Don't Touch

by Barbara Taub

  “Stefan.”

  “I’m just saying goodnight.” He put George and my backpack onto the luggage rack and turned me to face the mirror. I watched as his hands moved slowly down my arms, circling my waist and pressing my stomach until I was curving back into him. His heart beat against my back as his lips eased my braid aside to taste the back of my neck. Looking for anything to hold onto, I ran my gloves along his arms.

  In the mirror in front of us, I watched his hands move slowly up my rib cage. His head bent as his mouth followed the line of my throat, easing my head around until his lips were smiling against mine. Stefan was every one of my senses; arms wrapping mine, hands softly stroking up to my breasts, citrus and male smells blending. Our tongues tasted each other, and I was already turning in his arms when he raised his head, and the eye patch caught the light.

  “No!” I stumbled back against the dresser. “This has already cost you an eye. I can’t take a chance…we can’t risk…not until we’re both normal…”

  Stefan froze. He sucked in a deep breath that sounded like a groan, and held onto the edge of the dresser for a long moment before he straightened up. I felt the barest touch of his lips as they brushed mine. “Good night, Lette.”

  So here I am, just waiting to get normal. Exhausted, but I can’t sleep. I asked room service for a milkshake and a pile of paper napkins. Every few minutes, I touch a napkin, and it turns into a miniature Pony-Buddy. I wonder if they’ll change back when I’m not a freak anymore?

   •●• 

  Still Freaking

  LiveJournal, November 1, 2012 by LetteS

  Null City doesn’t work. At least, it doesn’t work for me. Or George. When I woke up the second morning after we arrived, I was so excited to touch a napkin. It burst into flame and I burst into tears. Maybe, I thought, it just needs more time.

  Stefan knocked on my door, but I told him to go away. By lunchtime, he was banging the door. I finally opened it a crack and stepped back. Stefan was still the handsomest man I’d ever seen but he was…different. A pair of dress slacks and a blue blazer replaced the Hollywood clothes. His hair was much shorter and parted on one side. And he was wearing a pair of leather loafers with little tassels.

  “Lette!” He started talking right away. “I have a job interview at the middle school this afternoon. Do you mind being left alone? We can go out to dinner when I get back, and I’ll tell you all about it.”

  “Um…” I had to ask. “Is that a sweater vest under that jacket?” He nodded a bit sheepishly, and held up a tie. I was still recovering from the shoe-tassels, so I just shook my head and wished him luck.

  All afternoon I burned up one napkin after another. Finally I pulled out the business card from Poppy’s travel agency. She answered on the first ring. When I could stop crying long enough to tell her what happened, or rather what had not happened, she said she’d be right over.

  Her grin from that first day was gone as I let her into my hotel room and waved her over to a chair. I started from the beginning and told her everything. Somewhere during my story, she must have picked up George because the little traitor was lying in boneless bliss on her lap as I poured out my tale of misery. I ended by firing up another napkin.

  Poppy shook her head. “I’ve never known anyone to take longer than one day to convert to human.” She rubbed George’s chin. “But maybe we should wait one more day to see what happens.” She gave me a quick hug as she was leaving, but there was still no sign of her grin.

   •●• 

  Once a Freak, Always a Freak

  LiveJournal, November 2, 2012 by LetteS

  Today’s touch is cufflinks. Stefan should be pleased.

   •●• 

  What AM I?

  LiveJournal, November 14, 2012 by LetteS

  Stefan thinks I need therapy. He already loves Null City, so he keeps trying to get me to go out more, explore the city, and see why he likes it here so much. I’ve tried. Every day I put on three pairs of gloves and wander around, wondering about the people I see. That lady with the spider web scars all over—what was she before coming to Null City to start her photography studio? Or the happy couple at the park pushing tiny twins on the swings—what did they leave behind? The City itself reminds me of a trip I took once to Portland with Mom and Dad, before my touch started, of course. There are some old buildings, even brick streets in the center of town. There are trees everywhere, lining the wide streets and all the little parks. Everything looks so normal. George hates it.

  Most nights Stefan and I eat dinner together. He talks, all about his day, and his job, and the new people he’s met. As hard as I try to listen to the stories about his school and the political wrangling of the other teachers, I can’t help missing the bad boy wannabe I first met. On the nights I’m being honest with myself, I remember that even back at my cabin I wondered how I’d fit into his life.

  Stefan tries to be patient with me. But since he doesn’t really remember about my touch, he’s decided I have commitment issues. Each night when we kiss outside my door, I can tell he’s getting more frustrated by my refusal to let him stay with me.

  Tonight I realized Null City hasn’t changed either of us as much as we expected. I still have my touch. And in his new job as vice-principal at the Null City Middle School, Stefan is in charge of enforcing school discipline. So he is still striking fear into the hearts of children. Only now he gets paid for it.

   •●• 

  Seriously, What AM I?

  LiveJournal, November 20, 2012 by LetteS

  In the weeks that we’ve been here, Stefan has made a lot of friends, and one of them told him about a house for sale near his school. Since today was Saturday, and he didn’t have to work, the realtor said she would meet us there this morning.

  The house turned out to be a dark green Craftsman style cottage with a wide porch and a yard surrounded by an actual picket fence. Inside we saw a kitchen with a sunny window looking out to the backyard. “Wood floors,” sang Kirstin, the perky little realtor. She opened blue eyes wide and bounced her blonde curls. “And can you believe it?” She put a hand on Stefan’s arm and leaned closer for the big reveal. “A new roof!”

  While they went to find a ladder and get a closer look at the roof marvel, I wandered out to the back yard. A hammock stretched between two trees. Picnic table, barbecue pit, swings, and a sandbox. I tried to picture cerulean-blue-eyed children on the swings. But they all had blonde curls like Kirstin the realtor, who was up on the roof telling Stefan about the neighborhood association’s parties.

  I called up to them to say my headache was back, and I was heading for the hotel with George. Before I’d even gone a block, Stefan caught up. He took George’s carrier, set it down on the sidewalk, and wrapped both arms around me. I didn’t know I was crying until Stefan’s thumbs wiped tears from my cheeks. He pulled me closer, kissing my eyelids and then my lips. “Lette, if you don’t like the house…”

  I pulled away. “I’m so sorry. Stefan, the house is perfect for you. The only thing that doesn’t fit there is me.” He reached for me, but I backed away too quickly. “I’m just…sorry.”

  I didn’t stop running until I reached the travel agency where Poppy works. She took one look and walked me over to the ice-cream parlor outside the Metro station. “Emergency, Marie,” Poppy yelled as we stepped inside. “Set us up with chocolate and caffeine, and keep them coming.”

  By the time I finished the hot fudge sundae (extra fudge) and the latte chaser (extra shot), I had stopped crying long enough to tell Poppy about the house and the realtor. Poppy nodded when I asked if she knew Kristin. “She was just so nice,” I said. “So normal. You could tell she would never turn people into s’mores or Pony-Buddies.”

  Poppy looked dubious. “Not unless there was a commission in it. She used to be a minor dragon, and they’d sell their grandmothers to add to their hoard.” We both snickered.

  Poppy’s eyes widened. I turned around t
o see what she was looking at, but she was already running toward the glass window wall where the back of the restaurant opened onto the Metro station. A minute later she came back dragging a man by the arm. “If anyone can figure this out, it’s…”

  “Hi, Rag.”

  Poppy blinked. “You know Raguel?”

  He stared at the hand I held out. A quick glance at my reflection in the window showed a red nose, swollen eyes, and tear-streaked chocolate smearing one cheek. Not my finest hour. I was just about to pull back when Rag dipped a paper napkin into my water glass and wiped the fudge sauce off my gloves. Then he formally shook my hand. “Hello, Rapunzel. How do you like normal life outside your tower?”

  “Ix-nay on the normal,” Poppy said. “She didn’t change.”

  Rag looked interested and even pleased. “I had a theory about that.”

  We both stared at him.

  Rag did that air-reach thing again and pulled out his NOTES book. But instead of sitting down, he shifted from foot to foot. “Could we go back into the Metro station? I don’t want to risk changing.”

  Poppy nodded, but I couldn’t help asking, “Why not? Who wouldn’t like to live like a normal human?”

  Rag pushed his glasses to the top of his head, spreading his dark curls into that spiky halo. “I tried that once.”

  “And?”

  “I wasn’t good at it.”

  Poppy led us back into the Metro Station to tables outside a coffee shop called Latte’s Inferno. Rag and I sat down, but Poppy explained that she had to get back to work and made me promise to call her later. Rag was looking at his NOTES book, so I brought two lattes back to the table and started updating this journal entry. Rag just realized his cup was empty and cleared his throat to get my attention, so guess that’s it for now.

   •●• 

  Date: November 20, 2012

  To: skrampus@nullcitymiddleschool.edu

  From: hates.george@homemail.com

  Subject: Thank you and goodbye

  Dear Stefan,

  You are probably just going to forget this again, but I have to try to explain. I have a kind of…medical condition…that can infect and destroy things if I touch them directly with my hands. That’s why I wear the surgical gloves. I came to Null City with you, in hopes of curing that condition, but unfortunately it didn’t work for me.

  Do you remember Rag, the man we met on the Metro coming in? His real name is Raguel, and he has a theory that my problem comes from the same place as the Metro, because it doesn’t seem to follow any of the patterns of other known gifts. In other words, because my touch is not from this universe, Null City can’t cure me.

  It means I can’t stay here. I just can’t risk hurting you. But I wanted to thank you for bringing me here. You helped me to finally understand what great-aunt Roulette wrote. The only one holding me prisoner was myself. So Stefan, you actually did rescue me, and for that you’ll always own part of my heart. I know that Null City has given you the same freedom, and I hope that it gives you happiness as well.

  Please be happy, my friend.

  —Lette

   •●• 

  Seriously, What AM I? Part 2

  LiveJournal, November 20, 2012 by LetteS

  Back at my hotel, I hit send on the goodbye email to Stefan and began shoving everything I could fit into my backpack. I had just stuffed George back into his carrier when the pounding on my door started. “Lette!” There may have been someone in the hotel who was unconscious, but I’m pretty sure everyone else could hear Stefan’s bellow. “Open. The damn. Door. NOW!”

  I cracked the door. “I knew I should have waited to send that email.”

  Stefan stood in the hall, chest heaving like he’d been running, holding his phone out to me. “What is this?” He pointed to my message on the little screen. “Your friend? Since when are we just ‘friends’?”

  I motioned him inside and closed the door. But once he was in my room, we just stared at each other.

  Finally I whispered, “I’m so sorry I was such a coward. I get that it’s lame to say goodbye in an email, and you know I’m not good with emotions. But Stefan, do you remember Rag, the one who helped us get onto the Metro back in Seattle? He’s been doing research about me, and he has a theory that Null City can’t give me a normal human life because my touch—I mean my medical problem—isn’t from this dimension. He is convinced it comes from the same place as the Metro. So I’ve decided to ride the Metro for a while and see if I can learn anything else. I’m just so sorry, but I can’t stay in Null City, and you can’t leave until your Amnesty Day next year.”

  He shook his head and stepped closer, his hands framing my chin as he bent to whisper. “Stay. You can. I know we belong together.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “What do you want me to say? That I love you?”

  “Do you?”

  The blue eye next to the eye patch closed. When he opened it again, it was shiny and wet. “I could. I know I need you. You just have to let yourself need me back.”

  My gloves pulled his shoulders closer, but it was my lips that touched his cheeks, the eye patch, his closed eyelid. “It shouldn’t be this hard. We shouldn’t have to try.” I breathed the words against his ear. “Goodbye, Stefan.”

  I wouldn’t let him come with me to the Metro, because I wanted to stop by Kirstin’s real estate office. As I wrote a check for the asking price of the house, I told her to put the deed in Stefan’s name. When she reached for the check, I put my gloved hand on her wrist and looked straight into her eyes. “He needs to love someone.” I held her wrist a moment, even as she tried to pull away. “But mostly he needs to be loved. You don’t want to know how upset it would make me to find out that someone else hurt him.”

  When the ticket machine at the Metro Station asked for a destination, I said that I needed to stay on the Metro for now. To my amazement, the conductor opened her eyes and said, “Ticketing options for Lette Simoneau. Open ticket in exchange for service agreement.”

  I pulled the ticket lever, and my left arm felt like it was on fire. Jerking back, I waved the arm for a moment and then held it up to my face. A bright red, three-inch long train engine was tattooed against my inner wrist. You know how I wrote a while ago that loneliness is sharper than physical pain? Well, that’s crap. This sucker hurt like a whole houseful of lonelies.

  As the train pulled out, I saw Poppy standing on the platform. She gave me two thumbs-up and added a grin. Ridiculous, I know, but suddenly I felt—not happy, but hopeful. I waved.

  Chapter Six

  Metro Rider

  LiveJournal, November 20, 2012 by LetteS

  Traveling on the Metro is boring. There’s nothing to see out of the windows, while the sound and motion of the wheels against the rails is so…soothing…

   •●• 

  Metro Rider, Part 2

  LiveJournal, November 20, 2012 by LetteS

  “Coffee or Tea? Sandwiches?” I opened my eyes to see a food trolley next to my chair. The young man pushing it politely repeated, “Something to eat or drink?”

  “What do you have?”

  With the jeans and long-sleeve shirt, he looked like someone who happened to wander by and decided to push the trolley. A closer look showed the jeans were designer, the shirt had a little train logo, and his short blond hair was even more rigorously styled than Stefan’s Hollywood phase. He shook his head without enthusiasm, but his hazel eyes looked interested behind the trendy dark-framed glasses. “Not much, actually. Those sandwiches have been around a while. Unless you’re starving, I’d stick to coffee.”

  I nodded, but as I reached up, I heard him suck in his breath. Setting down the cup he’d been holding out, he grabbed my wrist and bent down to look at the train tattoo. “Ow!” I pulled back, realizing that we were alone in the train car. “No, it’s okay.” He pulled back his shirt cuff to show me a duplicate of my tattoo. But where mine flamed bright on my wrist, his was b
arely visible. “You’re the new SA?”

  “New what?”

  “Service Agreement. I knew you had to be coming soon, because my tattoo is almost gone. Come on. I have a feeling we don’t have much time.”

  He told me his name was Jacob, and that his partner Anton was a minor demon. Between them, they had enough for only one ticket to Null City, so Jacob— “Only one person gets to call me Jake” —had accepted a service contract. He had taken over from a young girl who wanted to ride the Metro while she looked for her missing brother and sister before going to Null City.

  Actually, Jacob had little to show me and even less to tell. In the last car of the train is a small bedroom and bathroom with a tiny shower, located behind a larger kitchen with a huge walk-in freezer. Looking inside the freezer, I noticed that it was empty. Supplies are ordered regularly, Jacob explained, but they come on board erratically at various stops because the Metro doesn’t travel in a straight chronological line. So you have to just eat what’s available and store as much as possible in the freezer. He lived for almost a week once on granola and powdered coffee creamer. At the moment, there was a cabinet packed with bags of coffee beans, and another overflowing with packets of sugar, artificial sweeteners, and creamers, but little else.

  We talked while Jacob showed me where to find sheets and towels, as well as the stash of train-logo shirts and the little washer/dryer. At one point he looked up from packing his bag to ask, “What are you?”

  When I just shook my head, he clarified, “I’m a human. My partner Anton and I were worried about other demons coming after him, but we could only scrape together enough for one ticket. So he went to Null City first and I accepted the SA. What’s your story?”