It is always unspoken; without words and beyond them. It is the thing that is never named – that cannot be. Words control and reduce, a pitiful shadow. But she knows. I see it in her eyes, and the movement of her limbs. I see it in every silent gesture. The glorious ache of desire.
I recall its beginning like a dream. It is late summer, around my girlfriend Arella's birthday. The summer is hot and sultry, and a large group of friends and relatives have gathered at the house of her family for the celebration. Food and drink flows seemingly without limit; every room is full of people staying the night. Although Arella and I have lived together for two years, in our as yet unmarried state her parents maintain a pretence of decorum by putting us in spearate beds when we are under the same roof. On this occasion, circumstances dictate that she shares a bed with her younger sister Tirzah, while I sleep on the floor of the same room. There's no awkwardness in this arrangement; I have known Tirzah for all the years I have known Arella, and the three of us have a close bond. In fact, it has been many months since we were all together, we look forward to it with all the excitement of children going on a camping trip.
Arella has always been the most beautiful woman I have ever known. It is not merely physical – her long, golden hair, her deep green eyes, the curve of her hips and her breasts. Though it pains me to think it, there may even be those who would not think her exceptional purely in those terms. But it is the beauty of animation, of movement, of gesture. I see in her every step, sway and expression some deeper aspect of her that I love and crave. She is the sun, in whose warming rays I constantly wish to be. Tirzah, by contrast, is almost impossibly dark-haired, her skin pale, her body slim, long and graceful. Where Arella is bright and outgoing, her sister is detached and enigmatic. I often marvel at how different the two of them are. If Arella is the sun, then Tirzah is the moon, with all the silent, mysterious beauty of the night. Although the two of them inevitably argued as children, as siblings do, the three of us have always got on wonderfully as friends – always looking forward to spending time together and seeming to bring out the best in each other. At times, though, she seems to possess a kind of sad melancholy, which has always made me feel protective towards her. I have never known Tirzah have a proper boyfriend – not one who was allowed to get close, at least. When she stayed with us, as she often did, and always alone, I occasionally wondered whether she felt any tinge of resentment when, at the end of the day, we went off together and she retired to her bed alone. But of this, there was never the slightest sign.
The night of Arella's birthday is when it begins – the second night of our stay. We have laughed late into the night and our heads are slightly swimming from the wine when we go to bed. Even when the lights go out, Arella and Tirzah and I continue to laugh drunkenly in the dark, continuing a theme of child-like jokes that we had instigated at dinner, often at the expense of other, older guests. As is always the way when they get together, the two of them sound increasingly alike, and sometimes I can't tell who's who in the darkness. Gradually, though, silence falls and sleep takes hold. The last thing I hear is soft breathing – I can't tell if it is Arella or Tirzah – before I too drift off.
