Monday, April 27, 2009

Your Cheesy Bookstore Romance Pt. 3

Andie was quiet on the drive out, as usual, but there seemed to be a little more going on inside. She felt it but barely paid it any attention, just enjoying the fresh smell of salt air as they got closer to the water. Turtle could barely sit still, and it was all she could do to keep him from climbing onto Mrs. Graves’s head.

They spent the weekend coaxing open doors and windows, scrubbing, washing, dusting, sneezing, coughing, and laughing at Turtle when a curtain he was climbing fell onto him or the seagulls taunted him just out of paw’s reach. “This is a beautiful little place,” Andie mentioned again and again. “How is it that it’s withstood the hurricanes?”

“Pure luck, really. Most of our neighbors have had to rebuild over the past few years. Now, dear, I need you to run to the market while I finished washing these linens.”

Andie walked through the small market, picking out the items on the list and an extra filet for Turtle. While waiting to check out, she started to get the sensation that someone was looking at her. She tried to ignore it, but finally glanced over her shoulder and saw the man who was watching her. She quickly turned away. He looked vaguely familiar, but she didn’t know where from and tried to pretend he wasn’t there at all. [OH MY GOD WHOEVER CAN HE BE] The discomfort made her face burn, though, and she hurried out with her bags without looking back again.

That night after dinner Mrs. Graves practically forced Andie to sit on the porch and watch the rhythmic rolling of the waves. “If there’s anything a body needs in the world these days, it’s to just sit and look at water.” Andie thought she had read that sentiment in a book somewhere recently. Once on the porch, she knew what her landlady was getting at. The water was soothing, healing somehow, seemed to recalibrate the most important parts of her. Before she knew it she was dozing lightly in the rocking chair with Turtle curled in her lap. She woke up an hour later feeling refreshed, cleansed, better than she could remember anymore. She took a walk on the beach in the moonlight, Turtle trotting along by her side and running after the waves. That night she dreamt of sun and waves and warm winds. It was the first dream she’d been able to remember in years. And it was the first morning in years when she didn’t curse the dawn for the waking.

On the drive home, Mrs. Graves thanked Andie for her help. Turtle slept all the way. Andie felt the surface of her skin tingling, as if something was just coming to life for the first time. Or after a long time dormant. She was breathing more deeply than normal. The ocean air demanded it, inviting itself deep into her airways and invigorating her blood.

On Monday Jess stared at her as she came through the door. “Good Lord, girl, are you sunburned?” Andie touched her cheeks and told her briefly about the weekend she’d spent at the ocean. “Here it is, October, and you’re already at the ocean. I knew there was a beach bunny inside you just bursting to get out.”

“Very funny," Andie said lightly and walked away.

“How was it?” Ernesto asked, popping out from classics.

“Beautiful,” Andie replied and disappeared into the stockroom.

As she dried her hands Andie caught an accidental glimpse of herself in the mirror and stopped to look at her face more carefully, noticing that sunburn for the first time. Suddenly the face in the mirror was surrounded by green silk, a gold circlet binding her brow. In the mirror she saw trees behind her—tall, deep, wise, old trees. She whirled around, not knowing what she expected to see—and there was the same old bathroom, peeling pink wallpaper and all. Her hand flew to her forehead as she turned back to the mirror—nothing there this time. I must have been in the sun longer than I realized, she though as she tried to regain her composure. She began to brush back a wisp of hair that had strayed from her clip, but at the last moment let it stay there, lightly touching her cheek.
[NOTE GENIUS OF METAPHOR OF HAIR INDICATING SLIGHT CHANGES IN HER BEARING AND THOUGHTS]

Gryphon was lying atop a huge wooden block, strapped down with sinew and hemp rope. He looked around. A wizened old woman—whom he wasn’t certain was human—stood nearby, chanting, shaking a huge stick with the head of a ram carved into its top. Sweat ran down around his neck to his back and gathered between his shoulder blades, making a sticky pool beneath him. He tried to remain unafraid, though, by some instinct. For someone. He had no idea who, but it struck him to his very core.

Then he was sitting up quickly in his own bed, in his own apartment. He’d never felt so glad to be there. What had given him that dream? And why did it not really feel like a dream?

1 comment:

Elly said...

Don't forget [OBLIGATORY JOURNEY TO BEAUTIFUL NATURE SETTING FOR TEMPORARY ESCAPE FROM WOES AND HEALING RECHARGE]