My love affair with caves began one
autumn afternoon when I was young enough to be foolish and foolish enough to
think myself brave. I explored the cave within the rock formation, which was
located a few yards from my school, while my ponytailed friends waited for me
outside, in the protective light of the sun.
That enormous cavity was a magnet.
Every weekend, I bounced out of bed, put on my caving attire; jeans,
sweatshirt, oversized overalls, and rose-red, water repellent boots. I grabbed
the sandwich Mom had made for me, took hold of my flashlights and ran off.
Special, earth-lined passageways awaited me. Their darkness was no match for my
heavy duty flashlights. All things came out of hiding whenever I aimed my
intrepid beam at them. I saw still pools that looked endless but were mere
It's been decades since my first
cave-bound escapades. I never missed an opportunity to journey into my beloved
One cool spring afternoon, a curly
haired, young man with blue eyes that looked straight at me, never losing their
delight at seeing me, joined my expeditions. Later, when we shopped together
for his caving apparel, I saw a straight forwardness I had never seen before in
Aneurin took my hobby seriously too.
It was easy to fall in love with him. I wondered how I had ever thought myself
happy before meeting him.
We married in a small ceremony, in a
cave we had discovered on an adventure. I had successfully exchanged my
ponytail gang for a husband.
A few months after our wedding, the
dreams began. They seemed random. Sometimes, I was a young, beautiful woman,
who was busy talking to the people around her. In other dreams, I was a tall,
muscular man screaming at the people in front of me. My fantasies frustrated me
because I failed to grasp their meaning.
One exhausting night, while in the
body of the man, I surprised myself with the intensity of my anger. I
exploded volcanically, shouting "I am King. I will not stand for such insults.
My queen will not be seen with another man. Your punishment will be severe as
I awoke soaked in sweat.
Memory of that hysterical man refused
to leave me. I wanted to tell Aneurin about it, but didn't. How does one go
about explaining waking up confused and terrified from losing a battle I had
fought all night, in a dream. I wouldn't tell Aneurin because I couldn't
explain the foreboding feeling I felt to myself.
My disquiet wouldn't leave me. So,
Aneurin booked us a trip to South America, where exploring caves used by
ancient cultures would distract me.
One outing brought us, along with a
horde of iPhone-laden tourists, to an almost prehistoric set of caves. That
place had been sanctified by a people whose only relics seemed to be a few
weathered stones. The real thrill of that location, however, was the Queen's
Grave, a sacred spot within one of those caverns. According to legend, when
robbers removed the circular stone guarding the tomb's entrance, the queen
herself had risen, weapon in hand, to defend her burial site. For centuries, no
one again dared to approach her tomb.
A decade ago, though, when a group of
teenagers had camped near her tomb and had begun singing, they had heard a low
scraping sound coming from her cave. Initially, those youngsters, who were
inebriated at the time, ignored the noise as being a side effect of their
partying. However, when the noise became louder, they saw that the rock
guarding the queen's cave had moved. They promptly ran away.
News of that bizarre incident did not
leak for some years. Once people heard about the event, however, inquisitive
persons made pilgrimages to that site. Crowds of people came with instruments
to try to make the stone move.
For some performers, the rock moved a
little. Most of the time, though, it sat unresponsively in its protective
Scientists got involved. The best of
their theories was that certain pitches' energy caused the rock to shift.
Regardless, even on those rare occasions when the rock was responsive, once the
music stopped, the rock rolled back to its original spot.
That legend intrigued Aneurin. He took
me to the queen's burial site. "C'mon' Gorgeous, just one song for the
queen and me."
It had been one thing to smile at his
aspirations on the plane. It was another to accede to a live performance
at the tomb. I felt foolish.
I regarded the other tourists. I then
regarded the love of my life. I'd make a go of it. If it made him happy for me
to conjure up the ghost queen, I would be happy, too.
I stood a few feet in front of the
tomb and sang my favorite song. Nothing happened except for a few flashes from
iPhones all around me.
I tried again, feeling my vocal chords
vibrate when I hit high notes. The other tourists quieted. I opened my eyes and
lowered my voice; the rock was moving slightly from its position in front of
the cave. The stone's scraping of the earth made a soft, almost inaudible
In moving, the rock had left a little
opening, about half a foot in size. In that opening, I saw her.
She looked at me; I looked at her. We
were staring at ourselves.
The stone rolled back, but I had seen
her face. At that instance, everything else had disappeared. The universe had
consisted only of us two.
The first night back home, I dreamed I
was outside of her cave. I was watching an event from long ago. The mercurial
King from my dreams stood outside the tomb, machete in hand. A man knelt on the
ground in front of him. Lifting his arm in the air, the leader struck,
decapitating the man.
The king's guards then grabbed the
queen, and threw her disdainfully, as if handling a common drunkard, into the
dark crevice in the solid limestone. They then rolled a huge stone over that
opening, completely trapping her alive, in the cave.
I woke up with a migraine headache and
couldn't stop vomiting all of the next day. The feeling of seeing my twin, the
queen, trapped in the airless cave was too much for me.
Aneurin decided we needed a quick
weekend getaway far from caves. We were to rest,relax and drink cocktails from
glasses decked with paper umbrellas.
The next morning, I woke up smiling.
My life was again filled with light. I nudged my husband. He didn't
I called his name and nudged him once
more. Thereafter, I screamed in octaves that I had never used.
I called an ambulance. As I waited
next to my beloved's still body, I stared at his serene, unmoving face. I
wasn't ready to be separated from him. I hadn't said "I love you" enough times.
I never said "goodbye."
After the funeral, I retreated to my
bed. There, I daily conversed with my newly found twin, the queen.
"Does your man visit you?" I
"He visits me every day." She
"When will my husband visit
"I don't know." She whispered
The queen and I continued our
conversations. I told her of my love of caves. How Aneurin's love supported me.
How he would book trips on a whim.
She told of her unexpected love for an
easy-going, quick witted engineer who had worked for the king. "I didnt
think we would get caught."
At times, she and I laughed so hard
that we scared away the visitors who had come to pay me their respects. My
brother and his wife were beside themselves as they chaperoned friends and
family out the door. "Poor thing's talking to her husband," they mumbled to my
No one understood. No one tried. After
a while, they stopped visiting.
Finally, I didn't bother getting out
of bed. My day was divided into time spent communicating with the queen and
time spent without her.
When the numbness began to wear off, I
returned to work. Coworkers gifted me with stammering condolences. Often, I'd
hear then whisper to each other sentiments such as "it was so
I cried every night. I was living on
coffee and chocolate ice dream. Nonetheless, the queen kept visiting my home.
She'd look at me and shake her head. I wasn't sure if her gesture was
understanding or frustration.
I began organizing my new life. I had
to call banks and insurance companies and ask that they remove my husband's
name from our joint accounts. I dealt with death certificates and documents
testifying that I hadn't killed my husband. I was sent Date of Death Value
letters constantly reminding me of my loss, as if I might have forgotten that
Aneurin was being erased from my life.
He was slowly being eradicated from this world but this time, I was the cause.
It was more than anyone should have to bear.
At night I watched TV and choked when
I saw couples smiling lovingly at one another. I saw older couples look into
each other's eyes and share that sacred bond that is formed from years of
sharing hardship, joy and life experiences. Aneurin and I had always wanted a
family and had planned on starting one after we had returned from the last
trip. We were in a comfortable place in our lives, financially, physically and
mentally. I always had faith that we would be wonderful parents. I had always
taken it for granted that life would follow my plan. Why would things be
These thoughts never left me. I woke
up with them and would go to sleep thinking them; what little sleep I got was
restless, full of dreams of regret for what could not be. I lost my edge at
work. Mistakes and missed deadlines crept into my daily routine. I just
couldn't get myself to function correctly. My boss heartbreakingly asked me to
I didn't have the strength to face the
barrage of interviews needed to find a new job. Talking to uncaring strangers,
smiling through inane conversations seemed meaningless and unproductive to me.
Life itself began to seem meaningless.
Truth told, I had a difficult time
getting up to take a shower, let alone getting dressed and worse, getting
dressed up for a meeting that would lead to a job I knew I wasn't able to cope
So I retreated to my bed where I found
my solace in my only friend, the queen. I was lost. I had no ties to anything
or anyone anymore. One evening I realized brushing my teeth was too much effort
to spend on an empty life. I couldn't carry on this way. I had to do
One morning, I booked a flight to the
country where Aneurin and I had last laughed together. Soon I was standing in
front of the queen's tomb. No one was there. There was no singing.
I pushed the rock. It rolled away
easily. I walked into the cave.
The queen greeted me.