CONTAINS CONTENT:
Mild language, violence,
{{Unedited}}
Sometime in the night, she woke up again and he was still out. His breathing was low and deep and his thoughts were distant and foggy. He might be on the verge of a dream. She quietly peeled the red journal from the bookshelf, feeling giddy and opening it. It was true that he’d told her that he didn’t mind if she looked and read, but she wanted to do this more in secret and sleep seemed to be one of the instances where – unless they managed into one another’s dreams – she could keep her thoughts and secrets from him.
Under the pale light of the moon falling through the window she began to furiously read through poems, sonnets, songs (she saw musical direction noted above those), letters, romantic encounters, memories… He talked about moments when he’d wanted to kiss her so badly that he almost lost himself and gave in. He talked about the feeling of being in her arms and how it was like home and he never wanted to leave, how it was the most amazing comfort to him that he’d ever experienced in his life. He talked about his favorite moments during their shared weekend and how he knew that he’d be haunted by them until the day that he died. He knew that ten years from now, he’d be in some foreign country and the scent of street roses would send him into a haze where he remembered every inch of her skin and the curl of her scarlet mouth and he’d regret not fighting harder for her despite how hard he was still fighting. He wrote about the future they had together and how she’d be the most beautiful mother he’d ever seen and how his heart would overflow with joy over their child. He’d always wanted to be a father but always felt that this part of life was not for him.
She landed on one prose piece that made her heart burn with a fiery passion, that made her desperate for this life… and it was simple. All that it talked about was how perfect she looked wearing nothing but his shirt at breakfast as she sipped hot coffee and how her eyes were inescapable as her mouth met the mug and sipped and how he wanted to be that cup and touch her lips every morning if only to drown in her eyes.
After she devoured half an hour of words that were too beautiful to describe, she noted that the sky was going pitch black, meaning that it must be just before dawn. She closed the book and squeezed it close to her chest as if it were the most priceless thing that she’d ever happened upon and carefully set it back on the shelf. Austin stirred and turned his head toward her, but didn’t awaken; his thoughts were still distant and foggy.
Marielle settled herself back into his bed and pulled the blanket up over her head so she could grin without him seeing if he awakened. The words were unlike anything she’d ever seen before. She had opened something in him that had been locked away for years. He was pouring all of himself into words that were full of beauty, art, and eroticism. She bit her lip… and they’re all about me.
-Yes, darling… they are. She covered her face even though she was already under the blanket. Of course, he would wake up just then. “I’m glad you like them, Marielle. I don’t think that I could ever stop.” She turned on her side away from him, refusing to answer, but she could hear his smile even in the silence. “I’ll write another after we’re done with this week about how much I love you as a friend, and how much fun I have with you.”
She felt tears brimming. “I wish I could give you something,” she whispered, finally.
“You owe me nothing. You’ve given me everything, already.” He sighed and looked off away from the motionless lump under the blankets. “Marielle, I’m not kidding myself, okay? I know that you’re probably still going to choose Vincent. Some part of me really understands that.” There were tears in his tone. “Some part of me just wants you to wake up from the nightmare that we’ve been trapped in and just stay here with me… with my family. Marielle… Marielle Rancor.”
“Hush,” she quieted him.
“I can’t help it anymore. I can’t even believe how much I love you. You know how I know?”
She was quietly wiping tears away. “How?”
“Because if Vincent is what truly makes you happy, then I want you to choose him.” She buried her face into the mattress, trying to capture a sob. He felt it in his middle, and put a palm there. “I’m with you…but you don’t have to be with me.”
-Was that it? Was that the thing?
-Why do you keep asking that? You’re waiting for me to do something specific, aren’t you?
She needed to do something else, a way to change the subject. Something was twisting in her stomach that felt familiar, but distant. She didn’t know what it was except that it was right on the edge of her mind and it felt invasive. Whatever it was, she felt it looming as if hovering over them and she wanted to lead it away from the house. “I saw a motorcycle in the garage earlier. Is that yours?”
“Yeah,” he whispered.
She sat up, throwing a jacket on. “Take me for a ride? I want to feel the cool air right now.”
“A bit risky with the snow,” he said, apprehensively. He’d already stood up and stretched and he was looking through the window down into the thin blanket of white. “Are you sure?” he asked through a yawn.
“We’ll be okay. You’ll keep me safe,” she said, concretely.
He smiled adoringly at her, and pulled a hooded sweatshirt over his head. Then he went to his closet, opened it, and found a thick, black leather jacket, which he put on.
Goodness, was he ever handsome. Things leather and black just added to how attractive he was. She considered him visually for a moment as he bent in the closet looking for something. She watched his shoulders move, and tense, eyed his profile and his perfect nose, and the adam’s apple that she loved to touch and kiss. He turned, still bent, and gave her a confused look. He could sense her thought process; she thought that he was ridiculously handsome, and due to his bright eyes, dark lashes, and facial structure, even pretty at times.
“I’m never as handsome-” he began, then he flicked his eyes to her again, “-as you are beautiful.”
She flushed and looked away.
After finding gloves and two helmets, he gave her one, which she put on.
They went to the garage together, and he opened it quietly, gently rolled the motorcycle out to the street, and down a few houses before getting on, slipping into his black gloves, and taking her hand to help her get onto the back of the bike.
She straddled the seat, and held onto him, squeezing around his middle.
-This brings back all kinds of memories, darling.
-I know. Just take me for a little ride. Show me something.
He started it, revved the engine, and off they went. He drove slowly so as not to slip or skid. Snow had fallen, but it hadn’t fallen thickly, yet.
Marielle rested her cheek against his back.
-I love you. He whispered.
-I know.
-Are you tired?
-Yes. She turned her head. Was someone following them?
-Why’d you want to come out here?
-I wanted to change the topic, but… something felt weird, too. I can’t explain it.
-Something felt weird? He changed lanes and turned left down a street. -Care to elaborate?
-I don’t know, but I want your family to be safe. We’re both armed. She reminded, and at this she ran a hand down his right arm causing him to shudder a little in a good way. She pat him, both knowing well that that snake tattoo was there and loaded. -We’ll be okay.
He turned down another street, and they slowly came to a stop in front of an elementary school.
When he killed the engine the sky was still purple, but slowly turning gray with a hint of light as the moon said goodnight and gave way to the day. Dawn was just around the corner and the sound of Austin’s boots crunching against the wet gravel pierced her ears, breaking the stillness of the cool air.
He helped her off the bike and gestured to the school. “That’s where I did my first year. You said to show you something,” he said with a smile.
They looked at one another, the desire for a kiss lingering over both of their heads.
“You did well here?”
“For the most part? I had some trouble when I started with some bullies, but not much.”
He leaned back against the bike, hands in his pockets and the took the scene in. The soccer field to the left, the sign out front that read, “Eleese Middle School,” the cream-colored building and stairs leading up to the entrance.
They were silent for a minute or two.
“What would life be like for us if I came with you? To China?”
He smiled distantly, imagining. “There’s a really nice hotel there- I can’t tell you where it is, but I can take you there. It’s where they have me staying for the first few weeks. During those first few weeks my days are mostly training for the country, the laws, what I’m allowed to do, how I am to follow the person that they have me on, and so on. For about a month, my life is similar to how it would be normally. I get up, I go to work – work is training – language, cultural assimilation, and so on… I come home, a little late, but,-” he smiled at her, “-not too late to take you to dinner, come back, cuddle, talk, play. About three hours of just us, every night. They let me do whatever I want on Sundays. So, we could spend most of the day together for those first few weeks. I’ll have some work, but you can help me with it.” He put his laced fingers behind his head and looked up at the sky. “After the first month, however, things do get extremely intense. I start putting in ten-hour days, and rarely have a full day off; like once a month,” he explained. “But… I would still give you an hour or so of my time. Sadly, you’d spend a lot of time alone, but when I was with you, I’d be yours. You could do it, you’re independent and adventurous,” he said with a smile.
“What if… I wanted to be in espionage, too?” she giggled.
“It might be possible. You’re certainly qualified in many ways.”
“You think I won’t be able to find you?” she asked.
He swallowed hard. “I think it would be nearly impossible. I have to ditch my phone for a new one; I can’t keep any numbers, that includes yours. Legally, I’m not supposed to have contact with anyone,” -but I know that you know that my dad calls me. He usually does it on Sundays for about ten minutes at a time. “I’ll have a total name change, and I’m not supposed to be telling you this, Marielle but this time they’re using makeup because they want me to blend in a little with the locals.”
“You’re just too damn white,” she chuckled.
He laughed, too. -Brown contacts, and this thing that pulls my eyes back a bit so I look like I’m half, or something, you know? They stared at the school for a minute again, and he gestured with his hand. “I made my first goal there,” he said.
She smiled at him. “You could barely speak English, huh?” He nodded and mhmm’d. “Little Italian model,” she whispered.
“Mhmmm,” he said, getting closer.
“You must have been scared,” she said, breathlessly.
“Mhmmm,” he replied more quietly, inches from her mouth.
She wasn’t stopping him; her heart was slamming in her throat. “Austin…” she breathed.
–Austi– he cut himself off before their lips met and he turned, eyes wide to look down the street.
She’d heard it too; another motorcycle, but it was hard to tell which way it was coming from. It seemed to be echoing from different streets.
“This isn’t good,” she whispered.
He removed his gloves, and drew his tattoo gun as the sound became louder, and he realized that it was definitely coming from the left.
A white motorcycle came around the corner, and slowly stopped. The rider was staring them down in a white motorcycle suit, and pearlized helmet.
Austin swallowed hard, gun along his leg to keep it partially hidden.
-M-Marielle? A voice in her head asked, but it wasn’t the Austin standing beside her.
“Oh my God,” Marielle whispered wide eyed and breathless. “It’s you.”
This felt too familiar, and an icy spike of fear ran up their bodies as they eyed the rider.
-Marielle, is it really you? The voice in her head asked.
“I can hear him,” she breathed, terrified.
“Oh, hell no,” Austin stepped into the street and raised his snake gun, aiming it toward the rider.
The rider lifted his hand, and a massive blast of cold air knocked Austin back into the street. “Austin, no!” Marielle cried and she wasn’t entirely sure who she was talking to at that moment.
She saw that Austin was okay and slowly sitting up, and she took a few careful steps toward the other.
“A-are you really alive?” The voice called.
He reached up and removed his helmet. It was Austin, but his hair was white as snow, eyebrows still black. She could see his bright blue eyes shining in the darkness and a puff of white came from his mouth as he exhaled. He had two silver metal bulbs underneath either side of his bottom lip.
She shakily came to his side and he disembarked from the bike looking like he’d seen a ghost, and Marielle understood instantly; to this man, he had. She was probably dead in his world.
Austin stood, dusted his knees, and raised his gun.
“No, don’t!” Marielle said over her shoulder.
“Like hell!” Austin cried out from behind them.
“Austin Rancor, if you shoot, and I will never speak to you again!” Marielle snapped back.
Austin took a more casual stance, but kept the pistol ready. She knew him, he wasn’t trigger happy, he’d stay perfectly still until the right moment, eyes locked.
She was a few feet from the new double, and the other man looked her over with tears rimming his eyes. The closer that she got to him, the more that she could smell frost, Christmas, and sugar cookies.
“You dyed your hair,” Marielle said softly, her eyes doing a triangle to look over his face; so familiar- so different. He had an earring as well.
“Yeah, a while ago,” he replied, tucking some of it behind his ears. “D-do you like it?” She nodded, apprehensively trying to figure out the best way to approach this entire situation. “I like yours, too,” he noted. Right, she’d lost her hair in Kingdom, he had probably known her with long hair.
“I was captured, and they shaved it,” she explained.
His expression fell and he looked sadly at the ground for a moment as if nothing made sense. He was obviously confused, and unable to process.
He felt different from Tundra; this wasn’t a serial killer. He was in shock at what he was seeing. He flicked his eyes to Austin, but then back to her. “I- I didn’t believe him,” he stammered quietly, staring down into her eyes. “I didn’t believe him, so I broke away from the others. Figured that I’d find you here, I mean with my family.”
“The others?”
He nodded, and swallowed hard, studying her face as if still in deep shock. “They went to Abyss. They’re trying to figure out the secrets of dimensional travel. All of them. He thinks there’s someone there who will help their cause.”
Marielle shuddered. She knew what Abyss was, and what was hidden there by Sabine. It was a woman… a woman named Jeanine Trench. “Abyss?”
“Yeah, it’s a hidden place. It’s underground, in Iceland?” Their eyes were still locked on one another. Austin was still standing, holding his gun, ready to fire. “The Cerulean Coast.”
“Who went from Cory’s group?”
Other Austin’s eyes shifted around uncomfortably, landing on Austin again. It was obvious that his mind didn’t believe what he was seeing. Seeing her was too much; seeing Austin was like having an out of body experience for this man. “Uh, I don’t remember. I think Cory did, and maybe Varun?” Again, his eyes flicked to Austin. Then he removed his white gloves, reached out shakily, and cupped her cheek, obviously desperate to feel her, and see if she was real.
“Get your hands off of her!” Austin cried, lifting the pistol a little again.
“Austin, calm down!”
White haired Austin gave her a wan smile, eyes filling with tears again. “It’s really you, isn’t it?”
“I’m dead where you’re from?”
His head bobbed, then it dropped between his shoulders with a heavy sigh. “Cancer,” he whispered, running a thumb over her cheek. “The funeral was eight months ago.”
-You can hear me in here? Marielle tried.
-I can.
His eyes filled with more tears and they finally fell. “I’ve missed you,” he said raggedly. “I’ve you missed you so much!” He broke, and he took her face into his hands, and bent to kiss her.
She pulled back. “No, listen to me, Austin,” she said, gently.
Maybe on instinct, he reached out and grabbed her wrist. She phased through him and he stared down at the action, eyes wide with wonder. “No, it’s really you…” he said, as if finalizing.
She felt bad, then; for that moment she’d felt how much his heart was breaking, and how gentle he wanted to be. This wasn’t Tundra. This man wasn’t a psychopath, he was scared, confused, and in shock. She also felt him mentally snapping. This wasn’t good. “No, listen to me,” she repeated.
“Touch her again, and I’ll put a bullet between your eyes.”
He was, though. He had taken hold of her shoulders and he was pressing his forehead to hers. “Come home,” he cried. “Please, come home.”
-Austin, do not shoot him.
“Austin… I’m Marielle, but I’m not the woman that you married. You don’t seem to understand, and I don’t know if I can explain it to you.”
“What are you talking about? You’re here, you’re my wife.”
“No, listen to me. Did you tell the others where you were going?”
He shook his head. “No, I wasn’t sure if I couldn’t trust Cory. None of them know where my parents live. I figured that since it was Thanksgiving-” He looked back at his other self. “You’re with him?” he asked, and the gentle, pleasant tone that he had took on a more accusatory air. “You’re in love with him?”
“He belongs in this world, the same way that you have to go back to yours.”
“Not without you.”
“I can’t,-” she explained, shaking her head from side to side, “-and you can’t stay,” she tried. She heard Austin cock the pistol. “This is different.” Marielle said back. “This isn’t Tundra!”
“What’s different? Why can’t you come with me?” White haired Austin asked.
“They didn’t tell you?” Silence and several panting breaths told her that they hadn’t. “Oh no,” she growled under her breath. “We can’t intercross worlds,” she explained. “Not for very long, after a few months, a year maybe we start to degenerate. That’s what Cory’s looking for to save himself, the answer to that.”
“He said Vincent had it. That he had all of the answers.”
She flicked her gaze to Austin. -Don’t tell him. Austin said.
“I don’t know,” she whispered.
White haired Austin narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously. “You were never good at lying to me,” he growled through clenched teeth, more tears pooling in his blue eyes.
“There’s more going on here than you understand,” she replied. “I’m not trying to lie to you, I just- I don’t even know you.”
“Of course you know me! I’m your husband!”
“But you’re not,” Marielle whispered, and she reached up and cupped his cheek this time. “You have to understand,” she explained, her voice warbling. “Whatever life that you had with me? It’s done. We have to be done. I’m so, so sorry.”
“What are you saying? You want him?” He gestured to Austin with his head. She paused, the weight of her own words that had just come from her mouth falling on her shoulders. “Cory was telling the truth, Vincent does have it; the answer.”
“Don’t believe Cory, he’s a psychopath.”
He narrowed his eyes for a moment. “You think I haven’t figured that out?”
She staggered back a bit and glanced down. “Then why are you here?”
“I want my wife back.”
“Did he tell you? Did Cory tell you what he did?” He looked confused. “Austin, he’s killed five of my other selves,” she explained. “Trying to bridge the gaps.” She watched his Adam’s apple bob, and he nervously bit at one of his snake bites. “And he-,” she stopped.
He took gentle hold of her shoulders. “He what?” he growled.
-Don’t tell him that either. You’ll get him killed, and you know it. Austin said in her mind.
She shook her head, dismissing his question and listening to Austin’s advice. He was right. “You can’t have me. I’m not who you think I am.”
“You’re Masin.”
“I can’t come back with you,” she reiterated.
He took her wrist again. “Then come with me now,” he said a bit sternly as he started to pull her toward the bike with pleading eyes. Her own were begging for him to understand. “We’ll go somewhere and be alone, I want to hold you. I wan-”
“No, let me go.” She phased again.
This time, she saw the pleasure flicker through his expression. “I’ve missed you so much,” he repeated looking lost. “How can God put us back together, and then you tell me that we can’t be?”
“Because we can’t.”
“Aren’t you with Vincent?”
She hung her head.
He tried for one last grab. White haired Austin looked like something was slowly breaking inside of him and she saw something that she recognized as desperation mixed with him being unhinged.
-That’s it.
Austin must have seen it too, because at that moment, a blur of black split them apart and white and black tumbled to the ground, fighting for dominance.
Both men stood, and white-haired Austin pulled a knife. The two began to do a well-choreographed dance around one another with white slashing, and Austin dodging, but keeping fists up.
“No, please don’t do this!” Marielle cried as she stood back trying to assess.
Why hadn’t Austin used the gun? She guessed because she’d said that if he fired, she’d never speak to him again.
White blasted Austin with a gust of icy air, and Austin toppled back, but was up in a flash, and he caught other Austin’s fists in his own as they were coming down – knife in hand – on Austin.
Austin whirled away, taking the knife, it was his now, and he had the upper hand for a moment, slashing toward his double who stumbled back, but whirled, kicking the knife from his hand. It skidded across the street on some ice and disappeared into some white snow.
More ice, and blasts of air and she watched as they knocked one another back and fought for control of the situation.
The entire show was uncanny to watch, both men were mirrors of one another now grappling, throwing, and blocking punches and strikes like they knew each and every movement about to land. “Come on!” Austin cried at him.
Marielle glanced over her shoulder for a moment; the sun was coming up and a golden line was streaking the horizon both signaling the morning, and reminding her of Vincent. She suddenly wished that he was here, with them. He might have a better understanding of what to do and how to explain to this man.
Using the only instinct that she had in that moment, she ran and jumped onto his back, putting her arms around his neck and shoulders and trying to back him off of Austin; not that he looked like he needed any help. “No, please, please don’t hurt him,” she was saying into his ear.
“Enough, Masin,” the gentle voice from the white-haired double replied, and he easily whirled her off him and gently put her aside.
Again, the two men were going at one another. She noted that neither had truly gone for a kill shot yet and wondered if both were scared to. What would happen if you killed your own double?
But when Austin suddenly gained the upper hand, she watched as his double pulled a second blade, preparing to put it through his heart and did the only thing she could think of.
She stood up behind him, and shoved her fist through his back, and up through his ribcage. Once there, she took gentle hold of his heart. He froze, not moving; his blue eyes wide with terror, and knowledge. “Do you understand what I’m doing?” she asked.
He nodded, “You have my heart in your hands,” he replied. “In more ways than one.”
“If you don’t promise me right now that you’ll leave, go home, and never come back, and never associate yourself with Cory ever again, I will tear this from your body. One move, and I’ll ruin you, you know that.” Austin was glaring at her wildly. White Austin’s jaw tensed and he swallowed hard as his head fell between his shoulders. “Masin, please don’t hurt me,” he begged.
“Then leave us alone. I’m certain that we had a wonderful life together,” she said, feeling the strong beating of his life organ pumping between her fingers. “But it’s over, and I’m sorry,” she whispered. Then she leaned against his back like she was holding him. -I won’t hurt you, but you can’t hurt him.
-Why?
Austin’s eyes narrowed at her inquisitively. -You’re right, I love him. Austin closed his eyes tightly, feeling that punch. -Do you want to hurt me by killing him?
-I never want to hurt you.
She gently squeezed his heart, and wrapped her other arm around his front, sighing and sniffling back tears. “Then turn and say goodbye to me.” He nodded.
She released his heart slowly, and pulled her hand from the other man’s back. He faced her, wet streaks streaming down both cheeks.
Marielle smiled up at him and cupped his face before stretching up, and giving him a tender kiss on the lips. “I love you,” she whispered, raggedly. He closed his eyes tightly just as Austin just had. They both took a moment to try and calm their tears before she allowed him to put his forehead to hers. “Goodbye,” she whispered.
He nodded, and stumbled back dejectedly. It was clear that as he processed her words, things were becoming clear to him. “I’ll leave. I’ll go home. I’ll forget Cory,” he breathed. Then he went to the bike, and paused, looking over his shoulder. “I promise,” he said as if he understood that she knew what those words meant.
She nodded and watched as he took one last look at her from the bike like he was drinking her in, committing her to memory, put his helmet back on, then his gloves, started the engine, whirled, and drove away into the dawn.
Austin approached her and she collapsed against him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know how else to stop those things,” she said into his chest.
He squeezed her against him. “That was weird,” he whispered back. “Do you think he’ll come after us again?”
She shook her head. “No. He promised.”
“Let me take you home.”
Austin drove them home, and helped her up the stairs and eased her down in his bed before going to the bathroom, filling a cup with some water, and bringing it back to her. She took it thankfully and drank some.
“Will this ever stop?” she wondered aloud.
He removed his jacket one arm and a time, and threw it over the back of the chair. “It will be at least significantly reduced if you run… with me or-” he didn’t want to say the rest, but did. “Or with Vincent.” He slumped into his chair and they were silent for a few moments. “He was me again,” he sighed, lifting his open hand and watching it shake. “I was… I was so scared for a minute.”
There was a long pause. “This wasn’t Tundra. He wasn’t evil. He was actually-” she bit her lip for a moment, “-he was good, Austin. He was just confused, shocked, horrified. He didn’t know what to do any more than we did.”
He was staring through the wall in deep, concentrated thought. “You can kill me,” Austin said, flicking his gaze to hers. “Do you realize how easily you could kill me?” he asked.
She drummed her lip for a moment. “Can we like…never talk about that again?” She shuddered, lifting the blanket to her chest and curling it tightly to her body as she looked over the books in his wall.
There was silence for a few moments, it was sometime around six thirty now.
She handed him the cup, he returned it to the bathroom, and sat on the bed by her side. “Read to me,” she whispered, handing him his journal. “I’d rather forget that even happened. Read me the last one you read again. I liked it and want to hear it one more time.”
He complied, and as she blushed, she disappeared under the blanket again.
“Where did you go?” he demanded.
She laughed from under the covers, then threw them off. “Oh, you’re here,” she joked. She rolled her lips in for a moment. “Your words are…” she shook her head. “There is no word for them. I- No one has ever written about me like that.”
“To the best of your knowledge.”
“No, I don’t know. I don’t think anyone has ever written like that for me. Morgan certainly didn’t, although I’m fairly certain that he did for Sabine,” she chuckled low in her chest. She was straightening the blanket over her legs. “So… you want me to tie you up?” she begged.
He rolled his eyes in her direction. “That’s really what you took from that, huh?” he asked shaking his head adoringly at her. She buried her chin into her shoulder and flashed a gaze at him. “Yes, Marielle, I want you to tie me up,” he dared. He lifted his left hand and in his mind’s eye, he swiped it across her temple, and over her ear. She shuddered, feeling a trail of tingling and light burning. “A king can only be commanded by his queen… Give me new commands, darling,” he breathed, hotly. “Tame me.” She swallowed hard and reached out mentally, meeting his hand with her own and stopping him from touching her. It was only the rim of her ear that he was caressing, but his words were wrecking her in a sensuous way.
She pictured him on his knees, looking up at her through his raven hair with an irate expression of frustration that he was restrained while she traced a line down the tower of his neck.
Austin shivered, seeing that image as well, and she took in a sharp breath. She was too open to him, and it was scaring her, she tried to reel some of her thoughts back in. “Take apart every last bit of me until all that remains is us,” he begged in a hot whisper.
She shivered. “Enough of that,” she finally peeped.
“I’m just… open to you. I always have been. At first it was merely to seduce you, now it’s in the hopes that you’ll fall so desperately in love with me, that we fall into one another, blink, and fifty years will have gone by,” he said distantly. “And we’ll be sitting on a bench somewhere together, talking about our life together happily inside our heads, and sensing the end. Then you’ll rest inside of me, and it’ll be over, and gone, all of it. But where ever we are after that… we’ll have had a beautiful life,” he said turning to her. Both were silently crying. “Don’t you want that?”
“Wanting and believing what is possible are two different things,” she said wiping away a tear. “I’m not even supposed to be here with you… sharing so intimately like this.”
“Part of your plan?”
“It’s more than a plan, Austin.” She looked away from him.
He didn’t press the issue. He glanced back at the sky, watching it become the bright dawn orange creamsicle that made both long for deeper things. “Happy Thanksgiving, darling,” he whispered. She smiled. Right. It was Thanksgiving, and as both settled a little, they each dozed for another hour or so until Marielle awakened to him showering and the unmistakable smell of something delicious wafting up the stairs.
-Don’t tell my parents what happened this morning. Austin’s voice came from the bathroom.
She ruffled her hair and combed it back with her fingertips a few times. -I won’t.
Tiffany was already up and cooking, and she knew that was her cue to go ask if she could help. If there was anywhere that she was good in, it was the kitchen.
When she got downstairs, Tiffany’s hair was swept up in a partial bun, and she was bent as she put what looked like an apple pie in the oven. She stood and smiled at Marielle. “Good morning, darling, how did you sleep?
Darling… She smiled softly. “Um, I slept well, when I did,” she replied coyly.
Tiffany giggled, “We heard you laughing at one point.”
Marielle winced, “I’m sorry, did we keep you up?”
“Not too much,” Tiffany replied and she went to a cupboard, took down a mug and poured Marielle some coffee. “Aussie tells me you like cream and sugar,” she said handing the mug to Marielle.
She beamed and sat down at a small corner table with her drink, sipping and enjoying the warmth and the flavor. “How can I help you today?” she asked, praying to forget earlier that morning, the other Austin, the fight, and everything that had happened.
“Oh, I was hoping that you’d help!” Tiffany replied with a grin, and she launched into what she wanted to do for dinner and how she wanted to prepare everything.