Post by Dreamfire on Jun 7, 2009 7:37:52 GMT -5
Message and a Bottle
It was only the second time he had met Asha at her place. They usually rendezvous’d at his apartment but he had been at a crime scene nearby and she was on her way home when he called her.
As she had arranged, security had let him in and he probably wouldn’t have to wait long. He got to the table, and found the bottle of beer she had mentioned, sitting in a champagne bucket of ice. He smiled as he opened it, these little treats, they were small, not a lot of effort but somehow they always hit the target. He twisted the top off and took a slug. He wondered that the apartment was like. As a cop he’d often gotten such a strong idea of a person by looking over their personal space, albeit usually when they had been a victim…“Come on, Hank, let’s explore.”
Jim returned to the table. Exploring hadn’t been as much fun as he thought it would, and although he expected she wouldn’t mind, he found himself self conscious. He felt like looking over his shoulder or being silent so he would hear her return.
So he returned to the table where the beer had been and sat. Hank sank to the floor and began snoring almost immediately. I hope she’s not going to be too long. Hank’s gotta be hungry already. It’s not fair his stomach has to wait on my love life. Jim’s meandering thoughts stopped dead in their tracks. Love life? Where had that come from?
This was just a hot and fast affair. Love; that was another matter. But his face was telling him otherwise. He could feel that goofy grin Karen had mentioned today spreading over his face uncontrolled, and felt relief that he wasn’t sitting in the squad thinking this. Advertising his feelings like a teenager.
Come on girl, get home, let’s get busy. I wanna catch the game on the radio tonight. He tried to tough-guy the grin off his face but the remnants wouldn’t leave. Without being conscious of it, his hands started scoping the table in front of him. Wooden edge, 4 inches wide, good timber, he could feel the grain if he touched lightly enough, beveled glass insert. CSI could have a field day with his fingerprints if they wanted to. A wooden box of some sort, about two and a half inches high, plywood most likely, by the grain on the lid, not polished or painted though, interesting, all the wooden stuff in Asha’s place was usually highly polished, sometimes even lacquered. He imagined her rooms had highly polished surfaces everywhere, shining back in reds and browns.
He finished his beer. Pressies, she had said, pressies on the table, maybe there was another beer… but no, one beer, and this box. It only belatedly occurred to him this box might be for him. His grin returned, last time there had been a surprise like this it had been lingerie, he then got to dress his doll for the night. Fantasy had never been his thing, but with Asha even silly games became engrossing. And as long as it ends in the sex we’ve been enjoying, who cares? He thought. He wondered for a moment if Christie would have enjoyed some fantasies. She had never mentioned it, but possibly she would have liked them too.
The box, he couldn’t put it off, perhaps it was for him and he was being an idiot sitting here not opening it. Or it wasn’t for him in which case he would know when he opened it and could close it and hope she didn’t notice.
He lifted the box, heavy, solid, nothing moved or rustled, not lingerie then. About 15 by 10, oh no, he hoped it wasn’t a Braille book. He’d been given them before, each time smiling and saying thank you and being forced to make excuses each time he met that person again as to why he hadn’t got around to reading their wonderful present.
If this was a Braille book, Asha would never let him get away with excuses, she’d find out that he had just about given up on Braille, spending less than an hour a week trying to learn this fucking other language. It made him feel stupid and lumbering, trying to discern the tiny little dots with his fingers and make out the code. He had finally managed to learn the alphabet and could read, stilted and often having to guess when they used contractions. He hated it. Worse even than using a cane. He tried to release the tension in his neck.
He sighed and lifted the box to shake the book out, but nothing shifted, a wooden box for a book? No that didn’t fit. He put it down again and lifted the lid, a soft innocuous odor rose. He couldn’t place it. He reached in carefully but whatever it was filled the whole box. He slid his hand along the surface, soap? But it was too big, about 15 inches long and 10 inches wide, like a laptop or a large book. He ran his hands lightly over the surface, almost felt like a candle. He sought a wick or anything that would give him a better clue.
He stopped, something had been scored into the surface; he traced the line. An image came to his mind, he saw a heart scored into a tree trunk. A heart, she had scored a heart into the surface. So, his pressie was a message. He traced it again and as he ran his hand over it he found something inside, his brows furrowed, he couldn’t make it out. But it was something inside the heart.
“Darling?”
Jim turned, Hank’s tail was wagging, his muzzle on Jim’s lap. Jim had been so engrossed he hadn’t even heard her door open; he must remember to degrease her hinge so he would know when the door opened. It had worked a treat at his own apartment, now every door told him when it was being opened or closed.
“Hey, at last.” He turned and stood opening his arms. She came into them and hugged him, kissed him long and deep. She stepped away again and he heard her rummaging at the kitchen
“I see you found your pressie. But can it wait another moment? I imagine Hank must be starving and last time I was at your place I got the name of his dog food, so there’s some in the fridge. You want to feed him?”
“Yes, that’s great, now I know why he likes you so much.”
“It’s on the middle shelf, you know where everything else is. Oh, and there’s a bowl he can use in this shopping.” The rustled the bags on the bench. “I need to change, call me if you want me.”
Jim touched the box again, he felt torn away, he hadn’t found out what was in the heart yet, but she was right, Hank must have known what she was saying - he was nudging Jim on the leg. “Alright, Hank, dinner.”
He rummaged through the grocery bags, found the bowl, nice, ceramic, and with raised letters on the side. “Right Hand Man.” Great, Jim grinned, where did she find such things? There was also ice cream, he opened it but could not tell the flavor, cold made things very hard to smell. That went into the freezer. Butter, eggs milk, easy. Then some boxes, Jim put them aside on the bench, better to leave them for her to do than put hairspray in the fridge thinking it was whipped cream or something worse in the cereal box spot.
Jim found the dog, food, it smelled the same, and he knew Asha understood how strict Hank’s diet was. He took a knife from the block and estimated the amount Hank would need. At home he prepared Hank’s food once a week, measuring and weighing exactly as he had been taught on guide team training, but this was one night and as long as it was the right food it should be fine. Feeling for the sink to wash up, Jim found a scale set up, plastic in the tray and all. Asha came back in. By the sound of it she was pulling a sweater over her head as she spoke.
“Do you need to weight Hank’s food? I wasn’t sure but there is a scale there.”
Jim held it up, dial side out, “And I’m supposed to read the scale how?
Asha took it out of his hands. “Okay my boo boo,” He heard a click and clatter as something hit the bench. “Now try.” He reached out, she had taken the face off and the arms were clearly discernable, even the small raised lines for the demarcation. He didn’t want to be picky but… “Are the weights on here?” She came up close next to him, looking over his arm, “Shit. They’re in print. You win. Anyhow, it works the other way.”
“What works the other way?”
“Hank, he likes me because you like me, not because I do anything. So, how much does he get? I’ll weight it this time and figure something out for next time.”
“I guessed and he already ate.”
“Really. Then why, is he looking hungry? Pleading at me with those big brown eyes?”
“He’s a dog, I guess they always look that way.”
He pulled her back by her arm and brought her hands up to his lips, kissing them. “Thank you for thinking of a scale at all. Most girls just think Hank can have normal dog food. One woman I went out with, I found out she was sneaking him pizza whenever we visited. She thought if Hank trusted her and liked her I would too.”
“Ooh, that’s sad. Didn’t she know Hank will just follow you in those things? I just want Hank to have a long working life and to be fit and healthy for you.” She kissed Jim on the nose. “Does he usually have dinner in harness?”
“No, but I didn’t want to confuse him, when he’s out of harness, you know he’s just a dog and I wasn’t sure you wanted him loping around your apartment.”
“He is as welcome as you are, Jim. But I guess he needs a walk now he’s had dinner, maybe you want to keep it on him until after that?”
“He needs a walk sometime in the next half hour, yes, but if you come with us, he can go like a regular dog to the park across the road. He’d like that.”
“You too from the sound of it?” Her voice came from the lounge area.
Jim had Hank’s harness off and on the kitchen counter within thirty seconds.
He smiled, with this woman, he would take any excuse to hold her even giving Hank time off and taking her arm for a turn around the park. “Could we look at this present first? I found the heart but what’s inside it?”
Over at the table he ran his finger tips over the strange surface again. Smooth, not greasy but easily marked. Found the heart, but also realized he had missed indentations along the bottom of the frame too.
“Here,” she guided his fingers back to the heart. “While you are touching this, I want you to close your eyes and make a picture of what you are feeling.”
Jim closed his eyes, thinking how silly this was but not wanting to appear ungrateful. He traced the strange pattern again and shook his head. “Nothing, I’m sorry, it makes no difference.”
“Here, sit down,” she pulled the chair out and dragged another around. “Many years ago we learned a meditation technique – very good for increasing visualization strength. It began with imagining we were drawing a triangle in our minds. We used our hand and had to see the triangle forming in front of us where our hand passed. I’m not sure why but my hand always drew in fire.” She laughed. “Power maniac from the start!”
She took his hand and started, “If it helps, use your head to follow the drawing.” She held his hand, finger pointing about 6 inches above his head. “Please imagine a flame coming from the end of your finger. Picture it. Like a candle flame. Can you see it?”
“Mm,” and he could, he could use his imagination.
“Now as we draw down the flame creates a whole line of flame, here is one side.” she drew his hand down to about the level of his lap. “Keep following it with your closed eyes.”
“Now, continue to draw the triangle, draw the line across the bottom. When you reach my hand you will be ready to complete then a last line of the triangle.”
Jim concentrated. He could see the line of flame from the top centre to the bottom left hand side. He moved his hand and followed it with his closed eyes, turning his head as he passed mid point and stopping as he felt Asha’s hand on his right. “Now complete the last side of the flaming triangle in your mind.”
Jim moved his finger up tracing a burning triangle in his mind’s eye.
When he reached the top she took his hand. “Keep your eyes closed. I am going to place your hand on the scoring in the tablet and you will make the image in your mind’s eye of what is drawn on the tablet.
She placed his hand on the surface and he felt over it, he found an edge and began tracing, curves, a curved line, an indentation, another curved line on the other side, symmetrical, and now a curve below, like a bow, ah, even as he finished an image burst into his mind, lips, this was a drawing of lips. He could not stop the smile as it took over his face. “Lips. These are lips.”
And she placed a kiss on his chest, just about where his heart would be.
He turned to her, “Asha, this is beautiful.” He reached for her and found her face, brought it down for soft kisses all over.
“Jim, we need to walk Hank, before we start, but if you can hang on just a little longer, Hankie boy, I want to show your boss one more thing.”
“Put your hand on mine.” She instructed in a no nonsense bossy voice. He did.
She moved to the left and took something from the side of the box, “Here, it’s a stylus, feel.”
He felt it, a wooden stick with a pointed end. “A pencil?”
“Yes, but no graphite, no lead.” And she held it like a pen and moved her hand along the tablet. “Now, read.”
He let go of her hand and traced the writing. His brow furrowed, he couldn’t feel the whole of a letter, like with Braille, no, this was not going to work. He started to lift his hand. But she pressed down lightly. “Jim, close your eyes, and draw in your mind’s eye what you are tracing.” He did, flaming letters started to appear I his mind.
“This is easy.” His voice almost involuntarily spoke the words he had just read.
“Yes, it is, isn’t it?”
“Wow. So, now you can leave me notes?”
“Yes, and I don’t have to learn Braille, yuk! That is too bloody hard, even with the cheating words printed under it.”
They satin silence for a moment.
“I hope you don’t mind?”
“Mind, Asha. This is great, where did you find it?”
“I didn’t find it, I made it.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, it started a couple of days ago when we had drinks with your squad and Karen and I were chatting in the girl’s room. We were laughing about you guys and she told me how embarrassed she had once been when she forgot and went to draw you a picture. She described how she drew it on your face instead and how Marty razzed you guys for it for ages.”
Jim nodded, Marty had enjoyed that and the Keller references had been appearing intermittently ever since.
“But I don’t see how…”
“Well, from there it wasn’t far for me to imagine a way to show you something, and then I thought, well, it needed to be something you could return to. We rarely draw or write something to look at only once and it must take a lot of thinking space to remember things you’ve been told, or that you have touched just briefly. So I thought something that you could return to as long as you wanted, and when it was gone you could just wipe it out and start again. Remember those kid’s toys that were popular when we were young? You drew with a magnetic pen and then wiped it out?
“Yeah, that’s what gave you this idea?’
“Sure.”
“Wow.”
“And I thought it would be good for things like layouts, positioning of things, notes, I don’t know. Maybe you could even keep one by your desk and use it for reminders. Here, you try.”
She placed the stylus in his hand. He found the left edge and wrote. 1. Asha is a genius. He laughed, it had been so long since he had written anything but it felt nice, refreshing, almost normal. Then he moved down, found the edge again and wrote 2. I love her 3. This needs a grid.”
“A grid?”
“Hang on.” Jim put the stylus down and touched what he had written. “You’re right, this is easy. Mind you. I’m not sure flaming letters is the way to go.”
She laughed. “Come on, enough work; let’s go play in the park. And then we’ll cook dinner together. You do all the yucky stuff, deal?”
Jim nodded; Asha hated peeling onions and general preparation. She just liked to conduct really. And he didn’t mind. It was quite fun and often very good foreplay.
~
Later than night, as Jim readied himself to go home, he stopped by the table. Such a small thing, not highly technical, simple really, but he could see possibilities in his mind that had been blocked for a long time. She had no idea how much this could mean to him.
Her footsteps were slow and sleepy as she padded out of the bedroom. She put her head on his arm. “You can take it home and play. I’ve got another one, I’ll put a grid in it and you can see it tomorrow.”
“How do I wipe out what’s on there?”
“15 seconds in a microwave and wait a minute or so for it to cool.”
“When we think we have it as good as we can, grid’s and whatever, I’ll make a powered lid that will heat and cool it faster.”
He kissed her again.
“Go home and practice, I might have been able to read your writing, but I couldn’t vouch for anyone else right now. You need to reawaken that skill.”
“I’ve always had bad handwriting.”
“Then now’s a good time to fix it.” She handed him a satchel and he patted it, feeling the bulk of the tablet. “I know it’s heavy, but it’s a prototype, it should get lighter before we are done with it.
Jim found Hank’s harness. “Come on Hank, let’s let this pretty lady get some beauty sleep.”
“Hey, let me say bye bye before you put that on.” Hank’s tail beat happily on Jim’s leg as his two best friends said their goodbye. “OK, we’re done, safe home, Jim. Can you lock the door on your way out?”
“Sure babe.”
~
That night, before sleeping, he pulled the tablet out again. Standing at the kitchen bench, next to the microwave he re-traced the heart and the lips and his list. Silly, he felt a little reluctant to wipe it out. He traced them one last time, fixing it into his memory before opening the microwave.
He had shut the door and was about to press start when he remembered, there had been other words, along the bottom, that he had taken as just a pattern of sorts when he first felt them. And he hadn’t seen them yet, he didn’t want them to melt away before he read them so he drew the tablet out again and ran his fingers along the lower edge. In his minds eye he could already see the grid he had mentioned, he smiled, alright, time for some flaming letters. He closed his eyes and traced
“Easier than Braille, huh?”
He shook his head, smiling and replaced the tablet.
~finis~