Why?
Not the same as with Dan. Dan and I… we shared a bond from the beginning. If my ability were cancer, Dan would be the cure. When he left me as a teenager, the excruciating pain ate at my will to survive. The teenage angst was real.
The first few days Aunt Meredith let me stay in my room and cry. I tried to call Dan, more than once, but he’d disconnected his phone. He’d never given me his address.
Dede’s condolences comforted me when Meredith didn’t know how.
In my teenage years, Dede lived in a county-run nursing home with a slim budget. He shared a room with three other men but never complained. He’d been through civil war in his country, lost his wife to suicide, and then his daughter died before she had the chance to live a full life. Despite these hardships, or maybe because of them, he maintained an armor of optimism.
“God is closest to those with broken hearts,” he had said. He told me my experience would make me stronger for the next time I dealt with heartache. “Savor in the feeling now, because one day you will miss the intense passions of young love.”
The idea of being thankful for this raw emotion made no sense, and I told him so. He laughed and said one day I’d understand.
Meredith was not near as compassionate as Dede. After a week, she told me to suck it up and get out of my room and do something, anything. So, I started running long distance. Most people who run use the time to reflect. But I ran to clear my mind. While I ran, I could avoid the energies of everyone else and be free of their problems and run away from mine. I used the time to work through my hurt, running from the melancholy. As I grew older, the pain abated, and I survived teenage heartache.
The clock blinked 11:53 pm. Too late to run safely. I forced myself to read, but after fifteen minutes of staring at perfect athletes, I threw my magazine against my bedroom wall. Opening my underwear drawer, I folded the soft, cotton panties in neat squares. I could deal with the situation. Dan and I were both older now. I’d casually dated a handful of guys, none of them serious. Or as sexy as Dan.
My mind flashed to the last day I’d seen Dan. Seema’s parents had been out of town at a medical conference, and I spent the night at her house to keep her company.
“What is this moron doing, trying to make your Aunt homicidal?” Seema said as we pulled into my driveway. It was Sunday morning, and Seema had given me a ride home.
I gaped at Dan’s Range Rover parked in front of us. Blood rushed to my ears. An image flashed of Meredith as a suburban samurai in a red pantsuit with a bloody Ginsu knife over a dead Dan.
“I’d love to stay, but I value my life. Call me with the details Chelsea!” Seema called after me as I leapt out of the car.
Oh, God.
I waved goodbye without taking my eyes from the front door, half expecting Dan to be thrown out any second. Why had Dan visited Meredith without me home? He should have chosen a more neutral territory to speak with Meredith, and I should have been at his side.
What if he screwed up our chances of having Meredith’s approval?
The screen door nearly flew off the hinges as I raced inside and crashed into Meredith.
Good, no blood on her hands.
“Oh good, you’re home,” Meredith said, placing her hands on my shoulders and beaming at me. “Dan just stopped by.”
I realized my mouth hung open and found my voice. “Okay.”
Dan raised his head in greeting, standing behind Meredith.
“Chelsea, sweetie, I’m sorry about my reaction the other night.”
Wait…what?
Did she just call me sweetie?
I could count on both my hands the number of times she used endearments in my life. Stealing a glance at Dan, he smiled.
“I’m off to close on a home in River Ranchera,. Then Joey is taking me out to celebrate. I’ll call you when I’m on my way home, and we’ll talk,” she said, eyes bright.
When Meredith shut the front door, I turned to Dan with a slow smile. A short-sleeved black polo stretched over his defined biceps. He raised his eyebrows.
“Where have you hidden the real Meredith?”
“No worries, she’s seems chill now. Must have missed out on some commission the other day,” he said with a hollow laugh, hands in his pockets and looking out the kitchen window as if he would rather be somewhere else. Why hadn’t Meredith warned me he was here? My white yoga shorts and green t-shirt were not super sexy. And Dan’s cool demeanor scared me.
Like Meredith, I didn’t feel his aura. Except for the other night. When we shared a connection. That needed to happen again.
What had Dan and Meredith discussed that made Meredith so bubbly? Was he going to tell me we wouldn’t see each other anymore? My head started to spin as I took shallow breaths of panic.
Dan and I met a few weeks ago, but our connection was strong. He knew me better than anyone. He taught me to control my empath antenna, he understood my quirks to cope. At some point, he became my compass, and if he left I’d be lost to the world.
“Who’s Joey?” he asked, interrupting my anxious thoughts.
I cringed. “Her latest boyfriend who graduated from my high school a couple of years ago.” I didn’t elaborate further. Meredith’s taste in men became more awkward every year I aged.
I forced myself to take a deep breath and pasted a bright smile on my face. As his eyes met mine, I noticed flat amber irises replaced the usual bright golden flecks.
Dan grabbed my hand and brushed back and forth with his thumb. He gazed down at our fingers. His warm touch made me sigh with relief. The tender way he held my hand showed that he cared a little about me, at least.
“How about we listen to some of your folksy music?” His eyes finally sparkled with humor.
“Ok,” I said with mock seriousness. “But please refer to the genre with respect. Let me go get my iPod and we can listen to my classic American music.”
“I’d like to hear the music in it’s more natural state,” Dan said, taking my other hand.
I narrowed my eyes, with a teasing smile. “Why, Daniel Levi, is that the best excuse you have to get a girl to her bedroom? You want to listen to my records?”
His arms encircled me suddenly, securing me in an embrace. Then his hands moved slowly up and down my arms, sending a thrum of electricity giving me gentle jolts of pleasure. He kissed the top of my head. I closed my eyes, relishing the in the sweet shivers he elicited. When his lips brushed my ear, I caught my breath.
“For you I could deliver one excuse for every star in the sky,” he whispered.
My insecurities melted away.
Do you know that giddy first time feeling you get when you realize the person you love also loves you back? Your heart grows as it makes room for the love you’re prepared to hold for this person. It skips a beat and finds a new rhythm of sudden purpose, and you feel like you can take on the world.
I threw my arms around his neck and we kissed. We tasted, assured, and understood with our lips instead of using words. He pulled back, his hands cupping my face. His chest rose and fell in deep breaths against me. Then he scooped me into his arms.
“So,” he asked, “Where is that record player?”
Upstairs, I chose and centered a record on my Mom’s old turntable. After the needle was placed on the vinyl, I flipped the power switch on the portable blue player and sat back on the stack of pillows next to Dan. Much to my disappointment, we sat on my bed.
That’s it.
Dan stretched his legs and bare feet, which I studied. Pretty, for man feet. Narrow and long. Probably at least a size 13.
Without warning his toes attacked my own bare foot next to his, tickling my sensitive soles. Propping himself on an elbow, he looked at me with a smirk.
“Caught you gazing at my sexy feet,” he said, poking me in the arm. “You know, you have some pretty large feet yourself. So unladylike.”
“My feet are far finer than yours. Look at the symmetry. Notice the lack of hair.”
“Fine, you win.” He sat up and resettled at the foot of the bed. “Mine are hairy because they’re manly feet.” He placed my right foot in his lap, and rubbed it gently. I groaned with pleasure.
“Oh my god, that feels amazing.” I sighed, and relaxed further into the pillows. His fingers wielded a magic my body needed, craved. If he could do that to my feet…
“How’ve your headaches been?”
Headaches?
“They’ve been… better.” Unlike your attention span.
“What do you mean? Are you getting relief from the techniques I’ve shown you?”
I stifled a giggle. But Dan’s eyebrows raised in clinical curiosity. I rolled my eyes.
“It’s just- it seems like it’s so much easier when you’re around. You’re like an anchor for all the auras. Why is that?”
He continued with his sensational finger magic on my feet. “I’ve had years of practice. It’s possible to dampen my reaction to and my reception of other people’s power.”
Most people tended to project loud or not at all. I figured this related to personality, and not just practice, as Dan said. Meredith was the most practical person I knew, and there was no way she studied meta-physical science.
“Did you always sense auras, I mean when you were younger?” I asked, sighing with pleasure again as his large fingers continued to rub. The sensation melted the tension out of my feet.
“For as long as I can remember,” Dan said. He flashed his crooked grin at me. “What about you, how long have you been an Ikna?”
“Ikna?”
“Compellor, persuader.”
I thought about this term. Now that I could better guard against the energy blitz of other people, Dan told me I could proactively administer my gift on people, and not just react to the energies. I could manipulate and project aural energy flow back towards the subject. It never occurred to me to try this until Dan.
“Hmmm,” I murmured, still relishing the feeling of his fingers which now massaged my calves, “I didn’t realize that I could use persuasion before you. But I’m finding my powers are falling short. Maybe you could explain to me something I’ve wondering about?”
Dan’s mega watt smile shined at me when I opened my eyes, awaiting the answer.
“Ask away, silver girl,” he said. “I’m at your service.”
“I’ve been sending these signals to this amazing foot masseuse, trying to encourage him to use those strong hands on other parts of my body, but he may have immunity to my persuasion,” I said, eyes big and innocent.
“Oh you mean, something like this,” he said, eyes darkening. Then he tickled my sides. My shoulders scrunched and I curled into the fetal position as he moved in to attack my sensitive neck. I laughed so hard my side cramped. We rolled over each other and around the bed as he brought on his attack and I tried to escape. A couple of minutes later Dan’s assault ceased and my hysterical giggles abated. We lay side by side staring into each other’s eyes. He squinted, then cocked his head, placed a finger on my lips.
“Do you know you are completely the most beautiful entity ever to walk this planet?”
Whoa, where had that come from?
My breathing still rapid from the tickle attack, but his words shut off my natural instinct to breathe. When I remembered to take a breath, he stroked my hair, still looking at me with a mixture of resignation and fiery determination. He leapt from the bed and walked to my record collection.
My stomach clenched. What had I done?
He placed the needle on the track of the vinyl. John Lennon’s melodic voice sang “Words are flowing out, like endless rain into a paper cup.”
Dan ran a hand through his sun kissed hair. My own fingers itched to do the same. I watched, mesmerized by his combing and my mouth parted. I was jealous of those hands. He sat on the edge of the bed.
“This song was transmitted through space by NASA. They sent it with a transmitter capable of reaching more than 400 light years into space.”
I sat on the bed, and crossed my legs. “Seriously? Who were they trying to reach? Some spacemen?”
“It was more a celebration of technological advancement than a play at intergalactic diplomacy. But sometimes I wonder if anyone out there did hear the song. Did they wonder about us, here on Earth?” Dan studied my quilt, tracing the pink embroidered thread lines.
“What, like did they think we had wicked cool taste in music and poetry?” I joked, but Dan stared at the ceiling now. His thoughts were, in fact, in another universe.
Taking a deep breath, I brought my chin to my knees. “This is my favorite Beatles album,” I said, sliding my finger on the chain of my necklace. “This necklace, I found it in that record sleeve last summer.”
Dan stopped staring at the ceiling. “Fascinating,” he said. His eyebrows pulled together. “Did you ever wear it before the summer?”
I shook my head. “No, I didn’t even know she left it.”
“Left it?”
“I’ve always admired it. There’s a photo of my father and mother; she’s wearing it there.”
Dan crossed his arms. “I’d love to see the photo.”
I stood, crossed my room to the dresser. There, in an antique black frame, sat the only photograph of my biological parents. My mother’s wide smile was beautiful, larger than my own. Her long brown hair fell in waves, the same color as mine. My eyes were hazel, like my father’s, but almond shaped like hers. I gazed at the photo for a minute, watching two people I didn’t remember embrace happily in front of the tree at my Dede’s old house. Swallowing against the pointless wish for more than a photo and a necklace, I shook my head. At least I had something.
I gestured to the frame. Dan approached and stood behind me while looking at the picture. When he didn’t say anything after a minute, I turned to him. His fists clenched at his sides.
“Your mother, you have her eyes,” he said, staring at the photo.
I raised my eyebrows. “I love her smile,” I said, with an unnecessary glance back on the photo I’d memorized.
Dan nodded, then motioned for me to sit. For a couple of hours, we listened to records, while Dan worked with me on meditation technique. Concentration was elusive with my eyes closed, listening to his soft directions. Fantasies about the two of us doing much more than meditating interfered with the lesson. When Dan asked if he could rest his eyes for a moment, we both snuggled into bed. I stroked his thumb, and feeling brave I brought my other hand to his wavy hair. My hands slowly combed through the thick locks, scents of mint and citrus filled my nose. Dan didn’t respond in kind, his own breaths evening out. Was he tired? Not interested?
He ignored my touch, and fell asleep. Snuggling into the crook of his arm, I closed my eyes and let my insecurities float away in the comfort of his arms.
“Wake up, Chels. Chelsea, wake up, you’re dreaming, babe.” Dan gripped my shaking body into a tight hug. My arms trembled, and cold sweat dampened my shirt. “Are you all right? You’re soaked.”
“I’m fine, just a dream,” I said, taking a quick sniff to make sure my sweat hadn’t dissolved my deodorant. Still smelled lavender, thank God. My hand shot to my mouth as a wave of nausea hit me.
Dan’s arms scooped under my body, and he lifted me from the bed.
“I’m supposed to tell you that,” he said. “Let’s get you to the bathroom.”
“No I’m fine. Well, a little queasy.”
He sighed and hugged me again before setting me back on the bed. He kept hold of my hands. “Damn, one minute I was watching you sleep peacefully, then you started twitching. I thought you’d wake up, but you were shaking so much. What happened in the dream?”
His brow wrinkled.
I waved him off. “It’s this dream I’ve been having. I’m racing upwards in the sky like gravity means nothing, almost like I’m floating. Ugh, why would I dream about my worst fear? I hate heights.”
“So that explains the shaking. You were afraid of falling.
”
“No, actually, the scary part is the thought of not reaching whoever waits up there,” I said. “Weird nightmare I get sometimes. What sort of dream did you have?”
He smirked. “It would offend your sweet innocent ears.”
That evening, as Dan left, we stood in the entryway in a comfortable silence. Spending time with Dan made me feel as if I could do anything. I no longer felt isolated, closed off from everyone else. Instead, a sense of purpose and revival settled over me like a coat of armor. If I could conquer this ability, anything was possible. My new bravado prompted the following question to Dan, I don’t know how else to justify it. I placed my hands on his chest and blurted out-
“You’re like my aura guardian. Your eyes remind me of sunshine and honey. You told me I’m beautiful. So why you don’t you want to kiss me again?”
Dan stopped breathing. He gazed at me.
His voice became low and husky. “I want to do a lot more than kiss you.”
“You laid on my bed for several hours this afternoon,” I started, but did not finish my sentence. My back slammed against the wall into a familiar painting. Dan’s forehead leaned against mine, transferring heat like a fire blazed under his skin. His body leaned against me. Heart racing, my hands reached up to his hair, tangling in the strands, encouraging him to lean down and claim my lips. Instead, he pressed his mouth to my neck, trailing kisses to my ear.
“I am trying to be ethical. I’m older than you,” he whispered as his teeth grazed my ear. My body responded with a spreading warmth.
“I hardly constitute two years as older.” Gasping for air, I closed my eyes. When his mouth finally reached mine, he once again lifted me by the waist and I wrapped my legs around him. Yes, I needed this. Needed Dan. His tongue pushed into my mouth, encouraging me to do the same. My tongue tasted his heat. I wanted more.
When he pulled back, I caught my breath. “What are you doing?” He placed me back on my feet and held me tight. His bangs brushed my forehead, and I could feel warm breath on my cheek. I closed my eyes, refusing to watch him go.
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