The dining hall on Bravo, angles of glinting steel, fit, annoyingly, the coldness of his cliffed face. He ate, slowly. Too slowly. Disgustingly slow, his arm an apathetic waterwheel, turning without thought or bogged down, perhaps, with too much. Only the sound of his spoon scraping the bowl, and the sound of his lips slurping in that irritating way of his augered for space in her throbbing headache. And damn if in his not looking at her, he seemed to hide, his chary tongue lizard-like in silence, retreating with soup back into his dark cave. Together they sat, but he ate alone, chewing Janus knew what, loudly. She removed her caressing hand from his inner thigh, and yet he breathed then as before, as if his thoughts were color and everything and everyone else but a blur of gray at the edge.She took a napkin and scribbled a few words. He pretended not to see, maybe couldn't see, his pain jealous of hand or help; just a little longer the siren call of agony, of loss, of grief demanding its due. Commanding it seemed, his attention, all of it, as he appeared not to see her leave. His eyes somewhere in his head.
I can't heal what I can't see. I'll be in my quarters if you want me. Don't come without your tongue.
He placed the napkin back down carefully, ironing it flat with the edge of his hand, staring at the whiteness as he once did at the sand, the sand before the cottage, where on his lap lay a flaming head of sun; or so it felt from the heat she breathed into his belly, her pearl lips translucent, iridescent in smile, in him, of an us in the sacred bond of release. A falling she would have said.
6 comments:
Magnificent image!
This chapter reminds me of a thought often thought in the context of reading a chapter, of symmetry, balance, of shape, perfect beginnings, perfect endings and perfect middles. They always seem so neat, consummate and complete regardless of how many (or few) moments, scenes and characters you delight us with. In short, every chapter as it is received is appraised as perfect.
The narrative is bewitchingly descriptive, so many times I was caught up in the sheer artistry of your phrasing as when she compared the steel to the cold and the way that she labels his slowness as disgusting. Irresistably intriguing is the use of this one particular word and the frustration that she must feel to word his pace as such. This chapter recalls many of the reasons that Em found an expansive place in so many hearts, within and with us, the somewhat, at least compared to some of the other characters, quiet exterior and her beautifully open heart, her caring and her sensitivity, and above all her inherent strength, the lengths to which she will go for those she loves, for what is right, even when there is little left to hope for, her faith, her need to continue, to act, remains as strong as ever.
And damn if in his not looking at her, he seemed to hide, his chary tongue lizard like in silence, retreating with soup back into his dark cave. They sat together, but he ate alone, chewing Janus knew what. Quoted for several reasons, the vividness and eloquence, the innovativeness and especially it highlights the naturalness of your writing, masterful and exciting in expression and with a flow so clean and so pure, it has the wonder of spring water flowing over rock, magical and natural at the same time. The scene is painted so perceptibly, the two sitting together, one looking to the other, the other not, everything about him exhibiting enclosure, his movements as they appear on the page, appear in the mind's eye as vividly, the loudest sound in the room the slow scraping of spoon, as jarring as the silence, the lack of communication, silent or verbal.
The transitions are seamless, from one paragraph to the next, it reads as a straight line, harmonious, connected, and poignant as she notices his breathing, in the way that she words her note, that she is there, if he decides he wants her to be.
Gifts (of you, the writer) shining brightest in the ending, precious memories pouring forth as his fingers move across the napkin, words to the table, and one is left wondering whether he is figuratively sealing them or erasing them.
So loved this chapter, I cannot even begin to express how much.
Sunshine, you butter my posts and in the buttering make them more delightful, especially to me. I take your kind words to heart as I try to get better with the writing, to understand better the art with which I play and in the process, hope not to run off too many readers. I still struggle with two things primarily: (1) over-writing and (2) speaking for my characters, thinking for them rather than stepping away and letting them have the stage. I tried to be better at the latter in this chapter and I was pleased beyond measure that you saw it, highlighted it--a good sign, for me. :-)
As always, thank you for the wonderful sentiments. :-)
Only you could perfect perfection. :-)
Oh my dear, you are too easy. ;-)
A "falling in"...
Yes S., a falling in, very much so, into, a swimming, a drinking, a taking within the afternoon quiver. :-)
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