Memories, they have faded like sun-bleached bones.
Haunted, The White Sky Storm Remembered.
The wind blew with the ferocity I had never seen before.
I felt as if I would never love like this again.
The water was cold on my feet as I stood,
Perched on a red granite stone; overlooking that frigid sea,
I never felt as beautiful as I did on that day.
So close to the beautiful city; towering over me,
His eyes were like two vibrant replicas of our Earth
A glorious fusion of green and blue; I remember that much!
Glimmering in the moonlight; throwing his smile at me carelessly.
Oh, how I miss him so, beautiful city of Troy .
He is far gone from me, as is his snow and boyish smile.
I barely remember what he looked like,
Yet his voice is clarion clear in my mind.
Those huge firm hands will never envelope mine again
Nostalgia laughs at me as I consider him
Nostalgia, Your laugh is that of thorns.
Irony scuffs its feet in shame, however, how dare you let your heart stray!
That beautiful city of Troy is not but a dream long lost.
Butterflies and Bettas
2073
A man named after the town of his birth boarded a north bound train. The
night sky glittered like the scattering of tiny diamonds over black velvet,
only marked otherwise by a thumbnail moon and the faintest wisps of city
lights reflecting off the cirrus clouds. Trains were nostalgic then, any
mode of ground transportation was. With the development of perpetual thrust
propelled vehicles (PTPV's… or Peties) and matter transference stations,
such modes of transportation such as the old autos and trains were
considered unpredictable, unstable and generally inefficient.
Kent had barely turned 95 before his great grandson bought him his
first Petie, insisting that his old Fueller wasn't safe. He remembered his
great grandson, barely 20 saying: “it's like if you were 5 years old riding
a bike up the tarmac of O'Harrison airport”. Old Kent just didn't feel like
correcting the name of the airport that day. Four days of hell followed.
The Peties weren't like old cars. They were blocky and completely
silent, no real beauty to them. They didn't come in a myriad of colours, just
the standard polished titanium alloy with different coloured flags atop what
could have once been a hood. Kent 's car had the yellow flag, the colour of a
novice operator. Their steering wasn't manipulated with a wheel but rather
with a series of finger movements over an electronic pad. In the student
Peties, however, the steering was precalculated in a database. Instead of
driving it, the route was pre-programmed before the trip. Any stops to be
made in the vehicle en route could only be made by the experienced operator
who accompanied the novice.
Kent had never been more embarrassed in all his life than when he
had to beg a man 60 years his jr. to stop the Petie so he could take a leak.
The day after the horrific Petie incident, he received a letter in the mail
from a ghost of his past signed on the back of the envelope in the return
simply as “Wildflower”. As soon as he caught scent of the letter enclosed,
warm and spicy sandalwood and Nag Champa, he tripped over his rug and fell
heavily to the floor.
He dreamed of a girl wrapped in his leather jacket sitting atop a
ski hill. The remains of an old plush armadillo were folded in her hands as
her eyes traced the course of the Fish River running thru the town. The
dream suddenly flashed to the same girl in a grey midriff shirt and a
mismatched floral skirt hanging carelessly over a railroad trestle, her dark
blonde hair highlighted by the cold evening sun. She walked barefoot away
from him a good long way down before she waved to him, smiling widely. He
heard her voice for the first time in 73 years calling to him.
“ Kent , come here… you promised!” her unusually thick southern accent edged
her slow words. She gave a short signature pause as she clasped her hands in
front of herself. “I haven't forgotten, have you?” Of course he hadn't.
He felt as if his legs were made of lead. He heard himself whisper,
trying to say to her “I'm coming.” Curiosity bit at his every nerve and he
felt light-headed as if he were in first love all over again. She smiled even
wider and muttered something to the effect of his being silly amusing her
immensely; she held out one hand, the same plush armadillo dangling from her
wrist from a dainty blue ribbon. “Wait” she called out. “Take your time;
come this way, down the railroad trestle… I'll wait for you there.” Then the
dream changed again.
This time he was the one on the ski hill in the jacket, holding a
torn scrap of blue ribbon tied around a tiny bit of grey faux fur. Suddenly
he remembered the time he stood on the hill, just like this, completely
shocked into stoicism.
He opened his eyes, his vision instantly focusing on a tiny tack
sized spot of blood on his rug. He cursed gently as he lifted his tired form
from the floor. For a split second, his nose once again caught the smell of
the letter, the smell of her, reminding him of his curiosity. Just as the
communications chime rang thru his house, he scrambled in the way only a
95-year-old man can to search behind his entryway table to find the letter.
Kent barely had time to stick his head behind the table when a small
buzz came from his door in sync with the chiming of his com. He grumbled,
shouting for the person at the door to come in. His great grandson arrived,
his smile dropping as he watched his granddad Kent bent over the table,
struggling with deep breaths to reach something. “What are you doing?”
Julian cried out, tugging on Kent 's arm.
“I'm just reaching my damn mail! I dropped it back here when I
fell.” He said gruffly, speaking just loud enough to drown out the com
chime.
“You FELL? Jesus, Granddad… and how long has your com been ringing?”
Julian tugged Kent from behind the table and led him to his parlour, tapping
the com button on the way in. There was no one on the other end of the com.
Kent had already risen and started walking back to his entry hall
table again when Julian caught him.
“I'll get your mail for you; you just sit still and relax.” Julian
made sure he was sitting down before inspecting the table in the hall.
“I don't even know why you're so interested in your mail, you said
yourself you hated junk mail and the local paper is full of bullshit; it's
the 23rd and that's all that comes today is the paper and junk mail.” Julian
deftly reached behind the table and found the mail that had been dropped and
returned it to Kent .
“Nope, you don't even have the paper today, just a missing persons
flyer and a coupon book for DL4's” he sat heavily on the love seat just
watching a confused look pass thru his great grandfather's face.
“I had a letter, it smelled kind of like my old keepsake box used
to. I dropped it behind the table.” Kent protested, rising to look again for
himself.
“I promise that was all that was there… I'll move the table if you
like.”
For a brief moment, Kent wanted to ask him to do just that, he was
sure he dropped it and the curiosity ate at him with each passing moment,
but then he remembered the butterfly that he saw fly from his bathroom sink.
He'd sent poor Julian to search thru his house for hours to find it but it
was gone. His family insisted that he had just imagined it; there was no way
a butterfly could have flown out of his drain. It was impossible especially
considering butterflies had become extinct nearly 26 years ago.
He remembered how she spoke so emphatically over the phone one night
about all the little butterflies she saw lilting over her front lawn. Back
then butterflies were everywhere, taken for granted. Not by her though. She
looked at each little thing as if she'd never seen it before. He remembered
her almost crying with delight as she talked about all the colours of them,
detailing them for him.
Julian sat silently for a long time before asking Kent how he was
enjoying the Petie.
“It's a miserable machine for an old man. I appreciate the thought,
little one, but I just didn't come from a time of perpetual thrust… unless
it was between the sheets.” Kent gave a little devious chuckle.
“Just give it a chance, granddad. You'll like it soon.” Julian
insisted. He rose and smiled.
“Okay, granddad let me give you a health check and run your laundry
and I'll be out of your hair.” He lifted the glucose test strip from its
case on the coffee table, some things hadn't changed in 95 years, and
pricked Kent 's finger.
“Well no wonder you fell! Your sugar's all off... damn, granddad,
you have to eat better.” Julian fussed as he gave him his insulin shot.
“I'd eat a hell of a lot better if beef weren't illegal! I could go
for a hamburger right about now.”
Julian scanned his blood pressure and temperature then laughed a
bit.
“You've lived many years… you deserve a hamburger. Maybe one day
I'll mail in some illegal Big Macs from Japan , just for you. Anyways, I have
to get back to school and study, my macro-psychology exam is tomorrow. “
Kent tried to stand to walk him out but Julian waved for him to
remain sitting.
“You rest today. You take care, granddad, and quit ignoring your
com, sometimes people com in because it's an emergency. You never know.” Julian said and walked out the front door.
Julian was a good kid; he was very caring and gentle. Kent always
thought he should have started to study medicine instead of general
humanities. He had the touch of a doctor anyone could trust. Julian's only
pitfall was he was a victim of the times. Convenience and efficiency were a
way of life. He simply couldn't understand his grandfather's stubbornness.
He called his granddad's behaviour acute xenophobia. Kent simply smiled and
muttered an obscure joke about an old TV show.
“You have to understand that you're still a very witty guy, you just
have the kind of wit us young kids don't quite understand yet.” Julian
explained. For a long time Kent sat in silence, listening to his thoughts
run thru his mind until he felt too tired to think anymore. He finally stood
and headed for bed when his com chimed. He remembered what Julian said but
simply left it to its noise and climbed upstairs to bed.
He didn't make it out of his clothes into his robe before he fell
asleep, lying diagonally over his oversized ottoman in his study. He slept a
hard dreamless sleep, awakening the next morning to stiffness in his
shoulders and a breeze over his face.
Kent shielded his eyes from the morning sun glinting through his
window. He shuffled downstairs, marvelling at how such an old man as himself
could only be a little sore from falling asleep in such an unusual place,
when he missed a step and tumbled to the bottom. For a long time he just
laid at the bottom of the stairs, wondering why he had been falling so much
lately. His eyes explored a corner tucked between the wall and the
underneath of his bottom step when he saw a flash of dusty colour move with
each breath he made. Out of curiosity, he reached underneath the step and
produced the dried corpse of a monarch butterfly, its wings ragged and
fragile.
His heart leapt as he held the crumbling form of the butterfly
cupped between his two hands. He struggled to stand without using his arms
and after a while of twisting and writhing, he was on his two feet. He
walked slowly to his parlour and laid the butterfly on the end table as he
searched for his old lapel pin. He found a garishly huge diamond lapel pin
tucked neatly in a clear glass box stuffed with blue satin. He emptied the
pin onto the floor carelessly and replaced it with the butterfly.
“I knew I wasn't going senile, I knew I saw you. I'm so sorry I was
unable to set you free again. You're so beautiful; I know now what she found
so stunning about you guys.” Kent muttered, just admiring the poor crumbling
wings. He carefully set the glass box on his table and for a moment mulled
over his com button. He pressed the button and said the name Julian.
“Contact not found, please repeat or try another contact” the com
spoke in a loud monotone drone. He cursed loudly and repeated “Julian”
“This damn thing Julian not foun-“ Kent just pressed the cancel
button.
“Never mind”
2003
Aeryn Willoughs panicked as she saw the rollers illuminate her
rear-view mirror. She quickly put out her joint and lit two cigarettes, one
to smoke and one she just jammed into her ashtray and closed away to smoke
itself. The cop walked to her window, looking in her car suspiciously.
“What's wrong?” she asked, her hands shaking uncontrollably.
“Just a regular traffic stop... and to ask you a question.” The
large dour man said slowly. He looked both ways then leaned into the car.
“I know what you've been doing, I watched you roll that damn thing
in the Wal-Mart parking lot 15 minutes ago. So, to my question… what's more
important to you…? Ms. Willoughs of Victoria Texas, TDC number 4321988… your
freedom, or your pride?” He grinned, looking to either side again.
“You can't prove I have anything on me, sir.” She protested, fear
racing thru her.
“Don't worry, ma'am… it's there, I'll find it. You hid it in your
console, under the hideaway cup holder in a toilet paper tube. Why don't you
come out and talk to me.” The cop said.
I can't get a DUI; I'll go back... not now, not now.
She stepped out of her car and looked around. There was nothing for
at least 10 miles down this road, and oddly enough, no cars, just trees.
“Listen, Aeryn, right? I can pretend like I‘ve never seen you if you
can do the same for me. Deal?” he said, his dour expression being replaced
by the smile of a man who just seemed too happy for the situation.
“I don't understand. What you mean?” she asked, cold confusion
numbed her. In an instant, he took her by her blonde hair and pulled her
away from her car. She kicked, cried, and twisted as he dragged her across
the ditch, thru the mud and into the woods. He stopped behind a large patch
of underbrush, casting aside his sunglasses, revealing a cold pair of
crossed blue eyes.
“You're a beautiful girl, Aeryn. “ He pushed her down, speaking
under heavy breaths. “Too pretty for prison again. If you go again you'll
never make it out to see Maine again.“ She cried, her skin feeling cold and
numb.
“How do you know this about me?” she wept as he struggled with her,
one hand holding her down while the other fought with her dress.
“Lucky guess, I guess... now hold still and you'll win your
freedom.” He bit down hard on her soft bare shoulder, drawing a little blood
as she screamed. Each time she screamed he bit down harder until she
couldn't bear the pain. She resolved just to lie still, shaking, hoping it
would end so she could finally resume her trip back North, back to him as
she promised. She knew that if she didn't do this she'd never make it back.
2073
Kent just had an epiphany as he sat in his 4th hour of musing over
the butterfly in silence. If the butterfly hadn't been imagined neither had
the letter, right? He leapt up faster than he had in many years and returned
to the entryway table. He slipped an arm behind the table and instantly
found a letter. He produced an old utility bill and sighed heavily.
“I could have sworn I saw it!” he exclaimed; for a moment he wanted
to give up but instead reached his arm back there again, in a final ditch
effort. He felt more mail, but lost hope when he noticed it felt just like
the bill, the raised Braille stamp on the corner. He produced it
half-heartedly and nearly cried as he saw the word “Wildflower” on the back
of the envelope.
His hands palsied a little worse than usual as he held the letter,
afraid to open it. He knew whom it was from… after all these years. He
opened it in his parlour, reading each word slowly so as not to mistake any
meaning.
“Dear Fort” he chuckled slightly... she called him that back then,
insisting that if he really had been named after the town, his first name
should have been Fort.
“I saw a betta fish in a tank for the first time in 10 years at the
zoo. The plaque beneath the tank said he was the last of his kind and at
that moment, I realized he looked sad. Not because he was the last, but
because he wasn't the last, just separated from some secluded ditch in Asia
that held the other four remaining on this earth of his species. How do I
know it's four? Because he told me. He spent his whole life wishing he were
back in the ditch with his kind and now just wanted to die of old age, the
last little hope of joining his kind dwindling yet not dying. I write this
letter in a holding cell in Thailand . I've only been here a couple of days
and they're treating me very nicely.”
Kent just laughed a little... “Always getting in trouble, damn
woman, you're too old for trouble”
They said they've never heard of a 90-year-old woman committing
international theft of a protected animal. I thought maybe if I told them
the truth they'd think I was senile and let me go but as always, I seemed to
do more harm than good. They dredged the ditch and the adjacent paddy and
found the four other bettas. So now, they're all together at last… in heaven
now. The four from the ditch didn't take to the fresh water as well as the
original, and apparently, all these ichthyologists had forgotten the males
don't like to be in the same small tank. Idiots. They stressed each other to
death: the fish, not the fish “experts”.
I know what you're thinking, we haven't spoken in over 70 years and
I keep talking about this fish? I guess in a way I was trying to return the
betta because I always wanted someone to pick me up in a time when I was
caged and place me where I belonged. I made a promise that I'd return for
one last time. I spent so much of my life hating YOU for all the roadblocks
I found trying to return in my younger days. It was only talking to that
fish that I realized that I can't possibly blame you until I ask you one
last question… it's a good one… if you're still alive, Fort, you know where
to meet me.
Aeryn.
P.S. I expect to be back in the states in 3 days, I just received word I'm
being released tonight. “
Kent just shook his head.
“It's just like her; she left out a crucial part. What question is
it? “ He just laughed, feeling like a love struck teenager as he smelled the
letter again, flooded with old brief memories.
2018
Aeryn spent her days with her life partner happily. After the attack, she
turned back south, sought out the comfort of a woman, and found Lily. Lily
was a gentle intelligent, soft-spoken soul. What she lacked in physical
beauty she made up for in her wit and grace. Lily was Aeryn's answer to her
pain and fear.
By the time Aeryn was 35 she was well known throughout the nation
for her demonstration tactics in gay rights rallies. She spoke with clout,
and had a following to match. She'd successfully convinced congress to
retract the anti-homosexuality amendment, disallowing criminal punishment
for acts of homosexuality. She jockeyed for what gay rights society would
allow.
She and Lily had just finished their book about the joys of living a
full and happy life as two politically famous lesbians. Aeryn was
campaigning to be the first lesbian governor at the time as well.
That night they sat on the front porch, sharing a menthol cigarette,
watching the electrical light show in the sky. The first cold wind of the
approaching winter swept thru Aeryn's hair, rekindling an old memory she'd
successfully stuffed for a long time. The air smelled crisp and dry, she
shivered and a single tear tracked down her cheek. She was sure she would
die without ever feeling that stinging Fort Kent breeze again, or the warmth
of the jacket she rarely took off when she was there. No jacket she ever
bought since felt like that.
2073
A man named after the town of his birth boarded a north bound train. The
night sky glittered like the scattering of tiny diamonds over black velvet,
only marked otherwise by a thumbnail moon and the faintest wisps of city
lights reflecting off the cirrus clouds. Trains were nostalgic then, any
mode of ground transportation was.
He sat in his seat as the train moved. The dramatic tour guide's voice
blared endlessly about the mechanics of the train and the excitement of the
journey into history. He watched the scenery whirr by, watching intently as
if he expected to see her walking along the tracks, barefoot in everlasting
youth. He wondered if his family would be unforgiving about his
disappearance. He just knew, however they wouldn't let him leave, not to
meet a woman they never quite believed he'd even been involved with.
“How on earth could you have ever had a love affair with one of the most
self proclaimed lesbians on the face of this earth? I'm sure women like her
just HAD to be born hating men.” Julian had said, chortling with disbelief.
“Maybe it's a different Aeryn who looked similar.” He reassured Kent .
Kent was afraid that she would reject him. He knew that he just wasn't her
type anymore. He didn't even care if she couldn't love him like that
anymore; he just wanted to see her one last time, to say he was sorry
forever letting her leave. He had a long train ride ahead of him, almost
1000 miles north to go.
Julian returned from his granddad's house to his dorm to the sound of his
com chiming. He quickly answered it and again his mother appeared. This time
she was at home, and her expression was clearly distressed.
“What's wrong mom?”
“Remember that story granddad Kent told about his fling with that famous
lesbian governor? “
“Yeah? What about it?”
“She was returned from a jail in Thailand after pulling a stunt with some
rare fish at a zoo. She was found this morning in Boston passed out in a
convenience store parking lot. They think she had a heart attack.”
Julian sighed a little… trivial things.
“Yeah?”
“The police said they found two sticks of Nag Champa incense and the torn up
letter talking about a relationship she had with our granddad Kent.”
“So the old man was telling the truth all along . . . I'll be damned.”
“I'm just so worried, it's all over the news and if he finds out he'll get
so worked up, maybe even do something stupid. He's just too old to get
worked up like that.”
“I'll keep an eye on him; he doesn't watch the news anyway. He's convinced
these days that the media is lying to us on a regular basis. I doubt he'll
see it”
“Just keep a watch; you know how he gets sometimes.”
The train reached Fort Kent at nine in the morning. Kent unloaded his small
suitcase from the baggage cart and started walking thru the town that hadn't
changed in over 100 years. Aside from the Peties and other modern
conveniences and efficiencies, the little New England town was still as
pristine and clean as one could imagine. The air was cold and dry and each
breath he took plumed like smoke.
He walked thru the town, each person stopping to say hello to him. Les
Gillespie, his old high school lab partner, was still alive, running the
local barbershop on the corner across from the grocery store. The college
had expanded some but still held a quaint peacefulness that he remembered
from his college days. As he walked across the campus, passing the dormitory
he once lived in, he caught the glimpse of a young man who he was certain
was an old college friend of his. He started to raise his hand and cry out
the old familiar obscenities but stopped midway when the man took off his
cap and asked him if he was lost.
“What was I thinking, that was many years ago, he'd be old too.”
He found the trail behind the college that led over a part of the Fish
River . The river was a lot smaller now, a little dried up, but still flowing
strong. There finally was the old railroad trestle, perched on the rail was
blonde girl hanging carelessly off the railing, her bare feet reddened from
the cold.
“Aeryn?” he said softly, she didn't turn around at first. “Aeryn” he said
again, a little louder this time. The girl turned around and smiled, flying
quickly in to his arms.
“Oh, Fort, there you are. I knew you'd be here.” She laughed, kissing his
cheek emphatically.
“How is it you look just as you did 73 years ago?” He asked in wonder,
noticing the girl was now a crumpled bent old woman, beautiful as the river
below.
“You're a fine one to talk, you don't look as if you've aged a day either!”
she spoke strongly.
“I didn't know if you'd be here, you didn't tell me what day to meet you.”
He said, his words stumbling over each other.
“I just knew… you'd be here today. Well, we're finally here, after all those
years; we are here again… just like we promised.” She sighed, pulling him to
sit with her on the trestle. He produced an old worn leather jacket from his
suitcase and wrapped it around her.
“Just like a Texan to forget to pack a jacket!” Kent laughed as she nestled
into his embrace. “Remember, I said then that when we came back here we'd
stay together for the rest of our lives? Well... perhaps I should have come
back a long time ago. I just knew then you had a fiancée, and I had a job
waiting for me in Texas . I just became so angry after finding disaster at
every attempt to come back. When the cop attacked me I became angry with
you, feeling like you'd thrown me away. Maybe in some weird way you'd sent
the cop after me to thwart my attempts to return. Therefore, I did the one
thing I knew would keep me from a lifetime of trying and possible failure.
Lily died 21 years ago of a stroke. Just before she died, she said that I
had to forgive myself, not you. I was confused for a long time about that. I
was sure it was your fault. Until I saw that fish, I was just an angry
lonely old woman who just couldn't seem to die. “
Kent just wept as he had long ago when all he found in his bed with him was
a little scrap of grey faux fur from the plush armadillo and the blue ribbon
tied around it. “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have let you leave.”
He shook his head.
“If I hadn't you wouldn't have ever married Anna, and I know you did; I
checked up on it when I was campaigning in 2018, just for kicks. “
“We weren't happy, we just stayed together for our kids, in separate little
houses on the same lot until one day she packed up and left. After you left,
I never really was the same, and she hated me for that. In the end I wound
up hating her for hating me... we all seemed to hate each other didn't we?”
He tried to muster a chuckle.
“Not anymore. This was what should have been. Me and you forever sitting on
this trestle. I've missed you Kent .” Aeryn laid her head on his chest and
smiled.
“I've missed you too. Maybe now we can live together.” He replied.
“Now for my question, will you stay with me?” she asked.
He paused for a moment. This particular question was much deeper than it
sounded. “Of course, I think both of us are a little past due.”
Julian reached the Boston Hospital in record time. He gathered up some of
Granddad Kent 's belongings before visiting him. His mom has called him
yesterday telling him that granddad Kent had been found asleep on a railroad
trestle in Maine , hypothermic, in respiratory distress. He couldn't quite
figure out why he was sent to Boston hospital, so far away from where he was
found, but he was just glad someone had finally found him. He found Kent in
a partition room, pale and sobbing loudly.
“She was there; I just know she was there… I saw her, I felt her... “He
cried out.
“Hi” Julian said meekly.
“Oh, Julian… where is she? I was just with her yesterday”
Julian knew that was impossible; just 3 days ago she was in a hospital on
her deathbed. In some strange way, though, he felt that somehow he was
telling the truth. Poor Granddad Kent wasn't speaking clearly, before long
the nurses sedated him and he fell fast asleep. Julian retreated to the
waiting room and was surprised to see how many women were there, just
staring at him. One small woman tucked away in the back stood up and walked
directly to him.
“Aeryn did the right thing… even your appreciations change from soul to
soul. She kept trying to call him, you know just before she tried to go back
to Maine , but he never answered his com.” She said to him softly.
Julian jumped a moment. “Is Aeryn here?” he asked.
“She's here for now.” She said and immediately walked away down the hall.
Julian cried out and rushed back to his great grandfather's room. Cold
fingers reached out to him, tugging gently.
“She's here.” Julian whispered in answer to the old man's grasp. “I promise
I will find her for you.”
Three nurses standing in the hall suddenly stopped their busy scuffling and
listened to the odd echo from the 123's. In synchronous cadence, an old
woman and an old man said gently “That's quite alright; we're plenty close
enough and we will be forever.” As if on cue, both sides of 123 flat-lined
simultaneously.
“Your hands are so coooold.” Aeryn giggled as she kicked her sandals
expertly over the brush alongside path and into the little clearing that
held their picnic basket. At the bottom of the ski hill laid the wide
expanse of the St. John Valley bathed in muted white light.
“Have you ever thought that maybe your hands are simply too warm?” Kent
chuckled, his eyes shining like two miniature glass globes. The air really
was starting to catch a chill wind. The stark white, faceless sky gave
promises of a mild but effective winter fast approaching. A single white
object, soft a goose down, drifted from the sky just slowly enough for Aeryn
to reach out and catch it on her fingertip.
“Snow…” she marvelled as she looked to Kent . There was love in that
expression, a love far greater than time itself. This was a private
adoration between the three of them: Kent , Aeryn, and the little plush
armadillo that dangled merrily from a dainty blue ribbon tied to her wrist.
It would last forever.
Julian cleaned his great granddad house thoroughly and now had the task of
going though the boxes of little knick-knack items. He would spend many days
sorting them, some to be inherited, some to be given away, and some to be
thrown away. He came across a little glass box. Inside the box was a not so
decayed monarch butterfly atop a piece of blue satin.
“Well, I'll be damned; this man never told a lie in his life, did he?” He
muttered.
That evening Julian visited Kent and Aeryn's gravesite, the little ragged
butterfly in the open glass box. He began talking to Kent when a strong wind
picked up the butterfly and the satin. As he tried to reach carefully for
the butterfly so he could place it on his granddads grave he drew his hand
back quickly. The butterfly didn't quit drifting when the gust was gone. It
was flying away, flitting slowly over the headstones and into the azure sky.
He reached down to pick up the satin and instead found a bit of old blue
ribbon, worn just like the blue ribbon on Aeryn's plush armadillo and was
stricken with a thought.
Kent held onto this ribbon with hope. They really were like the fish. They
were finally together in the end, but thru intervention they just weren't
strong enough to adapt. The times were changing too fast for the two souls
who just couldn't die until they fulfilled that one last promise. I'll be
damned.
Haunted, The White Sky Storm Remembered.
The wind blew with the ferocity I had never seen before.
I felt as if I would never love like this again.
The water was cold on my feet as I stood,
Perched on a red granite stone; overlooking that frigid sea,
I never felt as beautiful as I did on that day.
So close to the beautiful city; towering over me,
His eyes were like two vibrant replicas of our Earth
A glorious fusion of green and blue; I remember that much!
Glimmering in the moonlight; throwing his smile at me carelessly.
Oh, how I miss him so, beautiful city of Troy .
He is far gone from me, as is his snow and boyish smile.
I barely remember what he looked like,
Yet his voice is clarion clear in my mind.
Those huge firm hands will never envelope mine again
Nostalgia laughs at me as I consider him
Nostalgia, Your laugh is that of thorns.
Irony scuffs its feet in shame, however, how dare you let your heart stray!
That beautiful city of Troy is not but a dream long lost.
Butterflies and Bettas
2073
A man named after the town of his birth boarded a north bound train. The
night sky glittered like the scattering of tiny diamonds over black velvet,
only marked otherwise by a thumbnail moon and the faintest wisps of city
lights reflecting off the cirrus clouds. Trains were nostalgic then, any
mode of ground transportation was. With the development of perpetual thrust
propelled vehicles (PTPV's… or Peties) and matter transference stations,
such modes of transportation such as the old autos and trains were
considered unpredictable, unstable and generally inefficient.
Kent had barely turned 95 before his great grandson bought him his
first Petie, insisting that his old Fueller wasn't safe. He remembered his
great grandson, barely 20 saying: “it's like if you were 5 years old riding
a bike up the tarmac of O'Harrison airport”. Old Kent just didn't feel like
correcting the name of the airport that day. Four days of hell followed.
The Peties weren't like old cars. They were blocky and completely
silent, no real beauty to them. They didn't come in a myriad of colours, just
the standard polished titanium alloy with different coloured flags atop what
could have once been a hood. Kent 's car had the yellow flag, the colour of a
novice operator. Their steering wasn't manipulated with a wheel but rather
with a series of finger movements over an electronic pad. In the student
Peties, however, the steering was precalculated in a database. Instead of
driving it, the route was pre-programmed before the trip. Any stops to be
made in the vehicle en route could only be made by the experienced operator
who accompanied the novice.
Kent had never been more embarrassed in all his life than when he
had to beg a man 60 years his jr. to stop the Petie so he could take a leak.
The day after the horrific Petie incident, he received a letter in the mail
from a ghost of his past signed on the back of the envelope in the return
simply as “Wildflower”. As soon as he caught scent of the letter enclosed,
warm and spicy sandalwood and Nag Champa, he tripped over his rug and fell
heavily to the floor.
He dreamed of a girl wrapped in his leather jacket sitting atop a
ski hill. The remains of an old plush armadillo were folded in her hands as
her eyes traced the course of the Fish River running thru the town. The
dream suddenly flashed to the same girl in a grey midriff shirt and a
mismatched floral skirt hanging carelessly over a railroad trestle, her dark
blonde hair highlighted by the cold evening sun. She walked barefoot away
from him a good long way down before she waved to him, smiling widely. He
heard her voice for the first time in 73 years calling to him.
“ Kent , come here… you promised!” her unusually thick southern accent edged
her slow words. She gave a short signature pause as she clasped her hands in
front of herself. “I haven't forgotten, have you?” Of course he hadn't.
He felt as if his legs were made of lead. He heard himself whisper,
trying to say to her “I'm coming.” Curiosity bit at his every nerve and he
felt light-headed as if he were in first love all over again. She smiled even
wider and muttered something to the effect of his being silly amusing her
immensely; she held out one hand, the same plush armadillo dangling from her
wrist from a dainty blue ribbon. “Wait” she called out. “Take your time;
come this way, down the railroad trestle… I'll wait for you there.” Then the
dream changed again.
This time he was the one on the ski hill in the jacket, holding a
torn scrap of blue ribbon tied around a tiny bit of grey faux fur. Suddenly
he remembered the time he stood on the hill, just like this, completely
shocked into stoicism.
He opened his eyes, his vision instantly focusing on a tiny tack
sized spot of blood on his rug. He cursed gently as he lifted his tired form
from the floor. For a split second, his nose once again caught the smell of
the letter, the smell of her, reminding him of his curiosity. Just as the
communications chime rang thru his house, he scrambled in the way only a
95-year-old man can to search behind his entryway table to find the letter.
Kent barely had time to stick his head behind the table when a small
buzz came from his door in sync with the chiming of his com. He grumbled,
shouting for the person at the door to come in. His great grandson arrived,
his smile dropping as he watched his granddad Kent bent over the table,
struggling with deep breaths to reach something. “What are you doing?”
Julian cried out, tugging on Kent 's arm.
“I'm just reaching my damn mail! I dropped it back here when I
fell.” He said gruffly, speaking just loud enough to drown out the com
chime.
“You FELL? Jesus, Granddad… and how long has your com been ringing?”
Julian tugged Kent from behind the table and led him to his parlour, tapping
the com button on the way in. There was no one on the other end of the com.
Kent had already risen and started walking back to his entry hall
table again when Julian caught him.
“I'll get your mail for you; you just sit still and relax.” Julian
made sure he was sitting down before inspecting the table in the hall.
“I don't even know why you're so interested in your mail, you said
yourself you hated junk mail and the local paper is full of bullshit; it's
the 23rd and that's all that comes today is the paper and junk mail.” Julian
deftly reached behind the table and found the mail that had been dropped and
returned it to Kent .
“Nope, you don't even have the paper today, just a missing persons
flyer and a coupon book for DL4's” he sat heavily on the love seat just
watching a confused look pass thru his great grandfather's face.
“I had a letter, it smelled kind of like my old keepsake box used
to. I dropped it behind the table.” Kent protested, rising to look again for
himself.
“I promise that was all that was there… I'll move the table if you
like.”
For a brief moment, Kent wanted to ask him to do just that, he was
sure he dropped it and the curiosity ate at him with each passing moment,
but then he remembered the butterfly that he saw fly from his bathroom sink.
He'd sent poor Julian to search thru his house for hours to find it but it
was gone. His family insisted that he had just imagined it; there was no way
a butterfly could have flown out of his drain. It was impossible especially
considering butterflies had become extinct nearly 26 years ago.
He remembered how she spoke so emphatically over the phone one night
about all the little butterflies she saw lilting over her front lawn. Back
then butterflies were everywhere, taken for granted. Not by her though. She
looked at each little thing as if she'd never seen it before. He remembered
her almost crying with delight as she talked about all the colours of them,
detailing them for him.
Julian sat silently for a long time before asking Kent how he was
enjoying the Petie.
“It's a miserable machine for an old man. I appreciate the thought,
little one, but I just didn't come from a time of perpetual thrust… unless
it was between the sheets.” Kent gave a little devious chuckle.
“Just give it a chance, granddad. You'll like it soon.” Julian
insisted. He rose and smiled.
“Okay, granddad let me give you a health check and run your laundry
and I'll be out of your hair.” He lifted the glucose test strip from its
case on the coffee table, some things hadn't changed in 95 years, and
pricked Kent 's finger.
“Well no wonder you fell! Your sugar's all off... damn, granddad,
you have to eat better.” Julian fussed as he gave him his insulin shot.
“I'd eat a hell of a lot better if beef weren't illegal! I could go
for a hamburger right about now.”
Julian scanned his blood pressure and temperature then laughed a
bit.
“You've lived many years… you deserve a hamburger. Maybe one day
I'll mail in some illegal Big Macs from Japan , just for you. Anyways, I have
to get back to school and study, my macro-psychology exam is tomorrow. “
Kent tried to stand to walk him out but Julian waved for him to
remain sitting.
“You rest today. You take care, granddad, and quit ignoring your
com, sometimes people com in because it's an emergency. You never know.” Julian said and walked out the front door.
Julian was a good kid; he was very caring and gentle. Kent always
thought he should have started to study medicine instead of general
humanities. He had the touch of a doctor anyone could trust. Julian's only
pitfall was he was a victim of the times. Convenience and efficiency were a
way of life. He simply couldn't understand his grandfather's stubbornness.
He called his granddad's behaviour acute xenophobia. Kent simply smiled and
muttered an obscure joke about an old TV show.
“You have to understand that you're still a very witty guy, you just
have the kind of wit us young kids don't quite understand yet.” Julian
explained. For a long time Kent sat in silence, listening to his thoughts
run thru his mind until he felt too tired to think anymore. He finally stood
and headed for bed when his com chimed. He remembered what Julian said but
simply left it to its noise and climbed upstairs to bed.
He didn't make it out of his clothes into his robe before he fell
asleep, lying diagonally over his oversized ottoman in his study. He slept a
hard dreamless sleep, awakening the next morning to stiffness in his
shoulders and a breeze over his face.
Kent shielded his eyes from the morning sun glinting through his
window. He shuffled downstairs, marvelling at how such an old man as himself
could only be a little sore from falling asleep in such an unusual place,
when he missed a step and tumbled to the bottom. For a long time he just
laid at the bottom of the stairs, wondering why he had been falling so much
lately. His eyes explored a corner tucked between the wall and the
underneath of his bottom step when he saw a flash of dusty colour move with
each breath he made. Out of curiosity, he reached underneath the step and
produced the dried corpse of a monarch butterfly, its wings ragged and
fragile.
His heart leapt as he held the crumbling form of the butterfly
cupped between his two hands. He struggled to stand without using his arms
and after a while of twisting and writhing, he was on his two feet. He
walked slowly to his parlour and laid the butterfly on the end table as he
searched for his old lapel pin. He found a garishly huge diamond lapel pin
tucked neatly in a clear glass box stuffed with blue satin. He emptied the
pin onto the floor carelessly and replaced it with the butterfly.
“I knew I wasn't going senile, I knew I saw you. I'm so sorry I was
unable to set you free again. You're so beautiful; I know now what she found
so stunning about you guys.” Kent muttered, just admiring the poor crumbling
wings. He carefully set the glass box on his table and for a moment mulled
over his com button. He pressed the button and said the name Julian.
“Contact not found, please repeat or try another contact” the com
spoke in a loud monotone drone. He cursed loudly and repeated “Julian”
“This damn thing Julian not foun-“ Kent just pressed the cancel
button.
“Never mind”
2003
Aeryn Willoughs panicked as she saw the rollers illuminate her
rear-view mirror. She quickly put out her joint and lit two cigarettes, one
to smoke and one she just jammed into her ashtray and closed away to smoke
itself. The cop walked to her window, looking in her car suspiciously.
“What's wrong?” she asked, her hands shaking uncontrollably.
“Just a regular traffic stop... and to ask you a question.” The
large dour man said slowly. He looked both ways then leaned into the car.
“I know what you've been doing, I watched you roll that damn thing
in the Wal-Mart parking lot 15 minutes ago. So, to my question… what's more
important to you…? Ms. Willoughs of Victoria Texas, TDC number 4321988… your
freedom, or your pride?” He grinned, looking to either side again.
“You can't prove I have anything on me, sir.” She protested, fear
racing thru her.
“Don't worry, ma'am… it's there, I'll find it. You hid it in your
console, under the hideaway cup holder in a toilet paper tube. Why don't you
come out and talk to me.” The cop said.
I can't get a DUI; I'll go back... not now, not now.
She stepped out of her car and looked around. There was nothing for
at least 10 miles down this road, and oddly enough, no cars, just trees.
“Listen, Aeryn, right? I can pretend like I‘ve never seen you if you
can do the same for me. Deal?” he said, his dour expression being replaced
by the smile of a man who just seemed too happy for the situation.
“I don't understand. What you mean?” she asked, cold confusion
numbed her. In an instant, he took her by her blonde hair and pulled her
away from her car. She kicked, cried, and twisted as he dragged her across
the ditch, thru the mud and into the woods. He stopped behind a large patch
of underbrush, casting aside his sunglasses, revealing a cold pair of
crossed blue eyes.
“You're a beautiful girl, Aeryn. “ He pushed her down, speaking
under heavy breaths. “Too pretty for prison again. If you go again you'll
never make it out to see Maine again.“ She cried, her skin feeling cold and
numb.
“How do you know this about me?” she wept as he struggled with her,
one hand holding her down while the other fought with her dress.
“Lucky guess, I guess... now hold still and you'll win your
freedom.” He bit down hard on her soft bare shoulder, drawing a little blood
as she screamed. Each time she screamed he bit down harder until she
couldn't bear the pain. She resolved just to lie still, shaking, hoping it
would end so she could finally resume her trip back North, back to him as
she promised. She knew that if she didn't do this she'd never make it back.
2073
Kent just had an epiphany as he sat in his 4th hour of musing over
the butterfly in silence. If the butterfly hadn't been imagined neither had
the letter, right? He leapt up faster than he had in many years and returned
to the entryway table. He slipped an arm behind the table and instantly
found a letter. He produced an old utility bill and sighed heavily.
“I could have sworn I saw it!” he exclaimed; for a moment he wanted
to give up but instead reached his arm back there again, in a final ditch
effort. He felt more mail, but lost hope when he noticed it felt just like
the bill, the raised Braille stamp on the corner. He produced it
half-heartedly and nearly cried as he saw the word “Wildflower” on the back
of the envelope.
His hands palsied a little worse than usual as he held the letter,
afraid to open it. He knew whom it was from… after all these years. He
opened it in his parlour, reading each word slowly so as not to mistake any
meaning.
“Dear Fort” he chuckled slightly... she called him that back then,
insisting that if he really had been named after the town, his first name
should have been Fort.
“I saw a betta fish in a tank for the first time in 10 years at the
zoo. The plaque beneath the tank said he was the last of his kind and at
that moment, I realized he looked sad. Not because he was the last, but
because he wasn't the last, just separated from some secluded ditch in Asia
that held the other four remaining on this earth of his species. How do I
know it's four? Because he told me. He spent his whole life wishing he were
back in the ditch with his kind and now just wanted to die of old age, the
last little hope of joining his kind dwindling yet not dying. I write this
letter in a holding cell in Thailand . I've only been here a couple of days
and they're treating me very nicely.”
Kent just laughed a little... “Always getting in trouble, damn
woman, you're too old for trouble”
They said they've never heard of a 90-year-old woman committing
international theft of a protected animal. I thought maybe if I told them
the truth they'd think I was senile and let me go but as always, I seemed to
do more harm than good. They dredged the ditch and the adjacent paddy and
found the four other bettas. So now, they're all together at last… in heaven
now. The four from the ditch didn't take to the fresh water as well as the
original, and apparently, all these ichthyologists had forgotten the males
don't like to be in the same small tank. Idiots. They stressed each other to
death: the fish, not the fish “experts”.
I know what you're thinking, we haven't spoken in over 70 years and
I keep talking about this fish? I guess in a way I was trying to return the
betta because I always wanted someone to pick me up in a time when I was
caged and place me where I belonged. I made a promise that I'd return for
one last time. I spent so much of my life hating YOU for all the roadblocks
I found trying to return in my younger days. It was only talking to that
fish that I realized that I can't possibly blame you until I ask you one
last question… it's a good one… if you're still alive, Fort, you know where
to meet me.
Aeryn.
P.S. I expect to be back in the states in 3 days, I just received word I'm
being released tonight. “
Kent just shook his head.
“It's just like her; she left out a crucial part. What question is
it? “ He just laughed, feeling like a love struck teenager as he smelled the
letter again, flooded with old brief memories.
2018
Aeryn spent her days with her life partner happily. After the attack, she
turned back south, sought out the comfort of a woman, and found Lily. Lily
was a gentle intelligent, soft-spoken soul. What she lacked in physical
beauty she made up for in her wit and grace. Lily was Aeryn's answer to her
pain and fear.
By the time Aeryn was 35 she was well known throughout the nation
for her demonstration tactics in gay rights rallies. She spoke with clout,
and had a following to match. She'd successfully convinced congress to
retract the anti-homosexuality amendment, disallowing criminal punishment
for acts of homosexuality. She jockeyed for what gay rights society would
allow.
She and Lily had just finished their book about the joys of living a
full and happy life as two politically famous lesbians. Aeryn was
campaigning to be the first lesbian governor at the time as well.
That night they sat on the front porch, sharing a menthol cigarette,
watching the electrical light show in the sky. The first cold wind of the
approaching winter swept thru Aeryn's hair, rekindling an old memory she'd
successfully stuffed for a long time. The air smelled crisp and dry, she
shivered and a single tear tracked down her cheek. She was sure she would
die without ever feeling that stinging Fort Kent breeze again, or the warmth
of the jacket she rarely took off when she was there. No jacket she ever
bought since felt like that.
2073
A man named after the town of his birth boarded a north bound train. The
night sky glittered like the scattering of tiny diamonds over black velvet,
only marked otherwise by a thumbnail moon and the faintest wisps of city
lights reflecting off the cirrus clouds. Trains were nostalgic then, any
mode of ground transportation was.
He sat in his seat as the train moved. The dramatic tour guide's voice
blared endlessly about the mechanics of the train and the excitement of the
journey into history. He watched the scenery whirr by, watching intently as
if he expected to see her walking along the tracks, barefoot in everlasting
youth. He wondered if his family would be unforgiving about his
disappearance. He just knew, however they wouldn't let him leave, not to
meet a woman they never quite believed he'd even been involved with.
“How on earth could you have ever had a love affair with one of the most
self proclaimed lesbians on the face of this earth? I'm sure women like her
just HAD to be born hating men.” Julian had said, chortling with disbelief.
“Maybe it's a different Aeryn who looked similar.” He reassured Kent .
Kent was afraid that she would reject him. He knew that he just wasn't her
type anymore. He didn't even care if she couldn't love him like that
anymore; he just wanted to see her one last time, to say he was sorry
forever letting her leave. He had a long train ride ahead of him, almost
1000 miles north to go.
Julian returned from his granddad's house to his dorm to the sound of his
com chiming. He quickly answered it and again his mother appeared. This time
she was at home, and her expression was clearly distressed.
“What's wrong mom?”
“Remember that story granddad Kent told about his fling with that famous
lesbian governor? “
“Yeah? What about it?”
“She was returned from a jail in Thailand after pulling a stunt with some
rare fish at a zoo. She was found this morning in Boston passed out in a
convenience store parking lot. They think she had a heart attack.”
Julian sighed a little… trivial things.
“Yeah?”
“The police said they found two sticks of Nag Champa incense and the torn up
letter talking about a relationship she had with our granddad Kent.”
“So the old man was telling the truth all along . . . I'll be damned.”
“I'm just so worried, it's all over the news and if he finds out he'll get
so worked up, maybe even do something stupid. He's just too old to get
worked up like that.”
“I'll keep an eye on him; he doesn't watch the news anyway. He's convinced
these days that the media is lying to us on a regular basis. I doubt he'll
see it”
“Just keep a watch; you know how he gets sometimes.”
The train reached Fort Kent at nine in the morning. Kent unloaded his small
suitcase from the baggage cart and started walking thru the town that hadn't
changed in over 100 years. Aside from the Peties and other modern
conveniences and efficiencies, the little New England town was still as
pristine and clean as one could imagine. The air was cold and dry and each
breath he took plumed like smoke.
He walked thru the town, each person stopping to say hello to him. Les
Gillespie, his old high school lab partner, was still alive, running the
local barbershop on the corner across from the grocery store. The college
had expanded some but still held a quaint peacefulness that he remembered
from his college days. As he walked across the campus, passing the dormitory
he once lived in, he caught the glimpse of a young man who he was certain
was an old college friend of his. He started to raise his hand and cry out
the old familiar obscenities but stopped midway when the man took off his
cap and asked him if he was lost.
“What was I thinking, that was many years ago, he'd be old too.”
He found the trail behind the college that led over a part of the Fish
River . The river was a lot smaller now, a little dried up, but still flowing
strong. There finally was the old railroad trestle, perched on the rail was
blonde girl hanging carelessly off the railing, her bare feet reddened from
the cold.
“Aeryn?” he said softly, she didn't turn around at first. “Aeryn” he said
again, a little louder this time. The girl turned around and smiled, flying
quickly in to his arms.
“Oh, Fort, there you are. I knew you'd be here.” She laughed, kissing his
cheek emphatically.
“How is it you look just as you did 73 years ago?” He asked in wonder,
noticing the girl was now a crumpled bent old woman, beautiful as the river
below.
“You're a fine one to talk, you don't look as if you've aged a day either!”
she spoke strongly.
“I didn't know if you'd be here, you didn't tell me what day to meet you.”
He said, his words stumbling over each other.
“I just knew… you'd be here today. Well, we're finally here, after all those
years; we are here again… just like we promised.” She sighed, pulling him to
sit with her on the trestle. He produced an old worn leather jacket from his
suitcase and wrapped it around her.
“Just like a Texan to forget to pack a jacket!” Kent laughed as she nestled
into his embrace. “Remember, I said then that when we came back here we'd
stay together for the rest of our lives? Well... perhaps I should have come
back a long time ago. I just knew then you had a fiancée, and I had a job
waiting for me in Texas . I just became so angry after finding disaster at
every attempt to come back. When the cop attacked me I became angry with
you, feeling like you'd thrown me away. Maybe in some weird way you'd sent
the cop after me to thwart my attempts to return. Therefore, I did the one
thing I knew would keep me from a lifetime of trying and possible failure.
Lily died 21 years ago of a stroke. Just before she died, she said that I
had to forgive myself, not you. I was confused for a long time about that. I
was sure it was your fault. Until I saw that fish, I was just an angry
lonely old woman who just couldn't seem to die. “
Kent just wept as he had long ago when all he found in his bed with him was
a little scrap of grey faux fur from the plush armadillo and the blue ribbon
tied around it. “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have let you leave.”
He shook his head.
“If I hadn't you wouldn't have ever married Anna, and I know you did; I
checked up on it when I was campaigning in 2018, just for kicks. “
“We weren't happy, we just stayed together for our kids, in separate little
houses on the same lot until one day she packed up and left. After you left,
I never really was the same, and she hated me for that. In the end I wound
up hating her for hating me... we all seemed to hate each other didn't we?”
He tried to muster a chuckle.
“Not anymore. This was what should have been. Me and you forever sitting on
this trestle. I've missed you Kent .” Aeryn laid her head on his chest and
smiled.
“I've missed you too. Maybe now we can live together.” He replied.
“Now for my question, will you stay with me?” she asked.
He paused for a moment. This particular question was much deeper than it
sounded. “Of course, I think both of us are a little past due.”
Julian reached the Boston Hospital in record time. He gathered up some of
Granddad Kent 's belongings before visiting him. His mom has called him
yesterday telling him that granddad Kent had been found asleep on a railroad
trestle in Maine , hypothermic, in respiratory distress. He couldn't quite
figure out why he was sent to Boston hospital, so far away from where he was
found, but he was just glad someone had finally found him. He found Kent in
a partition room, pale and sobbing loudly.
“She was there; I just know she was there… I saw her, I felt her... “He
cried out.
“Hi” Julian said meekly.
“Oh, Julian… where is she? I was just with her yesterday”
Julian knew that was impossible; just 3 days ago she was in a hospital on
her deathbed. In some strange way, though, he felt that somehow he was
telling the truth. Poor Granddad Kent wasn't speaking clearly, before long
the nurses sedated him and he fell fast asleep. Julian retreated to the
waiting room and was surprised to see how many women were there, just
staring at him. One small woman tucked away in the back stood up and walked
directly to him.
“Aeryn did the right thing… even your appreciations change from soul to
soul. She kept trying to call him, you know just before she tried to go back
to Maine , but he never answered his com.” She said to him softly.
Julian jumped a moment. “Is Aeryn here?” he asked.
“She's here for now.” She said and immediately walked away down the hall.
Julian cried out and rushed back to his great grandfather's room. Cold
fingers reached out to him, tugging gently.
“She's here.” Julian whispered in answer to the old man's grasp. “I promise
I will find her for you.”
Three nurses standing in the hall suddenly stopped their busy scuffling and
listened to the odd echo from the 123's. In synchronous cadence, an old
woman and an old man said gently “That's quite alright; we're plenty close
enough and we will be forever.” As if on cue, both sides of 123 flat-lined
simultaneously.
“Your hands are so coooold.” Aeryn giggled as she kicked her sandals
expertly over the brush alongside path and into the little clearing that
held their picnic basket. At the bottom of the ski hill laid the wide
expanse of the St. John Valley bathed in muted white light.
“Have you ever thought that maybe your hands are simply too warm?” Kent
chuckled, his eyes shining like two miniature glass globes. The air really
was starting to catch a chill wind. The stark white, faceless sky gave
promises of a mild but effective winter fast approaching. A single white
object, soft a goose down, drifted from the sky just slowly enough for Aeryn
to reach out and catch it on her fingertip.
“Snow…” she marvelled as she looked to Kent . There was love in that
expression, a love far greater than time itself. This was a private
adoration between the three of them: Kent , Aeryn, and the little plush
armadillo that dangled merrily from a dainty blue ribbon tied to her wrist.
It would last forever.
Julian cleaned his great granddad house thoroughly and now had the task of
going though the boxes of little knick-knack items. He would spend many days
sorting them, some to be inherited, some to be given away, and some to be
thrown away. He came across a little glass box. Inside the box was a not so
decayed monarch butterfly atop a piece of blue satin.
“Well, I'll be damned; this man never told a lie in his life, did he?” He
muttered.
That evening Julian visited Kent and Aeryn's gravesite, the little ragged
butterfly in the open glass box. He began talking to Kent when a strong wind
picked up the butterfly and the satin. As he tried to reach carefully for
the butterfly so he could place it on his granddads grave he drew his hand
back quickly. The butterfly didn't quit drifting when the gust was gone. It
was flying away, flitting slowly over the headstones and into the azure sky.
He reached down to pick up the satin and instead found a bit of old blue
ribbon, worn just like the blue ribbon on Aeryn's plush armadillo and was
stricken with a thought.
Kent held onto this ribbon with hope. They really were like the fish. They
were finally together in the end, but thru intervention they just weren't
strong enough to adapt. The times were changing too fast for the two souls
who just couldn't die until they fulfilled that one last promise. I'll be
damned.
