The DreamWalker Series

As crippled as they were

As crippled as they were

Ellette bit into the sweet, crisp fruit, the juice dripping dripping down her arm. As she moved to lick the sticky goodness from her forearm, a cloth intercepted the liquid. She stuck her tongue out at Rand, the bearer of the offending cloth.

He gave her one of his charming smiles before shaking a finger at her. “You’re twenty-five, not ten. Lets try and act it.”

She rolled her eyes, shoving down the tell-tale flutter in her chest. Childish irritation always seemed to come along with the first crush feelings he brought out in her. She finished the plum with relish and snagged the hankie from him to wipe her hands clean. She shoved the cloth, now streaked with pinkish stains, back in his pocket.

They walked in silence along the farmer’s market, lit by paper lanterns and street lamps. Though the street was patched and filled with potholes, when closed off and crowded with people and booths, it became a magical summer’s eve festival.  As if he sensed her lightened mood, Rand reached out and caught her hand.

She tensed, her fingers twitching as she resisted the urge to ball them into a fist and pull away. Despite her reluctance, her not-so-subtle resistance to his advances, he still hadn’t gotten the hint. Not that she wanted him to.

Their trips to the farmer’s market had become a weekly outing, even if only to collect a few choice tomatoes or a single onion. Through the early spring, the pickings were thin, but as the season picked up, the selection of both produce and markets to choose from increased substantially. As the fairs grew, so did the subtle intimacy of their relationship. Despite her growing ease, the strain was still there. She wondered if she would ever be comfortable with the idea she and Rand becoming more than roommates; more than friends.

“Let’s go watch the band,” he urged.

She nodded, stumbling along after him, drawn along as she had been for months now, on an inevitable journey.

Wooden benches lined a permanent amphitheater in the middle of the square, the stage lined with swirling mosaics that glimmered in the lamp light. Rand pulled her down next to him, setting the produce bag at their feet and producing a couple of churros. She snuggled into his warmth, shoving back the flash of memories, the fear that clenched in her, a gut reaction to any sort of human touch. This, she had initialized, this was her choice.

To her delight, a mutual friend of theirs took the stage. Wild haired and petite, Jessie was a treat to watch; her songs cooky and original. She was a wiz with the guitar, pulling out classics upon request and her own colorful originals one after another. After a hour long set, she bounded from the stage amongst hoots and hollers from the crowd.

As the crowd dispersed, she made her way to the pair still sitting on the benches. Rand had his feet propped up on the bench before him. Ellette had hers curled up under her, still leaning into him, savoring the warmth as the night air grew chill.  Battered old guitar in hand, Jessie stood before them, head cocked.

“What’s this then?” she asked, gesturing with her free hand. “Getting all cozy now?”

Ellette pulled back at that, as if suddenly aware of the intimacy she and Rand shared. Before she could speak, before she could respond, Jessie started again.

“No, no, don’t mind me. Just never thought it would happen,” Jessie clarified with her not-so-endearing bluntness.

Ellette shook her head and stood, trembling with the anger the tiny woman often brought out in her. Jessie was too damned perceptive, she felt violated. “And what do you mean by that?” she snapped.

Jessie shrugged. “Oh come on. I’ve watched him tiptoeing around you for months now. Folks may be polite, but we ain’t blind.”

Rand stood, placing a hand on Ellette’s shoulder. She flinched away, her eyes downcast. He sighed. “Jess, don’t provoke her...” he pleaded.

“What? You going to chase her around like this forever?” Jessie turned on Ellette then. “You’re not the mystery you think you are. I know what you’re afraid to tell him. Give our Rand here some credit. I’m sure he’s figured it out too.”

Ellette froze, eyes clenched shut. Hiding within her silence was her defense. If she didn’t speak, she didn’t have to think.

“Jess, I think you should go.” Rand growled.

Ellette barely heard him. She was carefully constructing the wall of black, the barriers to prevent those ever-present memories from slipping in. The black, the rush of nothing, swirling around her was cool and refreshing. Eventually the moon broke through, bringing an luminous quality to her silence. A sort of peace followed, and she felt truly safe. Safe enough to open her eyes.  How long she had stood like that, lost in her own mind, she wasn’t sure.

She found Rand settled back on the bench, his head in his haggard, scarred hands. She loved those hands, as crippled as they were. They were the everlasting of symbol of what had brought them together. With a sigh, she knelt and pulled his hands from his face.

He sat up abruptly, startled.

She smiled up at him, his hands still in hers. “I think we should talk.”

He shook his head. “Not if you don’t want...”

She laughed, a pained sort of hiccup. “No, I need to. At least, I think I do.” She’d hidden behind her silence for so long. It was safe, yet it was not a comfort. “I don’t know if we can ever be more than we are right now.”

He cupped her cheek and leaned down to kiss her forehead. “I know,” he said softly. “I can wait.”

“What do you know?” her voice trembled. “You don’t know anything about me, only this,” she gestured at herself, “this... I don’t know. This idea you have that I’m some kind of hero for helping you...”

He laughed and ruffled her hair. “You’ve slept on my couch for the better part of a year. I’ve seen you at your worst and at your best.” He paused, and she fidgeted, refusing to meet his eye from where she crouched before him. “During my recovery, I worked at a homeless center... before I found  you again.  I can’t pretend to know what you’ve been through, but I recognize some of the signs. I won’t assume, Ellette. But Jessie was right. I’m not blind.”

“Okay,” she replied softly. Another long moment passed between them before she lifted her gaze to meet his. “I think, I think this is enough for now,” she gave him another shaky smile, and he nodded, getting to his feet. He reached out his hand and helped her up.

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Copyright © 2013 by Marie Chavez