measured_words (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
measured_words) wrote2006-04-03 06:23 pm
measured_words) wrote2006-04-03 06:23 pm
Entry tags:
Pieces Part Sixteen
A day late, but then, it is nearly twice as long as an average entry. I hope my few readers will forgive me, and enjoy this. Comments always welcome.
Other Pieces
Presumably I am meant to meet Anna somewhere inside. I am early again – it is only 12h50, and I have been here for a few minutes. I am standing in the pavilion overlooking the flat garden, with its expanse of raked white sand. The azaleas are not in bloom at this time of year. It is overcast and slightly cool. I feel out of place here, and remnants of this morning headache persist in confounding my clarity of thought. A quiet young Japanese woman with short black hair reminded me of the gardens' no cell-phone policy when I paid my admission. No food, drinks, or pets either, though this is easier to understand. Maybe they don't want the ringing phones to disrupt the atmosphere they are attempting to create, or else they don't want outside conversations and stress to intrude. Perhaps I would appreciate the isolation more if I weren't anxious about meeting Anna. It is still possible that she will change her mind again.
This is very much a foreign space. It is ordered, but in a way that is meaningless to me. I can sense that this is a powerful place, rich in the prime element. This space belongs to someone else, and instinct or training tell me they are not far away. I turn out of the pavilion and head back towards the gate. I am only here because of Anna.
It isn't much longer before she arrives. Like me, she chose to walk instead of catching the shuttle bus from the parking lot. Perhaps she wanted the extra time. She is wearing a green corduroy jacket and worn jeans, and has a back bag hanging off her left shoulder. I watch her pass through the admission gate. She will see me soon. Her hair is shorter than she used to wear it. I can feel the muscles in my back tense slightly, and my heart rate increases. What happens now?
She emerges from the ticket gate, looks around, and spots me. She smiles nervously and waves. I do the same, though the smile, like the situation, feels awkward. She looks me over as she approached, but it is hard to tell what she thinks. She looks very much like she did when I saw her in the woods. She doesn't seem so much older. She has put on some weight around her hips and breasts, but she wears it very well. The pale yellow blouse she is wearing under her jacket is quite low cut, and I catch a whiff of faded perfume on the breeze. She isn't wearing any make up, but she is wearing a heart shaped gold locket on a chain around her neck. I gave her something similar on our second anniversary but she wore it rarely and I am not sure if it is the same piece. Did she plan this? I'm not sure what message I should read from this, except to acknowledge that she is still very attractive. I shouldn't find this surprising, nor my own physical reaction.
"It's good to see you Anna."
"It's good to see you too, Daniel. You look good… maybe a little tired."
"I've been trying to keep busy." Should I tell her how she looks to me? Would that be too much? "You look nice. Well." She does seem a little tired, but she's probably had a fairly busy morning and had to drive into the city as well.
"Thanks." She smiles again. It's like seeing the sun after months of darkness, but it is fleeting. "So. Let's go to the ponds? Down by the koi?"
"If you like." It is one of the further parts of the gardens, across some low bridges, but the landscaping is impressive, as are the hundreds of white and orange koi in the lower pond. The paths there are more private as well, or are at least less exposed. At this time of day, there are not very many patrons, though I did see a handful of people following a guide on a tour headed towards the sand and stone garden.
"I haven't been here in a while. I'd like to go down and see them. I've heard they've been changing some things around." She keeps meeting my eyes and looking away. She's nervous. I feel awkward in a different way. I'm not sure what to say, or do, now. I don't want to stop looking at her, or to see her leave. But there are too many important things to say, still, and too much distance. I nod.
She starts off down the path towards the ponds, and I follow. She turns her head, and waits for me to fall in step beside her. I remember when we came here the first time. She was excited, and delighted with everything. She read all the pamphlets in detail, even borrowed library books afterwards, to learn the nuances of design and the care and attention. She told me she found it hard to understand how people could plan something so beautiful, imbued with so much meaning, and still have it seem so natural. I told her that everyone wants to make the world into what they want it to be. It may be even true, but not everyone has a clear vision of their ideal. I certainly don't.
The silence is charged. I still don't know how to start to tell her anything. I don't want to scare her by telling her that she is in danger. It could be true, but I don't know it for sure. Even if it is true, she isn't in immediate danger. Maybe this is just an excuse to keep her close to me, to make her need me. To protect her. What do I want? What do I really have to say? My headache is returning, or perhaps it is just nerves.
"Daniel?" I look over at her. She has paused at the foot of the first bridge. "Are you okay?"
"I'm sorry. I'm just not sure what to say now that you're really here."
"I know." She looks away again. "You seem really withdrawn."
"I don't mean to be." And yet my reaction even now is to step back, to analyze what she means. What am I doing how do I change it. I can't just step forward. I can't just feel – I need to think, to understand. Like now, just like this.
"I didn't mean to spook you. Are you sure you're okay?" She takes a hesitant step towards me.
"I have a bit of a headache." She looks at me strangely, and I don't blame her. It is an odd excuse, from me. "I know I seem distant, Anna. It's not what I intended."
"You sound calm. You look calm, poised, perfect…" She looks away. "But I know there's something wrong. You said you wanted to be honest with me, that you wanted my help." She looks up. She's nervous, even scared. Is she worried about me? Scared of me? I can't tell.
"I told you about the conditioning…"
"The brainwashing."
I nod. She seems uncertain. "I have a hard time connecting to things - to people."
"Even me?"
"So it seems." There are things I want to do to prove that wrong. I want to reach out, physically, to touch her, to hold her, and more, but there is a disconnect in my mind between desire and the ability to act. I don't know how to break form, and even these thoughts seem alien, and if I look too closely at them, they slip away.
But Anna steps closer to me. "You look pale." So close. I can feel the energy between us, the warmth of her. Just reach out, and do something. Why would she stand so close? Is this a test? Why can't I just accept this? And she backs away. "I'm sorry."
"Don't." Stay, come closer, let me hold you. "Please." Come back. "You have nothing to be sorry for. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." I want to make you happy.
"This whole situation is just confusing." She turns back to the bridge, and starts across. I follow, walking beside her again. "Maybe it sounds cliché, but I just want to know how much of the man I married is left. I still love him…. But I don't know who you are." She doesn't look at me, but her voice is strained.
"I don't know either." I am uncentered, ungrounded. "I am still trying to reclaim my life."
"And me?" She turns her face to me, looking expectant, and vulnerable. That was more forward than I had intended.
"You were a very important part of that." That's not right. It sounds dismissive. "The only part worth keeping." Is that too much? It isn't wrong.
"People keep telling me that I should stay away from you. That I can't trust you, that you'll just hurt me, you don't deserve another chance, that it will be hard for Danny… I'm still not even sure what you want. Do you want us to get back together? Or just be friends? Do you even want to be involved in your son's life?"
"I want you both in my life. I don't know what more I can say. I don't know what I can offer you." The things I want aren't possible for me right now. Not socially, and not psychologically.
"But you still care for us?"
"Of course."
We have reached the lower pond. A small waterfall runs into a field of lily pads at the far end, approachable across a low arching wooden bridge and a path of stepping stones set in the shape of the big dipper. Lush greenery surrounds the shore and exotic trees dip their foliage into the water. A number of koi are visible, swimming or floating just below the surface.
"What about my other family? Danny is already growing up in that world."
I am trying not to let that bother me. It's just conditioning. I don't know anything about them, really, or very little. "It is something I'll have to accept." And something I'll have to be careful about. I need to know what was in those files Brown was talking about, especially now.
"It's already hard. They're afraid of you. They don't even know anything about you. *I* don't, even."
"I know this isn't going to be easy." I don't have anything else. It is easy for me to choose. It is different for her. It is probably simpler to walk away, but she hasn't yet. "I don't know what I can do to help with that."
"Grant told me he talked to you." I nod. It isn't surprising. "That's hard too. I don't know what to tell him... But at least he doesn't think you are some kind of spy, or that you are just tricking me. Mostly not, anyway." She kneels down in the moss at the edge of the pond, trailing her fingers in the water. The closest fish fan their tails and swim further away. Should she be doing that? I still feel ill at ease here, and tired. I can't see any solutions to these obstacles.
"We'll figure something out." I just don't know what.
"Maybe."
"Anna." It is my turn to approach her. I stand beside her, on the bridge, resting against the rail of the bridge. "I don't know very much about your people. But I will do what I have to, and make what compromises are within my power."
"Alright." Sad and tired. I wish I could make this easier for her, but it is beyond my control. "I brought you something."
She opens her bag and reaches inside. It isn't very large, whatever it is. I should have brought her something. Flowers maybe. A card? I have never been good at this. I'm more perceptive than thoughtful. When we were together before, I was better at picking up on her subtlest hints, or remembering her comments on things she saw and liked, and important dates, and kept her happy that way. But I was never an inspired romantic, never intuitive the way she was. I only could give her what I knew she wanted. She would find things for me that I would never have even thought of. There is a difference, and I always found myself lacking.
"Here." She passes me a small green album of 4x6 prints. The cover is a portrait, presumably from this year, of Danny. He does look like me, with my hair and eyes, but he has his mother's finer features and slightly crooked nose. He is grinning, his brown hair is neatly brushed, and he is wearing a blue sweater with an appliqué of a monster truck. His eyes are bright – he looks happy, as though he is about to start laughing. "I thought maybe you should have some of these. Some of them are pretty old."
I can't stop looking. He's six years old now, and I've never seen him before. It seems much more real now, and I feel all the more distant. He has a whole life that I am not a part of. Who am I to intrude? And more pictures inside, probably younger ones. All those years I missed. There is a small part of my mind that cries out against everything that this young stranger has cost me, but it shames me. None of this is his fault, and he is as trapped by it as I.
"Aren't you going to look at them?" She is standing beside me now. I didn't notice her rise.
"I can't." I can't handle more of this right now.
"It's okay." She put her hand on my arm. What am I doing? What's wrong with me? My hand covers her. It is such a little thing – it isn't enough. It's like a shock. Her skin is cool. She looks up at me, eyes full of concern. "You're shaking."
Am I? I stop. I let go, step back. She looks confused. I'm not sure what happened either, but my headache is back in full force. I'm just not together today. Data corrupt. Is that it, from the dream? Is this real? It must be.
"I'm sorry, Anna. It's been… a strange day." Weak. I shouldn't be so weak. I'm ruining this time we have.
"Maybe you should go home and lie down?"
"I think that might be wise."
"Alright. I guess we head back." She hesitates for a moment, watching to see that I'm okay. But I'm in control again, and I'm sure all she sees is that distance. I still have the album in hand, but I slip it into a pocket without looking at it again. Later, alone, I will take the time to go through it carefully. We walk in silence back out through the orchids beds to the first bridge, and Anna occasionally looks over at me sometimes with concern, or apprehension. I've only confused her further – it's frustrating.
We are almost back out to the garden entrance when a thin Japanese man in a pale grey kimono with a design of cranes in flight approaches us. They occasionally have interpreters in traditional dress at the gardens, to serve as guide or for cultural festivals or demonstrations. He is around my age, perhaps slightly younger. His black hair is pulled back in a tight topknot. He bows, and we stop.
"Honored guests. There is a tea ceremony to be performed this afternoon here in the Tea Garden. We would be pleased to have you attend and observed."
It is apparent even through my distraction that this man is more than he seems. A Tradition mage perhaps? Some other Deviant? Something else, even? I should be more careful with my thoughts. I look over to Anna sensing her disappointment. She has seen the ceremonies before, of course, but she enjoys them. I don't know how long it has been since she came here. This is a public place, and a public event, and there is no threat here.
"Why don't you go ahead."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'll be fine." I'm sure I will be better once I leave here, and some rest will do me good as well. I am drained.
"Thanks," she says to me, and smiles at the man. He bows again, watching me.
"You will not accompany the lady?"
"Not today."
Anna smiles nervously, and I wonder if she is aware that she is missing some element of this exchange.
"Perhaps if you live locally, you will return for a performance another day?" He is curious. Is that all he wants, to know who I am? Is this common? I will consider it later.
"Perhaps." I turn to Anna. "It was good to see you. Maybe another day things will go more smoothly."
"It will." She smiles for me, radiant. I feel like I have failed her. "I'll call you."
I nod, and force a smile as she turns to accompany her guide. I will go back out to my car and take a moment to clear my mind before I drive home. After I rest, I will look at the photos.
Other Pieces
Presumably I am meant to meet Anna somewhere inside. I am early again – it is only 12h50, and I have been here for a few minutes. I am standing in the pavilion overlooking the flat garden, with its expanse of raked white sand. The azaleas are not in bloom at this time of year. It is overcast and slightly cool. I feel out of place here, and remnants of this morning headache persist in confounding my clarity of thought. A quiet young Japanese woman with short black hair reminded me of the gardens' no cell-phone policy when I paid my admission. No food, drinks, or pets either, though this is easier to understand. Maybe they don't want the ringing phones to disrupt the atmosphere they are attempting to create, or else they don't want outside conversations and stress to intrude. Perhaps I would appreciate the isolation more if I weren't anxious about meeting Anna. It is still possible that she will change her mind again.
This is very much a foreign space. It is ordered, but in a way that is meaningless to me. I can sense that this is a powerful place, rich in the prime element. This space belongs to someone else, and instinct or training tell me they are not far away. I turn out of the pavilion and head back towards the gate. I am only here because of Anna.
It isn't much longer before she arrives. Like me, she chose to walk instead of catching the shuttle bus from the parking lot. Perhaps she wanted the extra time. She is wearing a green corduroy jacket and worn jeans, and has a back bag hanging off her left shoulder. I watch her pass through the admission gate. She will see me soon. Her hair is shorter than she used to wear it. I can feel the muscles in my back tense slightly, and my heart rate increases. What happens now?
She emerges from the ticket gate, looks around, and spots me. She smiles nervously and waves. I do the same, though the smile, like the situation, feels awkward. She looks me over as she approached, but it is hard to tell what she thinks. She looks very much like she did when I saw her in the woods. She doesn't seem so much older. She has put on some weight around her hips and breasts, but she wears it very well. The pale yellow blouse she is wearing under her jacket is quite low cut, and I catch a whiff of faded perfume on the breeze. She isn't wearing any make up, but she is wearing a heart shaped gold locket on a chain around her neck. I gave her something similar on our second anniversary but she wore it rarely and I am not sure if it is the same piece. Did she plan this? I'm not sure what message I should read from this, except to acknowledge that she is still very attractive. I shouldn't find this surprising, nor my own physical reaction.
"It's good to see you Anna."
"It's good to see you too, Daniel. You look good… maybe a little tired."
"I've been trying to keep busy." Should I tell her how she looks to me? Would that be too much? "You look nice. Well." She does seem a little tired, but she's probably had a fairly busy morning and had to drive into the city as well.
"Thanks." She smiles again. It's like seeing the sun after months of darkness, but it is fleeting. "So. Let's go to the ponds? Down by the koi?"
"If you like." It is one of the further parts of the gardens, across some low bridges, but the landscaping is impressive, as are the hundreds of white and orange koi in the lower pond. The paths there are more private as well, or are at least less exposed. At this time of day, there are not very many patrons, though I did see a handful of people following a guide on a tour headed towards the sand and stone garden.
"I haven't been here in a while. I'd like to go down and see them. I've heard they've been changing some things around." She keeps meeting my eyes and looking away. She's nervous. I feel awkward in a different way. I'm not sure what to say, or do, now. I don't want to stop looking at her, or to see her leave. But there are too many important things to say, still, and too much distance. I nod.
She starts off down the path towards the ponds, and I follow. She turns her head, and waits for me to fall in step beside her. I remember when we came here the first time. She was excited, and delighted with everything. She read all the pamphlets in detail, even borrowed library books afterwards, to learn the nuances of design and the care and attention. She told me she found it hard to understand how people could plan something so beautiful, imbued with so much meaning, and still have it seem so natural. I told her that everyone wants to make the world into what they want it to be. It may be even true, but not everyone has a clear vision of their ideal. I certainly don't.
The silence is charged. I still don't know how to start to tell her anything. I don't want to scare her by telling her that she is in danger. It could be true, but I don't know it for sure. Even if it is true, she isn't in immediate danger. Maybe this is just an excuse to keep her close to me, to make her need me. To protect her. What do I want? What do I really have to say? My headache is returning, or perhaps it is just nerves.
"Daniel?" I look over at her. She has paused at the foot of the first bridge. "Are you okay?"
"I'm sorry. I'm just not sure what to say now that you're really here."
"I know." She looks away again. "You seem really withdrawn."
"I don't mean to be." And yet my reaction even now is to step back, to analyze what she means. What am I doing how do I change it. I can't just step forward. I can't just feel – I need to think, to understand. Like now, just like this.
"I didn't mean to spook you. Are you sure you're okay?" She takes a hesitant step towards me.
"I have a bit of a headache." She looks at me strangely, and I don't blame her. It is an odd excuse, from me. "I know I seem distant, Anna. It's not what I intended."
"You sound calm. You look calm, poised, perfect…" She looks away. "But I know there's something wrong. You said you wanted to be honest with me, that you wanted my help." She looks up. She's nervous, even scared. Is she worried about me? Scared of me? I can't tell.
"I told you about the conditioning…"
"The brainwashing."
I nod. She seems uncertain. "I have a hard time connecting to things - to people."
"Even me?"
"So it seems." There are things I want to do to prove that wrong. I want to reach out, physically, to touch her, to hold her, and more, but there is a disconnect in my mind between desire and the ability to act. I don't know how to break form, and even these thoughts seem alien, and if I look too closely at them, they slip away.
But Anna steps closer to me. "You look pale." So close. I can feel the energy between us, the warmth of her. Just reach out, and do something. Why would she stand so close? Is this a test? Why can't I just accept this? And she backs away. "I'm sorry."
"Don't." Stay, come closer, let me hold you. "Please." Come back. "You have nothing to be sorry for. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." I want to make you happy.
"This whole situation is just confusing." She turns back to the bridge, and starts across. I follow, walking beside her again. "Maybe it sounds cliché, but I just want to know how much of the man I married is left. I still love him…. But I don't know who you are." She doesn't look at me, but her voice is strained.
"I don't know either." I am uncentered, ungrounded. "I am still trying to reclaim my life."
"And me?" She turns her face to me, looking expectant, and vulnerable. That was more forward than I had intended.
"You were a very important part of that." That's not right. It sounds dismissive. "The only part worth keeping." Is that too much? It isn't wrong.
"People keep telling me that I should stay away from you. That I can't trust you, that you'll just hurt me, you don't deserve another chance, that it will be hard for Danny… I'm still not even sure what you want. Do you want us to get back together? Or just be friends? Do you even want to be involved in your son's life?"
"I want you both in my life. I don't know what more I can say. I don't know what I can offer you." The things I want aren't possible for me right now. Not socially, and not psychologically.
"But you still care for us?"
"Of course."
We have reached the lower pond. A small waterfall runs into a field of lily pads at the far end, approachable across a low arching wooden bridge and a path of stepping stones set in the shape of the big dipper. Lush greenery surrounds the shore and exotic trees dip their foliage into the water. A number of koi are visible, swimming or floating just below the surface.
"What about my other family? Danny is already growing up in that world."
I am trying not to let that bother me. It's just conditioning. I don't know anything about them, really, or very little. "It is something I'll have to accept." And something I'll have to be careful about. I need to know what was in those files Brown was talking about, especially now.
"It's already hard. They're afraid of you. They don't even know anything about you. *I* don't, even."
"I know this isn't going to be easy." I don't have anything else. It is easy for me to choose. It is different for her. It is probably simpler to walk away, but she hasn't yet. "I don't know what I can do to help with that."
"Grant told me he talked to you." I nod. It isn't surprising. "That's hard too. I don't know what to tell him... But at least he doesn't think you are some kind of spy, or that you are just tricking me. Mostly not, anyway." She kneels down in the moss at the edge of the pond, trailing her fingers in the water. The closest fish fan their tails and swim further away. Should she be doing that? I still feel ill at ease here, and tired. I can't see any solutions to these obstacles.
"We'll figure something out." I just don't know what.
"Maybe."
"Anna." It is my turn to approach her. I stand beside her, on the bridge, resting against the rail of the bridge. "I don't know very much about your people. But I will do what I have to, and make what compromises are within my power."
"Alright." Sad and tired. I wish I could make this easier for her, but it is beyond my control. "I brought you something."
She opens her bag and reaches inside. It isn't very large, whatever it is. I should have brought her something. Flowers maybe. A card? I have never been good at this. I'm more perceptive than thoughtful. When we were together before, I was better at picking up on her subtlest hints, or remembering her comments on things she saw and liked, and important dates, and kept her happy that way. But I was never an inspired romantic, never intuitive the way she was. I only could give her what I knew she wanted. She would find things for me that I would never have even thought of. There is a difference, and I always found myself lacking.
"Here." She passes me a small green album of 4x6 prints. The cover is a portrait, presumably from this year, of Danny. He does look like me, with my hair and eyes, but he has his mother's finer features and slightly crooked nose. He is grinning, his brown hair is neatly brushed, and he is wearing a blue sweater with an appliqué of a monster truck. His eyes are bright – he looks happy, as though he is about to start laughing. "I thought maybe you should have some of these. Some of them are pretty old."
I can't stop looking. He's six years old now, and I've never seen him before. It seems much more real now, and I feel all the more distant. He has a whole life that I am not a part of. Who am I to intrude? And more pictures inside, probably younger ones. All those years I missed. There is a small part of my mind that cries out against everything that this young stranger has cost me, but it shames me. None of this is his fault, and he is as trapped by it as I.
"Aren't you going to look at them?" She is standing beside me now. I didn't notice her rise.
"I can't." I can't handle more of this right now.
"It's okay." She put her hand on my arm. What am I doing? What's wrong with me? My hand covers her. It is such a little thing – it isn't enough. It's like a shock. Her skin is cool. She looks up at me, eyes full of concern. "You're shaking."
Am I? I stop. I let go, step back. She looks confused. I'm not sure what happened either, but my headache is back in full force. I'm just not together today. Data corrupt. Is that it, from the dream? Is this real? It must be.
"I'm sorry, Anna. It's been… a strange day." Weak. I shouldn't be so weak. I'm ruining this time we have.
"Maybe you should go home and lie down?"
"I think that might be wise."
"Alright. I guess we head back." She hesitates for a moment, watching to see that I'm okay. But I'm in control again, and I'm sure all she sees is that distance. I still have the album in hand, but I slip it into a pocket without looking at it again. Later, alone, I will take the time to go through it carefully. We walk in silence back out through the orchids beds to the first bridge, and Anna occasionally looks over at me sometimes with concern, or apprehension. I've only confused her further – it's frustrating.
We are almost back out to the garden entrance when a thin Japanese man in a pale grey kimono with a design of cranes in flight approaches us. They occasionally have interpreters in traditional dress at the gardens, to serve as guide or for cultural festivals or demonstrations. He is around my age, perhaps slightly younger. His black hair is pulled back in a tight topknot. He bows, and we stop.
"Honored guests. There is a tea ceremony to be performed this afternoon here in the Tea Garden. We would be pleased to have you attend and observed."
It is apparent even through my distraction that this man is more than he seems. A Tradition mage perhaps? Some other Deviant? Something else, even? I should be more careful with my thoughts. I look over to Anna sensing her disappointment. She has seen the ceremonies before, of course, but she enjoys them. I don't know how long it has been since she came here. This is a public place, and a public event, and there is no threat here.
"Why don't you go ahead."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'll be fine." I'm sure I will be better once I leave here, and some rest will do me good as well. I am drained.
"Thanks," she says to me, and smiles at the man. He bows again, watching me.
"You will not accompany the lady?"
"Not today."
Anna smiles nervously, and I wonder if she is aware that she is missing some element of this exchange.
"Perhaps if you live locally, you will return for a performance another day?" He is curious. Is that all he wants, to know who I am? Is this common? I will consider it later.
"Perhaps." I turn to Anna. "It was good to see you. Maybe another day things will go more smoothly."
"It will." She smiles for me, radiant. I feel like I have failed her. "I'll call you."
I nod, and force a smile as she turns to accompany her guide. I will go back out to my car and take a moment to clear my mind before I drive home. After I rest, I will look at the photos.