’s alone. He would regularly read stories to her and she would be an intent listener. Moreover, Lissy was highly empathetic. Tiny being that she was she sensed when daddy was in a particularly downhearted mood. She sometimes would crawl into his bed and hug him tightly, not saying a word, just because she had seen that sad glimmer in her father’s eyes when he had kissed her goodnight.

Nonetheless, Stephen tried to give her a happy childhood. He hid his loneliness as well as he could. As there was not a single person crossing his way that caught his attention, he pretended that he was simply not interested in a relationship, that Lissy was the only person he needed in his life.

*

Paul had ceased asking him about his love life after his first attempts had failed. But Anne would bring up the subject every now and then. As she was unaware of Stephen’s affinity and the fact that he had had a relationship after the break-up with Julie, she indeed clung to the surmise that somewhere deep inside he was still mourning for the mother of his child. Paul gave Stephen regularly amused looks when Anne would come up with the topic again. It grew sort of a running gag between the men.

You say nobody can just switch his need for a companion or at least for a person to share bed with off? –Neither could Stephen. But whenever he woke aroused, Ayve’s face would be the one to float before his inner eye, the only leftover of an already forgotten dream. At first Stephen tried to pretend he was glad not to remember. That the memory of Ayve was not going to gain any power over him. He’d ignore his physical indisposition, taking a cold shower. Stephen set up a pc in his bedroom and tried to distract himself with that certain kind of images adults like to look at. But the dreams would continue.

Finally, he gave in. One hand moving over his thighs and closing around his erect sex, the other imitating the way Ayve would have touched his cheek, his lips, his neck, his chest. Stephen imagined to be kissed by Ayve, to feel Ayve’s smooth hair fall onto his skin and into his face. He pictured Ayve licking his nipples, his navel, massaging his thighs and letting his tongue play with the tip of Stephen’s cock. And when Stephen had finally finished off, he turned to the side, pulled the cover over his head and shed a few tears in silence.

*

After two years, Stephen was heavily courted by a female student who looked after the children sometimes. She flirted with him whenever Anne wasn’t around and invited him to go to the movies. As she was a pretty nice being – mixed-race with dark skin and nice features, open-hearted, intelligent – he played along for a while, enjoying the attention, feeling his self conscience grow. But after tasting their first kiss he knew this wasn’t going to work. He told her so.

And that season turned out a mess as well. Stephen finally started carrying his private problems into matches, lacking confidence at the table when he needed it the most. The previously lost World Championship Final wasn’t making things any better. That was nothing new: such a close miss often resulted in players fighting to regain their drive. But Stephen felt his time was over. His goal was to win the World Championship one more time and that would be it.

Distracted as he was sometimes during matches – and that alone was saying a lot as he was known to be the one player that never lost his concentration – Stephen found himself staring into the audience at times, searching for someone because he felt strangely observed. As if a few hundred people watching his game was not enough reason to feel observed. And yet: Stephen had this strange notion that there was someone special watching him, feeling familiar and being filled with a unique mixture of emotions that were so strong that Stephen could feel them. He probably just turned mad.

Of course the press went rampant when Stephen announced that he would not enrol in the tournaments of the next season but planed to start studying and engaging more in his management firm in his interview after the World Championship. He was twenty-eight by then. Other people’s snooker careers were barely starting at such an age; Stephen could effortlessly go on playing snooker for another decade! And even now that he was so close to breaking all records concerning the numbers of tournament wins! How could such a gifted player stop at such a point in his career?

Stephen had known why he had kept that decision secret up to the last minute. He hadn’t told his coach or his manager about it. In fact he hadn’t even told Paul. This was his decision. And not a single one of the dozens of people who stormed at him, demanding an explanation, could change his opinion or shake his determination. Stephen had had a great time doing what he did but lately the whole routine of practice, tournaments, exhibitions and travels had tired him. He found no fulfilment in snooker anymore. His life seemed empty and he longed to do something new.

Art was still something that spoke to his heart and so he had restarted fondling with the idea of studying its history (as he knew his own artistic efforts were not good enough). The University of Edinburgh was renowned for its arts department and offered several combinations of studying the history of arts with foreign languages or other subjects. Stephen could have combined his arts studies with increasing his knowledge about English literature or the history of music or he could have chosen Chinese studies as a second subject. Having earned enough money, Stephen could pick whatever he liked, he did not have to worry how he would do or which education was likely to get him a job later. In the end, he decided on history. Undoubtedly that was influenced by his experiences with Ayve. His curiosity rooted in that time. To think that there were beings that had lived at times that even his future professors would hardly be able to tell him about…

Another reason for Stephen to quit his career was the fact that he wanted to spend more time with his daughter. He wanted to fetch Lissy from Kindergarten, he wanted to go on trips with her – he just wanted to see his child grow up. Every time he had left for another business appointment he had been sorry to leave his princess behind, indeed been sorry to leave the regular life he led back home.

*

He advanced fast in his studies, receiving good results and earning the respect of his tutors. Of course, he was eyed a bit because of his popularity and the money he had on his bank account but being the down to earth kind of guy, Stephen had no problems with finding a few new acquaintances to share his lectures and seminars with.

Stephen soon gained a positive feeling for his life. This felt so much better than the former three years. Snooker had been about ever changing locations and people, travelling and staying in hotel rooms. Now he could enjoy the beautiful home he had and find new friends, people he could rely on, relate to. And studying was about letting his mind wander freely. He supposed that Ayve had been right: his mind sought for more space than snooker had given him.
Snooker wasn’t exactly the social kind of sport. The time Stephen had formerly spent alone in the training room he spent now going to exhibitions, meeting with fellow students and such things. Of course studying also meant researching and swotting but even that was much more fun as it meant enriching his imagination with historical facts.

Talking about Ayve: Stephen was at least able to put the thoughts of him aside. He had one or two one night stands (with ladies) after drinking one beer too many in a pub but it never meant anything to him. He just wondered how gay people managed to get themselves a boyfriend. As he refused to go to gay clubs, he hardly ever met any queers. And the few that crossed his way were far from interesting to him. (Let’s put it plain although Stephen didn’t muse about such things: who could keep up with a damn good looking immortal that was both sophisticated and mysterious? After all: people were usually just human, with all the little mistakes and imperfections that go along with that.)

*

By the age of thirty-one Stephen had graduated. While Lissy attended her first year in school, he had a placement to gain some practical experience.

Paul gave him a wide grin when he read the contract that set the small compensation Stephen received for his work. But at heart he approved of Stephen’s new approach in life. Simply because he liked art himself. And of course also because he saw that Stephen’s mood had been uplifted perceptibly.

When Stephen turned home one day and sat down at the kitchen table to read his mail, Anne remarked that there was a letter with an unfamiliar sender.

The envelope was hardly to overlook. It was thick and heavy. The address was printed. ‘To be opened discretely’ was written next to it. Stephen didn’t care. Anne wasn’t paying attention anyway, she was busy cooking dinner.

He ripped it open. A pack of several pages was inside. He unfolded them.
It was a job offer that much was clear after reading the first sentence. But there was no heading so Stephen still had no idea who was so keen on employing him. That looked rather dubious.

He read on. ‘Please make sure you are alone before reading the following pages as they contain highly secret information that must not be known by any person but you, Mr. Donaghy’ the letter said again.

Stephen glanced at the back of Anne. What was this about? He turned to the second page.