The Fern Tender (14 page)

     “How do you know that’s my name though? Alright. Whatever, it’s kind of my name. My official one anyway. What else do you know about me? Are you some type deep cover cop lady?” He asked.

     Wringing her hands, she responded awkwardly. “No. And I don’t know anything about you. That’s why we’re here. I want to know more about who you are. I like you. I want a friend, and you seem like you would make a good friend.”

     What appeared to him as her putting herself precariously out there was really the fact that Lillian did not know how to make friends. She realized at that moment all of her relationships were either official, fleeting, or in the case of the Colony arranged.

     Bewildered he answered, “You are desperate lady if you’re wanting to hang out with me. I’m a boring small time drug dealer, failed writer, and retired killer.”

     “See. Exactly. A writer? That’s cool. What have you written? Come on. Maybe I read it. See! I told you, you would make an interesting friend.” She spoke excitedly.

      Her beauty and genuine manner were attracting him. After just a few minutes of conversation he could feel her attaching her heart to him. Benevolently clawing her way into him. Feeling generous he responded, “I also told you I was a killer and drug dealer too. Technically you should be scared of me.”

      She snapped back, “Anyone who can make me feel like you’ve made me feel cannot be bad. What we’ve done together was amazing, miracles, magic, in my view. So, don’t bullshit me man. I want more from you. You’ve had your fun with me and taken me to places I doubt you show many other women. So, let’s cut the crap, and take this thing to the next level. Now. Here we are. Let’s walk in there like a normal couple, buy some coffee and talk to each other. OK?”

     At that moment, it hit her. This was the coffee shop where she’d had the guy in the alley only a few weeks before. Excited to have Andrew with her, she didn’t stop to meditate on the probability as to whether the anal sex alley man might be there today. She usually kept her guard up and did a masterful job at avoiding all of her previous liaisons, with Andrew being the exception. The one she liked to find. And now here she was visiting the two extremes of her sexuality at once. She scanned the shop inside and outside. Breathing a sigh of relief, there was no sign of the man who got lucky.

     Taking a sip of his coffee and then sitting down, he asked “So, mystery lady what’s your name?”

     “Lillian. And I’m not that mysterious. I’m just pushy...So, how do you do it?” she looked him in the eyes.

     “Do what?” He asked with a grin.

     Not missing a beat, she kept interrogating, “You know the thing where we have sex but don’t even touch.”

     Answering with a sincere chuckle, “You are pushy. And direct. Are you sure you’re from this planet? I like it though.”

     She waited.

     He moved his head to one side and took a long stare out the window. He tapped his foot nervously and decided to keep going with her. This could get weird, but fuck it he thought. “I don’t know. I’ve always had abilities that others don’t. When I was a little boy, it was like I could go into my books. Take a break there, stand in the corner and watch the characters. Very strange. I never told anyone until later about it. My Mom was...how should I say it uhm, not conventional. She could do things with her mind too, but she could also be very domineering, a control freak. So, I kept my book worlds to myself. I needed those books to make it through the day. Then later I fell in love and told my fiance about it. It didn’t go over well, she halfway called me a liar and halfway got jealous. Basically it ended our relationship.”

     She looked at him and kept up her questioning, “So why are you telling me?”

     “You asked, and because I know you’ll believe me. I know you have your own stuff like that too. Our romps wouldn’t work unless you had some magic yourself. And also, you’re not my fiance.”

     “Sure. But I don’t have that type of magic. When did it first come to you?” She asked.

      Again he looked out the window then girded himself, “In prison. I was in the service. Two weeks after boot camp, I found myself in country and in an intense ten day firefight, all day, all night, trapped in a building trying to fight our way out back to a pick up zone from a chopper. Our air support couldn’t target the enemy for us because we were across the street from a school. The enemy was actually in the schoolhouse shielding themselves with kids and firing on us day and night. Was terribile long story, anyway they broke us and were able to storm our building, took us all prisoners. I spent a year and half in a jihad prison. Every man in our platoon either died in the firefight or they died in the prison.  Except me.”

     His eyes got teary and he looked past her this time at the wall. He stared for a minute. She could feel the guilt spilling out of him into the physical space between them.

     Changing her tone, she touched his hand and told him, “It's OK if you don’t want to talk about it. I am so sorry for your losses. But so far it sounds to me like you were lucky, and maybe for a reason.”

    
He wanted to keep going. It felt good, talking to her, “No, I’m OK. Don’t even know why I rambling like this to a stranger. But you feel different. It’s lonely walking around with death hung around the neck of your memory.

The prison was a horrible place, like stuff you see in movies. Yes,there was torture, violence, rats, all of it. Once the first few died of exposure and malnutrition, it was just like a slow moving train wreck, watching my guys fall one by one. I had to get out, so I got out inside my mind.”

     Feeling comfortable, she stopped him there. Intrigued she asked, “Get inside your mind? That sounds like something one of the elders may say.”

     “Elders? Who?” He responded.

     Catching herself she replied, “No one, nothing, just my name for old women I guess. What do you mean by using your mind?”

     “Well, it’s like there were no books there, but I built my own books and then escaped into them. Sometimes for days, my body began to follow my mind. When I became a character in the book, I didn’t need food or water, didn’t need anything physical, I was just another piece of the story.” He trailed off and gazed out the window, concentrating.

     Lillian inserted herself, “So, almost like you could do anything without consequence?”

     “Yes! Exactly! That’s what it is like.” Breathing a sigh of relief now, knowing they were on the same page, he kept going, “I could do everything or anything I wanted in those worlds. I could love, hate, fight, sleep, eat, have great dialogue in coffee shops with beautiful women...Ha! Anyway you get the idea. I could tap my subconscious, give it the baton, let it run, while my conscious became was buried many layers beneath me, it that hell hole.”

    
Anything without consequence…
She replayed his statement in her mind. She now knew she had found her equal.

     A warm feeling washed over her. She didn’t say anything, she just looked into his eyes. He knew she understood. They stayed locked in their gaze for a long few seconds.

     Not sure how to respond or what to say now. He kept his story going, “So, basically most of my physical needs vanished. Kind of like a waking state of hibernation. Only the basics worked but yet I could be seen as awake and normal to the guards even though I was far away in my mind.

     Finally, making a long story short, the prison was overrun by our special forces one night while I was in fishing boat in Caribbean catching Marlin and drinking Mexican beer. They took me to Germany and I was told I was there for three days and they couldn’t reach me. Finally I came out of it. My conscious rose back to the front of my existence and I found myself in a hospital room with a nurse staring at me. I don’t remember anything of those few days or when or how I was airlifted out of there. Its very powerful stuff, as you know. Then, I got the fuck out of the military and went to college. And here I am, with a pocket full of crack cocaine, drinking coffee, talking to a stranger about the untapped potential of the human mind.”

     Letting out a deep laugh, she chuckled when she spoke, “Well you didn’t lose any sense of humor in that prison. You are funny. I wasn’t sure if you would be funny or not. So if you don’t mind me asking, how does it work with us?”

     “Well, I believe it takes three things. First, someone like you who believes in more than just the physical and scientific world. Then, my ability to move my conscious states at will. And most of all with two people, a deep deep sense of empathy. Not empathy like I feel sorry for you or you feel sorry for me, that’s sympathy. I mean, the ability for me to truly step inside your shoes. Be you, let you know I’m here waiting for you to let your guard down. It takes an amount of control of your subconscious, just enough for your to notice and feel me. Then it's just like writing a sex scene in an erotica novel. We then become characters in the book. The phsyical stuff, the true feelings the orgasims, I still don’t know how that works. I’d like to know the truth, I am worthy of the truth but for now that’s my explanation.”

     She interrupted him there, “Ahh, empathy. That’s how you do it. I am familiar with some of the subconscious stuff. But empathy is your ingredient, your key. Very nice.”

     Their conversation soared, for more than a couple hours. Rambling back and forth, twisting into interesting ways, funny stories, and finally turning into the essential questions about life that friends in coffee shops had debated for centuries. It felt good to both of them. They had lost track of time, of everything. It was everything Lillian had hoped for. They were building a foundation for a real friendship.

     Later on Lillian circled back to his point about truth, “I didn’t mean to bulldoze you earlier on your statement about truth. I actually know the truth about some stuff.”

     “Ha! I love your confidence. You are a cocky piece of work Lillian. You were right you know.” He smiled and looked at her.

     “About what?” She asked.

     “About getting to know each other. You are different. I actually like you. Now if you don’t mind, can you drop me off on my corner so I can sell some crack. Sorry, I know that sounds crass, but I thrive on the adventure and contradiction. An existential cocaine salesman. You know the type.” He winked and laughed for a second.

     “You don’t want me to tell you my truth? Come on.” She asked. Her mind began to race with all the things she could share. Even without talking about the wheel, she had her truths like he had and was anxious to share.

     “No, I don’t want to know, sorry. I can weld empathy remember. Your truth is very dark and I don’t want to know about it yet. I’m enjoying my prison free life these days. And I’d like to think there are many many more ahead. Its a self-protection thing and not indicative that in any way, I’m not interested in your truth. I am. I’m just still healing.”

     Lillian sighed a little. Her mind raced. Disappointed he wasn’t curious about her truth, but he made some good points and he was right. She, let it slide, knowing she wouldn’t be able to tell him about the major truth that dominated her life anyway. “You’re right. Let’s keep it light. Prisons and wars aren’t dark at all.”

      “Ha. I like your attitude. I don’t mean to not be interested. I am, but you have to understand, I come from a very dark place and just don’t really want to know the whole truth. I say I want the truth, but I know enough to know that the real truth is very scary.”

     They drove back into the cuts. It never occurred to her to try and sneak a sexy interlude with him. She was too engaged in conversation. Learning about him. Talking about her life without really revealing anything.

     “This is my stop. Thanks for capturing me and taking me to your lair Lillian. You made my day.” He waved as he got out of the car.

     “Likewise. You made my day too. Want to see each other again?” She asked.

     Looking back at her and smiling, he quipped “Let’s do it. You know where to find me.”

Chapter 7

Wheels

     She drove into the night thinking of Andrew and the wonderful day they had together. Rolling down the windows felt good. The air blasting through the car seemed poetic. Andrew had blown into her life today. She knew there was no turning back. She felt a new kind of love today. The love of an equal.

     The wheel was waiting for her, ready for another reading. She had to get back to the Colony by tonight and then to the Ferns tomorrow. Her responsibilities descended, but her mind was still with Andrew. She wished she had had more time with him. She stared ahead at the road losing herself recalling each word of their conversation.

     Her drive felt peculiar tonight though. The road felt almost like it was coming to her, like the car was sitting in place, the road and the scenery being reeled in by the wheels of her car. Curious as usual, she let the sensation linger and pretended that soon Andrew would appear on the road ahead and she would reel him in as well.