The first stirrings of thaw were felt in the canyons by the domes on Phoenicia. Within the domes it was of course 28 degrees Celsius. It was the time of year when Martian parents learned what their children were going to be when they grew up.

Mr. and Mrs. March met each other at the depot, and took the subway to the school platform to meet with the school psychometrist.

The school psychometrist was a gray-haired woman named Dr. Maria Chan. She wore a gray suit and flat black shoes. She had a quiet confiding voice.

“Jessica has taken her midterm exams. She has scored well on the abilities battery. We’ll be happy to place her in the Rising Yellow program,” she said, displaying charts of the test results.

Mr. March frowned. “Not Gold.”

“No.” Dr. Chan said. “Jessica hasn’t yet figured out what she wants to do with her degree. This bars her from participating in the Gold program.”

“Is there some way to get a second opinion?” Mr. March asked.

Dr. Chan was shocked. “Of course not. The evaluation is administered by the State. It is a comprehensive battery covering abilities, capacities and inclinations.”

“We’re sorry,” said Mrs. March. “We’re just a little upset she didn’t make Gold.”

Dr. Chan frowned. “You don’t pressure her to make Gold do you? Well, never mind. She can’t qualify. But,” she said brightly, “Rising Yellow is a pathway to graduation fully equal to Gold.”

“Really?” said Mr. March. “I’d never heard of it.”

“Rising Yellow is quite confidential,” said Dr. Chan.

“What’s involved?” asked Mrs. March.

“Beginning at age fifteen,” said Dr. Chan, “Jessica will undertake seven months of boarding school a year. Beginning at age sixteen, it will be year-round. Very similar to the Gold pathway, you see? Here is a brochure by the dormitory. It houses some 1500 girls Jessica’s age.

“From the age of fifteen, at least to the age of twenty, she’ll be prescribed an appropriate cocktail of cognizants and antidepressants. She’ll be evaluated monthly on the effectiveness of these prescriptions. That’s an important distinction from the Gold program. I have pamphlets from the pharmaceutical firms for your information.

“She’ll be enrolled in a Pathway Peer Party, and meet weekly to discuss their commitment to the ideals of the State. We find the most effective Parties are about two dozen girls or fewer. She’ll be assigned compatible Party mates.

“Her journals will continue to be evaluated by the appropriate authorities, and read aloud to her peers. She’ll be evaluated by her peers on her achievement of personal awareness, social integration, and psychometric compatibility.

“The end result,” said Dr. Chan, “is that Jessica will acquire her sense of self-worth and social purpose through the State, and graduate from Rising Yellow with a full commitment to her career.”

“What career paths are indicated?” asked Mr. March.

“Well there’s nothing restricted to a Rising Yellow,” said Dr. Chan. “You might be surprised as to who’s been graduated, but as I say, it’s all confidential.”

“What does Jessica want for herself?” asked Mrs. March.

“I’m sorry to have to tell you,” said Dr. Chan, “but Jessica doesn’t want much for herself beyond her own freedom to choose.”

There was a significant pause.

“She doesn’t get that from home,” said Mr. March.

“We both test highly in loyalty every month,” said Mrs. March.

“We’re not here to judge loyalty,” said Dr. Chan. “We’re met in the best interests of the child. Speaking of that, you mustn’t repeat anything of this conversation to Jessica.”

“Of course not,” said Mrs. March.

“Where does such an antisocial pattern arise?” asked Mr. March. “We’ve got two other children at home.”

“It’s actually fairly normal,” said Dr. Chan. “Citizens at age fourteen are apt to be disloyal to their social duties. It’s one reason we have Rising Yellow in place, to correct their maladjustments.”

“That seems incredible,” said Mr. March.

“It’s a lingering trait of our Earth Heritage,” said Dr. Chan. “Our predecessors suffered the inevitable result of encouraging personal liberty without social responsibility, especially in young adults. I’m sure you are aware of the outcomes of such egregious error.” Both adults nodded. “I’ve checked your social profiles, and you both seem committed to raising New Humans.”

“We are,” said Mrs. March.

“Good. Then we can expect Jessica to report for induction into dormitory in a month’s time.”

“Will we be able to visit with her?” asked Mrs. March.

“No, the drugs will be affecting her too strongly for the first few months. She’ll be confined to her quarters to adjust. You’ll have to wait for her to come home.”

“And her job prospects are as open as with Gold?” asked Mr. March.

“Yes,” said Dr. Chan. She rose from her chair. “If there are no further questions?”

“Do you need us to sign anything?” asked Mrs. March.

“Not necessary,” said Dr. Chan. “It will all flow smoothly as planned.”

“You say she’ll be evaluated. What’s the probability of failure? I just want to know what we’re getting into,” finished Mr. March lamely as Dr. Chan stared at him.

“Rising Yellow,” said Dr. Chan, “does not admit defeat. It is in some ways a remedial program, but a thorough one. We will continue to stimulate Jessica’s social conscience until it develops properly and successfully. Any further questions?”

The parents were too polite to continue the interview. They were ushered out of the door. Dr. Chan returned to her chair. She faced the video camera on her computer.

“Your assessment?” Dr. Chan asked.

From her computer came the voice of her student assistant. “The father is maladjusted in that he wants his daughter to succeed too strongly. The mother is maladjusted in that she cares too much for the future of her children. They should be reported to Security.”

“Not quite,” said Dr. Chan. “Their irregularities should be communicated to Adult Services, which will run its own examinations and then report to Security accordingly. As I did say, we’re met here in the interests of the child. Vetting the parents is not directly our mission.”

“Sorry, Dr. Chan,” the voice said. “I’m preparing the referral now for your signature.”

“Efficiency is a requirement in State service,” said Dr. Chan. “You’ll have to learn to do just what your job requires, and no more.”

“Why have a personal interview instead of televised conference, then?” asked the student assistant.

“It’s been our experience that parents behave better when summoned to a State official’s office. I’ll log you in for some case histories where you can read how the degenerates have behaved in the past. You can’t count on parental cooperation in every instance.”

“Yes Dr. Chan,” said the student. “One thing occurs to me. Should you have advised them of the high probability of electroshock therapy required in patients of the Rising Yellow program?”

“Why in the worlds would I bother them with that?” asked Dr. Chan. “They’re just her parents!”

The parents rode back to the depot by subway.

“It’s what’s best for Jessica,” said Mrs. March.

“If she can’t get into Gold,” said Mr. March. He had fond memories of his Gold upbringing.

“What should we tell Ronnie and Ilsbeth?” asked Mrs. March.

“We should have asked the doctor,” said Mr. March. “I’ll ask at work. Til we know, don’t say anything. We’ll let the authorities inform Jessica.”

“It’s what’s best for Jessica,” said Mrs. March.

Jessica March had never read degenerate fantasies of the 20th century. She did not know to act casually.

She ran from corner to corner of the mall, trying to hide after each sprint. She looked like a big dumb kid playing a game, which knowledge would have mortified her more than scared her. But nobody really cared enough to stop her.

She had been on the run all day. She had planned the escape casually enough, the day after the letter from the school had come home. It had no surprises for her parents, she knew. It was sad how they thought she was dumb enough to lie to.

She had argued for hours, about not wanting to go, and wanting to do something meaningful with her life.

“Of course you’ll do something meaningful with your life,” said her parents. “It’s the Martian way.”

And they had explained that the Martian way was better. Had to be better. Better than kids who just sprouted like rabbits down Earth with no purpose or temperament. Here on Mars everybody had to pull together for the good of the colony.

Finally she had agreed. She said she’d want to buy new clothes for her new school, and her mother had argued with her father to let her orient herself around a new perspective.

Whatever.

Now she was in headlong flight, towards nowhere, except she wasn’t going into Rising Yellow and its stupid drug program. She knew she could do better than that.

Cop!

The silvery droid did not accelerate towards her. It rolled straight down the causeway past the kiosks and the holostage, seeing every face, hearing every syllable. They had taught kids how silly it was to try to outsmart a cop.

You could outrun them though—

Down a side corridor she ran, past the restrooms, to a steel door labelled DO NOT ENTER—

--which opened for her—

She was in a room full of shipping crates and robots. The robots continued to scan the loaded crates and put them on a conveyer belt. There was a dram full of empty crates.

She climbed in and pulled a lid closed.

“—ought to be dead” said a gruff voice. “Damn fool stunt like that.”

“She’s coming around,” said a milder voice.

Jessica woke, her head splitting, and saw a handsome young man and a dark middle-aged man looking down at her. “I’m not a thief,” she blurted.

“Yah, you’re the runaway girl,” said the older man.

’You know?”

“Alerts posted this evening,” said the older man. “You made it as far as the spaceport anyhow. Have a look around before you go back.”

“I’m not going back!”

“Oh yes you are, Miss. I’m not aiding and abetting the delinquency of a minor. Hold her, Andy.”

The younger man grabbed both her wrists.

“You’re not behaving like true Martians,” she sputtered.

“Well, that’d be because we’re Texan. My name is Xavier Fulnasi,” said the older man, “and this is my son Andy. Pleased to meet ya.”

“Let me go! I promise not to run.”

“That’s smart. Keep holding her, Andy.”

“I said I promise not to run.”

The older man peered at her. “Say, you ain’t on drugs, are you?”

“No! That’s what I’m running away from.”

“How’s that again?”

“It’s my matriculation program, Rising Yellow. They program my mind with drugs and group recitals. They read my diary! I’ll be shaped into whatever they want me to become! I’m not going through with it!”

Xavier Fulnasi grunted. “Let her go, Andy. Let’s take this back to the ship.”

At the computer, he turned around. “Restricted Access – which is not a failed search. Rising Yellow is a thing, and they don’t want Texans to know about it. Girl, you are definitely in a hot patch.”

“She’s a minor, pop,” said Andrew.

“Yah, and that’s the dirty shame of it. Son, the Fulnasis have never gone in for human trafficking, in any form, but we also haven’t abetted slavery, ever. I thought working the Mars trade was a clean bill. I guess I should have informed myself better.”

“Will you let me stow away on your ship?”

“It’s not our ship,” said Xavier. “Nobody on earth owns a spaceship. We just have the contract to operate it…and helping you is going to jeopardize a lifetime’s work. Two lifetimes, if you count my boy.”

“Pop, I’m for helping her get free,” said Andrew.

“A noble endeavor. Well, we’re all agreed then, but it’s a question of how?”

“Can’t I stow away on this ship? Even if you just operate it?” asked Jessica.

“Only holds two people. Let me think.”

“But—“ Jessica began.

“Let Pop think,” said Andrew. “I’ll get you some stew if you like.”

Xavier thought, rubbing his head, while Andrew nuked two packs of beef stew and two bulbs of black coffee to drink with it. It was new flavors to Jessica, who being Martian, was used to eating spaceman’s rations.

“Your mother would tell me to pray on it,” said Xavier, rubbing a hanging rosary. “Aha! That gives me an idea.” He turned to Jessica. “What do you know about the Vatican?

“They have priests here on Mars,” said Jessica. “But nobody goes. The State doesn’t like them.”

“True enough. Here’s the thing, Jessica: we could somehow smuggle you back to the Sundered States of America and lose you forever in the frontiers. But you’d always have to watch out against being sent back. Now, what if you could ship out with your head up in broad daylight—so to speak—and never have to worry about being sent back?”

“How do we manage that?” asked Jessica.

“By seeking asylum – from the Pope!”

Xavier Fulnasi had read the degenerate fantasies of the 20th century, so he did act casually. He took a cab directly from the spaceport to the Legation. When he arrived, the car hovered with all lights on.

“This destination,” said the cab, “is contraindicated. Please wait to be contacted by a Security officer.”

He had no choice but to sit in the cab and wait for a Security officer to beckon it down. He wasn’t going to jump ten feet onto concrete.

“What do you want here?” asked the officer.

“I’m a Texan,” said Xavier, pulling out his ID. “I want the Sacraments of the Church.”

“Which Sacraments?” asked the officer, photographing his ID under a flashlight.

“Confession,” said Xavier.

“Come back Saturday at 3:00 p.m.” said the officer. He laughed and gave back the ID. “It’s a joke, get it? I was on Earth during the war. Indiana. Hard fighting, you Americans.”

“Not anymore,” said Xavier.

“You can ask them for the Sacraments,” said the officer. “You may find them too busy being priests to give them to you.”

“Ain’t that the usual,” muttered Xavier.

But inside the Legation, he was welcomed. He was ushered into a room with a very comfortable couch and a collection of chalices on shelves. A taut man in his forties came into the room.

“I am Father Benito. You wish to offer a confession?”

“Yes, Father.”

“Then begin.”

“…forgive me Father, for I have sinned. My last confession was, I don’t know how long ago,” stammered Xavier.

“And what have you done now that brings you back to your Church?”

“I need your help to get a girl off planet.”

Father Benito heard him out, sitting beside him, listening intently. “And you figured on asking the Vatican for asylum?”

“Yes, you’re an independent state—“

“Because we don’t offer asylum,” said Father Benito.

Xavier’s face fell. “Oh, excuse me Father, then I’d better go.”

Father Benito put a hand on his arm. “I don’t say we won’t help you. But it cannot be done in that way. You can’t, as you told the girl, get her to walk out in broad daylight without fear of being sent back. You could, however, send her with your son offworld to the frontiers, and make that explanation to the Martian authorities at your trial. At which point, there would be no unusual or extraordinary risk in the Legation assisting you. Such as, providing legal representation.”

“Send them off and leave me holding the bag,” said Xavier.

“Yes. I propound that to you as you might find the ordeal easier to bear than your boy, who is young,” said Father Benito. “You might disagree with me. Or you might decide to let the girl come home to serve her government, as the majority of this generation must.”

“Part of me doubts this is really happening to me,” said Xavier.

“I am Filipino,” said Father Benito. “But excuse me, I believe an American of your generation must be used to very hard choices.”

“Yes, that’s very true,” said Xavier.

“Now before you commit yourself to the solution,” said Father Benito, “let us finish with your true confession. Let it be complete, for your own peace going forwards.”

Later that night, a shuttle boosted through the thin air of Mars. Xavier Fulnasi watched it go, until it was no longer visible. Then he sighed, squared his shoulders, and walked back towards the cab stand. Father Benito had agreed to let him surrender himself at the Legation.

With apologies to Hasbro and Mattel Toys.

Dearest Barbie,

It’s been several years since I’ve last seen you. My beloved, my heart yearns for you and what might’ve been. Where did we go wrong? Remember those early years when you were content to go to simple party and I was proud to be your escort. Then you bought that dream house. Oh how I miss those long walks on that Malibu beach, your interests lay in getting a good tan and clothing and pink cars. My foolish heart answered the call of military service for what was to be a one year stint.

I was content with standard military service but then the allure of the Adventure Team took hold and the next thing you know I was reenlisting. Not a night goes by that I don’t look at your picture and think of what might’ve been. I keep it pinned to my authentic vintage foot locker, The other Joes make fun of me and point out that you’re mostly plastic, that Sea Adventure Joe can be such a jerk. But I know your heart is real and somewhere there burns a spark for what might’ve been.

I’ve read where you’ve been an astronaut, a teacher, Paleontologist, an Architect and a Sea World Trainer. It’s obvious with each career change that you were trying to fill a void in your life. A void that you know only I can fill.

Do you remember that night in your pop up camper back in ’75? It wasn’t the only thing popping up back then if you catch my drift. You in that gold medal, red white and blue gymnast outfit and me with my inescapable kung fu grip, America’s moveable fighting man was putting on all the right moves that night and you were scoring a perfect ten.

Stupid Ken, how could he not know what was going on? Why did he have to choose that moment to handle my gun and set it off? I mean how does that happen?

Have you seen what they’ve done to my guys? We went from twelve inches to three and change. But don’t you worry dear, I am all fighting man.

Well until there’s peace in the world or you become the commanding officer of the Adventure Team, I guess I will have to continue to cling to the what might’ve beens.

Your pal,

G.I. Joe,

The Real American Hero.

Lilly sighed heavily and threw the flowers to the ground.

Her plans hadn’t gone exactly the way she intended. The wolf had been the easy part. The spell she had gotten from the old woman in the village had worked exactly as promised. She had stood around in the woods with a basket of raw meat for a few hours before the smell had attracted the large beast. Within minutes he had been hers to control.

They had gone over the plan for three days before they began. She had set off to her Granny’s house with a basket of cookies, and met the wolf on the trail, just like they rehearsed. A single word sent him off to Granny’s cottage. He was supposed to eat her, and Lilly would have been able to take possession of the cottage—the insurance money would have made her comfortable for the rest of her life.

What she hadn’t counted on was Granny. How was she supposed to know that the horny old woman was a cradle-robber and had seduced the woodcutter? No one had told her that he was shacking up with her grandmother!

The wolf had barely escaped alive, and Lilly, who hadn’t even had time to take off her red cloak, had been forced to leave the cookies behind for the two who were now sharing the bed that should, by all rights, have been hers.

The very thought made Lilly shudder.

She sighed and turned to the wolf. “So, tell me more about the three pigs who are building those cute little houses with the great view…”

(c) 2017 - dustygrein

I'm 31. I've been married for not quite eight years and have three kids. My daughter, the oldest, started kindergarten today. My middle child has autism. He doesn't talk. My youngest is still so little the only personality traits he shows are curiosity and hunger. 

When I met my wife we were in college, neither of us sure what we wanted to do with our lives, only that we wanted to be in each others'.  And that was enough. 

I bounced from shitty retail job to shitty retail job, and ended up with an okay city job. I have Fridays off, and a pension. She stays at home, being a mom. 

It seems like there is never enough money. We're not destitute, and it would be unfair to say we live in poverty, but it's all I can do to pay the bills. If I'm lucky I pick up side work painting houses. We have to start Christmas shopping sometime in September to spread the cost. 

At night, I put my autistic son to bed.  I put on his pajamas, hold him down to brush his teeth, (he's unreasonably strong for a four-year-old) and carry him into his bedroom. I hold him and put his hand on my chest and say "Daddy." I put his hand on his chest and say "Eli." I repeat this until he takes his hand from mine and pats my beard. Sometimes he smiles. Sometimes he makes his "not-happy" sound, a mix between a coyote yip and a native war cry. Sometimes I can't take it, any of it, and I hold him and weep quietly in the dark where my wife can't see. 

My son can't talk, and I love him. 

My life isn't easy, but it's mine. 

I'll take it. 

The glass tumbler whisked by my right cheek, leaving a stream of gin behind on my face. As I heard the tumbler shatter behind me, I felt our relationship finally shatter as well, the last of the stress fractures finally giving in. I watched Penny continue her manic tirade toward me, not really hearing her words any more as much as just feeling her general malevolence toward me. I felt suddenly hollow and the full exhaustion of trying to keep our mercurial relationship afloat. I smelled like spent gin. I hated gin, and not just because it was her poison of choice.

I was aware of Penny screaming at me, but it was some of her family members that came to mind to distract me from it. Her sister Nichol, both warning me early on on how her sister could be, and grateful that she finally met a guy that might have the fortitude to withstand her turbulent mood swings. I thought of her mother giving me a fierce hug every time we visited, as if I did her the greatest of favors for standing by her little Penny. I felt like I was failing them, even as I could hear them almost say, “You gave it a better go than most, we know how she can be.”

“...Do you even care?” I heard Penny scream at me, bringing me back to the moment.

“I will always care about you Penny,” the words came out of me weakly. Deep down I know they were true, but right now I wanted this moment to be over. I wanted to be gone. I wanted to not reek of gin, it made me think too much of her and of all of the things of her that kept me wanting to try to make us work.

“Incredible! Did you even hear what I just said?”

It was hard to put the pieces of the disjointed tirade together; when everything and nothing were my fault. When her loathing shifted to me and back to herself too quickly to keep up. She said something about Kyle. I initially took it as a jab, but perhaps it was more.

“Kyle…”

“Yeah, blowing Kyle. Do you not even care that I did?”

My focus snapped toward her, even as I replayed the tumbler shattering behind me. “I care, Kyle is a jackass. He is not worth your time, even if you feel I am not anymore either.”

“Dammit David, I just sucked his dick, it didn’t mean anything…”

She wanted me to care a moment ago, and now wanted me to believe it didn’t mean anything. I thought of all of the times she went down on me, those times meant something to me, those times were never simply just the act itself. I needed to go. I needed to be away from this...everything.

“I need to go Penny.”

“We are not done!”

“That is where you are mistaken. We are. I am. I am too tired for doing this over and over again.”

“You are leaving me, because of Kyle? You are such a bastard!” She wanted it to sound strong, but she suddenly sounded scared, as if she suddenly realized just how far I have slipped away over the last few months.

I turned my head and looked at the wall behind me. I could feel her eyes follow where mine went. I cringed to see that the tumbler hit the painting I bought her on our first month-iversary. It was torn and ruined. It shocked me that the sound of the shattering was so loud hitting the painting. It made me sad. She loved that painting more than almost anything else, when her episode subsided, she would feel it’s lost. I looked at it for the last time, a bright angel pulling a woman from a dark abyss. A promise now broken, by both of us. A failure I would feel later, right now I just needed to be gone.

“No Penny, not because of Kyle,” I left the rest unsaid.

I walked out the door with just the clothes on my back. At some point we would have to work out who would stay in the apartment. As I closed the door, I heard her rage try to cut me a final time. I ran out of room for anymore scars from her. I felt just a deep loss, a deeper failure, and I reeked of spattered gin. God, how I hated gin!

~~~

My phone rang, it was Penny. It was the first time she had tried to call since the breakup, since watching her and Nichol leave the apartment with the last of her belongings. I remember Nichol’s apologetic eyes, the weeping mess that Penny was, and the guilt of just wanting them gone. The harsh need to bury the broken relationship and the slow trial of needing to move on.

I almost didn’t answer it. The safer path was not to answer it. Alas, that was also the coward’s path and while I lost a lot of myself with her, I still wanted to believe I was brave enough to try to have a civil conversation with her. I answered it. As soon as I heard her voice, I realized the depth of my folly.

“Hi David, how are you?”

The words were velvet and sincere, projected with her one, sweet voice. My body reacted instinctively to that particular timbre of hers. In that moment I realized that perhaps for the rest of my life, if she used that tone toward me, I would always react to it. Too much history, too many of the good times were mixed with that certain tone. To say it was seductive, would to not understand it, or her, at all. All of my ex-girlfriends had a seductive tone, this was something else entirely. This was one of the ways Penny was more of a force of nature than merely a woman.

“David, are you there?”

There was mirth behind the words; deep, erotic mirth. It was a rhetorical question. She knew I was there, and regardless of all that we lost, that she still had some sway over me in this way, she knew that her voice in that tone soaked into all of my pores until my flesh burned, my blood boiled, and my desire unraveled.

“Yes, Penny. I am here. Just surprised you called. What’s up?”

She laughed. In a near forgotten time, I would have tore at her clothes because of the sweetness of that laugh alone, if she happened to be wearing any in the moment. I had a deep feeling, she currently wasn’t wearing a thing. That particular voice unraveled her just as much. She was a brewing storm now that was just an inevitability that would eventually be unleashed.

“I was just thinking about you. How you were doing? WHAT you were doing?”

I could almost see her hands wander her naked body, trying to entice me, in the rare event her voice didn’t already. So many memories, good memories with her.

Not that it was just the sex. Sex with Penny was an experience all its own. But, it was the aftermaths that I enjoyed just as much, if not more. Every time after, she would curl into me like a lost n’ found cat, and just need that closeness after and she seemed so happy to have it. She seemed to find balance to her mania in those calm moments. The way we would walk hand in hand the day after and just how her fingers interlaced with mine would remind me of how we connected the night before, and how we would again once we got back home. How her smile would be equal parts sweet, loving, and lusting in those moments. Penny was the one that truly taught my heart how to translate love into all of its forms.

“I am doing I suppose. How are you, Penny?”

“I miss you. Can’t you tell?” She laughed and she moaned softly. I could almost see how she touched herself to stir such a sound.

“Penny. We can’t do this…”

“You are wrong, we can. But, for tonight, I got what I wanted. I know you still want me. For tonight, that is enough. Sweet dreams David.”

She didn’t hang up. I heard her breath get more ragged. I felt my heart pound out of my chest. I just wanted to hold her again, if only once more to seal the good memory of her, of us. To save this final ember of us. Then I thought of the tumbler.

“Good night, Penny.”

I hung up before I finished losing my mind. No matter how hard I tried to get the conversation out of my head, her hooks were into me, my body was a traitor to her cause. For a while I tried dreaming of anyone else, but she always bled back into my thoughts. Her contours, her smiles, her scents and how she could completely unnerve me just with a certain tone of voice.

~~~

Lightning blinded my vision and the thunder followed immediately after. The storm outside was brutal, so it was not to my surprise that my phone started to ring a moment after that. Penny. Penny the pluviophile. God, but how she loved the rain and a good thunderstorm. I was on my second glass of bourbon. I found that I always needed to drink now with a storm like this, storms being just one more thing I could not experience without thinking of Penny as well.

“Good evening, David. Wonderful storm we are having, isn’t it?” She was speaking in the voice. It made me think of an earlier time, a better time, hearing her whisper, “I am the lightning and you are the thunder...that comes after.” My cock got aroused by just hearing her voice in that sweet tone. My lust stirred from all of the memories fucking her during storms such as this one, especially the first time out on the balcony, the rain pounding on us in sheets and the first time she whispered, “I am the lightning and you are the thunder...that comes after.”

“It is definitely something,” my pathetic reply. I take another hard sip, too tired to will my arousal down. She caught onto something in my voice. A crack in the armor perhaps. Or perhaps she was not in the mood to making a game out of it, instead needing to cut to the chase just as much.

“I think I am going to come over to visit you, David. I am just wearing my raincoat and not much else. I want to feel the storm in my hair and feel your eyes soaking me in.”

The part of me that wanted to soak her in barely lost to the part of me that was already starting to get ready to not be here when she showed up. I didn’t have the strength to fight her today, I had even less to resist her.

“I won’t be here when you arrive.”

She laughed, her damned alluring laugh, “That is ok David, I want to walk in the rain regardless. Perhaps our paths with cross. I miss you so much, especially on evenings like this. Hope to see you soon.”

She hung up. I was out the door a moment later. Not even caring that I fled like a coward. My life was too much like that shattered tumbler since Penny and I parted ways. Moving forward was proving to be much more difficult than I could have ever imagined.

By the time I got to a bar I never would have dared visited when I was with Penny, I was soaked to the bone, as were half of the broken souls that ventured into such a place. She would never seek me out here, this place always made her wary when we passed it, bad memories she said only once, and I never pressed further.

I took an open seat at the far end of the bar, part because it was near a heater so perhaps I might get a bit dry while I was there, but it also gave me view of the door so as to watch the other souls that drift in and out. I tossed my cell phone face down on the bar top and waited to catch the bartender’s attention.

It was a place where many bad decisions began. Any bad decisions I was to make sitting here though, would still be wiser than deciding to stay home and try to face Penny head on.

The bartender slid a glass of whiskey sans rocks, my way. I gave her a queried look since I didn’t even put in a request yet, she smiled warmly and replied, “You have the look of needing a stiff drink without anything to cut it. Your eyes burn like whiskey, so I took a guess that that was your poison of choice. It’s on the house if I am wrong.”

A rough looking sort a few stools down cut in, “But, she isn’t wrong, is she? Sweet Molly is never wrong about such things.”

“She is not wrong.”

Molly gave me a slight bow and smile and went to banter with the other patrons, knowing I was currently there for the stiff drink and not for random chitchat. Molly possessed a wisdom beyond her years.

I was halfway into the drink when a woman wetter than me took up the stool next to me. She was a storm that came from another storm, thankfully though, she was not Penny. Half her head was shaved, the other half dyed purple. Half-cut leather jacket, barely covering a very wet, vintage Ms. Pac-man t-shirt underneath. Ms. Pac-man’s strategic placement on the shirt would have made it provocative enough, the fact that it was soaked only enhanced its purpose. The jacket was the only thing that kept every warm blooded male and lesbian from locking onto what Ms. Pac-man was about to eat.

Oddly enough, as much of a rebel look this woman had, she also seemed like she couldn’t escape the girl-next-door vibe she gave off. Most of the lost souls at the bar seemed to brighten up at her presence.

“Hey sis, can you get me the usual and point me out to anything interesting that has wander through the door.”

Molly gave me an eye, and the woman followed it. “I would say possibly, him, but he is here to brood and drink alone, I am afraid sis.”

The woman smiled, as if just accepting a dare. “So what is your story, sailor? Why are you brooding and why the hell would you want to be alone in a place like this?”

I smiled in spite of myself, “Obfuscation.”

Her smile deepened. It was a warm, dangerous thing, that smile of hers, “You are lucky my mother taught me how to read big words. Are you the one that is obfuscating or are you perhaps obfuscating our conversation, to try to prove my dear sister, correct?”

“My ex informed me that she wanted to visit. I did not have the energy to deal with it so I disappeared here for a while.”

“Why here? I am fairly certain I have never seen you here before. I would have noticed if I did.” Her smile deepened, surrendering her dimples. She was impossible not to like. Surprisingly her eyes were more interesting to lock onto than her bloody wonderful t-shirt.

“She has an aversion to this place. Never learned why. Needed the space from her.”

As if summoning her, my cell started to buzz on the bar. I didn’t need to pick it up to know it was Penny needling me.

“Going to answer that?” the woman asked.

“No.”

She smiled with a feline’s playful malice, “Would you like ME to answer that?”

“No offense, but definitely not.”

Molly and her sister both laughed. Molly chided in, “Oh, Vicki could probably make your ex problems go away…”

Vicki cut off her sister to finish the thought, “...in more ways than one.”

Vicki turned out to be the tonic I needed. She was witty and sweet. Sharp and spicy. Her laugh was soft like her soul. Minus her outward appearance, she seemed completely out of place here.

We played off of each other too easily. What was to happen later was already a foregone conclusion, it was just a matter of terms to be made. I was a man looking to get lost, she was someone looking to get lost into.

“So, if we go to your place Dave, I might be able to solve your ex issue once and for all. Assuming she is hanging out there…”

We stumbled into Vicki’s place about fifteen minutes later. Her door was barely closed before half of our clothes were in a wet pile on the ground. The only thing wetter than the two of us were my fingers buried between her thighs and my tongue buried in her own whiskey-soaked mouth. I was already thanking God that Vicki’s usual wasn’t bloody gin.

~~~

I watched Angie fork her salad in the danty way she attacked everything she ate. All the while thinking of the conversation I had with Vicki earlier.

“...give her a chance Davy. I know she can’t be as wonderful as me, but she seems to fit you.”

The words haunted me. It has been six months since Vicki moved away, and thus put whatever we had on hold. She played us off as the very best of friends with the very best of benefits, which was true, yet she felt us taking a break was better than trying to do the long distant thing. Molly admitted to me Vicki was going to miss me, but felt the break would be good for both of them. Vicki was too quick to fall in love with wounded birds that ended up leaving her once they were healed.

“How is your steak, David?”

Angie was currently on a meatless diet, so it was hard to tell if the question was laced with something else. It was always so hard to tell with Angie.

“It is wonderful. How is salad?”

“I’ve had better.”

We both seemed somewhere else. That seemed to be the problem with us. We fit in all of the obvious ways, but we were somewhere else as much as we were ever together. Vicki always spoke her mind. Angie, always buried her message in propriety and manners.

Just when I thought the evening couldn’t become more awkward, I spied Penny and her sister Nichol walk into the restaurant. Penny spotted me instantly, as if I was still programmed into her radar. Nichol saw me a moment later and followed in Penny’s wake, an apology already forming on her pretty face.

“David! What a surprise to see you here, how have you been?”

The people at the tables near ours turn at the question. Penny made it all a spectacle without even trying to make it a spectacle. Penny eyed Angie in a way that measured everything about her. Angie’s look back was a cold thing, that made the ice in her water seem like it was floating on the surface of the sun.

“I am well, Penny. How are the two of you?”

Nichol tried to answer, Penny was faster, “I can’t speak for Nickel, but I am great! Are you going to introduce us, David? Or should I do it for you?”

I introduced Angie to Penny and Nichol. And gave as brief a summary of who they were as was safely possible. Angie could barely stand that I still had a relationship with Vicki, and already showed jealousy toward Penny’s ghost. Penny-in-the-flesh was already dooming any chance of savaging something pleasant out of the evening.

Nichol, bless her heart, was able to pry Penny away fairly quickly. Even so, Angie made it well known to me everytime Penny looked over at us from her table.

Angie became attentive and possessing. I yearned for that attention a half hour ago, now it seemed plastic and for all the wrong reasons. Angie was a perfect fit, except where she wasn’t.

I was already believing the relationship was doomed at the beginning of the night, now as she caressed my hand and smiled all of the ways she was going to devour me later, I knew it was.

~~~

I took another sip, staring at nothing in particular when I hear a familiar voice behind me ask, “Funny finding you here, do you mind if I join you?”

I turn to see a very sad Nichol standing there. I give her a slight smile and nod at the stool next to me. I noticed her wedding band was nowhere to be found.

“Why is it funny? Finding me here?”

She smiled bigger and giggled, “Because, one you are alone, and you never seem to be able to be alone for very long, and two, I always assume you mentally torch a place that Penny has seen you in, so surprised you are here.”

“She is not close behind you, is she?”

“No, I have enough on my mind without, dealing with Penny today. Although, to be fair to her, she has been seeing a doctor and getting herself...help. But, the road has been hard on her. It is like she has woken from a nightmare and now is forced to see the carnage she left in her wake.”

“Well, for her sake then, I am glad she doesn’t have to face me right now.”

“Yeah, facing you right now honestly might be a bit too much for her. She is completely different since the last time we saw you...here.”

“I see…” I really didn’t, because I could not imagine that type of Penny. If Nichol was to be believed, I think new Penny would almost be harder to deal with.

“So, how is your girlfriend, Angie, right?”

“Fine I suppose, and she is not my girlfriend.”

“Good, she seemed cold, not that Penny helped that night.”

“Angie could be cold, all on her own. We had a lot in common save genuine warmth. All her heat for me was something almost...”

“Synthetic?”

“Yeap, that is a perfect way to put it.”

Our eyes caught, and we shared a silent moment. I missed Nichol’s friendship. I didn’t try to hold onto it after the breakup. Sometimes you can, in this case, it would have just been an extra complication that would have died a miserable death because of it.

“So, you and Andy just split or…”

“We are very much done,” the pain in her voice was heartbreaking.

We sat and drank in silence for a time. Nichol broke the ice, “Want to know a secret?”

“Sure, what the hell, a secret sounds like as good of a thing as any to talk about.”

“My mom always wished you and I met before Andy and me or you and Penny did.”

“Really?”

“Yep. Almost a bit too much. She loved you to death and thought we would have fit together wonderfully.”

Another shared, silent moment. As both of us played the what-might-have-beens through our heads.

I imagined laugher and tenderness. Deep discussions and the most intimate of sex. I imagined it easily, without illusion. Nichol’s mom was nothing, if not a wise woman. Oddly enough, I never gave it a thought until now. Why ever dream about impossibilities?

“And what about you, Nichol? What do you think about that?”

She was quiet for a time, as if trying to find the proper words to string together, “I didn’t think much of it until after you were gone. I realized I missed you more than I would have thought. You brought something nice and kind to the family. Boy, I was furious with Penny, which hurt her. She felt she deserved sisterly loyalty. Perhaps some of that fury was misdirected.”

It was an answer and it wasn’t. I was fine with it, because it was probably all I was going to get. I was pretty certain I didn’t want to chase the answer down any further.

Nichol surprised me though by continuing, “Honestly, right now, I think in my life I would love nothing more to see if mom is right, but…”

I looked in this lovely woman’s eyes, seeing another sweet life pass us by, almost tasting the rightness of it, almost hearing Vicki’s enthusiastic approval of such a pairing, “...if only it wasn’t Penny’s heart in between.”

Neither of us would open up that door. It could be the sweetest life behind that door, but our love for Penny would never let us truly enjoy it.

“For what it is worth, Nickel, I always thought Andy was a douchebag, no offense.”

“For what it is worth, David, I always knew you did. Mom did too, and was perhaps the second biggest reason she loved you so. Too bad I couldn’t see it until it was already too late.”

We returned to our drinks, and our silence, and our share moments in another life that would have more easily allowed us to have been something more than friends.

~~~

I sat alone on my birthday, sipping a fine Scotch that my brother sent me. It was an earthy thing. A drink made to burn serious moments into one’s mind.

I just got off the phone with Vicki. She was having a hard time out in L.A. She was a woman that was always hard to hear so sad, because her normal approach against life was so damn happy, in spite of all the obstacles in the way.

The last time we spoke, she shot down the idea of me quitting my life here and moving out there. Tonight wasn’t the time to mention it again, and yet I could almost feel she wish I had. She would have shot it down again, but it would have given her something.

The doorbell rang. I answered it without even peeking to see who was there. I was a bit surprised to see Penny.

“Hi David, Happy Birthday! May I come in, if it is ok?”

I nodded, shocked at the transformation. The Penny of old would have waltzed in as if the invitation was already granted and would have already made herself at home. This one stepped in cautiously, as if trying to detect landmines placed. My heart wilted a bit at that. It wilted more catching her look at the place where her painting once hung.

“Do you miss it,” she asked absently.

“I miss a lot of things,” was my simple and honest reply.

We sat down at the table and she held out a small bag.

“A present and a peace offering, David. I can never fully apologize for all of the hurt I inflicted onto you, but I hope you can at least accept this in my attempt to.”

I took the bag, removed the tissue papers and took out a small, wrapped box. I looked at her and she nodded eagerly, her breath caught until I opened it.

I unwrapped it, and opened the box, pulling out a glass tumbler.

A glass tumbler pieced back together from thousands of pieces, if not millions.

“This...must have taken you…”

“...a long, fucking time to put back together. At least my mania was good for something. About three minutes after you left me that night I was frantic and finding all of the pieces. Obviously, a few are forever gone but…”

“...But!...”

She cut me off, “but, after finding most of them, I was just as frantic to putting it back together. I thought then, putting it back together could undo...andway, I did get that far. In talking to my doctor, she showed me the folly of my thought process, much as it was. However, she felt it might be good to at least offer it to you. So, here we are.”

I held the glass, as I never held it before. It was something sacred. I knew the mania that it took to try to recover it all, I battled it countless times. I knew the mania it took for her to want to put it back together. I smiled, somewhat surprised she didn’t try to melt it down and make it anew that way.

“Thank you, Penny. It is actually the best present I have received in quite some time.” It was.

“How are you otherwise, David? Are you well?” Her words were strangely sincere, it was comforting.

“I am, in my way.”

“Thank you. I never thanked you. I told you that I loved you often, but I never thanked you. And perhaps, you deserved that more. So, it is a bit late, but thank you.”

She squeezed my hand, as if to seal the sincerity of it. I smiled.

We shared a silent moment. A moment of what might have been, if things played out a bit differently.

We shared a silent moment, grateful for a moment of brief friendship, as the first shards of what was slowly glued back together.

We shared a silent moment, knowing there was not enough time in our lives to wait for those shards to resemble the glass in my hand, but there was something sweet in knowing that some impossibly broken things can still be repaired in a sense. Right then, that seemed better than the belief that some broken things are beyond repair.

We shared a silent, honest moment. I loved Penny. She still loved me. Yet, time has moved us both down different streams. I thought of her sister, I thought of Vicki. I even thought of Angie. Timing is everything. Perhaps Penny and I would get another chance. In that moment though, it was just nice to have a glimpse of my friend back. And a tumbler to remind us of our journey together.

You know, it really sucks to work for the government. The low salary, long hours, and less time off are bad enough. Some branches are worse then others, though. I didn't listen when people tried to tell me that. Fresh out of high school, I fell for the bit about them only taking the best of the best and saving the country. So I up and joined SHEAR (Super Hero Engagement, Assessment, and Research), the government agency that has to deal with supers.

If you didn't know already, we get a whopping zero respect out there. Turns out that when you constantly have civilians in technicolor pajamas doing your job for you everyone starts to think you're useless. It certainly doesn't help when the "high-tech" gear we have was obsolete decades ago. Just about any twat with superpowers will barely be affected by the stun guns, and don't get me started on the joke that's supposed to be our armor.

Now don't get me wrong, I of all people know that we do a lot of good out there. It's just that most of what we do doesn't make headlines. Helping supers control their powers, researching super-resistant infrastructure, setting up cover identities... but you don't care about any of that, do you? Nope, everyone always just wants to ask me about the Tanger Incident.

Well, among the other things SHEAR is incompletely equipped for, we're in charge of first response to unknown phenomena. Interdimensional portal in Brooklyn? We're it. Alien spaceship shows up? Guess who has to make first contact. This time it was a huge surge of Arctulian energy at a shopping outlet. I was already on assignment in state, so of course I got switched to the response team.

They had already evacuated everyone by the time we got there. Security detail always sweeps the area first, then if it's clear we'll let the scientists in. We have to wear awful environmental hazard suits with radiation detection patches. At least, normally we would but Arctulian energy gives a false positive for radiation, so it was just the hazard suits. You can't even use a stun gun properly in those things.

So we check out every nook and cranny in these abandoned shops and restaurants, but we don't find anything. No people, no swirly energy things, no orbs, not a thing out of place. Frankly, that freaked me out. There's always a reason for these things, and if you don't see one at first, then it's probably dangerous. However, official protocol says a clear security sweep means we let the researchers in to poke around until they unleash it. And of course I got assigned to babysitting the researchers instead of, say, guarding the perimeter.

Well, nothing happened for a while. The researchers set up all their instruments and talked to each other about technobabble. I was never good at science, so I didn't know what they were seeing. I figured as long as they weren't running I was probably fine. This went on for a good three, maybe four days before trouble finally hit.

It's never a good sign when one of the researcher's gizmos explodes. Then, of course, my radio crackled to life with assorted shouting. As always, one of the other blokes in security managed to screech out that they were under attack, but the radios died before they could say by what. Honestly, no one ever follows protocol and says what's attacking FIRST. It would make life so much easier for the rest of the security detail but NOOO...

Anyway. I had to wait while the scientists packed up their gear so we could get out. At first they wanted to stay and get more data because apparently something or other was spiking and off the charts, but I insisted. Once they had finally finished, we rushed toward the perimeter. 

They both got out just fine. I smacked headfirst into an energy barrier that popped up at the front of the parking lot. They turned around, shouted, banged on the field a bit. I yelled at them to get to safety. Everyone knows that the security detail is screwed if the researchers can't get the data out. Plus I would have had to turn around and help fend off the attack anyway.

And the attack... You know, it really was scary. I know it doesn't sound like it would be, but really what we saw was something so fast we could barely see it making everyone disappear. Plus we still had to figure out a way to fight back and find the missing agents. So it still would have been scary even if we had known at the time that we were facing a bunch of pixies.

...I really wish people would at least pretend to take that seriously. Sure, pixies are tiny and have those little flashy wings, but when they're on the warpath they...

You know what? I'm just going to wait until you stop laughing.

So yes, we did all get taken. We got lucky and stunned a couple of them, but like I said, the pixies... I'm just going to call them enemy fliers so you don't snicker. The ENEMY FLIERS were fast, and our stun guns are slow. We didn't really have anything else to fight back with at the time, so we were sitting ducks out there.

Turns out when a p-- when an enemy flier takes you, they put you in some sort of alternate reality bubble. So we fell on our butts into the middle of a field of wild flowers. The enemy fliers came back once they had rounded up all of us. I'm still not entirely sure what they wanted, but they played music and made everyone wear floral necklaces and -- Look, do you want to hear the story or not? Do I have to duct tape your mouth shut?

Anyway, the enemy fliers left after a few minutes. I think they got bored. I tried to compare notes about how to try to escape, but half the other agents fell asleep, and most of the rest were babbling about pretty lights. That's when I remembered I had been just about the only person still wearing an air filtration mask while on guard duty. Paranoia pays off. Stupid pixie dust CAN YOU PLEASE KEEP A STRAIGHT FACE FOR FIVE SECONDS

Well, the next time the enemy fliers came back they dumped a bunch of junk from the outlets into the field. Shoes, plates, candy; I have no idea why they took what they did but they shooed everyone toward it like it was some enormous treasure. The enemy fliers were pretty distracted by it. I decided that was as good an opportunity as any. I waited until they were all watching one of them trying to turn a dish cloth into a cape. I held my breath, moved in, and grabbed one of the enemy fliers. I shouted, "Let us go back or this one gets it!"

Well, that was maybe not the smartest thing I could have done. I think I turned into a bear, then a statue, then a mailbox, and then a sloth in the space of about a second. I still managed to hang onto the enemy flier somehow. That's when the flowers near me started biting me. Let me tell you, nothing hurts quite like a dandelion, they can get really sharp teeth. When that didn't work, they tried to zap me with MY stunner that they had stolen when I wasn't looking. I dodged. I told you those things are slow.

They finally screeched and the security detail found itself back on the concrete floor. The enemy fliers hovered around me menacingly. I hesitantly let the one in my hand go. It whirled into the air, and all the p-- all the enemy fliers chattered. They started to fly away, and our radios crackled to life in unison. "Barrier down, barrier down, move in for extraction! Alpha team..."

My radio suddenly snapped off, and the enemy flier I had grabbed was staring me in the face. I gulped, then there was a flash of light. It flew off cackling, leaving me to wonder what exactly it had hoped to accomplish.

The extraction team showed up shortly afterward. I helped them bring out the incapacitated members to the med station. We passed some researchers on the way, and from what I could understand the Arctulian energy had dissipated. 

Once I was done carrying the first stretcher to the station, I turned to go help with the rest. The other agents stopped me. "You need to get checked out, obvious energy exposure, make sure that's not permanent..." That's what got my attention. I started pestering them about what, exactly, "that" was.

They finally handed me a mirror. Turns out that stupid enemy flier had turned my hair purple. And yes, it does seem to be permanent. I can't even dye it back to how it used to be. Seems like overkill to me. I mean, changing someone's hair for fighting back after you kidnapped them? On the plus side, I couldn't do covert operations anymore, so I guess that was good. Those are always really dangerous. I also could have sworn this one magic blast heading straight for my head swerved away at the last second, but who knows.

Of course, the really annoying part is when that reporter got in and took pictures. I hate being the face of the Tanger Incident. Everyone I meet always says something like, "Hey, you're that agent whose hair got turned purple by a bunch of pixies! How lame is that?"

Will you please stop... you know what? Forget it. We're done with this interview.

I hope to one day be a husband. To love and care for that special woman I hope to one day meet. I wish to be able to work hard so that I can provide a house for her and a family. I wish to be a protector, someone strong enough to stand between my family and the world and shout "If you want to hurt them, you'll have to kill me!"

I hope to one day be a father. To raise a family with that special woman. I want to see our children grow. I want to be able to sit with children in my arms, so that I can read The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe to them, as my father once did for me. I wish to take them camping; to be out in the woods late at night, watching shooting stars and counting fireflies in the distance. I wish to light fireworks with my sons. I wish to teach them how to be men. I wish to drink tea with my daughters, I want to be a man that they will be proud to call father.

I wish to share my love for music with them. I want to watch as they grow and prosper in the world. I want to see their own families grow around me. I wish to one day see young children who call me grandpa. Children who perhaps carry on traditions that I learned from my parents and grandparents.

This love is hardly sexual, but it is a feeling of love I hope to one day feel and not just fantasize about.

She feels his eyes on her

She turns to find him watching

As he smiles and waves,

a warm air finds its way

between the raindrops

and lands upon her cheek

Your apology spills into 

     my burning eyes

Twisting the knife of half 

     truths and lies

Echoing through my 

     hollow soul

Turning my heart as 

     black as coal

Of this hurt there's 

     no reprieve

Not with coke or dope 

     or weed

Sifting through 

     all my regret

Hoping I can 

     soon forget

You believe there's 

    still a chance

To win me over 

    with a glance

The truth is that you've 

    changed it all

In very fact I've 

    built a wall

It no longer feels 

    the same

You only have yourself 

    to blame

You can't undo 

    betrayal past

It wasn't important 

    that we last

Now I just want 

    you to leave 

Give me space and 

    let me grieve

I deserve the 

    dignity

Of being spared 

    the fake pity

Once you're gone I'll 

    start to heal

Maybe even be able 

    to feel

Something I never 

    thought I'd do

Whatever it takes to 

    get 

       over 

           you.

She was done with Saturday night lust

that faded into Sunday morning pain

She wanted to wake up

to whispers of love

on quiet Monday mornings

after the rain