by Ri, Xesin
“What’s the heavy thing in your purse?” asked Nicolas.
Kiera stared back into his eyes. “My wallet, why?”
“Your wallet, no. No, that is something much heavier than your wallet.”
“You’ve never seen my wallet.”
“You used to look at it over and over around me when you were checking your phone. It is very small. I doubt it is the same one. You would like a small wallet, two or three ounces tops. Short and compact. An ID, credit card, debit card, proof-of-insurance and a single twenty—I always imagined, you’d just throw coins out rather than letting them clutter up your purse.”
“I wouldn’t do that.”
“There is no way that is your wallet, and it is not any make-up, jewelry, underwear, or anything like that. If it weighed less and didn’t distort your bag, I would say it was a knife; but I will say it is a small gun, something that would look right if you held it out at the end of your arm: black, no frills, semi-auto, and likely unregistered or lost by a friend of yours at some point. So how did I do? Am I among Holmes and House or are you just carrying a little paperweight?”
“It’s not a gun. And I didn’t come here to play games.”
“That is a lie.”
“Shut up a second and let me talk.”
“I miss that. You are so gorgeous when you are angry, such a beast.”
“Nicolas! Stop!”
Nicolas quieted and took a bite of a taco. He spoke with his mouth full as he ate. “You want me to say your name. You watched the movie. You want to be released.”
Kiera nodded, but she couldn’t remember the movie he was talking about.
“I know you. I stood up without you. I can’t help you. I will always remember your real name.”
“I’m sorry.”
Nicolas stopped eating. He shook his head. “That key no longer works. I changed the damn locks. You waited too long.”
“I haven’t been here. I should have…tried.”
“I don’t mean for the last six years. I mean today. Six years—six years you didn’t see me. You didn’t look for me. You didn’t stop and turn. You didn’t stop me when I was so hurt. You didn’t try. You let me die again, today. You knew this time—what it meant. You couldn’t pretend not to know. You knew it was important to me. I saw it in your eyes. And you walked on, without me, again.”
Nicolas ate the rest of the taco, finishing it easily. She could see he was eating to pretend like this was just something happening, like he was okay; but his eyes had gone glassy under the streetlights as they came on.
He looked at her after taking a sip of soda. She knew these next words would count. “Tomorrow, I am going to buy socks, eat food, run, walk, talk, and live my life. And you won’t be there. I’ll think of you. I’ll miss you, but you won’t be there.”
“I hurt someone else,” she tried.
“Ask them for forgiveness. I have forgiven you for everything that never was, yet you walked away from me. Find new people; create new shame; and new hurt too—create new pains that need greater forgiveness.”
“Why didn’t you continue on? You could have chased me. Men do that you know.”
“Why would I continue? Chase you? I asked you out like ten times. I talked to you for hours and hours and hours. I listened and learned what I could to be as interesting and as likeable as I could be for you. I finally wrote you pages to say I felt something deep for you that I didn’t feel for anybody else.”
“It was a little much. It was overwhelming.”
“I doubt that. It was a lie. You love a good lie—that’s the only reason you honored those final words between us—that’s the only reason they were the first words that mattered. You couldn’t bring me back—it’s not really fair, you see, for you or for me; I knew the dragon could never make that move. It would ruin the lie between us. But I had hoped.”
“That’s nonsense.”
“No, it is absolute nonsense. You broke my logic. I had a list of cons grossly outweighing the pros, and I ignored that list and wrote you that letter. I opened up myself to ridicule, humiliation, embarrassment, and rejection like I hadn’t in my whole life; worst of all, I spent hours working on it. You can imagine my dismay at the spelling and grammatical errors when I later calmed down enough to reread it. There just wasn’t time to correct them all.”
Nicolas bit down on a piece of quesadilla decorated by a pattern he’d made with the red hot sauce. Even the pattern of the hot sauce was complex.
A fire engine roared its siren at the end of the street. The parade was over, but the party was still on as the engine rolled around town letting everyone know that the celebrations were now in full effect.
“Are you going to the Corn Festival?” she asked.
“I don’t care about corn. And I don’t like festivals. The only thing worse is the combination of the two.”
“It is pretty stupid.”
“It’s not stupid,” said Nicolas. “I just hate being there. I hate being around here without you on days like this.”
Kiera waited, but he didn’t say it. It was right there, the big white elephant between them.
“You made me a Malvolio. You got me playing the fool. You played me, and now, here you are doing it again. How many times am I going to have to listen to the Temptations to get over your games this time?”
“I’m not playing you. I’m not playing a game.”
“You came here, looking for me, wearing that dress, a single bangle on your wrist, wearing make-up you weren’t wearing earlier, shiny black boots, carrying a wild red handbag—without any purpose.”
“God, you read into things so much. I was just—“
“I miss your lies.”
Kiera stepped towards Nicolas. He stared up at her.
She stopped herself. The move was aggressive. She had raised her free hand in anger.
“Geez, you really do have a gun in there,” he said staring at the red bag Kiera held steady and back. He popped the last quesadilla triangle into his mouth.
She stepped back and turned away a moment. He could drive her to bad places so easy.
“You are such a critic,” she said.
“No, I’m not. I just hate everything.”
Kiera looked up at the sky a moment. She spoke away from Nicolas. “Why did I come here?”
“Do you really want me to answer that?”
“Yes,” she said. “How about in long story form too!”
“Sure, it’s more fun that way anyhow.”
Nicolas crunched on some nachos, sipped his drink, and sighed.
Kiera crossed her arms and waited.
“Farran sat and watched the dragon from afar.
“He was, after all, a wizard. She still thought of him shattered, though he had long ago arisen from his terrible state and walked on. She had, nonetheless, taken a piece of him with her; and he had taken a feather from her.
“Today, to see her again, was very nice. His heart warmed up. His body felt strong again. But soon she reminded him of who she really was.
“She swam in a lake of broken glass. Were they lovers or was it all just a strange natural occurrence? He could not be sure. ‘Darling, I see you!’ he shouted. She looked and saw him. His eyes were clear. The tears and the hurt were gone. He was amused. She was not.
She blasted a jet of fire high into the sky. Her anger and rage boiled over, and she started for him. But even before she got there, she realized he was not there. She looked about and found the shards were gone. ‘Farran!’ she cried in rage. He’d avoided her. But this time it was the wizard who was the angriest. And so Farran stole the dragon’s favorite shade of blue. She looked everywhere she could think for the shade, but it was gone. Her favorite blue flowers were gray. Gorgeous blue waters that bathed her when she was tired were dirty blues, ugly blues, not handsome blues. And when night fell, it was awful. A thousand glittering shards, a billion possible loves, and not one Farran. She threw fire into the sky. Farran had done wor
se than she thought. Her pretty flames had lost their best red. Farran was slowly stealing all the colors in the world from her. She was furious. He was so small. She dug her claws into the earth. How could such a bug, a little human man do this to her? How could she have let this happen? And now he was the man who didn’t care. He sits in anger remembering a love that didn’t happen, even the appeasement that a callous heart tries. She is the dragon. He is the one who belongs to her, sad and heartbroken. And when she had tried to play with him again, he began this terrible spell, a simple punishment done from afar.
“She could feel he was sad that she could not love him. She saw him wrong. She didn’t feel him right either. So that was why he took the colors—to help her see her Farran.”
Kiera stood firm, ten or more steps away, without leaving him or changing her distance from him as he drank a few sips of his soda.
She noticed again his pseudo-disheveled appearance. His shirt was shredded. He wore that ugly shredded thing over a hundred and fifty dollar shirt. He was generally clean. Even the bottom of his shoe that faced her was surprisingly clean.
“I don’t understand. If it was a lie, why didn’t you come get me?” she asked.
“Certain things are true; certain things are false. I told you I would not play anymore. I told you that ten times with pages straight out of my heart. It was too much to bear, and I would not move another inch without you bringing me back.”
“But you are back. There is nothing for me to do.”
“No, you broke time. You broke my logic, my sense, remember?”
“So, that means what?”
“The Shards will always be there, still loving the dragon, even if she went on without him, even if they reformed.”
Kiera thought about this. “Why don’t you just talk to me? Why not just come over here? Right now.”
Nicolas stopped drinking. “Ask me to.”
“Ask you to come over here?”
“Yes,” he said. He was very interested in her now. His attention was filled by her presence. He looked her over as if they were meeting for the first time.
“Nothing’s really that simple,” she said. “And things were difficult before. People don’t change.”
Nicolas laughed.
He ate a little corner of a nacho that had missed his attention before.
Kiera turned around and away again. She noticed that night had firmly taken ahold of the sky and that above the streetlights the stars were out. She thought about how nice it was to be out in rural country again and enjoying the dark night sky. But there were a growing number of people coming down the street by foot and by car. They were coming home from the parade and the games and the speeches for political parties delivered by people who all seemed to remember that rural people are the best people every four years when they get out of their offices and out of the cities.
“There is another way out of this since you can’t make the move and I’ve vowed not to move.”
“What is that?” she asked looking back at him, over her shoulder.
“It is tough, and it can cause more chaos and broken logic to enter into this situation; but I think it would solve both our issues if you simply gave me an ending. Adding new information always makes things more interesting.”
Kiera felt the weight of her handbag. “No,” said Kiera, “I will give you the next chapter.”
“Really, another sequel? No, a trilogy. Go for it. Let’s see what you’ve got to say.”
“I can do what I want, right? No rules? Magic an’ all?”
“Just don’t go wishing for more wishes,” said Nicolas tossing his late dinner trash into the old steel and concrete bin next to him. He sat back and sipped on his soda again.
“I am in control.”
“That was the purpose of the first story, if you remember.”
“Fine. Then I’ll write that she was never really a dragon at all.”
Nicolas listened.
“And, after all the names she’d run around using, she decided Kiera was as good a name as any now that she had become a unicorn again.”
Nicolas raised his left eyebrow high.
“And so, she was very pretty and very happy, but she did miss Nicolas after all. He had waited when she was playing her games; and after she found herself alone again, she wasn’t sure why she had played around in the first place. And he had gone on with his life, as he should, upset as he was, wizard as he was. So upon learning—seeing the dragon was no longer in the sky, he set out to find her. He searched and searched. She was not to be found. Instead, she found him. He knew her instantly. She was a sweet, white and pink unicorn now.
“A spell cast upon her long ago made her unable to be anything else, so she could never be his—um…bride.” Kiera looked down and then looked at Nicolas. “So, he became a white coated and lavender maned horse in order to be with her forever. And they finally kissed. And she was happy.”
Nicolas sat there.
“That’s it,” she said.
“That completely breaks the story. It doesn’t make any sense. Six years and that is how you end it?”
“Now you’re the one looking gorgeous.”
“Well, yeah. All that stuff meant something to me. And that’s how you end it, come on.”
“I guess, I should add that when they finally kissed, it was clumsy since they had changed so very much.”
“Are you saying they both changed so much that she could ask him to come to her and he could go to her because his vow was no longer his to hold?”
“No, I’m saying that they changed so much she didn’t need to ask him, and he didn’t care about a stupid vow made up in a stupid story.”
Nicolas tried to get up, but he could not. He shook his head.
“I can’t be that naïve. Not for this compromise. Can it really be this easy? Am I this stupid? Your fist was raised. Now, we just kiss. Ignore years. Ignore time. All that strain? I get what? But I did give up reason and control. I said I would. I got what I deserved.”
Kiera stood exactly on the spot she stood when she finished her chapter of their story.
“No,” said Nicolas. “You still need to prove it. I’ve proven my part. I’ve still got my anger. But things haven’t changed.” Nicolas sat still, trying to unravel the problem.
Kiera could see she’d gotten him. Time was moving for him again. He was aging again. He was mortal again. Flies buzzed around the trash in the heat of the night, and he had to move away from the smell. His skin was wet with sweat. He brushed the crumbs of his meal from his lap.
“Is this what is given? That’s what I get?”
“Yes,” she said, standing firm.
“Nothing else?”
“They were your rules.”
“There are no rules without logic,” he said. “No lies either, without some foundation to make them false.”
“And yet, here we really are.”
And Nicolas stood. “Aren’t you grand?” And Nicolas smiled a splendid smile and stuck out his hand. “You win.”
Kiera eyed him.
He pulled his hand back with a grin when she didn’t take it.
“You win. And by proving you always wanted to be the dominate one, I now have to…guess it…come on… guess…yes, you are getting there…leave because of a headache.
“Oh, darling dearest Dragon, dear,” cried Nicolas so loud it made Kiera blush. “My head swoons like an entire ocean of angry jellyfish stinging and stinging me on the insides,” he yelped like a wounded Southern gentleman. “And so it pains me to my most deepest place of pride and honor that I should take leave of such a delightful woman as you this very fine, fine evenin’.”
“No, no—Nicolas, you stay here.”
Nicolas began to walk off.
“Oh, boy-O-boy, I know you’re an excited fella, my dear Dragon dearest dear, but I don’t even kiss on a first date. I’m going to go home and listen to some Tori Amos and eat cookies while watching some Project Runway reru
ns as I pine over this very fine, fine evenin’. Adieu, adieu….” called out Nicolas in a lushly floating voice. “Oh to be loved! What a wonderful evening!”
“Where are you going?” she called when he was too far and her voice carried over the whole street.
“Home, my dearest Dragon; home to wait for your call tomorrow at six sharp. What a day tomorrow shall be! I’ll be sure to wear something smart. Good night, fair Dragon. Tomorrow, tomorrow.”
And he actually went into his house and shut the door on her and the street and the world outside.
“Seriously,” she said looking around. Suddenly, it dawned on her, what he’d said earlier, about the fact he’d gotten what he wanted but wasn’t sure she’d gotten what she wanted. She sat down on the bench and began to laugh. “That’s what he meant.” This had never been about him at all. It really was all about her. He’d simply waited for her to realize it and put herself exactly where she’d always wanted to be. “That dick!” she cried out to the neighborhood in delight.
Kiera started for home. Nicolas had been waiting all along. The chaos had brought them back together. And so she took that like a clear omen for action. She took out her phone, copied and then e-mailed Ray Synad the only thing that No-bit had never known about, the thing Chuck Dean really feared released, his ace-in-the-hole, his get-out-of-trouble card. The file was an audio recording between a man named Al Duncan and a man identifying himself as Sheriff Douglas. They seemed to be setting up some type of hit on some of the sheriff’s own deputies. There would be no protection if it got released fully and traced back to her. Then again, nothing might come of it.
She’d have to see Nicolas and make sure he understood that there was something going on. She’d have to protect him from harm. It was insane. He’d understand in an instant and be gratified by it.
She’d have to see if she could keep Elizabeth’s dress, at the very least until she saw Nicolas again. He’d like that—a little question of time.
Sweat rolled down her arms and legs in the hot night. She thought of Ray Synad, that tough little man, sitting there, staring at her, thinking of her.
She hoped that the right person got the information.
Only time would tell.