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Here is the story: Heaven On Earth
Jessie sat there on my bay window, smiling as wide as she could. I step farther in, closing the door behind me, and notice the way she bites her lower lip subtly. "What's up?" She doesn't answer right away, but stands, her voluptuous hips swinging naturally--and I cant help but smile at the way she moves, energetic and unplanned, spontaneous. Lord knows I see enough cat walkers at the conventions, and her easy, friendly manner puts me at ease.
Coming around behind me, she spins me around, and I throw my hands up. "Oh dear, I have a bad fee--" She interrupts, her hands flashing quickly into the contortions that have to be the oddest form of communication I've seen. "Outside, come on." Her smile ever-present, I shrug, and let her lead me out. As she steps ahead, her hand taking my callused, thin one, I close my eyes a moment and let the sun beat on my tired eyelids. I quickly open them as she pulls me farther into the garden, needing to see where I'm going. I need to spend more time out here, I remind myself. It's beautiful, if a bit overgrown--the tangle of vines where we planted a raspberry, the huge patch where day lilies have taken over...Then the arbor that Jessie made--I was sick when she did, and it was one of her gifts. I sit under it when I have time, and drink orange juice with my meds.
"Look." She'd turned to say this to me, and I look past her, my eyes widening as I see the fence that now lines our property. Before, it was always open. I furrow my brow, and ask, "What is this..."
She grins, and lifts my hand, pointing it at a shape that's moving among the shadows of the treeline. I step closer to the fence, and the shape, four legged, comes closer.
A goat. I gasp, step backward, already laughing as she steadies me. "You got it, really?" My eyes are wondering, shocked as my hands flash. She nods, and proffers a bag--of raisins. I raise an eyebrow, delicate and speaking volumes--I've had the practice--but take a handful, and kneel gingerly on the grass, holding my hand out through the fence. Jessie squats beside me, and I smile down at the ground after getting an eyeful of what's under her shirt--I don't mean that dirtily at all. She's the kindest person I've known in my short life, and that she can be so casual around me, after knowing me only a year, means so much to me.
The goat does not care what our relationship is, and enjoys her raisins. I bite my cheek when her teeth brush against my palm, and I wince in case she bites--she doesn't. Jessie laughs, and stands after I have sufficiently spoiled the goat.
"I thought you might like to relax today." She signs, and I shrug again. She raises a brow now, well, it's both because she can't do just one. However, she can snap her fingers and I can't, so I guess we're even. We both can wiggle our ears, though.
In response to her suggestion, I yawn, then point over to the rose garden. "Let's listen to music. If you want." She nods, and her hand on my shoulder, we make our way over. I have a boombox already out there, because the circle of soft grass bordered by the blooms is the best place to do everything and I need to be prepared.
She lets me stand in the center, and crosses to the black plastic behemoth on the bench. She starts it, and I watch her reaction to the sound, already the way her foot comes down with purpose--and thus the beat is born in my mind. Her lips move softly, and I can know instantly what she chose, by the way her shoulders shake up and down, her hands clasp mine and move with a uptempo joy. I let her guide me, then we break apart and I am left swaying to her beat, as her hands flash words across.
Rocky Horror. It strikes me as hilarious, somehow, that she chose it. I hated it, or used to. But when she paints it in my head, it is beautiful. Love the dancer, hate the song?
But I recognize immediately the next one. She stops, a small, almost sad smile as she sings the words to me, and I listen--the deep, rough voice, the guitar, the chorus....
She is swaying simply now--no footwork, just Jessie's body back and forth, back and forth, and she holds mine so I follow without a falter. I can close my eyes, and not worry.
"This is how I want it to end."
I don't see her answer.
I don't want to, I just want her to know that.
It isn't sad, because it isn't now. I'm not terminal. But I want to be here forever, with Jessie, swaying to almost forgotten tunes and feeding goats.
"Don't worry. I'll make sure that it is." I've opened my eyes in time, and I smile, stumbling and she catches me. Jessie is the only one who would say that, and not tell me to be quiet. I would laugh if they said that because of the wording, and so would Jessie.
"You know I will stay here, even when you're better, Martin."
She would. I think she adopted me.
"I know."
When the song ends, she takes me inside, and we sit on the window, looking at the sunset and eating orange sherbet.
It's homemade.
Coming around behind me, she spins me around, and I throw my hands up. "Oh dear, I have a bad fee--" She interrupts, her hands flashing quickly into the contortions that have to be the oddest form of communication I've seen. "Outside, come on." Her smile ever-present, I shrug, and let her lead me out. As she steps ahead, her hand taking my callused, thin one, I close my eyes a moment and let the sun beat on my tired eyelids. I quickly open them as she pulls me farther into the garden, needing to see where I'm going. I need to spend more time out here, I remind myself. It's beautiful, if a bit overgrown--the tangle of vines where we planted a raspberry, the huge patch where day lilies have taken over...Then the arbor that Jessie made--I was sick when she did, and it was one of her gifts. I sit under it when I have time, and drink orange juice with my meds.
"Look." She'd turned to say this to me, and I look past her, my eyes widening as I see the fence that now lines our property. Before, it was always open. I furrow my brow, and ask, "What is this..."
She grins, and lifts my hand, pointing it at a shape that's moving among the shadows of the treeline. I step closer to the fence, and the shape, four legged, comes closer.
A goat. I gasp, step backward, already laughing as she steadies me. "You got it, really?" My eyes are wondering, shocked as my hands flash. She nods, and proffers a bag--of raisins. I raise an eyebrow, delicate and speaking volumes--I've had the practice--but take a handful, and kneel gingerly on the grass, holding my hand out through the fence. Jessie squats beside me, and I smile down at the ground after getting an eyeful of what's under her shirt--I don't mean that dirtily at all. She's the kindest person I've known in my short life, and that she can be so casual around me, after knowing me only a year, means so much to me.
The goat does not care what our relationship is, and enjoys her raisins. I bite my cheek when her teeth brush against my palm, and I wince in case she bites--she doesn't. Jessie laughs, and stands after I have sufficiently spoiled the goat.
"I thought you might like to relax today." She signs, and I shrug again. She raises a brow now, well, it's both because she can't do just one. However, she can snap her fingers and I can't, so I guess we're even. We both can wiggle our ears, though.
In response to her suggestion, I yawn, then point over to the rose garden. "Let's listen to music. If you want." She nods, and her hand on my shoulder, we make our way over. I have a boombox already out there, because the circle of soft grass bordered by the blooms is the best place to do everything and I need to be prepared.
She lets me stand in the center, and crosses to the black plastic behemoth on the bench. She starts it, and I watch her reaction to the sound, already the way her foot comes down with purpose--and thus the beat is born in my mind. Her lips move softly, and I can know instantly what she chose, by the way her shoulders shake up and down, her hands clasp mine and move with a uptempo joy. I let her guide me, then we break apart and I am left swaying to her beat, as her hands flash words across.
Rocky Horror. It strikes me as hilarious, somehow, that she chose it. I hated it, or used to. But when she paints it in my head, it is beautiful. Love the dancer, hate the song?
But I recognize immediately the next one. She stops, a small, almost sad smile as she sings the words to me, and I listen--the deep, rough voice, the guitar, the chorus....
She is swaying simply now--no footwork, just Jessie's body back and forth, back and forth, and she holds mine so I follow without a falter. I can close my eyes, and not worry.
"This is how I want it to end."
I don't see her answer.
I don't want to, I just want her to know that.
It isn't sad, because it isn't now. I'm not terminal. But I want to be here forever, with Jessie, swaying to almost forgotten tunes and feeding goats.
"Don't worry. I'll make sure that it is." I've opened my eyes in time, and I smile, stumbling and she catches me. Jessie is the only one who would say that, and not tell me to be quiet. I would laugh if they said that because of the wording, and so would Jessie.
"You know I will stay here, even when you're better, Martin."
She would. I think she adopted me.
"I know."
When the song ends, she takes me inside, and we sit on the window, looking at the sunset and eating orange sherbet.
It's homemade.
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