He had grabbed me and pulled me out of the way of raining roof tiles, His fingers curling into my upper arms. Even through the thin layer of fabric sleeves, I knew. I had not suspected, despite the signs, because, what I thought I had been looking for was not a man honed from bone and flesh. I was wrong…
I had returned as previously planned, though I’m not sure he was expecting me quite so early. She had changed much in the duration of time that I had been away. In two days the front of the building had a new façade, new double doors ready to be hung, the large window that had brought such warming light into its interior being replaced with two smaller, more narrow ones.
There were several men wandering about, working, laying brick, sanding the staircase, one laying on a scaffold and installing energy bulbs, he the one I gravitated towards, asking if the owner were about. I need look no further.
With his arms free, I could see the myriad of jagged scars that rolled into flesh. Scars, odd scars that I hadn’t seen before, and I have seen a number of scars in my time, but this was something that I could not connect to anything familiar.
I wasn’t liking all the changes. I’ve never been one much for reform, in anything, and though I could see the need for transformation, it was still a hard pill for me to swallow. But despite my opinion, I could fee her coming alive again under his hand and lay of careful plans. She’s not mine, but I’m still a part of her.
Panic. Horror. I’m not sure why I chose those modes of emotion, but when he told me he wasn’t going to live there, that he was going to rent the top floor out.. .to strangers, I could feel my composure crumbling. I could feel the clench in fisted fabric whitening my knuckles and could imagine the fabric renting beneath my grasp. I’ve often held spirits in inanimate objects, especially houses. But this house was special and I felt as if it was being disrespected. I could already feel an argument bubbling to the surface, one I knew I had no right to, but my compulsion to protect was not allowing me to think clearly. After the offering of water he escorted me to the back of the building where we could breathe better without the rallies of dust from the workman within.
I had been debating with myself on the best way to handle the situation, but the only solution I could come up with was to rent the upstairs myself. An offer that had a whole new set of consequences.
They didn’t know we were there, the men on the roof peeling back the tiles that needed to be replaced. He responded much quicker than I could have, or did, forcing me out of the way of heavy falling objects.
Touch. A long time ago, it was a part of my curse, one that kept me from touching anyone. Sometimes I wouldn’t even need to touch them, if I just stood close enough, I could see flashes, pictures in my mind. Nothing that really made sense, because I had not been part of those memories, but this, this was different. I was there, in his head, seeing what he saw on our two previous encounters. It took but an ehn to sew the thoughts together, and I knew.
My immediate reaction was to run, but with every step back I took, he was countering it with a step forward, only stopping when he saw my distress, and of all things, telling me I was safe here.
But I’ve never been safe anywhere. Safety, it was a word of illusion, of smoke and mirrors, and had nothing to do with reality.
I knew who he was, and he knew I knew which didn’t make the knowing any easier.
I had no facts behind the images I had seen, so much like the whisper of cards, I often not understanding what they are trying to tell those I read for, unless they care to divulge. I am but a tool, an instrument, a vessel from which these.. un-normal happenings collect. A man shadowed in blue, a flame caught in some ordinance of time. I told him he wasn’t normal, a statement not meant to sound nearly as insulting as it probably was. I told him that I wasn’t normal either, the mystery of Fate and Chance only deepening.
I was drowning in inertia. It wafted around me like the honeyed scent of freshly pollinated flower. Empathy was easily felt now, even without the coercion of touch to bid it into existence. Things had reversed, now, with his backward step, mine moved forward.
How does one explain a common bond, the thread that attaches us to each other? The delicate lace web that catches us holds un until contact is made. I would be lying to myself if I said I am not drawn to him, though the intricate details of why have not yet been revealed.
Things were falling into place, if not answers, than the realization that we were both suppose to be here at this point in our existence. But he had turned the tides of my future path by giving me an ultimatum.
I can only gather that my answer was not exactly to his liking and he headed in the direction of Charm’s old swing, intent on tearing it down.
I was trying to peel back the petals of rational thought, resisting the urge to run after him and throw myself in front of it so that he’d not add it to the demolition. No longer mine. It didn’t matter how many times I said that, chanting it beneath my breath, I could feel my fingers clenching into the brown fabric of skirt, before the realization of an answer came to me. He could keep it; repair it for the children of his patients. I hoped he would agree.
We both should be there. Now. Something was commanding it. All the times I had come here, had I been, in some incredibly odd way, waiting for him? Like seeing the future while trapped in the present, knowing that someday I’d find him here, waiting.
With the push of his hand I was shoved against the wall, another tile from the roof barely missing us both. Something I believe he felt, rather than saw. Soon there was a rain of tiles, the workmen overhead unknowing of our existence just below them. It wasn’t safe for either of us to stand there, but that wasn’t only because it was a construction area. It was time for me to go.
There are few men that I feel comfortable with or trust. There is Castor, of course, the endless love of my life, a man who I would die for, a man who loves me in spite of myself and in spite of everyone else. There is Dor, who has earned my respect as a companion and father, a man I’m certain would never betray Gina. And then there is Chance, who I trust for reasons I can’t explain.
He punched through the wood of my purple door and gifted me with the glass knob. I suddenly understood the scars as new ones were made.
We have committed to finding a truth.
I have to know who he is.
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