by Allie Burke
He rudely abandoned whoever it was that he was speaking to, ignoring stares, and walked towards her. Jane felt her heart tie anxiousness and nervousness together into a tight knot. Her knees trembled slightly. He was huge. Tall, muscular, sharp, defined features. He had cropped, jet black hair, deep blue eyes—the exact color of the ocean. When he reached her, he stopped abruptly, as if running into a wall. He paused, and just stared into her eyes, really stared, as if he could see her soul from where he stood. Jane was suddenly very warm.
She inhaled a deep breath through her nose, and experienced a very unique scent. It was him, he smelled lovely. She looked up at him—he had half a foot on her, at least. His lips parted, but before Jane could hear the sound his voice made, everything went black.
Elias walked into his new house, sighing at all the boxes littering the floor. It was a small house, two bedrooms, one bathroom, and a living room with a medium sized kitchen attached to it. In the living room, he only had a leather couch and chair, a forty-two inch flat screen television, and an oak dining table by the kitchen. Everything else was scattered all over the house in boxes. He had no decorations or paintings on the walls yet, it was all very plain at the moment.
He had just moved to Hazel Grove, a small winery town just outside of Jasmyn Lake. He moved from Hayward, Washington, where he resided his entire life. He had lived in a big Victorian home with his parents and his twin brother, Liam, until they got an apartment together. Fifteen years later, Liam was murdered.
Elias and Liam were like a lot of twins: inseparable and complete opposites. Liam was gay, but that didn’t change their relationship. Liam was Elias’s brother, not some gay guy that he was ashamed of. Their parents didn’t feel the same way. They were in the law business, his mother a Supreme Court Judge and his father the Assistant D.A. As far as Mr. and Mrs. Linden were concerned, a gay son was an abomination. They disowned Liam. Luckily he still had Elias. He always would.
The death of Elias’s brother had practically killed him. He developed migraines and chest pains. Getting out of bed was a battle that he rarely won.
Elias and Liam had loved the rain since they were children. The sound of it tapping the tin roof of their back shed was heartwarming. It drained out the sounds of their parents’ fighting. It was beautiful to watch through the upstairs windows. As the twins got older, they couldn’t break their love affair with the rain. It reminded them of life, of survival, survival of their childhood and their parents. Every time it rained after Liam died, which was most days in Washington, Elias was lost. He didn’t know what to do with himself. He had to get out of that town, where he was constantly reminded of his only brother. When he found the small town of Hazel Grove, just minutes from his favorite aunt, his spirits were lifted right away. An art gallery owner interested in his work less than a mile away, it was perfect.
Elias removed his jacket, and sat down on the couch. He rubbed his temples. When he thought about his odd encounter tonight, he felt a headache developing. One minute he was speaking to some guy that babbled way too much about who knows what, and he was suddenly compelled to look away. When he looked around, though, no one looked disturbed. But then there was music. He couldn’t make out the song, but he definitely heard singing. He remembered walking in the direction of the noise, but after a few steps, he had to stop. He physically could not move, like his feet were buried in concrete. He knew he said something like “huh”. He felt very weird after that, hollow, like cracking a nutshell to find no peanut inside. When Lily called his name, he was depressed. It wasn’t the same grief for his brother; this was something he didn’t recognize. It wasn’t until Lily came over to him and took hold of his arm, that he was able to move his feet again.
There was something else. He could have sworn that he saw purple glitter floating around the gallery for the rest of the night. And the whole place smelled like some kind of herb: minty. He rubbed his temples again.
Elias got up and went to the kitchen to make a midnight breakfast. He couldn’t stop thinking about what a weird night it was. While the eggs and bacon cooked, he went to the counter where the spice rack sat, just to see if he could match the scent. Basil, cumin, oregano, ginger, rosemary. Rosemary.
Elias grabbed the small canister of the chopped green herb, and opened the top. He took a whiff, and was so startled by the herby scent that his arm flinched and he sprayed half the contents of the canister into his face. “Shit,” he said out loud, wiping his face with his hand. This was the scent looming around the gallery all night.
He walked away from the spice rack to remove the various pans from the heat of the stove. He scooped all of his food on a plate, and sat down at the table. He lifted his fork, and immediately he dropped it back onto the plate. It clanked. He wasn’t even hungry. He cooked because he should eat, not because he had an appetite. He couldn’t force it down tonight. He was too tired. He let the food slide off the plate into the trash can, and threw his dish in the sink. He walked to his bedroom that was empty except for a bed with just one cotton sheet. Elias didn’t sleep with a blanket, he always felt hot, as if he had an ongoing fever that would never break.
He undressed and showered—a cold shower. It wasn’t because of his unusual evening, Elias liked his showers frosty. Cooled him off, even if it was just for a few minutes before he began to feel like he was burning alive again.
Elias came out of the bathroom with a white towel wrapped around his waist. He put on some cotton boxers, and rolled into his single sheet. A lot went through his mind as he was trying to fall asleep. He had been raised so strictly, sent away to boarding school as soon as he was old enough, along with Liam. Their parents dressed them in expensive clothing since they were babies, and forced them to start wearing dress pants and collared shirts as soon as they could fit in them. They were constantly influenced by their parents to be successful, rich. Elias’s father had told him that he was going to be a great lawyer when he was six. Elias didn’t want any of that. The arts were his escape. The vivid colors on a canvas really spoke to him, blended together to tell him their story.
He felt abandoned. Liam was gone, his parents, well, they didn’t count. They didn’t care about anything but themselves and their status. They only had children because it was expected of them. Neither his parents missed a beat when Liam passed away, like it was bound to happen eventually. Like they were just waiting for their son to die. Elias turned on his side. He felt sick.
Elias finally drifted into a restless sleep. He tossed and turned so much that at one point during the night, he fell off his bed. Not realizing where he was, he turned his head to get up, and hit it on the corner of the iron bed frame.
He rose from the floor and went into the kitchen. He flipped on the switch to turn on the kitchen light, shielding his eyes from the brightness of it with the back of his hand. He decided to make some tea, maybe it would help him sleep. He filled a small saucepan with water from the tap, and heated it up. He went to the pantry to retrieve some tea. He saw the open canister sitting on the counter, half filled with rosemary. He emptied some of the minty herb into his palm, and dashed a few sprinkles in the pan of boiling water. He poured it in a mug, and steeped the tea bag. He plopped himself in his black leather recliner and drank it. Elias let out a long breath after a few sips. His head felt clear, the cloudiness of his thoughts finally thinning.
He got up from his chair and left the half full mug of tea on the table. He walked lazily down the hallway, and fell face first on his bed. He was asleep as soon as his head hit the soft cotton. It was then that he experienced the most peculiar dream.
There was a woman, standing as still as a statue in the middle of Lily’s gallery. She was barefoot, her purple painted toenails glimmering up at him. He took in her appearance, a little confused by her torn jeans and dirt stained t-shirt. He looked at her face, and he was mesmerized. She was beautiful. Her hair was red, not orange, but really red—crimson. The woman’s eyes were a deep emerald green, so illuminated
that he saw his reflection in them. She looked—wild.
She looked around, and then, she started singing. Listen to the Music was the name of the song. She did a cute little spin, and she was dancing. There were several people around her, but no one looked at her. It was as if Elias was the only one who could see her. It was absurd, and hilarious, and the foremost terrific display Elias had ever seen.
Elias woke up laughing hysterically, so loudly that he had to bend over and put his head between his knees to muffle the sound of his deep guffaw, as not to wake the neighbors. He was eventually able to contain himself, and he fell back asleep. His headache was gone. Only a smile remained.
~ * ~
“You’re not coming in with me?” Jane asked Annabelle.
Annabelle looked down from the cliff where they stood. “No. Jasmyn and I, we have issues.”
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, water from the edge of the lake miraculously splashed ten feet in the air, swashing over Annabelle’s body. Her clothes were drenched and her hair was pasted to the side of her head, slicked with moisture.
“Jaz!” Jane exclaimed, scolding the water below her.
“Ignore her,” Annabelle said. “Go on. Hop in.”
Jane dove in, and swam to the middle. She submerged herself under water, closed her eyes, remembering Annabelle’s instructions. Just concentrate. Think of rosemary, and release the negative energy from your body. Feel the electricity in your head, feel it pulse side to side, temple to temple. Push it out. Use your arms. Don’t lose your focus.
Jane opened her eyes as the violet sparkles floated away from her. She felt her body go mushy all over. She swam towards the broken up aura, her strokes lazy and slow. She relaxed for a moment, using her mind to rid the complete exhaustion overcoming her, and used what strength she had left to do the opposite, to call the purple cloud back to her. Once she felt the security of the aura attach to every inch of her, she let her muscles rest, her body giving in to the fatigue. She tried to feel satisfied that she did it on the first try, but she was so tired. She didn’t move, not sure if she could if she tried. As she hoped that she could hold her breath long enough to regain her strength, her body floated upwards without any effort, like a low cloud lifting her high up into the sky.
“Thank you, Jaz,” she said, quiet enough so that Annabelle wouldn’t hear.
Chapter 4
Jane woke with a start several hours later. She found that she was lying in the middle of the hallway, arms out. She let her arms fall, and discovered that there were little claw marks on the walls. She must have scratched them while she slept. She let out a long sigh, and lied on the carpet for a moment, without desire to get up just yet.
“Meow.”
Jane tilted her head back, and found her brown tabby cat next to her head.
“Hey Parker, I haven’t seen you in a couple days. What’s up?”
“Meow.”
“No, I have no idea what just happened. Are you hungry?”
“Meow.”
“Alright, help me up.”
Parker jumped over Jane’s head and landed weightlessly on her stomach. He walked to her feet, lightly bit her big toe and moved his paws backwards, like he was trying to drag Jane through the house.
She giggled. “Awww, Park. You’re so sweet.”
“Meow.”
“Alright, alright.” Jane got up and stood still for a moment to be sure that the lightheadedness wouldn’t stick around. Satisfied that she could walk, she went to the kitchen.
Jane retrieved the cat food and poured it into Parker’s bowl. Parker was a gift from Annabelle. Shortly before she died, she brought him home for her. Parker was a very unique pet. He seemed to know her; he knew when she needed comfort and when she needed space. Parker came and went, as he pleased. Jane was used to him. They were used to each other.
Jane set down the bowl. Before Parker ate, he looked up at her and meowed again.
“You’re welcome.”
Jane went down the hallway to her bedroom. She changed into some purple and turquoise flannel pajama pants and a plain white t-shirt. She put some socks on, and went into the bathroom to wash her face. Once she was all cleaned up, she went to the living room. She opened the purple curtains covering the window and looked outside. Still dark. She looked at the clock on the wall. Two o’clock. Time for dessert.
Jane opened the oven door and removed the cheesecake. She should have chilled it in the refrigerator first, but she didn’t want to wait. She grabbed a spoon, and dug in, not bothering to cut herself a piece. It was good. Melt in your mouth, flickering taste buds, I forgot my name, good. Jane didn’t like regular cake. It was so dry, and the frosting on top of traditional cakes was gross. It was like pouring sugar on top of bread. It tasted very fake. Cheesecake, the sweetness was meshed right into the creamy deliciousness. Delightful.
Instead of the grief that the once-a-year cheesecake should have brought to her mind, Jane thought about the hallway adventure. Very odd. She never slept at night. Ever.
And that man. He was lovely. “Mmmm,” Jane said, not because of the cheesecake. She remembered the way he smelled. Something deep, like a woodsy smelling incense, burning bright, little twirls of gray smoke leaping from the wooden stick, mixing into the air to combine all of the elements of the night. Jane quietly laughed at herself. Her imagination was out of control sometimes.
Everything about this man excited her as she thought of him. She wondered if he was real, or just a fantasy. Regardless, she couldn’t wait to see him again.
Elias woke up late in the morning, feeling well rested and refreshed. For the first time in a while, he felt okay. He got up and put some jeans on, and walked around the house. He really needed to do something about this mess.
He saw the mug on the corner of the dining table, and wondered if that was the reason he felt so rejuvenated this morning. It must have been the tea with the herbs that had helped him sleep. Elias brought his hand to his chin, thinking. There was something, a dream he had last night. He silently chastised himself for not being able to remember it. It was significant, he was sure. He could almost place it, but not quite, like a word on the tip of his tongue, the pronunciation of it eluding him.
He removed the cup from the table and brought it to the sink. He washed the dishes and cleaned the kitchen. He ended up in the living room again, and glared at all the boxes and bags all over the house. He got busy. He had at least five pieces of furniture to assemble—everything was new—he had left all his furniture at the apartment. He didn’t want any of it.
Once he had a coffee table and end tables and a dresser and more than one chair at the dining table, he put all his crap away. Clothes, shoes, movies—he could actually see that his carpet was tan colored. Elias looked around. Better. It actually looked like he lived here. His walls were still unbearably desolate, though. He emptied the contents of some large plastic bags leaning against the walls, demonstrating care with each one.
He found his favorite paintings and hung them up above his bed, in the living room, around the kitchen and in the bathroom, giving the house some color. He was back in the living room, and the empty wall above the couch caught his eye. Oh. How could he forget that one? He retrieved one last painting from his garage, and carefully unwrapped it. One glance at it, and he was lost in the sea of its beauty. The blues, the yellows, the greens, the purples. They all fused together in one mystical masterpiece, the painter of it an absolute crazy person. Elias had to admit that he wouldn’t have minded walking around with one ear, though, if he had the talent to bring so many people that kind of out-of-this-world beauty. Starry Night.
It was well into the afternoon, the time when the sun radiates its orangey light from a distance, at its brightest of the day, getting ready to rest for the evening. He spent a moment looking out the window. The sunlight reminded him of a painting that his Aunt Jeanine had once shown him. She had captured every element of the bright sun on that canvas, its orange rays
so unbelievably vivid, they almost looked red.
Up until this moment, he had no ideas, no inspiration for his Meet the Artist “special unveiling” this weekend. He had just been waiting for it to come to him. Now, as colors filled every crevice of his mind, her face was all he saw, her emotions were all he felt. He turned from the window and ran to his studio at the back of the house.
Black curtains hid the windows—he’d made sure to set up his studio the minute he walked in the first time. He kept the walls bare. Other works were not an inspiration, but a pressurization. Staring at the works of art of other men and women, all he would get was a copycat, not an inspiration.
He picked up a sheet of canvas leaning on the far wall and set it on the easel in the middle of the room. He always used store-bought canvases, never stretched his own. When he had something colorful in his head, he always raced to the paints. The more preparation he had to do, the more he feared that his vision would get lost in the swirl of the thoughts and imaginations in his head.
He sat in his swivel chair, and began mixing the oil paints on his palette. He smiled as the two colors mixed on the knife to create the perfect shade. His expression went solid, all serious. He was ready. Impulsively, Elias began to paint.
Jane was reading on the couch with Parker bundled up at her feet. She didn’t own a television, she’d much rather read at any time of the night. She didn’t have a phone; all her acquaintances knew where she lived. No computer either. All that stuff would just take up time. Not like she had that much to do, but she refused to get sucked into the world’s problems. She lived in the middle in the most beautiful forest in California. Why waste it?
Jane was reading her favorite book for the second time. Not because she didn’t own a lot of books, she had a very extensive library. Hundreds of books, not even read yet. But she just couldn’t resist reading it again. It was a story of love, a forbidden love that brought two separate worlds into one. It was senselessly romantic.
