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Today is Phryne and Jack’s anniversary. Not their wedding anniversary – they both meant it so many years ago when they said they never wanted to marry. No, today is the anniversary of the day Jack debarked the ship that sailed him into Phryne’s arms, and home and life. Phryne asks if he would like to try that new restaurant. Jack has a plan, he says. Candlelight may be involved, he says.
Candlelight. It was a subject about which Phryne had a certain… ambivalence. While she could acknowledge its usefulness in the literal sense, figuratively, candles – and the lighting and extinguishing of them – could often be imbued with a stifling weight of meaning.
Dot (bless-ed Catholic that she is) is always going to the church to light candles for one reason or another. Phryne had enough doubt about the efficacy of prayers in general, so how on earth did lighting a candle make an answer from the almighty any more likely? Was the eye-sight of Dot’s “all-seeing” God failing? Did he need a candle to see his way to Dot’s prayer?
And BIRTHDAYS! Whose bright idea was it to cram candles all over the top of a perfectly lovely cake? And why was the granting of wishes tied to the ability to blow all the damn little things in one breath? Surely on one’s birthday the granting of wishes should be a given.
But weddings were the worst. Even though Phryne had no intention of getting married, she didn’t begrudge her friends the ceremony. She was moved by the love and faith that motivated people to take this step, but then the candles (and the lighting and extinguishing of them) made Phryne positively claustrophobic. She would watch as the bride and groom would each take “their” candle and together light what was called the Unity Candle. Now that would have been alright if they had stopped there. But then, looking deeply into each others’ eyes, they would blow out their own candle!
The first time Phryne witnessed this she could barely make it out of the church civilly. Jack had followed quickly, worried by Phryne’s visceral response. He took her hand and led her away from the crowd of well-wishers. When they stopped she was gasping for air.
“Phryne, love. What’s wrong?”
“Arrrggh! This….this….that! In there! It symbolizes everything I hate about marriage! Two perfectly intelligent, reasonable people just…snuffed out their light! In front of God and everybody!! And everyone thinks it’s so romantic! And it’s NOT! It’s… it’s…barbaric! Why should they give up who they ARE? Who they have worked so hard to BECOME?? I will never, NEVER do that, Jack!”
He gathered her in his arms. “And I will never ask you to.”
And he never did.
Now, as Phryne contemplates what Jack’s plan for tonight might be, she remembers the first time Jack sat down for a proper dinner in her home. There was candlelight then, too. But not for Jack. It was a meal that had been meant for another man. The candlelight had been meant for that other man as well. Afraid that Jack (a married Jack at that) would be uncomfortable by all that a candle-lit dinner might imply, Phryne quickly snuffed them.
But then she had re-lit just one.
She smiles now remembering that nervous beginning of seeing Jack in… well… in a new light.
As sunset approaches, Jack leads Phryne out into the back garden to a display of candles. There must be fifty or so, of many different heights and widths, set out in a semi-circle. In the center are two tapers side by side, and Phryne’s lighter.
Jack takes both of her hands, smiles a little nervously, and leans in for a kiss (Even after so many years, his kiss still ignites a flame deep inside Phryne). Then, letting go of one hand he takes the lighter and places it in her empty palm.
“Light your candle, Phryne.”
She looks at him with some trepidation, but sees only love in his face. With a slight tremble she does as he asks.
“Now, take your candle and light mine”
She takes her taper from its holder and sets the waiting wick to flame.
Jack takes his taper from her and they look at one another in the flickering light.
“After the war I stumbled in the shadows of my own darkness, until you bought your life and light to me. I thought I saw you for who you were those first days, but then,”
He takes the hand holding her taper and together they begin to light the candles leading away from where Jack’s had stood.
“One by one you illuminated my strengths,” they light the taller candles.
“And my flaws,” they light the smaller lights interspersed among the others, and then move to Phryne’s candles.
“And I came to see your brilliant mind,” A tall candle is lit
“And your brave heart”
“And how love fills your being.” Light is growing as candle after candle joins the others.
“I saw behind your mask, and you shared your fears.” Smaller candles add their light.
The day is dying, and the gold of the sun is fading into a purple dusk. Yet, two whole lives are fully illuminated - each similarity and difference between them is recognized and celebrated. And in the candlelight each can see the other, whole, against the sky.