The Shattered Genesis

by T. Rudacille

  ***

  We passed our free time in the ways that most living in normal circumstances would. Our housemates became more like friendly neighbors; we spent an abundance of time with them, getting to know their families and their back stories. Every person had an interesting story to tell, I found.

  Penny made friends easily, as she always had. It took time but eventually, I was able to leave her in the care of others. However, despite my fragile trust in the people around me strengthening every day, I would not leave Penny alone with males, even those who had children. James assured me gently that the chances of the unthinkable happening to Penny were slim but still, I could not risk it.

  Violet saw Nick more often than I was truly comfortable with. Though the young man was quite gentlemanly towards her and me, I could not help but suspect that their relationship was physical. James, once again, assured me that I was mistaken. His theory was that I was still guilt-ridden over breaking my long-held principles regarding men with him. As a result, I believed subconsciously that Violet was making a mistake that I had long taught her never to make.

  I thanked him for his astute psychological analysis once again, knowing that he was wrong about his theory, at least somewhat.

  I had absolutely no regrets when it came to James. My feelings for him had long since surpassed my need to pull away. To put it bluntly, I was hopelessly, desperately in love with him. How could I not have been? We had survived the end together. When the burden of our new lives began to wear one or both of us down, we pulled together and carried the weight. As a child, when I had pictured relationships, I had always just seen the sexual aspect. As you can imagine, I was thoroughly disgusted by such stunted, out of place images of two people allowing such intimate closeness, both physical and emotional, to one another. But I understood suddenly that when one was in love, one was able to achieve that closeness without any shame or fear. After so many years of shuddering in discomfort every time I pictured having a physical tryst with a man, I believed in the normalcy and true romance of the act.

  We bonded over the most trivial things. We laughed so often that outsiders and passerby more than likely believed us to be consistently high on the Peace Fruit. I had not laughed with such frequency in so many years. The muscles in my face protested the constant assault of smiles and giggles at first but then, they adjusted to the lighthearted nature of mine and James' time together. My heart followed a similar path: I was beginning to drop my need to disdainfully tear down others as I wallowed in the misery and woe of the world. I was beginning to see things through a lens of beauty and idealism, however foolishly. James aided me in accepting that new outlook just as he came to grip it firmly himself.

  In short, I felt so blissfully alive, for perhaps the first time in my life.

  “What about this one?” I asked him one night. I was pressing one finger lightly against the tattoo over his heart. “That's very...”

  “I know.” He sighed heavily and shook his head in overly dramatic shame. “I like to say it's simple.”

  I laughed and swooped my hair back so that I could observe the tattoo more closely. I was perched on his middle, straddling him and adjusting my glasses so I could see the details of his embarrassingly ridiculous tattoo.

  “That is a nice way of saying, 'It is very old and poorly designed.'”

  “Excuse me, madam, I designed this tattoo myself.”

  “Oh my God...” I covered my mouth to hide my slightly chagrined smile. “Are you serious?”

  His face broke into a grin, and he chuckled softly.

  “No. Of course not. I walked into the shop, flipped through one of the books for five minutes, and chose this one.”

  “So, you must have been young, then?” I asked, “Like eighteen?”

  “Forty-one, actually.”

  The boisterous giggles that took hold of me almost erased the look of consternation that he was trying so valiantly to keep plastered on his face. As I covered my mouth and struggled to stay upright, his hands grasped my hips, holding me firmly so I did not fall off of him.

  “This right here,” He touched the tattoo, “…is most certainly not a laughing matter. This is a cautionary tale to warn young people like you against drinking heavily with your friends and wandering into a tattoo shop at midnight. Seriously, that story is like the new-age Hansel and Gretel. You should be terrified right now.”

  “Stop!” I exclaimed, grasping my stomach as I only laughed harder. “You are right, though! It is the worst tattoo I have ever had the displeasure of viewing!”

  “I don't need to translate that into regular people-speak, but I might anyway.”

  The tattoo in question was a tawny owl wearing dark-rimmed glasses. The location was curious, considering that a design placed over one's heart would generally denote some overly emotional sentiment. If James had tattooed one of his many girlfriend's names there, though that surely would have been very stupid, I might have understood. But a brash caricature of an animal seemed out of place over his heart that I knew to be so very large.

  “I was looking at it earlier when we were...” I trailed off, spinning my hand by my head as though that somehow signified “having sex.” James mimicked the awkward hand gesture, and then we were both laughing again.

  “You were looking at it? While we were doing that? Am I off my game today, or something?”

  “Just because I was looking at it doesn't mean that I was not paying attention to what you and I were doing. It just caught my eye, and I found myself unable to tear my gaze away.”

  “And you thought, 'My boyfriend has the greatest taste in ink...'”

  “No. I thought, 'That is a strange place for a tattoo whose existence was clearly born from whimsy.'”

  “You like that one. ‘Born from whimsy...'”

  “I do, indeed.”

  “What do you think I should have gotten there? My wife's name, or something?”

  “That would be both obscene and doltish, so no.” I replied, shaking my head rapidly. My choice of words seemed to amuse him because he was chuckling softly once again.

  “This is no laughing matter, James Maxwell.” I said in jocular scorn, “Are you unaware of the fact that it has been proven to end relationships when one of the people in said romantic binding tattoo the name of their partner on their person?”

  “Don't get me wrong, I love the alliteration, but do you want to cite your source on that? Because I think you're wrong. I'm sure there are other reasons that the relationship ends.”

  “Ha-ha, I know you are being blithely sarcastic. I'm sure there are other reasons as well. But there is a causal relationship between the two events, at least in my humble opinion.”

  “Your humble opinion? I don't think I need to tell you that what you just said is an oxymoron.”

  We were laughing again.

  “Alright, lady, you want me to explain every drunken night I spent in tattoo parlors. I want to know about yours.”

  “I only have three tattoos and believe me, the stories are not that interesting. Plus, I was stone-cold sober when I got each and every one of them, so the stories you have requested regarding drunken nights would simply not be truthful.”

  “I never asked for stories regarding,” He stopped, “…whatever it was that you just said.”

  I grinned in over-the-top triumph.

  “Yeah? That face? 'Ha-ha, I got you?'” He asked before sitting up quickly and pressing his lips to mine hard. “I'm treading very close to a dangerously personal topic, aren't I?”

  “What makes you say that?” I asked calmly, though internally, my insides were beginning to swell in anxiety. He was right; the stories behind each of my tattoos were very personal.

  “Because you're starting to get that sketchy look in your eyes like I am treading very close to a dangerously personal topic. Either that, or you're about to go on a killing rampage.”

  “Oh, look at you. You know me so well.” I made an effort to smile at him and shrug,
“At another time, my dear, I will tell you all about them. Just not tonight. Besides, my ink does not rival that lovely bespectacled avian creature that is cemented so glaringly on your chest.” I walked my fingers over it, smiling in genuine amusement once again.

  “That one on your back certainly rivals it. You know how that one drives me crazy. I love it.”

  “Despite how colossal it is?”

  “It is the perfect size, actually. Sometimes, when you bend over, I can see it when your shirt comes up. You did it the other day, and I kid you not, every male on Security Detail was staring.”

  “People were gawking at me, and you didn't say anything?” I feigned shock and offense.

  “Nope. I just grinned and nodded. I got several fist bumps. I'm a little bit of a celebrity amongst those guys, I have to say. They think you are very attractive and that I'm old. Because those two things don't generally go together unless there is a large sum of money involved, they believe that I must be some God-like creation who reeled you in with my charm and boyish good looks,” He shrugged nonchalantly, “And my massive lower appendage.”

  I laughed so raucously that I nearly rolled off of him again. His hands found my waist, and he held me up.

  “I find it really insulting that you're laughing like that. Just so you know...”

  I kissed him quickly.

  “I love you dearly, James Maxwell,” I gasped out, “You never fail to entertain me.”

  “I love you passionately, Brynna Olivier. Even when you're about to suffer a concussion after your laughter sends you flying sideways off of me and onto the floor...”

  “Stop!” I covered my mouth as I snorted, “I really might fall off of you!”

  “It would be kind of funny. You have to admit.”

  “If I were to suffer a concussion, you would find it humorous?! You don't love me at all, James Maxwell!” I accused him teasingly.

  “Oh, I don't?”

  “No. I know the truth now.”

  “You think that's the truth?”

  “I do, or else I wouldn't have said that now, would I?”

  He sat up quickly and pulled me forward, crushing my mouth against his. My hands traveled over the curves of his back, exploring the rocky terrain in innocently greedy fascination. My breathing hitched in my throat as his tongue confidently moved against my own.

  When he pulled away, he rested his hand on my cheek. I placed my own over top of his and noted as I looked into his eyes that he was suddenly completely serious.

  “I love every last thing about you, Brynna.”

  My heart jumped in surprise before falling over itself in a swoon of powerful affection for him. When I finally regained my ability to speak, I found that my throat had clenched in the urge to cry at such simple yet so emotionally resounding words.

  “I never thought I would hear that from someone in a thousand years. Surely, you are mistaken.”

  “Surely, I'm not, actually. Luckily for you and me, we do have a thousand years. We probably have two, three, maybe even four thousand years.”

  “A part of me doubts seriously that you will last through that much time with me. Eventually, my tendencies will drive you away.”

  “Really?” He raised his eyebrows at me in an acknowledgment of some challenge that I did not realize I had proposed.

  I nodded, trying to smile again but feeling those unwelcome tears that so painfully hindered my ability to breathe reemerge quickly. He saw them and reached out to gently wipe them away. I turned my head away from him, trying to hide the sadness that he had inadvertently provoked in me. There was nothing else in the world that I wanted more than to be with him forever as he suggested we would be. But I knew myself. I knew him quite well, also. I knew that somewhere, deeply guarded inside of him, was a breaking point. After much prodding, eventually that forceful reluctance and drive to get away from an emotional tormentor would detonate. In my own way, I tormented him. My need to detach drove my cruelty to spur back to life and as a result, he was driven away.

  “Stop.” He whispered after resting his forehead against mine. I closed my eyes and drank in his deliciously soothing scent. “I might not be able to read your thoughts, but I can read your face very easily.”

  “Really?” I asked softly as I stroked his stubble-covered cheek with my thumb. “I thought I hid these moments well. Now you're telling me that I do not.”

  “I can see them now. You don't think that I know, but I can tell when you're upset. I can generally guess what it is that's upsetting you. Right now, you think you're going to drive me away.”

  I was shocked that he had guessed accurately the true nature of my distress.

  “Brynna,” His hands grasped mine, “Look at me.”

  I did.

  “I told you that I love you and that I think we can last, and believe me, I mean that. A part of me knows that the same way you just know things most of the time. But just in case I'm wrong and that feeling is bullshit, I'm going to say that we should just play this by ear. I know you sit and worry about the future and what it holds for you, for me, for us, for Violet, for Penny... constantly. But how about if we just take this one step at a time?”

  “I suppose that would alleviate some of my anxiety. But you do know that it will take some time for me to condition myself to think that way. So, once again, I must ask for your patience, which I am sure just thrills you.”

  “It does thrill me. Do you know why?”

  “I know that this is very shocking but no, I do not know why.”

  “It thrills me because in a roundabout way, you just admitted I'm right. And that's another one on the scoreboard for me finally, so thank you for that, my dear.”

  The tension in the room between us broke. I found myself laughing again as I wrapped my arms around his neck and my legs around his torso. As I gazed into his deep, soulful eyes, I contemplated his words. In that long moment of silence, I realized that his wisdom rivaled mine and that he was right. On my end, I had to begin trusting him completely. I had to let go of my fear and doubt regarding our love for one another. Most importantly, I had to start living in the moment. After all that we had overcome, I deserved that. Instead of tormenting myself over what the future might have held, I needed to strive for total happiness and inner harmony in the present. I had studied eastern religions extensively and such practices were stressed as guidelines for a life that was truly worth living. I smiled as I remembered pouring over those books, drinking in the customs that would enable such free and peaceful thinking.

  “What?” James asked me softly as his hands gently moved my hair away from my face.

  I shook my head and shrugged.

  “You are right. You might jest about it, but you're right. You are much smarter than that ridiculous tattoo on your chest would lead me to believe.”

  He laughed with me and kissed my lips tenderly. After that, he laid down, still holding me to him. I slid off of him and propped my head up on my hand so I could look into his eyes. I was so very enamored by their light shade and how I truly could see every bit of the goodness in his soul when I looked at him. In every minimal etching of age in his face, I saw his goodness. You cannot imagine the peace that brought me.

  I fell asleep listening to the consistent serenade of his strongly beating heart with a smile on my face. As I drifted off, my contact with his skin enabled me to hear clearly one key thought that passed through his mind just before he fell asleep, as well:

  “I saw her and everything changed. Everything.”

  No words, either written or spoken, had ever made my heart erupt into beats of such wild intensity. I picked my head up, stroked his handsome face again, and caressed his lips with mine. Knowing that he was asleep, I offered a confession of my own.

  “I know now that I can’t live without you.”

  No words, either written or spoken, had ever terrified me so painfully while bringing me so much insensible joy and comfort. Tears rushed into my eyes as I studied his relax
ed features and listened to his soft breathing. I did not shed them, but they came in pure joy at the sight of him, this man I adored so deeply and needed so desperately.

  “I love you so much, James.”

  After I laid my head down against his chest again, his hand came up to rub my back. From the barrier between sleep and consciousness, he whispered:

  “I love you, too, baby.”

  I fell asleep smiling.