Adventures of a House Guest #3

"Pierce! Pierce! Open this door right now! You have so much explaining to do!" Mason was not a furious as he had been at 2:00 this morning, but no way was he gonna let Pierce know that. He still wanted answers. He still wanted to know what the hell was going on.

Pierce grumbled through the door, clearly not awake yet. "Wha?"

Mason pounded on the door again, yelling, "Get out here right now!"

-----

On the other side of the door, Pierce was now fully awake and his eyes had just shot open with the realization that Mason probably knew something about Riley. He attempted to sound like he was still asleep and unawares. He yawned through the door, "But I'm not decent."

"I don't give a shit Pierce. We're identical! You don't have anything that I don't have. Now, open this door or I swear I will take it off the hinges."

Pierce felt panicked. He really didn't want Mason to yell at him, but he also knew he owed him some type of explanation. "Okay," He sighed. "Okay. Sheesh. Keep your pants on, will ya?"

"My pants have been on for six hours already! Come. Out."

Pierce tentatively opened the door, still in his pajamas, grinned at Mason and leaned his forehead against the door frame waiting for whatever it was Mason was about to yell.

"I had this strange instinct a while ago, and I ignored it because I was tired... exhausted, really." Mason began. "I wanted to sleep without being bothered... but I was bothered Pierce."

"Restless Leg Syndrome?"

Mason fake laughed. "Ha ha ha, good one Pierce, but no dice. Who bothered me? Who is she Pierce and what is she doing in our house?!"

"Who? Who on earth are you talking about?"

"The redhead, Pierce. The flaming redhead with the sketchbook."

Sketchbook? Huh? Pierce didn't know Riley was an artist. That came as a complete shock. She was full of wonderful surprises. Pierce felt like a prayer he hadn't even known to pray had been answered. "Are you sure it wasn't Clay? You know how he likes to dye his hair and do all kinds of crazy things!"

"No Pierce, I can tell the difference between my own big brother and a strange woman, particularly when both of them are in my house at the same time!" Mason roared.

Pierce was even more baffled. "Well, you know how you like magic. Maybe that was all just your imagination or a dream or something?"

Mason had had it, he grabbed Pierce by the collar. "No Pierce, this was not an illusion. This woman's appearance was not something that I would've conjured. She is very real Pierce, and that means she has a name. Who is she?"

"Okay, Okay," Pierce raised his hands in surrender. "Her name is Riley."

Mason seemed to calm down. "Riley. Okay, good. Now, how has Riley come to be at our house?"

"Well, I'm pretty sure she came by plane first, then the car, then... "

"Do not get cute with me Pierce." Nope, he wasn't out of hot water yet. "Why is she here?! Come on man, out with it!"

Pierce sighed in defeat and answered in a voice that was barely louder than a whisper. "I hired her."

"You did what?!"

"I hired her, okay? Are you happy now?"

-----

Mason could sense his own willingness to overreact, but he calmed himself. Once he was completely in check, he carried on his line of questioning. "Okay. You hired her. Where did you hire her from? What did you hire her to do?"

"I met her in Texas. She's in communications and production, and..." Mason was still not looking convinced. "She's and idea's person Mace!" Pierce sighed. "I liked her. I thought she had a lot of potential - so I wanted to help her."

"Shit Pierce. That sounds like something you'd say about an intern. How much are we paying her?"

"She's no intern Mason!" Pierce jumped to her defense - ah ha, Mason had found the button... money. "She was one of the top advisors in the field that I met when I visited Texas."

Mason translated aloud, "So, that means a lot. We're paying her a lot. Shit Pierce! I thought we discussed this. I told you not to hemorrhage any money on that trip!"

"She is not a hemorrhage!" Pierce defended. "She's an investment!"

"I'll give her a chance Pierce." Mason conceded, since was now curious about this young woman and her abilities himself. "One chance P-Brain! If it doesn't work out in six month's time - she is gone. In the meantime, her salary is coming straight out of your thirds. Okay, Mr. Six-Figures? You hired her. She is your staff. You are paying her. That is the only way I'm agreeing to this, otherwise it's back to Texas she goes."

Feigning defeat, Pierce sighed. "Okay."

Mason turned to leave as Pierce closed the door. Mason stopped when he heard a clap and chuckled under his breath -- imagining his goofy younger brother doing his "aww yeah" stupid-happy dance behind the door. "I heard that!" He called over his shoulder.

"You'll love her! I can feel it in my bones!" Pierce shamelessly called back.

"Yep, about as much as I don't love you right now!"

"That was hurtful!"

Mason kept walking. He thought about what he'd just said. How does he just win all the time? How? 

-----

Riley was packing her bags when she heard a knock on the door. "I'll be right there." When she saw Mason standing there she blushed bright red. "I'm still packing. I'll be out of here in a jiffy... just as soon as my cab arrives."

Mason stepped into the door frame and leaned back to scratch his back on the casing. "Going so soon?"

"Well, yes. I think it's for the best. It'll be less awkward at any rate."

Mason disagreed. There was no way it could get more awkward than it had this morning. "Nah, people frequently barge in on me a 2:00 A.M.  and have me risk my life to save them from my relatives. It's no big deal."

He saw Riley blush deeper. "I feel very badly about that."

"Why? You didn't know who he was. You just felt the instinct to get away from him. It isn't a bad instinct you know... I had it often growing up." He'd finally made her smile. It wasn't a big smile, but it was a smile... that was enough for now.

"Just the same, won't it be more comfortable for everyone if I just got a hotel room?"

"Nope. No, I don't think Pierce would like that. I mean you can ask him - since he is the one that hired you... but I know my brother and I'm guessing that him bringing you here in the first place was his attempt at being cheap. He doesn't want you to go anywhere right now, because that means he'll have to pay for it."

"Still, after last night,... I mean... you probably don't want me so close to your rooms anymore."

"Oh on the contrary." Mason disagreed. "You were a delightfully silent neighbor... until you snuck into my room and scared my dog." They both laughed. "It really isn't a problem if you want to stay here for now. But if you just insist on moving to... shall we say a... 'less invade-able accommodation'... then finish packing and I'll take you to another wing of the main house."

"The main house?" Riley asked skeptically.

"Yes, the main house. There is a suite built-in upstairs with it's own kitchenette, spare bedroom, an en-suite, and a walk-in closet. It is next to the game room, where we occasionally spend a good deal of time, but you are welcome to it if you think you might be more comfortable up there than you are in the studio here."

Riley hesitated. "What about the cab I just called?"

"Call and cancel."

At that moment Pierce appeared and saw Riley's luggage. His jaw dropped.

Mason internalized the laughter he felt, and smiled instead. "Hey! You changed out of your pajamas! Good job P!"

Pierce ignored Mason, wasting no time getting to the issue he saw immediately before his eyes. "Hey! You packed?! Already?! Don't tell me you found a new house overnight... without me! Damn Zooshk."

Mason answered for her. "Actually, Riley has found a new house. She is moving upstairs. Clay came in on her last night, so I'm helping her move to a place where she is less likely to be bothered."

Pierce hadn't thought about Clay's drunken escapades either, and he now felt genuinely sorry for putting Riley in such an awkward position so soon. "Oh. Is that what happened?" He asked with sincere concern.

Mason glared at Pierce.

"What?" Riley's twang interrupted the tension.

Mason answered. "Oh, nothing. Just ignore him and finish packing. I'll call and cancel the cab for you." Then he turned into Pierce's shoulder and spoke in a low voice directly into his brother's ear, as he grabbed his twin brother by the arm and walked him backwards out of the studio addition. "With me. Give her some privacy."

"What? Why?" Pierce asked as Mason hauled him out.

"She does not know that I asked about her this morning." Mason spoke under his breath once they'd both cleared the door and it closed behind them.

Pierce grinned. "No?"

Mason could've punched him. "Yes. And I'd like to keep it that way. Since she'll be sticking around."

Pierce couldn't help taking the opportunity to gloat. "Hmmm... " he mocked putting a finger to his lips. "So, is this you telling me that you don't want me to find her a house?"

Mason stood his ground. "I don't want you to find her a house if I have to go back through and rebuild it. No."

"But Mace... that's what we do best, Buddy!"

"Yeah, but how often do we do it for free Pierce? How often do we do it for absolutely nothing? I have to pay the crew something when they work you know? They are skilled craftsmen!"

"No no no... do not make this about you and the crew Mace. You don't want her to go because it's personal. You like her!"

"She is a quieter neighbor than you." Mason replied.

"Oh, is that it? Well, we certainly can't have her go now! Where will you ever find a quieter neighbor?" Pierce's words oozed with sarcasm.

Mason was finished having this infantile conversation. "Shut up, will you? This is all your doing... and it is coming out of your pocket. Her 'new' house... her 'renovation'... her new 'commute vehicle'... all of that is coming out of your wallet - not mine. I'm trying to be a conscientious brother and save you money by agreeing to let her stay here. This is far more for your benefit than it is for mine -- and you know it."

Pierce prickled joyfully at Mason's defensiveness. "Touche Mason. You do make a valid point. Shall I count her as a dependent so I can get a tax deduction too?"

"You do what you want." Mason said walking back into the studio. "She is not staying adjacent to my bedroom anymore. I'll just show her where your room is and she can barge in on you and Dinah at 2:00 A.M."

"Calm down Mason." Pierce chided as the door closed. He continued discussing Riley's situation with himself after the door closed behind his brother.

Sheesh, Mace getting all worked up over something that turned out to be nothing. There is plenty of space off the game room. It's fine by me if she stays there. The only thing is, Clay could walk in on her there too. Maybe the two of them should be more formally introduced. Then it dawned on Pierce how similar Riley and Clay were. Oh, if Mason is going to be this mild -- Clay is going to love her!

This Riley-situation was turning out to be much easier than he thought.

4:00 AM #1

I've been waking up at 4:00 AM a lot recently... the exception being last night when I just stayed awake thru 4:00 until about 5:30. So, I thought I'd share some of the thoughts that roll around in my exhausted brain at that time of the morning.

Enter: Conversations I Have With Myself Under The Influence of Staying Up Entirely Too Late
(When You Know It's Bad For Your Brain Health -- But You Do It Anyway)
Warning: Exhausted Brain Equals Language Alert

~K

-----

The Inner Dichotomy of a "Good Girl"

stupid pillow sham keeps slipping off my pillow like a used condom
you shouldn't say things like that, it isn't ladylike
why not? it's true
how do you know? when was the last time you saw a used condom slipping off a penis?
in person?
yes, in person
never
exactly, so you can't say that
yes I can
no
yes, I can -- I can imagine that is what it looks like so... 
why are you imagining that your pillow is phallic?
I'm not
yes you are! you just compared the sham on it to a condom
no -- I compared the sham coming off of it to a used condom -- there is a difference
no there isn't
yes there is
why am I even having this conversation? these aren't things "good girls" talk about
says who?
your mother, the folks at church, everyone looking at you -- expecting you to be this sweet, kind, benevolent princess girl... princesses probably don't make dick comparisons to pillows
well so? you aren't a princess
umm, yes -- yes you are... a princess of God Most High by way of Jesus Christ -- thank you very much
don't bring God into this
why not? 
don't taint what is Holy with your potty-mouth brain
He knows I'm thinking it anyway -- might as well be honest
oh girl -- say a prayer
CRAAAPPP -- alarm clock just went off and I'm still awake... thinking stupid thoughts with you!
so hit snooze and take a nap
gahhh -- work is gonna suuuuck
yeah, go to bed... we can finish the penis pillow conversation later
I don't want to finish it later -- I'm done with it now
no no -- it's early and you're tired... there is still more to say -- you're not done yet -- we'll come back to it. 
noooo!!!
yes
I hate it when you do this
just go to sleep and quit thinking about it

There You Were #3

As time passed and friendships deepened, Clair learned more and more about Chase.

The first and most obvious thing was his unshakable confidence in himself. He wore strange clothes -- shoelaces that didn't match -- laced in paint-covered combat boots. He wore camouflage cut-offs below the knee with short-sleeve button downs, and a two-foot chain on a bi-fold wallet. He drove strange cars. Yes, cars... plural. One was a brown El Camino (no one drove El Caminos anymore) and the other was a white hearse with red flames painted on the front hood. He had unusual interests -- perpetually preoccupied with Halloween and Friday 13th - the day he was born. All these oddities were completely unique to him, and he never apologized for them, ever. He knew who he was and what he liked - and he never sought validation for any of that from anyone other than himself. Clair had no choice but to respect that.

In truth, Clair got bold enough to question him about the hearse one day. "Don't you think putting flames on the front of a hearse is a bit sacrilegious?"

"Maybe, but it'll be great come Halloween. I've got so many great plans for that car...." he carried on.

Even as he spoke in enthusiasm to the end of his thought, Clair got a very strong feeling that Chase was being sincere. He wasn't just talking to impress or shock people. He genuinely had plans for that hearse - notwithstanding anything that anyone else may have said. He must've been saying something very profound and legitimate along with all of that, the problem was Clair was too stunned to hear it. She never could remember the rest of what he'd said. She just chalked it up to her being deaf to whatever she suspected remained of his rationale after he'd quasi-mocked a hearse.  Still, Chase had left her speechless... an otherwise rare occurrence.

He was a musician too... saxophone. Ever suspicious of musicians (having dated a couple), Clair herself played the french horn and to paraphrase Shakespeare, "there was always a merry war betwixt the two". She really did not like the honky sound of a saxophone. It grated against and irritated her ear. But somehow... Chase's playing didn't bother her much.

There they were... all lined up.... reason after reason after reason to justify disliking him, and yet... she instinctively could not do that. She had a certain hunch about Chase, so -- in spite of herself -- she liked him... and she liked him more as every day passed... like compounding interest. It was that simple. By all accounts Clair and Chase should've maintained a certain disinterested distance from each other... but time passing revealed that nothing remotely like that happened.

There You Were #2

"I love you more today than yesterday
But not as much as tomorrow
I love you more today than yesterday
But only half as much as tomorrow"

The familiar strains of the Spiral Staircase song echoed in her mind during tennis practice warm-ups. It was a little slow, but stretching and running a mile meant taking your time and pacing yourself... and it was purely coincidence that "I Love You More Today Than Yesterday" was just one of many songs in the jukebox of her mind that helped her prep-time.

Clair liked oldies. It had started on the long morning drives to school with her father, when they'd roll down the windows and sing Mungo Jerry's "Joy to the World" loud into the wind together. It was better than coffee  -- it woke them up and made them happy. Clair had missed those mornings with her father once she'd learned to drive and her father had gotten a job in a different direction from the school she attended. She played the same station every morning anyway.

Of course, Chase would have to be elected the tennis captain. It seemed to genuinely surprise him -- but no one else. He was well-liked, fair, people listened to him, and he practiced harder than anyone. He was often one of the first to come to practice and was one of the last to leave. Clair still spent more time on the court than he did... but she was a freshman... and underclassmen had to pay their dues.

One humid afternoon after classes, Clair and Chase arrived at the courts at the same time. He'd offered to run together while she stretched. She thanked him but declined. I don't want him to see me gross and sweaty. Clair groused to herself, half wishing she had opted to run with him. Then added, Plus, I don't want to make things weird with Julie either. I mean, she is my friend. He really doesn't think of things like that at all, does he? She rationalized with a smile.

Everything else went smoothly during practice, until the coach pitted Chase and Donnie's doubles team against Clair and Christy's. If the boys were going easy on the girls you'd never tell it. Clair always liked when coach paired them off against the fellas though. She felt like she became a stronger player because the boys pushed her team's limits. This day had been no exception. Tennis balls had rocketed over the net and the competition got so fierce that both teams had begun to aim directly for their opponents bodies for game points. Donnie had spiked Christy in the head after she'd blocked one return into his face, and Chase had bruised Clair's thigh with a serve after she'd scored a lucky point off the rim of his racket. Before long, the entire team had settled in to watch who would win. Clair and Christy had put up a fight, but lost. Chase and Donnie played to win every single time - that was why they were the best.

After the match they all shook hands smiling and asking if they were okay. Everyone laughed it off and started their cool down drills. Of course, everything was still a competition and Donnie and Chase still had to win... so they finished their sprinting drills faster than everyone else and went around encouraging the slower teammates to hustle.

Clair had just begun her last back sprint when something tripped her and sent her sprawling backward onto the ground. Chase had seen it, called out, and tried to make it to her in time, but she'd fallen to the ground before he'd gotten close enough to catch her. Everyone, every single other person, had laughed at Clair... including Clair and coach. The only person who had not laughed was Chase. Sincere panic met her eyes when she looked up from her fall, he'd been scared for her.

"That's what I get for tryin' to run backwards." Clair joked, attempting to soften his reaction. He didn't even smile.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

"I'm fine." Clair answered. "Really." She emphasized, suddenly confused by his concern, as he helped her stand. Why did he care so much? Why was he the only one that had run over to help her? Why hadn't he laughed like Christy and Donnie and Julie and coach and literally everyone else? The thoughts raced through her mind. I'm not even his girlfriend! Apparently, in that moment, keeping up appearances in front of a girlfriend was the last thing Chase cared about.

Thoughts of "why" and "what just happened" continued to plague Clair for the rest of the day. Once she'd completed her homework and had gotten ready for bed it was still on her mind. she concluded, I'm overthinking this. Still, it's no wonder so many people think he's wonderful. It was kind of him to be so nice, and it felt pretty special to feel so cared for. I think it's safe to assume that we're close friends now. She hoped so anyway.

There You Were #1

This one isn't coming from a journal. It's just something new I have rolling around in my head and would like to let out.

~K

-----

She didn't know when it started. There was not a day that she could point to on a calendar and say, "Yes, that was the day I knew." No, it happened slowly and over time. One year he was the new guy in middle school, the next year they had mutual friends, the next year they were friends, the next year they were close friends. At least she believed there was a mutual understanding that they were close friends, he wasn't the kind of guy you asked.

No one ever just walked up to Chase and said, "Hey dude - wanna be friends?" No, that didn't happen. If you were Chase's friend, you just kind of knew it. He found ways to let you know you were part of the group. It was in the ways he'd say "hi" when he saw you at the same party or the way he'd nod at you from across the room. You never had to ask Chase if he was your friend - he either was or he wasn't.

She couldn't think of a single person he wasn't friends with though. Everyone liked him. Sure they'd disagree with him from time to time. They might even fight. But Chase never lost his cool, and even those who fought with him held him in high regard. He seemed to be the one guy that everyone would listen to -- a natural leader.

Eventually time placed them in the same classes, even though he was a year her senior. It would seem they had similar interests in electives and she was an entire grade level ahead in mathematics and sciences. This was when the great fall began, coinciding neatly with the two of them becoming what Clair would call "close friends" in Algebra. Close friends to Chase seemed to mean bumming Clair's notes and insisting on being her partner during group projects. She usually did more than her share, but Chase was no slacker and seemed to appreciate her intelligence... or the challenge keeping up with her presented.

It shouldn't have come as a surprise when Clair realized she loved him, but it did. Chase had grown on her while she wasn't paying attention until... something... had made him a staple of her daily life. It had become her custom to seek confirmation of his existence at least once a day and having seen him, she could carry on unencumbered for the remainder of the day. On the few days when the acknowledgement was mutual, one smile or nod from him made her feel like she could fly.

This was all marvelous when he was around, but he was a busy lad. Though clever in his own respect, Chase was never the diligent scholar that Clair was prized for being. Some days he skipped classes. Those were the days when she began to realize how much she was noticing him... on those days when he was nowhere to be noticed.

She'd ask their friends about him on those days, like an accountability partner, then shrug off their answers to seem less observant. Apparently it worked, no one seemed suspicious of her questioning. It was only Clair making conversation. Other times she'd note his absence only to herself and transform into some type of quiet, highly-functioning despondent. When their friends noticed her on those days she'd just chalk it up to not feeling well, and that was partially true. She became less and less like herself when he wasn't around.

It felt like she had discovered love in it's absence from her.

But, that wasn't right. It couldn't be love. No. That was preposterous. Chase had a girlfriend and Clair wasn't that kind of girl. If he was happy with Julie, Clair couldn't interfere. She wouldn't. She refused to. But the strange feeling inside her remained, and Clair still looked for Chase... every single day. It was equal parts cruel and euphoric.

Protege (tentatively titled) #1

This was originally handwritten on July 20, 2016. (While I was trapped in the backseat of a car on a road trip.) Needs major editing. :)

~K

-----

"Well, this is a disaster."

"You really gave her a ring, huh?"

"Yes Everett -- I gave her a ring. The finger she put it on though, was not my choice. Now, she's wrecking my life because I broke up with her."

"Oh yes, your life is just in a shambles now. Riiiight."

"Shut-up Everett -- you know what I mean."

"Zacky, you are one of the most sought after translators in the country, okay? None of your clients care about your relationship with your ex-girlfriend, not so long as you are still translating with that keen understanding of languages that you've always seemed to have. How many of them have even asked about how you were doing since the split?"

"Well, most of them to be honest."

"But that doesn't mean they actually care Zack. They are just attempting to make polite conversation. Just keep telling them you're fine and carry on with business."

"The more I think on it, the more I'd almost prefer that."

"Well, you can't control people. Do you want them to just stop talking to you?! That is crazy Zack. You are a translator! Talking is what you do. That is your job. You communicate."

"I know that Rhett! I spend my life helping other people understand each other. How is it that so often I am the one misunderstood?"

"Why? Because some floozy cosmetologist got upset that you broke up with her?"

"You know she was more than a cosmetologist to me Rhett. She had so much potential. How could I have been such a horrible judge of character?"

"Well, you can just sit here in your pity party as long as you like -- but it's beginning to sound like you brought all of this onto yourself. I need to go help with the baby."

Tell me about it. Zachary mumbled to his older brother's back as Everett left the room.

Normally Everett's advice was easily taken to heart -- but the one thing Zack knew he needed most were the tough love moments that he hated. Their dad had been out of the picture for a while and Everett had taken it upon himself to fill their father's shoes. If the years of practice Everett had gotten in with Zachary were any indication, Rhett was going to be a terrific dad. Zack, however, wasn't so sure he would ever be parent material. Oh, he loved kids -- he was actively in the process of spoiling his nephew silly, and he'd been the one who'd been ferociously protective of their baby sister when she was born. But being responsible for his own kids? No. That prospect was terrifying.

Now he had an ex-girlfriend who'd wanted to marry him and have his children, but he'd wanted out! He'd wanted out with every fiber of his being. Crazy! He'd really thought he was in love with Vanessa. She was gorgeous, smart, fun, and just promiscuous enough to be enticing. But the more he though of spending the rest of his life with "Nessie", the more nauseous he became. Zack was positive that nausea was not what love was supposed to feel like. Butterflies -- okay, sure. Nausea? No, not at all.

Wasn't he supposed to feel protective... jealous... even predatory where Vanessa was concerned? He'd tried. God knows he'd tried. He'd faked being protective by asking her to move in. He'd tried asking her to cut back on her male clientele. She'd laughed at his weak attempt at jealousy - they both knew her male clientele was more interested in him than they were in her. She'd condescended -- chiding him as though he were a small child, telling him she'd had those clients forever and not one of them was a threat to him. The only thing left to be was predatory, and he felt like he did that okay... when he saved it for the bedroom. Being predatory anywhere else felt either inappropriate or completely stupid.

Truth be told, the only thing Zack had felt for Nessie in a long time was numbness... maybe some fear... but only fear of her, never fear for her. Nessie had just begun to feel all wrong to him, and she had for a while. But he'd hurt her by breaking it off. He knew her well enough to know that. Of course she'd retaliated. She'd spread lies about him to their circle of mutual friends. drained what she could from his bank accounts.  Why? Why had he let her get so close so fast? That wasn't like him.  Zack was cautious, reserved, analytical -- he'd never rushed into anything... until Vanessa.

Now that he'd had space to think it over, he was beginning to realize that Nessie was the one rushing him... and he was letting her. Some part of him had had it bad. Zack acknowledged that. He also knew that he still carried some of that around -- though it was now badly bruised. He had to admit that bruising was just as much his own fault as it was Vanessa's. He'd let her do it. He'd let her hurt him.

Never again, Zachary thought to himself. A pang of regret hung in his chest at the sound of his nephew cooing in his big brother's strong arms.

-----

"First position -- releve... plie... releve... plie... releve... grande plie... and recover.
Second position -- releve... plie... releve... plie... releve... grande plie... and recover."

The soft strains of one of Tschaikovsky's fairy tale pieces played as Harper led the sizable three-year-old class in their ballet warm-up. She loved these "littles" (as she called them). They kept her in shape, they kept her smiling, they kept her on her toes - literally. And they were the sweetest class... especially the lone two-year-old, Rosie.

Normally the cap for the youngest class was three-years-of age, but Rosie had demonstrated a sincere earnestness to dance. She could feel it with her whole little body. They could tell that from the audition process. So, they'd admitted her to the academy, in spite of her age. She picked up things so fast, never complained, was always happy and eager. She was only two, but Harper had learned more about attitude and work ethic from Rosie than anyone else had demonstrated in her entire life. Harper loved to teach - Rosie loved to learn. They cherished each other.

It was already heartbreaking to think of leaving, but an opportunity to dance with the Joff-Russe Ballet Company didn't come around every day, and as much as Harper loved to teach -- she loved to dance even more. This was a big opportunity and she'd be crazy not to take it. All of her fellow teachers, even Headmistress Robin, had been so encouraging -- promising they'd come see the shows, promising she'd always have a job at Terpsichore's if she ever wanted to come back. "Once a barre-rat, always a barre-rat," they'd all joked at her going away party.

Now -- here she was, living a day she never thought would come, teaching her last class, trying not to tear up, loving the smell of the studio, the sounds of the music echoing off the walls, the lights... all of it. She reveled in it for the last time. She felt more stern and more soft at the same time. It was the most precious agony she'd ever felt. As the class progressed, she straightened postures, corrected footings, went over the 8-count for practice, then went over the 8-count again with music. She swelled with pride each time they got it right. She made them repeat it over and over. By the end of class, Harper was emotionally exhausted, but she smiled anyway... even when the entire class linked hands, made a big circle around her and shuffled in for a class hug after she'd dismissed them. She gave each of her littles a hug and a note as they walked out.

The last one to leave was tiny Rosie, who had a sad little pout on her sweet face. She unzipped her shoe bag and pulled out a little ballet teddy bear in a tutu holding a rose.

"I"m a'posed to be happy," Rosie sighed, holding the gift up, "but I'm really gonna miss you Miss Harper." A big tear fell down her cheek and Harper lost it. She dropped to her knees and hugged Rosie as tightly as she could.

"Thank you Rosie. I think I'll name her Terpsichore."

"Like our school?" Rosie sniffled.

"Yes, like our school. Do you know what Terpsichore was Rosie? Who Terpsichore was?"

"No Miss Harper."

Harper sat down and pulled teary Rosie into her lap. "Terpsichore was a muse of inspiration. She inspired dance. She was also the youngest of the other nine muses."

"Like me?!" Rosie perked up.

"Yes ma'am, she was the youngest - just like you." Harper tapped the tiny girl's nose with her pointer finger. "And I want you to know that you are like my own little Terpsichore... because you have taught me more that you'll probably ever know." By now, both of them were crying, just the two of them, sitting in the studio floor, leaning against the mirror.

Rosie's mother, Marie peaked around the corner to see if Rosie was ready to go, and she teared up too. "Rosie is really gonna miss you in class Miss Harper, but we are going to come see you dance sometime."

"Well, I certainly hope so," Harper said, squeezing Rosie one last time then helping her up. "Because I am really gonna miss her too! Thank you so much for the privilege of teaching your wonderful little." She handed Marie the note she'd written for Rosie, hugged Marie, and gave Rosie one last tiny kiss on the cheek before Marie carried her out of the studio.

Whew, Harper steadied herself. Now that the studio was empty -- the squeeze on her heart changed. For old time's sake, she thought, as she changed the music in the player and began to dance to her own mix.

Just as she'd begun to work up a sweat, Harper heard the studio door latch open. The headmistress stood in the door frame watching, as she had so many times before.

"I remember when it took you days to understand that triple-step. Now you do it with as much ease as you have walking. Gorgeous lines -- beautiful extensions -- powerful purposeful movement -- lovely. Of course they wanted you Harper, I taught you. Of all my original students, you are the one I knew could make it this far. You are dedicated, hard-working, an excellent listener with delightful musicality... you're going to be terrific. I already have tickets for the first performance."

"But, Ms. Robin - I'm only in the chorus."

"That's farther than many other people have gotten, some didn't even make it past auditions."

"You may not even see me though. And I don't want you to spend your money that way if I'm the only reason you've decided to come."

"Are you telling me not to come and enjoy a ballet -- when ballet is my whole life? Don't forget young miss - I am the proprietor of this establishment." Ms. Robin chided in jest with a smirk at Harper's sheepish face.

She walked up to Harper and folded her in a firm, supportive hug. "I will know you are there. That is enough, sweet girl."

"I'm gonna miss you Ms. Robin." Harper felt the tears forming in her eyes again as she hugged her own dance teacher back.

"This is no time for tears, Harp." Ms. Robin pushed Harper's shoulders back. "Now is your time to shine... and I am so proud of you. Now, go through that last 8-count again." Ms. Robin instructed, restarting Harper's mix.

"What can I improve in it?"

"Nothing. I just wanted to see you do it again."

Harper when through the entire routine again, just for Ms. Robin -- who ducked out of the studio right before the final 8-count began, leaving Harper alone again.

-----

The familiar ringtone sounded, and Zachary jolted awake. "Another day, another dollar," he mumbled, ruffling his own mop of brown hair before pulling it up off his neck into a bun and turning off his alarm. Much to his annoyance, it kept ringing. He cleared his throat to answer as he picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

"Zachary! Buddy! You up?"

"I am now, what is it Jack?"

"I just got you a swell gig. You probably won't have to talk too much, and you may get to bring your mother!"

"Yeah? Let's have it Jack. What's the job?"

"A visiting dignitary has requested translation on an outing with his grand-daughter, he wants to take her to the ballet. She wants to be a ballerina someday. You'd basically be there to assist with introductions and, if you are both amenable, he may request you as his aide for the remainder of his trip."

"... and you thought my mother would enjoy the ballet?"

"Of course. Didn't you tell me that she danced once?"

Ignoring the question, Zachary asked. "What language Jack?"

"Russian."

"Alright, I'll do it."

"I figured you would. The car will be by your apartment to take you to the airport at 10 sharp this morning - be packed for a week-long in Chicago. Call me when you arrive and I'll let you know where to go from there. And Zach... "

"Yeah Jack?"

"I know you like to be a rockstar now that Nessie isn't around to trim your hair, but please pack a tuxedo. Graphic t-shirts do not go over well with heads of state."

"Do I need to call Mom?"

"I've already called her. She is packed and ready to go. The car is picking her up first."

Zachary chortled to himself, how like his mother. Most women couldn't be bothered to pack for a week long trip in a matter of hours, but his mom was half-packed all the time. He didn't mind. He loved it actually. He loved his mom. He'd move mountains for her, and he suspected that Jack would too. He'd been trying to keep an eye on the two of them since Jack had begun including her in Zack's business trips that he thought she might enjoy. Zack liked Jack. Zack just wasn't sure how he'd feel about his manager being his step-dad.

By 3 p.m., Zachary and his mother, Paloma were in Chicago, readying themselves for the evening's event. They rushed between their adjoining suites - Zack zipping his mother's dress, Paloma fussing over him in her excitement.

"Oh Zacky! We really must thank Jack for this. It's been so long since I've seen the ballet. And to see it at the Joff-Russe!!! Oh, I'm so excited!"

Zack smiled, "Just relax and enjoy yourself, Mom. This is your thing!"

"Oh, I know baby, it's just been so long! What are we going to see?"

"Oh - one of the Stravinsikovsky pieces. I think. Rite of Spring, Swan Lake... one of those."

"You're being naughty Zack, you know those are two different composers. Darling, are you sure you don't want to wear the button-up?"

"The plain black t-shirt should be sufficient Mom. Its' clean, it's comfortable, and this is a social event. I'll save the button-up for work."

"Have it your own way." His mother sighed in mock resignation.

"I usually do," Zachary grinned, "I get that from you." His mother swatted at him with her handkerchief. "At least wear the jacket!"

"I had every intention of doing so."

-----

Harper was dressing backstage, trying not to be too visibly nervous. After several months with the company, she'd finally been approached by the choreographers to prepare a solo and audition as a principle. And she'd made it! She was finally a principle at the Joff-Russe Ballet Company!

She'd worked so hard, so it was a real treat when Ms. Robin had called to surprise her with the news that several of her former students and their parents would be attending her debut performance. So many of them had expressed interest that Ms. Robin had offered to charter a short trip and bus them all over! Even Rosie and Marie were supposed to be coming! They'd all decided to come out for the matinee performance, make a day of being in the city, and stay for the evening viewing. Harper hadn't even known they'd arrived until they showed up for the light rehearsal before the first show. She'd been so glad to see them that morning, and she knew that seeing them in the audience this evening probably wouldn't do much for her nerves. She wanted to make them all so proud. She'd spent part of the afternoon with them once the matinee was over - showing them around as much as she could.

Ms. Robin had made sure to help her peel herself away from everyone so that she could head back, rest, then warm up again before the final performance of the evening. How like Ms. Robin to know that Harper wouldn't be able to just walk away from everyone. "Guys, we need to let Miss Harper go back and rest up for tonight." Ms. Robin gently reminded them all. "We'll all be here when you're finished this evening Harp. Besides, we'd like a chance to look around the Joff-Russe and Chicago on our own for a bit."

So, Harper had left them to their own devices and headed back to prepare. When she got back, there was a small commotion, apparently her dance family weren't the only special guests tonight. One of the newer girls in the company came in wringing her hands.

"Natasha -- sweetie, what's the matter?"

"My country's emissary is going to be here for this evening's performance!"

"Yes,... and?"

"I'm a little nervous, I guess. I've never danced for someone this important before."

In an effort to calm the younger girl's nerves, Harper spoke. "Come on Natasha, you don't believe that. Everyone we dance for  is important to us. You danced beautifully last night, and again this morning. And you will be wonderful again this evening."

"You think?"

"No. I know. But, if it makes you feel better, I'll loan you some music to mark through to."

"No, no..." Natasha shook her head. "I've already got the music."

"Yes, you do...and it's right in here," Harper touched the girls heart. "You will be great. I believe in you."

Harper said it with such conviction that the girl had no other recourse but to agree. Foreign dignitary or not... they'd all worked hard on this production. Harper was never one to put much faith in cutthroat competition or unnecessary drama. Harper was the one all the younger dancers seemed to look to for guidance and professionalism. As far as Harper was concerned, if you had to tell someone how good you were, you weren't good enough. As far as she was concerned, dancing was a form of communication, and if your dancing could not be understood, then you didn't understand it well enough yourself. Harper was not about to let a few agitated nerves over some dignitary keep them all from being on top of their game. She did everything she could to encourage her peers.

-----

"Sorry for being so late," the lady in front of them in the "will call" line apologized to the teller. "My little girl just woke up from her nap and her dance class has already gone inside." The teller wasn't letting her in.

Everyone in the line seemed mildly irritated, including his mother who was immediately behind them in line, but the unaffected, tiny, tutu-ed toddler only yawned and adjusted her head on her mother's shoulder. Of course that set off coos from everyone at how cute she was. Apparently they were having some difficulty with this woman's seating.

Zachary had seen the entire scene play out from the entrance, where he was waiting for the limousine containing the Russian Emissary and his granddaughter. Zachary's mother had been in the will-call line behind this mother and child as they were getting this woman's reservation checked out.

There had been some sort of mix up and the woman stepped aside to make a quick phone call. "Yes, we're here. We made it! They just aren't letting us back in. -- Okay. -- I'll be beside the will-call window."

Within minutes, another older woman, built much like his mother, stepped out of the doors. "Marie, what is the matter?"

The exchange was lost as the limousine pulled up and the dignitary made his arrival with his seven-year-old granddaughter, Lydia, in tow. Zachary met the two of them at the entrance and was showing them to the door when Lydia piped up. "Balet, Dyedushka?! Balet?!"

"Dah Lydia, balet."

"Ya lyublyu balet!" The seven-year-old squealed in surprise!

Zachary smiled at the joy radiating from the girl's face. He'd looked at the program. He'd been quasi-right, it was a Tschaikovsky program. He got busy translating the story from the program to Lydia when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

"Zachary, darling. Would the Emissary mind some company in the skybox?"

He excused himself from Lydia, who was only half-listening anyway, to ask her grandfather the question. 

Just Because #1

This was originally handwritten on November 19, 2014.

~K

-----

The elevator door opened and in he stepped -- running shoes, tube socks that were a little too high, shorts that were a little too short, a t-shirt that was a little too tight, and a headband. There was no way to stifle the laughter that bubbled from her throat. He puffed up like a peacock showing off. "I look that good, huh?"

She'd never been one to lie. "That look does bring me joy... so much joy."

"Aw," his confidence never waivered. "Good. That look of joy on your face is enough for me."  He stood there akimbo as the elevator jolted to a stop and the doors began to open.

-----

He was glad he'd convinced Elizabeth to go jogging this early. She'd told him at the start the only way she'd exercise with him was if he would come over wake her up and not get pissy when she swore at him for waking her up. He'd run the full length of a few blocks just for her, just because she said she wouldn't exercise if she had to do it alone. As far as waking her up had gone - that had been the biggest challenge. She slept like a rock. This morning she'd tried to swear at him for waking her, but she'd taken one look at his outfit and the laughter had just spilled out of her. Good, that strategy he been successful. Make her laugh and she won't swear. As far as the coming over, he'd been doing that for years already.

Elizabeth Laurent had been his best friend since the first day of high school. By now he could find his way to her place with his eyes closed.

-----

"So Ellie, where we going?"

"Eh, maybe the trail through the park?"

"The one between all the trees?"

"Yeah, that one."

"Okay." Elizabeth zipped up her navy blue hoodie and took off, leaving her best friend standing there in the lobby.

-----

She'd met Elliott Burke forever ago when she'd dropped all of her books on his foot when he'd bumped into her on her first day at Anders High. She'd been a new student looking for her locker assignment. He'd be the younger brother of the school's star athlete... and he'd been miserable his whole life hearing the comparisons.

"You aren't quite as big as Law, are you?"
"You're gonna play sports too, aren't you kid?"
" Aw -- You look just like Lawrence. Doesn't he Celeste? So handsome. Here's my number cutie."

Okay, maybe it hadn't been all bad, but he'd seemed really distracted when he'd stepped back and knocked her off kilter. When he'd turned around to apologize and steady her was when she'd lost her grip on nearly everything. Algebra II, Physics, World Lit., U.S. History, and a French Primer hit his foot like a book avalanche. He'd made a face. It was the funniest face she'd ever seen. Equal parts pain, what-the-hell, who-are-you, and a smile was the best way she could describe it.

He'd made her laugh out loud that day. He'd made her laugh every single day after. Today was no exception. It was just how things worked.

-----

He used to hate it when she called him "Ellie."

"That's a girl's name." He recalled complaining.

"And what pray-tell is wrong with a girl's name?"

"Nothing. Except the fact that I am a boy and my name is Elliott."

"That's a girl's name too."

"No."

"Yes it is Ellie."

"George Eliot does not count Lizzie. On two counts -- one, Eliot isn't even spelt the same way and two, it was her last name."

"Touche Ellie... touche."

So, "Ellie" had stuck. He was used to it now. 

A Conversation Between Two Characters #1

This doesn't have an "originally handwritten on... " date, but it was handwritten before being posted here. Therefore, there is something timeless about it, that I sort of like. Please indulge me. 

~K

-----

"Hello there."

"Hello."

"What's going on?"

"Nothing much -- just... stargazing... if you can technically call it that."

"Why wouldn't you call it that?"

"Well, look up there."

"Okay."

"You see all those stars?"

"Yep."

"Some of them went out centuries ago."

"Really?"

"Yes. I mean, there are still plenty of live stars up there, but in some places -- where we see brilliant illumination, there is nothing."

"I thought light couldn't escape black holes."

"Well not all stars supernova into black holes. Some just go out. Either way, the light that we are seeing from  all of those stars has taken so long to reach our eyes that the light itself is well past the reach of it's own contemporary situation. Even direct sunlight that we feel during the day is about eight minutes old."

"Ah. So... why don't you call it star gazing?"

"It's more basking in star rays, really. Kinda poetic when you think about it though."

"How so?"

"Well, take one of the dead stars for example, one of the dead ones that we can still see from here."

"Okay."

"All you see is their light, right? I mean, what a legacy. I would that I could live and die so well, to be a light that guides something millions of light years away. It's just sad that we as humans tend to be far more remembered for our notoriety --Blackbeard, Manson, Hitler, Mao. All of them timeless echos of darkness- warnings of what not to be. It's a shame really, to live in constant fear of what you might become."

"A shame?! But that isn't necessarily so. Plenty of people have made brilliant memories -- Mother Theresa, Marie Curie, Galileo, DaVinci... "

(both of them simultaneously) "Jesus."

"Yeah, but for the  most part, it would seem that the stars have out-brillianced us."

"Out-brillianced?"

"Yeah, 'out-brillianced' even dead from millions... billions of light years away, they can still light our paths at night. Isn't that amazing? Do you think the light we emit illuminates the paths of the stars the way the light they emit does for us?"

"I don't know."

"It is entirely possible that from forever away other planets will see the light from our sun (that we've always seen) after she dies."

"Of course, we'd be dead too."

"Will we? Or will be just be watching it from a different vantage point? Let's pretend that our sun was large enough to eventually supernova."

"Is it?"

"No... but imagine it is.When a star like that dies, it has the potential to implode/explode when the gravitational forces pulling things inward are no longer kept in stasis by the nuclear reactions perpetually pushing things outward. There is no repealing those gravitational forces. When that happens, when the equilibrium fails, the gravitational pull becomes so strong that nothing within a certain parameter can escape it's vacuum. It is said that part of you may die in the Hawking Field... but it is just as likely that you'd be split and part of you would fall away while the other part of you would float through timeless space."

"You're fascinating."

"Huh?"

"Well, you sit here, waxing poetic about the science of the universe. Other girls talk about the guys they like, the things they want, their feelings,... then there is you... tiny little person full of amazing passions... discussing the matter that gets sucked into black holes and contemplating the universe."

"It's actually finite, you know."

"What is?"

"The observable universe. It has to be."

"Then why have I always been told that it is infinite?"

"I have no idea. The physics of this universe are the physics all over it, and our universe has recorded moments of expansion and contraction."

"Yes, I've heard that."

"Then clearly it must be finite. Otherwise where is the space that it expands into?"

"Hmm."

"Think about it this way." (Grabs an imaginary balloon and blows it up then speaks in a funny accent.) "This balloon, it is finite, yes? It has a place of ending, a boundary, like a sort of membrane separating the gases within from the gases without. See?"

(laughs, but plays along) "Yes."

"If you blow more air into it..." (blows more air into the fake balloon) "... it expands, right?"

"Of course."

"Now, imagine that you are a 'Who' from 'Whoville', and you live on an air molecule inside of this balloon. Do you think that you'd be aware of the size of the balloon that your are encased in? Or would you be so preoccupied with your life on the air molecule world that you never noticed?"

"I probably wouldn't notice."

"That's probably what most of the other 'Whos' would say too!" (laughs) "But, now you're not a 'Who'. Now you're a you. And you know that the existence of a 'Whoville' on an air molecule inside of a balloon is possible. You know this because you have perspective. You can see what is beyond the balloon." (Indicates this by waving her hand around the inflated balloon. She returns to her natural voice.) "Now we're both 'Whos' again, and this world... " (she points to the ground beneath her)"... this earth, is our molecule. Do we see the balloon we're in? Do we see it's membrane, it's border? Do we imagine what may be beyond it?"

"You know -- I get the feeling that one of us does."

"It's funny. People are always so fascinated that the balloon expands and contracts. I'm more fascinated that the balloon has a space beyond to expand into. What is that beyond space? Is that where God is?"

"I don't know."

"... And what if those scary black holes are nothing but hyper-speed doorways to where God is? Patiently waiting on us to stop being so small and unaware?"

"Who are you?"

"Oh, just some weird girl from Podunk, Nowhere."

"No. No... I think there's much more to you than that."

(Ends in silence)

Dice #1

This was originally handwritten on December 26, 2013.

~K

-----

Grey was coming home from fishing one day, carrying his catch -- a single striped fish, which would be decent eating though there wasn't near enough for it to go around. Something caught his eye. It was something he'd never seen before, a large, round, pointy wagon wheel with pendant flags all over it. Instead of going straight home Grey decided to explore this new thing.

As he got a bit closer, he noticed that a ticket was needed to get in where the giant wagon wheel was. The problem was, Grey didn't have any money. All he had was his little fish and the bit of fabric he'd make-shifted into a net to catch his fish. So, Grey decided to evade the ticket takers and sneak in. He ducked into a tent that had the comedy /tragedy masks painted on the side of it and came face to face with an audience. They laughed and laughed at the bewilderment and fear on his face.

"I'm just a normal boy!" Grey called out. "Please stop laughing at me."

"He smells like fish," one man guffawed. "This is the first time they've ever incorporated scent into one of the shows here."

"But, I'm not part of any show!" Grey insisted.

"Well, you sure look like you are part of the show. You came from behind the curtain!"

The audience continued to laugh as Grey began to cry. This audience was cruel and mean, and he wanted to leave this tent.

He ran back out the way he came in. He didn't stop running until he tripped and fell. Once he took a moment to right himself, Grey looked around to see where the giant wagon wheel had been, all he saw was a single sunflower. Startled, he sat up. Had he run so far that he'd lost sight of the giant wagon wheel? Or had he just fallen asleep fishing next to a sunflower and dreamt of how his family would make fun and berate him for only catching one fish.

He doubled his efforts to catch a few more fish, then he headed home.

After turning his key in the keyhole, and calling out to his family -- seeing nothing in the darkened house but a single note in his father's handwriting on the kitchen table, it read, "Grey -- if you come in before we do, We're at the carnival." 

Rin & Ronen #2

This was originally handwritten on October 5, 2014.

~K

-----

Inside of the big top, a spacious place full of color, Ronen followed Rin toward the curtain at the back of the center ring. He needed to lock Rin's winnings into the safe while she was off changing into her rehearsal gear. Their mother rode by on a unicycle with the family's pet monkey on her shoulder.

"Babies!" She reached out to both of them.

Rin slowed her jog to a walk as she approached her mother for a big hug and kiss. "Mom! *mmmwah*" both mother and daughter made the smacking sound together, and once Ronen caught up he gave his mother a simple, sweet peck on the cheek.

"I saw the net being put up." Their mother said, as she balanced to perfection, pedaling easily back and forth. "Were the two of you going to practice?"

"Yes ma'am." Ronen answered. "I think we're going to practice trap today - might catch a nice big breeze while we're up there."

"Yeah, never mind that heat rises." Rin stuck out her tongue.

"Exactly. We won't be minding the heat at all." Ronen carried on seamlessly.

Their mother laughed. "You two are a blessed mess." She kissed Rin again. "Have fun."  She kissed Ronen. "Be careful."

Altogether they chimed "I love you," in a singsong unison.

Mama Renault swatted at her children in mock anger. "Ganging up on me now, huh? Come on Keymon, let's go tell Papa!"

They all shared one more laugh an Mama Renault cycled off to the ticket booth.

Ronen called out to Rin as she ran to the dressing rooms. "Hey! Let's meet back here in 5, okay? I have to put your ill-gotten gains away."

Rin grinned like a Cheshire cat, stuck out her tongue and scurried off to find her sweats. .

One of the great things about being the circus' accountant was that Ronen got the luxury of having his own caravan with the safe. To be honest, it was little more than a glorified office with a desk, a chair, a Murphy bed, and a micro-sized bath. He likened it to a normal fellow's moving out of their parents' home - that was how big a deal getting his own caravan was. Even though Ronen did everything else with his circus family - performing , eating, going for drinks - he liked having his own place to retire, sleep, and bathe in solitude. It was kind of pleasant. Although Ronen didn't feel the need for that solitude as Rin did, it was certainly something he could relate to her through. That was probably why he let her sneak in and hide with him from their parents from time to time. He opened the safe and pulled out the money bag - noticing how woefully thin it had become. Then he counted each of the bills carefully and notated them in the revenue credits column of the ledger book sitting open on his desk. Yes, Rin had definitely saved them again. He just wished she hadn't had to gamble to do it. "What would we do without her? Where would we be?" He sighed, then put everything back in the safe and returned to the center ring where Rin was already waiting.

-----

(This was originally handwritten on October 11, 2014.)

-----

Hanging upside down, Rin swung back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. Ronen was right, there was a nice breeze up here, even if you had to swing to feel it. She wondered why that was. She grabbed the swing bar and pulled herself upright as Ronen climbed the ladder.

"Start without me?"

"Of course. You take too long doin' that count-y thing."

"Ha ha Rin... that count-y thing I do keeps us all in the black."

"WHAT?! Keeps us in black?! I'm not wearing black in the next show, Ro. You know my favorite color is blue."

"Yeah? Well, I like being in black better than being in red. Hup!" Ronen prepped as he swung out to get a momentum going.

"Oh yeah? Why?"

The two began to practice their trapeze act. "Because if I'm ever in the red it means something has gone wrong."

First an easy ride out and switch. "Yes Ro," Rin said. "You're illusions have reached a higher calibre in performance lately."

Next came the easy catches, and so on and so forth.

"You really want to tease me while I'm about to be the only thing keeping you from falling into the net?"

-----

(This was originally handwritten on October 12, 2014.)

-----

"What can I say Ro? I'm a risk taker."

"A risk taker huh? So, Risk Taker? Are you ready to one-arm?

"Ummm nope."

"Why not?"

"The last time we attempted to one-arm, you dropped me."

"Well, neither of us will get better at it if we don't practice."

"I'm not ready to one-arm. Can't we juggle instead?"

Ronen sighed, he still felt terrible. It had scared both of them pretty badly the last time he hadn't caught her. He was anxious to get past that -- anxious for Rin to trust him again -- to prove to himself that he deserved her trust. But, he had no choice, he had to give her time. He couldn't be the one to catch her until she chose to let go. A flute piping into the big top  interrupted his thoughts.

"Piper!"

"Ronen!"

The girls man, the girls! I just got in from town and boy those girls... just so... " Ronen's best friend looked wistfully off into space.

"Piper... Piper!" His friend snapped out of his reverie. "Did you sell all the tickets?"

"I am an artist Ronen, not a salesperson!"

"Pipe! If you didn't sell those pre-sale tickets, I'm going to feed you to the Huts."

"You didn't let me finish man. I'm not a salesperson,... but I got rid of the pre-sales. You owe me man. Huge!"

"Had to pull a 'Pied Piper of Renault' move, did you Pipe?" Rin teased.

"Nope. But any time you wanna try that out Rin, I've got your pipe."

-----

(This was originally handwritten on October 13, 2014.)

-----

"Pipe! Shut up! How'd you get ride of all the pre-sales?"

"Ronen, man... you understand magic. and you know that a magician never reveals his secrets. Here's the dough though." Piper waved the bills high in the air. "You want it? Come and get it!"

Ronen looked at Rin. "Go." Rin waved Ronan off. "We were almost finished anyway. Go down and take care of the almighty dollars. I'll finish up and come down by myself."

"Okay -- be careful." Ronen let go of the bar and fell into the net just for the hell of it. It was nice to be able to just let go and fall sometimes.  

Adventures of a House Guest #2

Riley woke from a dead sleep to heavy footfalls.

After spending the weekend there, she was accustomed to being alone in the studio-styled guest house. Right now almost every single one of her senses was telling her that was no longer the case. She was hearing grunts and bumping about and the occasional swear. She could see shadows of black mingling between shadows of grey shifting in the moonlight pouring in from the windows. It was frightening... too frightening to turn on the lights and risk making the intruder aware of her presence though. Riley, slowly and quietly made her way as quickly as she could around the perimeter of the large room, like a spy trying to avoid detection. The figure continued to stumble in her direction. Riley's heart caught in her through as a large, masculine silhouette lumbered past her into the bedroom and fell onto the sheets she'd just crept up from. She could smell a mixture of scotch and soap that might not have smelled so bad if it hadn't made her terrified stomach turn.

Trying not to hyperventilate, Riley made her way to the side-table drawer in the living area. In it was the key she'd basically promised Pierce she'd never use. My apologies Pierce, Riley thought, but this is an emergency.

Key in hand, Riley felt her way to the door that was adjacent to the house, slid the key into the lock and turned the knob. The door soundlessly opened to pitch darkness on the other side. Without hesitation, Riley stepped inside, turned around, and quickly locked the door behind her. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves and tried to develop her next plan of action... praying that whoever was on the other side of that door would go away without taking anything valuable. She rolled her pajama sleeves down her arms against the cool draft in this new room. Why did everything feel so much colder in the dark? So far, Riley wasn't liking Reno much... no, she wasn't liking Reno much at all.

Just as she was beginning to adapt to the room she heard a growl getting closer and closer and some fabric was rustling along the opposite wall. Should she speak? Should she freeze? Was she about to be mauled to death by a ferocious animal? 

A light switched on.

Once her eyes adjusted, Riley was face to face with the most comical scene she'd ever witnessed... in spite of being scared witless herself. A small white terrier crouched to pounce was the creature making all those growling noises and there was... Pierce?... wrapped up in a sheet at the light switch with a hammer in hand. No, wait a minute, this wasn't Pierce.

"Who are you?!" The simultaneous questions reverberated through the toupe-colored room.

"I live here. Who are you?!" The answers came in unison once again, followed by mutually confused faces.

Riley noticed the towering man was wrapped in nothing but as sheet, while she had on proper pajamas. She turned to give this strange new "Pierce" some privacy.

I am going to kill Pierce. I am going to go right now and murder him in his sleep, Mason fumed. By now he'd supposed that whoever had been with Dinah in the guest house had left with her, that Pierce had been telling the truth and all was well -- she'd been that quiet. Now he knew better.

"You!" He said, pointing his hammer at this strange new girl. "How did you get in here?"

The girl held the adjoining door key over her shoulder without turning around. She wasn't turning around to identify herself, why wasn't she... He looked down. Shit -- he was naked for all but a sheet. She clearly wasn't "that kind of girl". Mason took the opportunity to wrap the sheet around him more presentably.

"My apologies,... " a lovely southern lilt filled the room. "I hate to wake you," she continued, "but it seems there is an intruder."

"You mean an intruder that isn't you?" Mason shot back.

"Can this conversation wait a moment?" The young lady asked. "There is a strange man on the other side of this door, and he just crawled into my bed."

"There is a strange man on this side of the door too! Did you think about that?"

"Well, no... but at least you look familiar," she defended herself, "so if you don't mind, I'll be throwing in my lot in with you for the moment."

Oh, Pierce was dead meat. This girl clearly knew who he was.

Still, Mason's sense of reason began to prevail and he noticed that this girl was not leaving. So he mentally acknowledged that there probably was another man on the other side of his door. Another man that needed to be dealt with... urgently. He'd kill Pierce over this later, right now there were two intruders Mason had to deal with. One he'd decided to trust... the other he hadn't seen yet. Shit.

Mason lowered the hammer and took better advantage of the girl's sense of decency to make himself more presentable. He grabbed the sweats he'd laid at the foot of his bed and maneuvered himself into them, unwrapping the sheet from his waist. Then, with his hammer clenched tighter, he walked to the adjoining door. Putting his hands on the girl's shoulders he moved her aside, took the key, and unlocked the door. She grabbed his arm to stop him. "Are you sure we shouldn't just call the police?"

"They take too long to get here."

"Well, what if he's got a gun or something?"

This panicked girl was actually reasonably kind... certainly not welcome in his bedroom at 2:00 AM... but at least she was polite and concerned for his safety.

"Well, I suppose my hammer and my black belt will be taking that chance." He turned the doorknob and the door slid open. He saw the moonlight shining in the window and motioned for the girl to stay in his room, partly for her safety, mostly because he didn't want her to see him petrified or have him accidentally hurt her without intending to.

He crept to the bedroom of the guest suite and sure enough -- there was a figure laying face down in the bed... snoring.

Mason crept up to the bed, reached out carefully to turn the body over. It didn't occur to him until this very moment that he could be being tag-teamed. He stopped for a second and listened for the girl behind him. When he was convinced she wasn't there, he quickly turned the body on it's back -- nearly throwing it off the bed.

"CLAY!"

Relief flooded his entire body. Even so, Mason was tempted to hammer into his older brother's stunned skullcap anyway -- just for scaring the shit out of him. But Mason was glad, so glad that it was Clay and not a real intruder. He was so glad that he had to laugh.

"What the hell Mace!"

Mason laughed even harder as he imagined what this probably looked like to his oldest brother.

"I even tried to be super quiet this time man, because I knew you had to work come daylight! And this is how you thank me?! By hammering me to death in my sleep?!"

"What in the hell are you doing here Clay?"

"Well, I know what I'm certainly not doin'... sleepin'. But hey! You put on pants for me and everything! Thanks Buddy!"

"For your information, you asshole, I didn't put these on for you. There is a terrified young lady in my bedroom right now that I wanted to avoid being indecent in front of."

"Is she hot?"

"What?"

"Is she hot? 'Cause if she is hot and in your bedroom willingly, you should be thanking me dude."

"You know what? I hadn't noticed if she was attractive or not Clay -- I was a little preoccupied with the thought that I might have to beat someone to death with a hammer!"

Clay was obviously a little tipsy, as evidenced by the smell of scotch that attacked Mason's nose every time Clay spoke. But, if Clay wasn't tag-teaming him, and Pierce had brought this girl in, she probably wasn't just an overnight guest if she claimed she lived here. She might actually be telling the truth. Shit.

Mason needed a moment. He crossed the hammer under his harm and covered his mouth with the other hand.

Clay looked away, giving Mason space, when something caught his eye. "What is this?" Clay opened up a black leather binder. "Ho - Whoa!"

Page after page after page was full of designs and sketches. They ranged from the Medieval to the Modern. "Did that girl do these?"

Mason looked down and his jaw dropped. "I have no idea." Maybe Pierce wasn't such a moron after all. 

Adventures of a House Guest #1

This was originally handwritten on February 11, 2015

~K
-----

"Don't worry about finding a place right now. This is just a trial period for the job, so we'll set you up in the guest house."

"Alright, what is your rate?"

" Rate? No no no -- there is no rate. You'd be working with us, so you'd have the guest house available to you at no charge."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Okay. How do I get there? When do you need me?"

That was it -- opportunity was knocking and Riley was taking it. She loved her current job and everyone she worked with, but there was no momentum there. She could be okay with two large every month, but it wasn't going to get her out of her shoe-box apartment and into a legitimate house anytime soon. Pierce Stone had showed up a few months ago, decided she'd be useful as communications staff within his family's variety of entrepreneurship, and had presented one of the handsomest employment offers she'd received in a long time. He'd given her time to ponder it, but she didn't really need to. The money alone was worth the move across country. The problem was, it was a position that was being created specifically for her, justified by the company experiencing massive growth in the last few years. So, it was going to be a trial position, and if Riley couldn't prove the extra communications position was justified, she could lose it. It was a risk, but Pierce had assured her she'd be fine, since he kind owned Stone Enterprises, so she felt it was a safe enough risk to take.

"How about the first of next month? That will give you time to get your things in order and give up some time to prepare for your arrival."

"Sounds good."

"Did you have anymore questions?"

"I don't think so."

"Good - I'll see you in Reno one month from today. Your ticket will be in the mail."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." Then the phone line went dead.

Over the next month, Riley packed, cried a little with some of the ladies from work, helped hire and train her replacement, and received the ticket in the mail. Everything was going well up to the week of her departure. For all the newness, she felt anxious. She was good at what she did, would she good enough for this position? Could she do it? Her mind was churning non-stop, right along with her stomach.

The day finally came and her plane touched down in Nevada to dry heat, bright sun, and strangers.

###

"Hold up the sign. Hold it up! Hold it up high so she can see it!"

"I"m 6'7" Di, she'll see it." Pierce grumbled at his fiancee.

"Oh my goodness, is that her?"

"Where?"

"Right there, in the great outfit with the amazing pumps? Oh, I dig that look."

"No Dinah, that isn't her."

Dinah and Pierce continued to scan the disembarking passengers for Riley with no luck.

"Maybe she got lost. Maybe she boarded the wrong flight. Maybe she..."

"Hello?" A lovely southern drawl sounded behind them.

"Riley?!" Dinah squealed the name as she spun around. "Is that you?!"

"Yes, I recognized Pierce, but I got shuffled out of the terminal to the baggage claim before I could make my way over to you."

Dinah eyed Riley with a wide smile. This girl had obviously dressed comfortably for the long flight, but somehow managed to look stylish in soft heather grey leggings, an over-sized black sweater, and plain black combat boots.  Riley instantly reminded her of Pierce's older brother, Clay. If their clothing was any indication the two of them would get along famously.

"Is that all you packed?" Pierce seemed skeptical, looking down at her two suitcases and carry-on.

"Well, I've never moved across the country on a trial period before, so I wasn't sure what to pack. My big stuff is in storage at my folks' house."

"So, that really is everything?"

"Yes, I just supposed that if I needed anything else I could either write home for it and wait, or buy it here. It doesn't make sense for me to spend a lot of money flying heavy."

"Speaking of," Dinah said, "how was your flight?"

"It was alright, I suppose. I'm grounded now, so I feel infinitely better." Riley smiled in relief at Dinah's question and Pierce had a strange feeling that smile was going to cause trouble later. He shook himself out of his stupor when his sweet Dinah smacked him in the shoulder and pointed at Riley's luggage, then steered them all to his car in the drop-off/pick-up lot. Bringing Dinah was probably the best decision he could've made today. Her presence made things flow much easier. God, he loved her.

###

They drove to an estate in Reno while Dinah continued to dominate the conversation, Through her questions Pierce discovered a lot about Riley. She was originally from Virginia, but they'd met her in Texas. She was the youngest of three children. She had a master's degree in engineering but wasn't aggressive enough to elbow her way into the testosterone-driven field. She had a quiet sort of confidence, though it tended to come across as shyness. She was extraordinarily observant. She answered all of Dinah's inquiries, even the more personal ones with an intelligence and aplomb that struck him as unusual, given her accent. The more she spoke the more he liked her though. She reminded him of his younger self, only she was more interesting. In Pierce's mind, he willed Riley to become as successful as he and his brothers had. She already felt like a little sister, and he was determined to help her succeed, whatever it took. God, he hoped Mason was still out of town.

Riley's jaw dropped. This estate was massive. She had no idea where they'd made room for her, but there was clearly plenty of room to spare. She took it all in -- like a dehydrated sponge at the edge of an ocean. It was a little overwhelming in sheer size, but she had too much tact to criticize. When  Pierce finally parked the car and asked what she thought, Riley could honestly say it was very grandiose. Pierce seemed pleased enough with that assessment, looking around with pride. Dinah whispered in her ear, "It is a bit on the big side though, isn't it? But they do have a maid."

Riley smiled. How did Dinah just know like that? How did she know that Riley was thinking this place must be hellacious to clean right at that exact moment? She liked Dinah. Dinah was cool and approachable and seemed to have it all together. Tolerably excitable and genuine, she complimented the more stoic Pierce really well, in spite of their laughably incongruent height difference. Pus, Dinah made Pierce smile -- increasing the face value of a man who was already (clearly) worth a mint.

"We've set you up here, in the guest house." Pierce motioned to a building that appeared to be adjoining the main house -- like an in-law suite that blended seamlessly with the exterior of the main house. "Before we get your bags, I'll show you around."

He unlocked a heavy wooden door and it opened easily. "Normally this is where my parents stay during the holidays. They've gone back to their house so there shouldn't be any problem with them being in your way while you look for a place."

"Which you are going to help her find, right?" There went Dinah -- understanding Riley better than Pierce -- again.

"Of course. That's what I do best!" Pierce grinned again and continued the guest house tour.

"You'll have your own kitchen, your own bath, your own bedroom, your own living room, everything. All of this will be at your disposal. You are free to have guests over as often as you like, just try to keep the noise level at a minimum. We do have these rooms insulated from the main house, but they aren't soundproof, and these few walls here are adjoining."

People over? Riley mused. How could she have people over when she didn't know anyone? "I'm pretty quiet most of the time, so that shouldn't be a problem."

Good, Pierce thought to himself, because Mason's rooms are the ones that connect to the guest house and it'd be great if he didn't even know you were here. Of course, Pierce knew that was wishful thinking. Mason was bound to figure out that she was here eventually... especially with her this close to his own rooms.

While he absolutely trusted that Riley would be a quiet house guest, Mason would eventually figure out that she was there. He was too clever not to. Mason was the "smart one" between the two of them. He knew multiple languages, was well-travelled, well-respected, well-read, and brilliant with money. Mason had warned Pierce not to find anything in Texas that would cause them to hemorrage any more cash than they already did. Now he'd hired someone without consulting Mason at all. To be fair, Mason had done the very same thing many times without consulting Pierce, but Pierce knew he was probably going to catch it for hiring Riley without mentioning it to Mason first.

Riley was different though. She was special, from her cute southern drawl to her worn-out combat boots. If anyone could charm Mason out of being upset, it would be Riley.

###

"Okay fellas, load up. One more day on this job and we'll be handing over keys." Mason liked that part best. Finishing a job, then handing his work over for approval. He couldn't help being detailed, he'd been that way as long as he could remember. His clients usually loved him for that. He sighed as he locked everything down for the evening and loaded up his truck to go home.

Home... that huge estate that Pierce just had to buy. It was too big for both of them, but it was a great place to host parties and relax. They had bought it at a bargain too -- well, as much of a bargain as you can buy an entire estate for. So Mason refused to complain. It was a massive place though.

This was the thing about Pierce that Mason understood, Pierce had a heart as big as that estate. If anyone needed a place to stay, Pierce wanted to make sure they knew they could come to him. He loved people. Pierce didn't always know how to show it, but he truly cared for and want the best for everyone he'd ever encountered. Bleeding-heart Pierce loved everyone -- every single person he'd ever managed to quasi-acquaint himself with. That took guts. That took bravery. That took a fearless trust in others that Mason didn't have. Mason envied Pierce that. Maybe Mason used to have that carelessness a long time ago, but he'd been burned too often -- wounded too deeply. Mason didn't trust people the way Pierce did anymore - especially not women. Of course, Dinah was alright, but he'd hate her too if she ever treated Pierce badly. Outside of the approval Mason sought from others for his work, he rarely concerned himself with them. They had their lives, he had his. For all the casual interaction, socially and professionally, Mason couldn't help but prefer staying detached. He care ferociously for those he loved (mostly family) but that was where it ended.

"That moron had better not have bought anything stupid in Texas." Mason grumbled as he pulled onto the estate driveway and saw Pierce's car where their parents usually parked on visits.

###

Pierce had finished giving Riley the tour and had handed over the keys half and hour ago. The three of them had unpacked her luggage and begun getting her settled, but he'd forgotten to move his car. He just saw Mason turn into the drive and he knew his brother would notice. Dinah had decided to stay and help Riley unpack -- so he'd just tell Mason that. Dinah was straightening up the guest house after their folks. It wasn't totally a lie. Okay, it was a lie, a lie by omission -- but it would have to suffice for now. No. Pierce began to panic. He couldn't lie. He was a horrible liar -- especially if he was lying to Mason. Something about being twins made even white lies ineffective. Mason was going to see right through him in a millisecond. He was so screwed. What was Mason doing home now anyway?! He was supposed to be on a job out of town for at least another week!

Pierce heard keys drop, then boots come off before the jangle of dog tags running to the front door. Those dogs never ran to him.

"Hey Weston -- little buddy. What did you do today while daddy was gone?" The littler terrier barked twice. "Hey Pierce!"

"Yeah?"

"Why is your car in Mom and Dad's spot?"

"Dinah is over there cleaning up and changing linens," Thank heaven there were walls between them and Mason couldn't see his face.

Weston padded into the room followed by an exhausted-looking Mason. "Dinah is over there cleaning up?"

Shit, Mason already sounded skeptical.

"Yep."

"But, don't we have a maid that does that? We should. I cut her that check last week."

Shit shit shit... In his enthusiasm, Pierced had forgotten all about the maid.

"Eh, quality check on the workmanship I suppose -- you know how thorough Dinah is."

"Yeah, sure." Mason was already eyeing him like he was an idiot, but he sounded too tired to argue.

"What's for dinner?"

"I don't know. Shall I call for some take-out?" Whew, bullet dodged.

"No Pierce. I want you to cook for once."

"You know I can't cook Mace. Last time I did, you made me swear not to step foot in the kitchen ever again!" Yes! Talk about cooking... argue about cooking... argue about anything but that girl he'd brought home from Texas! "You cook, I'll do the dishes?" Pierce offered.

"You'd better not leave them in the sink like last time." Mason grumbled as the headed toward the kitchen. "Grown ass man can't even.... "

"Nope! I'll remember to do them this time... I promise!"

Mason sighed. "Hey Pierce?"

"Yeah?"

"Is Dinah gonna be eating here tonight?"

"I dunno, let me go ask her!" Pierce waked outside to the guest house door and knocked instead of going straight in -- gents aren't supposed to barge in on ladies like that. Luckily, Dinah was the one to answer the door. "Mason wants to know if you're gonna eat with us?"

"What is he making?"

"Well, he looks exhausted, so we'll probably be having omlets."

Dinah looked over her shoulder. "Whaddaya say Rye? Want an omlet?"

"Sure. I guess so."

"Great! Bring us two - easy on the cheese."

"Alright." From the corner of his eye, Pierce noticed Mason watching through the window. Thank heaven Dinah had opened that door. He held up two fingers to Mason as he walked back to the house.

"She said she wanted two, easy..."

"... on the cheese. I know, I read her lips. Is she over there alone?"

Shit shit shit... Pierce really hadn't thought this one through.

###

Mason knew Dinah wasn't over there alone. He'd seen the entire conversation from the window. He saw Dinah turn back and call to someone else inside the guest house. The question wasn't whether there was someone -- he knew Pierce had figured that out by now. The question was, who? Who was over there with Dinah? Who was he making the fourth omlet for? Was Pierce going to tell him? He hoped there was a damn good reason he was cooking for four tonight because Mason did not like being lied to. 

Rin & Ronen #1

This was originally handwritten in October 2014.

~K
-----

Ronen whistled, then began calling her name. "Rin! Ri-in!" Where is that girl? Ronen hissed under his breath. He loved his kid sister, but she could be a genuine pain.

"Rin! Come On! I'm doing this for you! You were the one who asked me to rehearse with you! If you can hear the sound of my voice and you aren't in my line of vision in five seconds I'm going to leave you and you can rehearse alone!"

"Shoot. Sorry guys," Rin whispered to her best friend and the two buskers. "I've gotta jet. Ronen is calling." She reached out and grabbed the piles of cash she'd just won off the tree stump that they'd turned into a makeshift poker table, gave Dixie half, then took off. "Later! Thanks for letting me play a while!"

The bucket boy looked incredulous at the concertina player across the stump. "Why? Why do we keep inviting Rin to play? She always wins and ends up with our money."

Dixie answered, "Well, which reason would you like? We usually need a fourth. Rin knows the game and doesn't cheat. I, for one, am sitting here fascinated -- trying to figure out how the hell she does it! I mean, no one wins like Rin."

The bucket boy sneered at Dixie. "Oh, shut-up you! You're just glad she's always your partner. Quit rubbing it in."

The acquiescing concertina player made an attempt to placate the drummer. "At least Ronen called for her before she completely broke us. I've still got a fiver left if anyone is up for one more go-round."

Dixie stood up. "Nah, I think this is where I bow out gracefully. I have to go tend the horses anyway." She walked away from the stump counting the money Rin had handed her. "Thanks for the game fellas! Later!"

The bucket boy waved her off. "Bye Chicken! Bawk-bawk-ba-gawk!"

"... 4... 3... 2..."

"I'm right here Ro!"

"Ah, there you are. Good. You wanted to rehearse? I got the net up and everything. Where were you anyway?"

Rin knew better than to answer that question. She knew Ronen didn't like for her to gamble, but to Rin that was like saying, "Don't play checkers!" It was never about the money - it was always about the skill it took to win the game. So when Ronen asked (as he always did) where she was, Rin answered in her usual way. "Oh, just hanging with Dixie -- showing some of the fellas how it's done."

As much as Rin tried to hide it, Ronen saw through it every time. "How much Rin? How much did you take them for?"

Knowing he knew (just like Ronen always seemed to know), Rin gave another usual answer. "I don't know Ro - I haven't counted it yet." Then she tossed him her half of the money she'd won, grinned, and ran on ahead to change into her rehearsal sweats.

Ronen shook his head, amused, and chuckled. Rin never kept the money she won. She'd always handed over every single penny whenever he'd confronted her about it. Ronen supposed that was why he couldn't get too mad at her, and neither could anyone else. Rin couldn't help it. She was just a winner. And even though he didn't agree with her manner of acquiring these ill-gotten gains, he knew it was a credit to her that she never kept any of the money she won.

More often than not, Rin's winnings went right back into the circus coffers -- to be used for paychecks, travel expenses, advertising promotions, and the like. Heaven knows how many times Rin's winnings had kept the entire circus afloat. If you were one of the carnies, losing to Rin was comparable to investing that money in your enterprises or putting it into a savings account that would either be returned to you during the next pay cycle or in the form of job security. Yes, gambling with Rin was good for business, and everyone knew it. So, while Ronen didn't necessarily "approve" and the losers usually grumbled a good bit, it was an easy vice for them all to turn a blind eye to... especially Ronen, considering he was the one that kept the books for the entire organization and knew exactly how many times Rin's winnings had kept them all in the black. Eh, it's just a game. Let her have her fun, Ronen thought as he sauntered toward the big top, counting all the bills Rin had just thrust into his hands. This might just make us to the end of this week!

From the WTH is She Thinking? Collection #1

"I'm not just any beach though! I'm a Myrtle Beach, yo!"

"You yelled at me in a dream once. Then I made you laugh. We were good after that, nigh inseparable."

Butterfly Code #2

This was originally handwritten on April 27, 2014
~K
-----

She'd left with little more than the clothing on her back and some money in small bills. She'd need to be rid of all those things, and soon, if she'd want to postpone the inevitable confrontation with Evan. She knew it was coming, but she didn't know were or when it would occur. He would be relentless in his search for her though -- that much she knew better than to question. She was surprised that he'd hung back as long as he had. She'd half expected him to go running through the field after her. Maybe the shock of what she'd told him had stunned him, perhaps he'd just let her go thinking she was crazy. Maybe it would be better if she was crazy. Either way, good. As long as it kept Evan at bay - so much the better. Any space she could get between them was only to the benefit of them both.

A way down the road,  she had the good fortune of encountering a dusty bus. She paid for the trip to "anywhere" and when the doors shut behind her so did the only life she'd ever known. There was another woman about her size on the bus, sitting in the back in rags. Siobhan approached her, introduced herself, and asked the woman where she was headed and if she wouldn't mind trading clothes. The woman claimed to be going home after finishing up her domestic duties at a local manse. She smelled strongly of ammonia and Siobhan was hopeful that this woman's rags would mask her own pheromones effectively enough to delay Evan's pursuit further.

The woman was overjoyed at the opportunity to exchange clothes. She said she hadn't had a new dress of her own in years and even though Siobhan's would be second-hand, it was high quality and it smelled of fresh wind and wildflowers. Bonnie swallowed a sob and chided herself internally for getting maudlin over a material thing like her favorite dress and the two women proceeded to to exchange every article of clothing they owned -- down to the shoes -- as inconspicuously as possible.

The new clothes fit Siobhan awkwardly -- tight in some places, loose in others. The chemical scent was coming off of them in waves, intense to the point of revulsion -- perfect. With one final look at how happy the woman seemed to have a new dress, she bid her new friend safe travels and found a different seat on the sparsely populated bus. After a few more stops, she disembarked quietly to avoid arousing suspicion. Hoping no one saw her leave, Siobhan made her way out of town on foot. She was already exhausted, but she knew there was no time to rest. She had to completely disappear. No trace whatsoever could be left behind before she would be able to truly relax.

There was a forest just to the side of the tenement apartments across the street from the bus stop. She'd go there first. With any luck there would be a spring of water and she could travel on and continue to mask her scent simultaneously. If not, perhaps there was a tree she could sleep in. Well, not "sleep"... sleep was too dangerous. And maybe rest her eyes for a few hours? She knew she needed the sleep, but she dreaded the dreaming and the uncertainty of waking up. Waking up -- even in discomfort -- from those dreams is still far better than not waking up from them at all. She reminded herself. With those thoughts as motivation, Siobhan trudged on toward the shadows and trees. Leave nothing behind... leave nothing behind... leave nothing behind... 

###

Evan didn't stop to rest. He began grabbing things as he came through the door. Right now his Siobhan was out there, on her own, and it took every ounce of his (not inconsiderable) patience to completely forgo packing and just set out for her immediately. Why did he need her so badly? Why did she need to be by his side? He couldn't understand it. He only had questions, no answers. Could he genuinely love her that much? That she had become his only need? He fell onto his couch and began to remember the times they'd spent together.  He remembered what it felt like to hold her -- to be held by her. He remembered the silken touch of her flawless skin. He remembered the radiance that flashed in her eyes whenever she smiled. He swore as he breathed a deep sigh, he still smelled her. Her scent lingered in his nose the way her touch lingered against his skin, the way her laughter bubbled up like a fountain in his ears. Had she even been real? Or had he just imagined her? 

No. She was real -- she had to be. He remembered the one time he'd convinced her to take photographs with him at a fair photo booth. She'd been reluctant because she claimed she didn't like having her picture taken, but she finally acquiesced when he began pleading.

"Alright!" She'd said. "one time... and only on the condition that you're with me."

They'd laughed and jumped into the booth together. She'd sat down in his lap, blushing for the first one. He'd kissed her cheek in the second. They'd side-hugged each other in the third, then turned to face one another -- nose to nose and smiling -- in the fourth. They'd sat still for a moment after that , foreheads together, eyes closed, noses grazing... in an instant their moment took a somber turn. There was an acknowledgement of their intimacy in this solitude. Neither of them denied it. In that moment, they'd allowed themselves to be vulnerable with each other. No reservations, no inhibitions, no teasing -- just the two of them... being... being wholly themselves... together.  The flash for the fifth photo caught both of them off-guard, they thought their dollar had only paid for four photos. Apparently the machine had a glitch that made it take five photos and put the last one on its own page. He'd kept the fifth one, giving Siobhan the others. He said that was because he didn't want her to have the "messed up" one. She'd never questioned that, but if she had he'd have told her honestly that the surprise fifth picture was his favorite. It was the one that had made all the awkwardness of the other four worthwhile.

Evan pulled out his wallet. Right there in the first of the photo sleeves was the only photo he had. It was that fifth photo of himself and Siobhan. Granted, it was only of the side of her face, but it was confirmation. She was real. He had held her in his arms, against his palms, felt her gentle breath against his face. This picture was all the proof he needed to cement that she had not been a dream. Siobhan was real, and he was going to find her... no matter what it took. They belonged together.

###

Siobhan had never spent a single night in her entire life without a roof over her head. She'd felt cold, hungry, alone, and uncertain -- maybe even afraid, but never without shelter. The forest wasn't like she thought it would be. She'd always imagined sweet little creatures would come out, sniff at her a little, and maybe feel some sympathy, but no. She was finding the forest to be much wilder than she'd supposed. This was not a fairy tale -- it was a part of her waking nightmare - a nightmare with no end in sight.

She was tired - but there was no bed of leaves here. Every step she took crushed foliage where she dreaded a snake might be. Every hoot and howl kept her exhausted body in a heightened state of alertness. When she finally did find a tree she felt comfortable climbing, she hesitated, worried that it wouldn't be protection enough from the things on the ground, or from the things that would already be in its branches. Instead of climbing, she decided to to stay beside it for a few hours, spooked at a few unfamiliar (and threatening) sounds, and when her nerves couldn't stand it any longer -- she left. It probably wasn't a good idea to stop moving anyway. If Evan were here, he'd know exactly what to do.

She hated admitting that -- that she used to need him for so much. That hadn't been good for either one of them. He'd always had the onus of "saving her"... she'd never had to save herself before. It was difficult. She didn't know how (or why) he'd managed to do it over and over and over again. What would Evan do in this situation? No. She couldn't do those things - he'd find her for certain if she did those things. Leaving ashes from a fire, falling asleep in a tree, hunting for food -- he'd have done all of those tings by now. Silence was another thing he'd have been. Siobhan gave herself permission to grouse out loud. She allowed herself to feel some misery as she wrapped the strange woman's ammonia soaked clothing tighter around her cold body. She certainly hadn't thought this through well when she'd been back at the bus stop -- but she'd be furious with herself if she couldnt' do this one night on her own. She hated Evan in that moment: hated him for always doing things like this for her, but never teaching her to do them for herself. She hated herself for letting it happen. She talked aloud to the black trees, and the navy sky, even the blinking stars as she trudged along between the scraggly up-shoots of underbrush.

"Don't you dare come save me now, Evan!" She shook her fist and called to the darkness. "Not after I've come this far on my own! Don't you dare take this achievement away from me!"

Some part of her heart wanted to hear him jump out from something behind her and whisper, "I shouldn't dream of it. You're not even halfway in." Then he'd wiggle his eyebrows and breeze by her with that air of complete confidence. She'd hated that so much before, now she missed it. Here in the darkness, with no one to hear, she admitted it.

"I miss you so much, but don't you dare try to save me! I can do this! Hell, for all I know - I'm only 100 feet in, right? She smiled to herself at their old hiking joke. "It may only be 100 feet, but it's still 100 feet that farther than you thought I could go by myself!"

Then she admitted the truth to the nearest tree, "Shoot, it's 100 feet farther in than I thought I could go by myself."

Everything had begun to look the same. "Who am I kidding? I'm probably walking in circles."

Siobhan was so tired... so tired. She had no idea where she was, how far away he was, what would happen next... nothing. It scared her, but she was resolved. She was not going back.

That was when she remembered the moss.