psychic – Page 6 – A Piece, of the Sky

Alli was sitting at the house in the field, burnt out, twisted out, more than thirty years ago. The moon floated overhead; the flowers tossed in the evening’s gusts. A little lantern sat on the porch between them. Page, the Thunder Avatar, sat in the adjacent rocking chair.

She was dressed like a young professional. Her tall, lanky frame was graced by a slate pants suit and an obsidian blouse. Her raven hair flowed like silk and caught the deep blue of the sky, the spinning, sparkling stars – like a kindly, modern Morgan le Fay. Clear water had nothing on her almost translucent blue eyes, bright and burning in the dark.

“Aro didn’t tell me you would be this humble, this small,” Page began.

“Well, I am very short,” Alli admitted, embarrassed.

“So, you went to Dartmouth,” Page said, leaning forward, peering at her in the darkness.

“Well, you did go to Yale,” Alli answered, heat rising in her cheeks, a substitute for a blush.

“Yes, I went to college around the same time as you,” Page said in a soft voice, turning her drink on the armrest of the chair.

“Your mother served as the Lightning Avatar, the diplomatic head of the Atevars. What was that like?” Alli wondered, in awe.

Alli heard her smile, “It wasn’t that immense, really. I thought about going to the State Department, in this world, but I just became a lawyer.”

“This is the first time anyone in my family has even heard of Atev, much less became any of the Three Avatars,” Alli confessed, spreading her hands wide – a placating gesture.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Page murmured, reaching across the divide – the gap between their wooden chairs – her hair falling into her face, her right hand sporting a gold Yale ring, “You’re not going to be out of your depth. And I am sure your parents knew about how permeable this world is with Atev.”

Alli sighed, with Page’s hand resting on hers, breathing in the Thunder Avatar’s perfume – a heady feeling. The woman was a snowy pale, accentuated by her bright, red lipstick. Alli, by contrast, was folded into a warm, comfortable, pearl fisherman’s sweater.

She glanced up and knew Page was looking into her eyes, in the night. She squeezed Alli’s hand, “I know it sounds trite, but whatever comes our way, we’ll face it together.”

Wind rustled through the grasses and crickets chirped in the underbrush. The odd firefly winked in and out, working its way back to the main road. The two held hands, staring out into the void.

Song

F O R E C A S T – Conscious Thoughts

The wooden blades of the fan chopped at the clunky summer air. Nealy and Alli sat in a booth. Alli could see the night outside the window: grocery flyers caught the breeze and got stuck on trash cans. She sat under the warm lamplight, in Nate’s Papaya Dogs.

They ate soft, flaky pancakes, dipped in syrup, the late-night breakfast special. “I love this place,” Nealy said, putting another bite in her mouth. She was wearing a fuchsia button-down shirt, with the collar open. A twine necklace, with a shark’s tooth on it, dangled from her neck. She wore a delicate, twisting silver ring on her right, index finger.

Nealy sipped her coffee, black. The rolls and waves of her orange hair lay on her forehead, damp with sweat. She took an Altoids tin out of the pocket of her chinos and rolled a cigarette with a sprinkle of tobacco. Alli watched her tap the first embers in the cerulean ashtray on the table.

“So, you didn’t go to Peary,” Alli asked and didn’t ask. It came out like a statement.

“No, I went surfing in California instead,” Nealy said. She took a drag on her cigarette, and puffed the smoke ceiling-ward, where the wisps were cut up by the fan. The waiter brought another plate of sausages and whisked Nealy’s half-eaten plate away.

“Why?” Alli wondered, “I thought you wanted to go.”

“I did,” Some ash fell from the butt of the cigarette, crumbling on the table, “But I realized that I wanted to stay with you more.”

Alli looked up from the checkered pattern, covered by some acrylic plastic, to protect against stains and spills.

“I realized I wanted to be with you,” Nealy folded her hand over Alli’s on the table. Her hand was fleshy and solid, wider than Alli’s, “We’re going to go to college together.”

Alli let the warmth of Nealy’s hand sink into hers, let it flow down, into her heart. The feeling buoyed her up. Her head felt like a helium balloon.

“I didn’t know you cared,” Alli whispered.

Nealy exhaled through her nose, the smoke billowing upward. “I always cared,” she exhorted, holding Alli’s hand.

They stared into one another’s eyes. Cars rolled down the street, speeding toward Downtown, past the two figures sitting in the café window.