What the fuck is a ‘LEETAH’?!
I’ve
spent the whole day in my room, leaving it only for food, and all I
could manage to decode is a series of letters that mean nothing, and the
number 8. Basically, the chain is made up of a loop that goes
“LEETAH8LEETAH8LEETAH8…”
I suddenly realize that I have no nails left to bite, and my reflection in the mirror next to the bedroom door peeks at me sideways, and almost shakes her head disapprovingly when she sees the rings around my eyes start to show. I ignore her and desperately try toying with anagrams. I come across “Tale Eh”, “At Heel”, “Late He”, and the very French “Le Hate”, none of which makes any sense. Argh!!
I suddenly realize that I have no nails left to bite, and my reflection in the mirror next to the bedroom door peeks at me sideways, and almost shakes her head disapprovingly when she sees the rings around my eyes start to show. I ignore her and desperately try toying with anagrams. I come across “Tale Eh”, “At Heel”, “Late He”, and the very French “Le Hate”, none of which makes any sense. Argh!!
Miss Reflection tsk tsk tsk’s
at me. I distractedly get up to meet her. She’s right, the rings around
my eyes are already a grayish purple. I see small brownish spots in
them too, and I know from experience that some tiny veins must have
popped while I was forcing my eyes to decipher the link letters. And my
skin is so bad it looks like it’s gone from normal to advanced PMS state
in just a few hours. Sometimes I just wish I could shed this skin and
just have a tiny hope at normalcy…
It
reminds me of my very first kiss. Consequence: chronic angular
cheilitis. The first time I used contacts; eyelid cysts that required
surgery. The
first time I decided not to wear another layer of cotton under my
shirt; excruciating stomach pain and memorable public embarrassment. The
first time I wore fake jewelry; an extremely irritating rash that had
to get worse before it got better… Miss Reflection’s eyes slightly start
to redden and water up. I am not normal! Nor will I ever be.
And yet some random guy makes my skin look like a beautiful thing. A thing worth drawing, memorizing, perfecting... I have to find him!
Okay, why am I complicating things? I’ll just look up “Leetah” online, although the odds don’t – … huh?! The very first result: Leetah – Elfquest. Healer and gatherer. What the… ? Lifemate of Cutter; mother of Ember and Suntop. Is this from a comic book or something? Status: Immortal; living. Wow,
what is this? A comic book about Elves! If this is what Green-Eyes
really meant to draw, then I’m pretty sure I’m currently looking for a
very cute Geek! It’s endearing! I click on Gallery, and find myself face
to face with Leetah, the Sun Elf. Red hair, green eyes, pouty lips.
She’s beyond beautiful, for a comic book character.
And yet… she looks so much like me!
It’s
extremely unsettling. I feel my ears burning, and I know the blushing
tsunami is quite close. I stare at her and I know straight away that if
this turns out to be what my stranger meant to slip into the drawing,
then his skills might not be that accurate after all. I’m not at all
this magnificent, elfish creature!... But I still want to know
everything about her.
And
that site goes way beyond my expectations: I let out a choked squeak
when I find, under “Comics”, a digital gallery of the whole collection! I
can almost feel my eyes popping out of their sockets, as I rush to
start the first comic…
Three
hours and one avoided dinner later – Cramps is always the ultimate
excuse out of a thorough questioning by a suspecting father – I lie back
on the bed, hiding my eyes with the back of my hands, and shake my head
with disbelief. What the hell was that?!... It’s
anything but a children’s comic, that’s for sure! It’s the story of
Cutter, a Wolfrider who is made to leave the forest because of the cruelty of
Humans, and crosses the desert with his pack, coming across a village
where the Sun Folk live… He sees Leetah, and immediately experiences the
power of Recognition, a telepathic instance wherein one recognizes
their soul mate, and denying that just causes them lack of focus and
pain. I literally stressed over whether or not they should be together,
or if Leetah should resist what seems to be imposed by Nature…
The entire plot is smart, quick, funny, tear-inducing, dreamy, and much to my surprise, sexy! There’s
one particular love scene, on a cliff, on a deep bluish night, between a
once reluctant Leetah and an intensely loving Cutter, which makes my
heart race noticeably… Who would have thought that reading a comic would be so incredibly fulfilling?!
Oh my God, I’m officially a Geek!!!.. Great, that’s what was still missing to my flawless profile. I chuckle and stretch my rusty muscles. Have I really been in this room all day? Jeez, I need to move my butt!
I
go downstairs, leaping happily and almost breaking my neck on the last
few steps. Erik watches me all throughout my bouncing routine, with a raised eyebrow, and just as I’m about to enter the living room, he
asks, “So, have you found your missing person?”
I stop dead in my tracks. Busted! He
sees my cheeks turn blotchy-crimson and laughs out loud. I hate it when
he does that! I try to look contrite, but end up smiling guiltily, and
going for total honesty. “I think I might have some leads actually!” He
finally looks away and lets out a last laugh that sounds more like a
proud harrumph and replies smugly, “That’s my girl.”
The
rest of the evening is spent in front of the TV, with my dad being too
much into a German reality show, and translating it to me whenever he
felt like it, while my mind swam with thoughts of portraits, of ash
brown hair, and of eerily real Elf stories…
The
next morning, I hear a light rasp on my bedroom door. Erik pokes his
head through, only to find me at my computer, at 8 a.m., smiling
sheepishly at him. So instead of saying “Moin”, he cautiously walks in,
trying his best not to peep at my screen, and delicately offers to help.
I think that since our discussion about missing persons, he’s been
really curious to know whom I was really looking for. And I just let
him, perhaps out of guilt for being in Germany, yet spending the weekend
in my room. There was also this tiny pang I usually felt every Sunday
spent here, knowing that once more I would have to say goodbye at the
station , sometime around five…
But
I needed a new version to my story. I surely wasn’t going to tell him
the whole thing unfiltered. So I just go for the first thing that comes
to mind.
“Well...
I met this really talented guy who volunteered to draw my portrait. But
then he had to leave, and I think I might have omitted to ask for his
name…”
Erik observes me, looking obviously uncomfortable.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing,
I just…” He rubs his chin and does a funny mimic with his teeth. “I’m
just not entirely comfortable with the idea of you letting some guy draw
you, and then keep a trace of it…”
Ah,
thank goodness, he’s just being a dad. “No, no, he gave it to me!” He
visibly relaxes. “But he didn’t sign it. Or so I thought. How-everrr…” I
stress on every syllable to increase the suspense, as if giving him a
real-life scene from Tatort, “based on our discussion yesterday…” He
raises his eyebrows and already looks smug, “I found out he had added a
chain necklace, which turned out to be made up of a series of letters
and the number 8. I found out what the letters stood for; a character
from a comic book. The 8, however, is still a mystery. I tried reading
the comics, and there was no 8 in there.”
He looks at me with some warm emotion. Pride?
Then he rubs his chin absentmindedly, and comes up, again, with the
only logical question left. “What if it really is in the comic after
all? Count the main characters, their symbols, their habits… and also
look up the meaning of their names.”
“Well,
the one from the necklace is called Leetah, which means “healing light”
according to the site. The other main character is called Cutter, which
is pretty explicit… Oh. Wait…”
I
suddenly remember something crucial: upon “Recognition”, the elves know
each other’s “soul names”, or secret alternative names that are only
known through recognizing a soul mate. Leetah’s soul name is also
Leetah, but Cutter’s is “Tam”. I don’t even know if it exists in the
real world; I look it up anyway. Dad finally allows himself to look at
the computer screen, and together we see the dumbfounding results:
“Name: TAM. Gender: Male.
1. The Hebrew name Tam means: Heart, Twin.”
How convenient, considering the very principle of Recognition…
2. “The Vietnamese name Tam means: The number 8.”
“Gotcha!…” Erik whispers, relishing.
But
I’m in no mood for celebration. This discovery might mean that the
necklace simply reads “Leetah and Tam”. Don’t get me wrong, I squirm and
blush at the thought that Green-Eyes might have experienced
“Recognition” for me. It’s beyond flattering, but also beyond
frustrating …because I’m nowhere closer to finding this guy than I was
on Friday.
Yep, shit!
After the usual train station hug
that grows a little bit tighter every time, I say bye to Erik, and go through the
usual pissed-passenger-crowd ordeal to get to my seat. And soon enough, I start
imagining my own Elf, sitting across from me again… All sorts of different
scenarios weave themselves inside my head, like him recognizing me straight
away, and how he would find an excuse to come talk to me… Or that he would be
in a different coach, and we would bump into each other by pure coincidence,
while headed to the bar… All sorts of corniness that seems to stem out of a
desperate teen’s imagination rather than mine. Am I that emotionally immature?
I thought that not having relationships would make me kind of cynical and
resistant, instead of clueless and gaga over the first crush that pops along. I
frown at the thought. I need to get over this, fast...
As we near Strasbourg, my obsession
has already reached a painful peak. I need
to see him! Maybe he’s spent the weekend in this city and is going back to
Paris today too? The odds aren’t all that bad. I tense as my eyes search the
platform, while the train slowly enters the station. I even say a small prayer,
with my eyes fixated on the coach entrance, and demand my own private miracle…
But no one comes.
The train doors close, and my brain
refuses to let go. This is it, this is the official peak of my obsession, and
the disappointment over losing the last hope of seeing the guy again floors me.
So is that all? I’m never crossing his path again? I’m never discussing the portrait
with him? I’m never asking him if he really meant to include elf references in
the drawing? So many questions, so much anticipation… for nothing. That should
teach me to be such a pubescent enthusiast. Someone
drew you, what’s the big deal? Keep the picture with you for good luck, and
just stop thinking about this, it’s not healthy!
I’m startled by the ticket inspector,
creeping up again, then I gladly hand him my ticket as I notice that his eyes are
one green shade darker than… oh my God! I need Ginny now. Only she could get me out of this!
[BE
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