After Swan Lae:

Sunday, May 19

I stood barefoot on a tile floor in the weak morning light. Disoriented because the kitchen was a little bit like mine. Almost. That and the fact that the refrigerator was never quite where I had left it.

My brain felt foggy too. I was trying to make breakfast, but I couldn't hold any single idea firmly in my mind for any length of time. I was trying to gather ingredients, but what was I making?

Maybe it was eggs. Easy enough. I've been making scrambled eggs since I was eight years old. Start by cracking some eggs into a bowl. You can handle that. You'll need a fork too.

Great, good job. Now whip the fork to create that nice centrifugal oval in the bowl. Just like Dad taught you.

My concentration was shattered by the shotgun blast of a plate hitting the tile floor behind me. It startled me so badly I lost half the eggs. They were all over the counter. What happened? I didn't remember getting any plates out or even opening the cabinet.

Never mind, cleanup triage. The eggs made a mess, but the shards of plate were a hazard. Start there. Found the wastebasket under the sink, started carefully picking up the larger pieces and dropping them in.

Without warning, another plate went. This time it hit me square in the head. Fuck that hurt. I put my hand up to the spot on the back of my head where it hit me. My fingers came away slick and bright red. Stay calm, head wounds bleed a lot, even when they aren't bad.

Out of the corner of my eye, a white blur. I got my hand up in time to protect my head, but now my arm was bleeding. I looked down at the third plate, which was mostly in tact. There was something striking about it, unnatural.

Were those... wings? Purple-black, leathery wings. No, that's insane. Plates don't have wings.

While I sat there trying to puzzle out the mystery, I became aware of more movement in the room. It was a... flock of plates? They had teeth. At first they were circling me, near the ceiling. Then they started dive-bombing me. Individually at first, then en masse.

I scrambled to my feet, started running. Plates were hitting the walls and cabinets, exploding. Big sharp shards and ceramic powder rained down as I tried to protect myself.

"Shell."

Darkness.

"Shelly, wake up."

Paralysis. I felt my entire body quivering.

My brain was wired in wrong: incoming calls only. Eyes and ears? Check. All other systems? Offline.

Heart pounding away. The sound filled my ears.

Someone gasping for air. Probably me.

"Shell, can you hear me?"

Familiar voice, didn't sound like mine. Deeper. Plus I didn't typically refer to myself in the third person. At least not out loud.

My brain finally caught up. The smell tipped me off. Amygdala finally started reading the messages the nose was sending. That particular smell meant safety.

My heart had leveled off, probably down around 120 now. Breathing fast and shallow from high up in the chest. No good, but that was a problem for later.

I finally looked over at the source of the voice. A pair of dark eyes in the bona fide pre-dawn light. They were wide with some mixture of fear, concern, and another, more nuanced thing I couldn't put to words.

My back and shoulders hurt, and I realized I was clenching my entire body. I started releasing the muscular tension, working my way down from the neck.

"Paul." My mouth was bone dry.

"Shelly, you're OK." He brushed the back of his hand to my cheek. It felt wet. "You're safe."

"I know," I whispered. "Water? Please?"

When he came back with the water, I was sitting knees-to-chest against the headboard. He handed me a paper cup and I took small sips.

"Bad dream?"

I nodded silently.

"What happened?" he asked.

"You're going to think it's stupid."

"It's a dream, Shell. It doesn't have to make sense."

"I was in the kitchen. Maybe it was your kitchen. I don't know. It definitely wasn't mine. But I was trying to make breakfast and a plate fell. So I'm trying to clean up the pieces when another one falls on my head. So now I'm bleeding and trying to figure out why the plates are all falling.

"I look up and they're... circling. There are these flying plates, with wings and teeth, and they're circling. And then they start attacking me. I'm trying to run away, but they keep coming. That's about when you woke me up."

He was looking at me with an expression I could only describe as half pity, half amusement.

"Shut up. I told you it was stupid."

"I'm sorry," he said, setting the cup aside and gently wrapping his arms around me. "I'm not laughing at you. It's just that it sounds like something out of Harry Potter."

"I guess you're right," I said, starting to laugh. "That one was pretty out there."

"How often does that happen?"

"It depends. I'll go months without anything, but then it'll be every night for a week straight. Two weeks. They're never the same."

"Jesus. That's normal for you?"

"Yeah." I shrugged "It's scary in the moment, but it usually passes pretty quickly. I'm sorry. That's probably a really unpleasant way to wake you up."

He responded by leaning toward me and kissing me in the most gentle, loving way. His warm, soft hands held my face. He kissed me like that, sweetly, patiently, until the last remnants of the dream released their grip on my mind.

As he held me, I heard his voice softly in my ear.

"When I was a boy, my grandparents had a place up in the Blue Ridge Mountains. Every summer, I would spend a few weeks with them. Most days, I would run around causing trouble with my cousins, but some days... some days I would be by myself for the day. And on those days, I would go out into the woods to this one spot. It was my secret, and I never showed it to anyone.

"There was this enormous flat rock--I called it table rock--next to a little stream. I would lay on the rock gazing up into the trees--huge trees probably 75 feet tall. I would watch the sunlight streaming down through the trees--"

"Komorebi," I interrupted in a whisper.

"What?"

"Komorebi," I repeated. "It's Japanese. 'Sunlight leaking through trees,' but it's more, too. The feeling of it. Wonder. Awe. Beauty."

"Yes," he said. "It was exactly that. I would sit and watch the light. Listen to the water flowing in the little stream, the wind in the leaves. I spent whole days like that. Outside of time."

I was wholly present then. Inside my own body, aware of every sensation. Thoughts came and went. I noticed them and let them pass. I would have time later for thinking.

I pulled his body into me and we kissed. He was just in his boxers, and I realized I was still wearing his t-shirt. I pulled it over my head so I could feel his skin against mine. I put my head on his shoulder as he ran his hands along my back, up to my neck. He gently rubbed the base of my head with his thumb and forefinger.

I kissed his neck and nibbled his earlobe, then whispered in his ear: "When I woke up, I didn't know where I was or what was happening. Do you know how I knew I was safe?"

He moved his head to look in my eyes. Whispered "How?"

"It smelled like you," I told him, and kissed him again.

I ran my hands along his chest, his shoulders, then down his sides. I tugged the waistband of his boxers, and he helped me remove them before starting on my purple cotton panties. He slid them down my legs, and ran his fingertips back up. He barely grazed the mound over my pubic bone. I felt the blood rushing to my sex, parting my entrance for him.

We continued kissing as I climbed into his lap. I felt the need for him from the pit of my stomach out to my toes. I was ready, and he easily sank into me. I wrapped my legs around his hips and we held each other. (That's #16, "Lotus-like" position, for those of you following along at home. Kama Sutra is free on Gutenberg. Do what you like with that information.)

We slowly rocked back and forth with our bodies pressed together. Everything else in the world melted away. I lost my sense of time passing as we made love. I felt his heart beating, and we breathed together as our bodies merged.

He ran his hands up and down my back, up to my neck. I felt his fingertips running through my hair. He was so deep inside me, and I just wanted more of him. I enveloped him completely, wanting to be the same safety for him that he was to me.

He sat back slightly, kissing down the front of my body. His mouth went to my breast. He flicked my nipples with his tongue and it sent shivers down my spine. I pulled his head into me as I felt his teeth gently teasing. Tiny sounds escaped my throat as we continued rocking back and forth.

Gradually, I found our pace had increased, and I started flicking my hips into his pelvis with each beat. He was already driving me wild, and the added stimulation quickly put me on the verge of climax. I clutched his shoulders for stability as we steadily increased our intensity.

Suddenly, he pulled me tight into him as he inhaled sharply. His hands squeezed my butt and held me pressed into his body as I felt the first pulse of his orgasm. The added pressure against his body and his throbbing ejaculation within me immediately sent my own climax rippling through my body.

I squeezed him with my legs as I felt him subside, felt his essence, welcomed it into my being.

"Shell," he whispered close to my ear, "you're incredible."

The dawn had begun in earnest, and we were awash in soft, golden light. I held him close, stroking the back of his head. I said the only word that came to me, over and over.

"Paul."

###

Paul handled breakfast (no heads or plates were harmed), and we ate at the kitchen table.

"Hey, where's your phone?" I asked.

"In the foyer, why?"

I retrieved it and brought it over to the table.

"Here, give me your face," I pointed the phone at him to unlock it, then pulled up the app store.

"One more," I said, holding it up to his face again.

"What are you doing to my phone?"

"Secret decoder ring."

"Huh?"

I finished what I was doing and handed it back to him.

"I keep trying to text you, but you never actually gave me your number. I got to thinking about it, and realized that it's probably a bad idea. Enter: secret decoder rings."

I reached over to click around the app. "I took the liberty of adding myself to your contacts. Everything is fully encrypted, separate unlock from your phone passcode. We can set messages to disappear. It has audio and video chat. The works. At least for the next month. After that I'm just going to blow up your phone the regular way."

"Shelly, I know you don't like the secrecy. I don't either. I hope you know that."

I tried to smile back, but felt a mess of conflicting emotions interfering.

"As long as the secrecy is temporary," I said. "You promised me this was real."

"I meant it."

After we finished eating, I went home to change into jeans before heading to Mrs. Holland's. I left the toothbrush at his house.

Walking toward Mrs. Holland's cheerful yellow house, I saw her big gardening hat bobbing in the sunlight. It looked like she was planting something along the walk to the front door.

We exchanged greetings and I started to clear space and dig holes for the marigolds. I tidied up some of the decorative bricks that divided the footpath and the flower bed, and pulled weeds wherever I found them.

It was a beautiful day, and I enjoyed the work. Mrs. Holland threw together some BLT sandwiches and iced tea for lunch.

By mid-afternoon, Mrs. Holland declared our work finished. We retired to the house and the cookies that awaited us. As we sat at the kitchen table, my thoughts drifted to Mr. Holland, and their marriage.

"Mrs. Holland, how did you and your husband meet?"

She gave a small laugh and shook her head.

"We were kids, really. I grew up in Barstow, California and there was a big army base outside of town. Last stop for a lot of the boys before they deployed. He was an 18-year-old boy getting shipped halfway around the world to fight a war nobody understood.

"I was still in high school, and there was this sort of roadside diner on the way to the army base. They had a window where you could walk up and order, tables outside, music from a little speaker on the side of the building. Lots of us kids would hang around there Friday or Saturday nights, waiting for the boys from the army base to stop by.

"Well one Friday night I'm sitting at a table watching my friends dancing, trying to attract attention. This boy just comes up and sits next to me, quiet-like. He doesn't say a word, just smiles to me and sits down.

"After about ten minutes or so, my curiosity gets the better of me, and I introduce myself. He was handsome, for sure, but nothing about him was loud or flashy, his clothes, hair, his voice. He had just arrived from Maryland and was due to leave in a little over a month.

"We sat at that table and talked until midnight--my mother was so mad when I finally came home--but we just talked and talked. We spent every Friday and Saturday night until he left at that diner talking.

She paused a moment and I thought I saw her blushing a little. "Eventually, we did a little more than talking too, but Philip was always a gentleman. When he left I didn't know what to do with myself.

"He actually had a girlfriend back home, but he didn't talk about her much. Later, he told me he broke it off with her about a week after we met.

"We wrote letters constantly while he was overseas. I wouldn't even wait for his next letter to arrive before I started a new one. Everything went through the army censors though, so he didn't really go into details about what was happening. I could tell he was miserable. He was probably ill-suited for the army in the first place, but he made it through and came back home a little after I graduated high school.

"In those days, going steady wasn't necessarily the popular thing to do, but Philip never really went in for drugs and free love.

"Like I said, he was from Maryland originally, but he came back to Barstow and worked six months doing odd jobs--carpentry and home repairs--so we could court. He saved up enough for a ring, and that was that. November 11, 1967 he asked me to marry him. We took our vows at the courthouse in San Bernardino a couple months later. January 14th."

"How did you know it was love?" I asked.

"I can't say what it's like for everyone, but with Philip, I was always comfortable. Even from that first night. I never felt like I needed to put on airs or try to impress him, and he never seemed to be showing off. I felt at ease with him. Safe. So when he proposed, it was the most natural thing in the world. I couldn't imagine anything else anyway. I guess that doesn't really answer your question, but it was so long ago. I mostly remember how I felt."

I quietly let her story sink in a moment, considered the implications.

"You look like you've got something on your mind," she said. "And I don't think you're asking me about this just to indulge an old woman's reminiscing."

"Is it that obvious?"

"Sweetie, when you get to be my age there's not much new under the sun." She took my empty plate and brought it back with another cookie. "I won't pry, but it seems like maybe it's a little more serious than necking in the car on a Friday night."

I started laughing at the image of me and Paul making out in the back of a 1960s Chevy.

"I think maybe you're right Mrs. Holland. Thanks for talking to me. You gave me a lot to think about. And thanks for the cookies, they're fantastic. You have to give me the recipe."

"Recipe, ha!" Now she was laughing too. "It's the recipe on the oat can lid. You follow it exactly, but double the cinnamon. Philip always hated raisins though."

We said our goodbyes and I headed back home. My dad was unloading the car when I walked up.

"Hey Dad, how's Oma?"

"She's doing fine," he replied with a sigh. "Comfortable. She was lucid the whole time we were there, which was nice. We had some good conversations. We even took her to visit your uncle this morning."

"Oh wow, that's good, right?"

"I think she appreciated it, but I know it's hard on her too. She asked about you, wanted to know when you were going to visit. I told her we would bring you back as soon as graduation was over."

"That's still pretty far out. Maybe I can just go for a day next weekend."

"I think she would like that," he said.

I grabbed one of the bags from the car and carried it inside.

###

Monday, May 20

Every Monday, Mr. Delacourt would post the presentation list for the coming week, and then we spent the class period on a notable person who wasn't officially in the curiculum the rest of the year. My name was on for Thursday. I knew I would have to present at some point, but it still gave me butterflies to have a firm date.

Today we were speed-running economics from the perspective of John Maynard Keynes. I caught about half of it. I had covered some of the material in my research, so it didn't feel like I was missing much.

###

Now that the Spring show was over, we were on the Summer schedule. Class Mondays and Thursdays only. I got home around 8:30, and ate a giant bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch before showering.

I sent Paul a message as I got ready for bed.

"Call me?"

I was startled alert from that hazy, liminal, almost-sleeping state when my phone started vibrating around 10:30.

"Hello?"

"Sorry," the voice on the other end started, "Were you asleep already?"

"It's fine. I just wanted to hear your voice before I went to bed."

"Should I keep going about Keynes?"

"Fuck no," I replied. "Anything but that."

I heard him laughing on the other end of the phone.

"Sorry, I'm back to ballet this week. I only had a week off, but I already feel out of practice. But that's not what I wanted to talk to you about."

"Oh?"

"My parents are heading back to West Haven on Wednesday, and I have the night off. I was wondering if you wanted to have dinner?"

"I don't know..." His tone was obviously unserious. "You have a pretty big day on Thursday."

"I'm not worried about it," I said, putting on a haughty air. "I know the presentation backward. Besides, I'm pretty sure the teacher has a thing for me. I could probably phone it in and still get a B."

He sighed loudly into the phone.

"So you'll pick me up at 6 then?" I asked.

"Where are we going?"

"Hey I planned the last one," I replied. "Ball's in your court amigo."

"Maybe I'll go pick up a box of saltines," he said, "or Ritz crackers if I'm feeling particularly fancy."

"I'm making you feed me this time, no more free lunch."

"Oh so you

were

listening today."

"Of course," I replied. "Part of the time."

This earned me another sigh. "You know teaching is my job, right? I do actually work at it."

"I think I'll go to bed now," I said airily. Then, with actual sincerity: "But also, thank you for calling. I like your voice in my ears. Especially when you're only talking to me."

"I like your voice in my ears too, Shell," he replied. "Sweet dreams. None of those crazy ones. I'm not there to wake you up."

Now it was my turn to sigh. "Goodnight, Rutilius."

"Ouch," he said. "Goodnight Shell."