Saturday January 24th 2015

Cesare was surprised when he walked into the shed and found Elizabeth already working. He’d come early to get the pellet stove hot before she came in. A queer feeling squirmed in his belly at the change in routine. She was rarely up earlier than him, and changes were always bad.

Turning, she gave him a tight, strained smile. “Good morning, no extra work today?”

He wasn’t sure where the nervousness came from but he had the feeling she was prepping herself for something. “Nope. What do we have today?”

Something relaxed in her eyes at his words, not a reprieve, but a fight put off for another time. Nodding to herself, she started talking about the work she’d planned for the day. The flower beds needed weeding, she wanted to start getting new soil around the trees, fallen branches needed to be picked up and put in the woodchipper.

He got the bags of soil into the wheelbarrow as Elizabeth gathered the tools they’d use. They talked as they worked, each of them going through their week. The class being deep into the project had freed up some of her time from grading papers and conjuring lesson plans. She’d quickly signed up for a set of teacher’s classes she’d been eyeing for months.

Love saturated her voice, every word a thing of care and devotion. Other teachers might have used the time to take a needed breather but not Elizabeth. She’d turned it into an opportunity to become a better teacher and continue her education. A glow came over her as she talked. It wasn’t just that she’d put a life’s work in becoming a teacher, it was that she loved it.

Flowing above them, flapping from branch to branch in pockets of wicked malice, the ravens called derisive caws at Cesare. They gleefully watched him working his ass off below them, glaring down with maliciously mischievous eyes. Getting the beds weeded and the soil laid down, he was on the verge of heading out to gather the branches for the woodchipper when her voice stopped him. “I think we can call that a good start. You ready for lunch?”

Stretching, his vertebra gave out a series of gut-wrenching pops. “That works. I guess we can tackle the branches and mulch after we get food.”

She hesitated, deliberately looking away from him. Sensing her mood, the ravens stilled in the branches. “We could have lunch at the cabin again?”

Smiling, his words were as soft as rabbits fur. “Sounds good.”

She nodded as they started for the cafeteria. Caked in dirt, he dusted his hands off on his faded jeans while Elizabeth barely sported a smudge on her. He didn’t know how she did it, and it always left him stuck between pissed and happy.

Well-worn jeans molded to her like a second skin, wrapping around ample thighs and hugging her wide ass. Even her baggy sweatshirt added a cuddliness that drew him like a warm fire on a cold night. A warmth of spirit emanated from her, pulling at his cold soul, a beacon of everything it wasn’t.

They tossed bits of food to her feathered family as they walked back to the cabin. Deaths own swooped, banked and fluttered, harsh feathers slicing the wind as they snatched fries on the wing. Cawing, they batted at each other, cutting each other off, slamming into each other in a feathered feeding frenzy. Black on black, the ravens were alike, and yet, each was a singular perfect avatar of wickedness. They were midnight when the storm clouds roll in, the tapestry of darkness stretching across the sky, when shadow and night weave together, edges done in shades of grey. It was a fey, unnatural beauty that pulled at the heart of the lost.

Coming into the warm shed, Cesare stripped off his sweater as Elizabeth watched out of the corner of her eye. He was still wearing a full-length white shirt, one of the new ones Roxanne bought him. Clinging to his sweat slick body, the shirt molded to the brutal angles of his emaciated body.

Sitting at the table, it didn’t take long for Cesare’s reprieve to end. “Do you think I’m a bad friend?” The quiet words smothered the room in silence.

Cesare was on the edge of giving her the easy answer, one of the constant lies society depended on. We don’t love the truth, it’s a nightmare we hid from. True words from the loved and adored are horrors no one faces without fear. But if you really care about someone, you owe them the truth. And if you love them, anything less is a betrayal in thought and deed.

“I don’t think you’re a bad friend,” he said, eyes raising to meet a face carved by anxiety. “I think what I want and what you’re willing to give are too far apart for either of us to be happy.”

Anger tightened Elizabeth’s eyes as the warmth he loved hardened, shutting him out of its grace. “What you want is a fairy tale, Cesare. You want me to put a knife to the throat of everything I spent decades working for. People don’t do that, and a friend wouldn’t demand it.”

He nodded, taking the criticism for what it was. “Are you telling me I’m a bad friend?”

“No.” Elizabeth’s denial came quick with a panicked edge. “You’re a great friend, Cesare. I … there’s no words to put to how much having you as my friend means to me. But I can’t keep feeling like I’m failing you.” Her words ended on a whisper, plea and demand twisted into one by barbed needs.

Sighing, he reached across and threaded his fingers through hers. “You’re not failing me. You mean the world to me; I love being with you. I treasure you and your friendship.” Clutching his fingers, she searched his eyes.

“I care about you, and I’ve never hidden it,” Cesare said. His words were quiet, worn by months of thoughts and long nights ruled by dreams. “I want to be accepted for who I am. To be loved and cared for, not for my skills, but because of who I am. I want friends who stand with me when shit falls apart. I need people I can depend on, because I mean something to them, and I don’t think that will ever be you.” Cesare stopped as her eyes shone with unshed tears. “I want to be here, and I want to be with you, even if we want different things from each other.”

She looked at him for a long time, tears banished to some other time. A mass of anger and sadness filled her eyes. She’d wanted him to strangle his fairy tales and demands. To understand she could never be what he wanted, that even the wanting was wrong.

They didn’t want the same things, no one ever did. Truth, support, caring, love, they were just words, too small to hold the needs warping their meaning. They could still be friends, because he didn’t expect her to be what he needed. He’d accepted that she’d never be what he needed. It didn’t make it hurt less, but he’d rather hurt with her in his life, than not have her.

“How did you decide which classes to take?” Cesare asked.

Elizabeth smiled, relaxing at the change. Cesare could see the same frustration in her eyes that boiled in his soul. Neither of them had everything they wanted, but they still had more than either had ever thought they’d own. Even surrounded by the storm of that frustrated want, he’d never seriously thought of walking away. He could only hope she felt the same.

“I found an online university that offered classes that looked interesting.” She shrugged, eyes drifting away from his, carefully avoiding looking down at where their hands were still entangled. “I know it’s weird, but I love learning. When the chance came up to take supplemental classes on the latest theories, I couldn’t turn it down.”

There was something in her voice that he couldn’t pin down. An underlying shyness, a vein of vulnerability that called to him. “I wish I knew what that’s like, that thirst to know.”

“Knowledge opens the world, ignorance births only victims. I told you about how my childhood went, the expectations were ... immense. I spent my years honing my craft, reading, studying the Circles of my people, buried in never ending lessons and endless tutors.” She stopped as she looked around the room. “It made me different, my vocabulary, outlook, maturity, everything about me was marked by a basic difference. By the time I understood the difference, it was too late to bridge the gulf between myself and the others. I know it’s weird that I’d rather curl up on the sofa and watch a documentary then the latest movie, but it’s who I am.”

Tightening his grip on her hand, his voice was low. “It’s not weird. I’d rather read then go to the movies. Maybe we’re just a different breed, not better, but certainly not less.”

She shared a smile with him, the hurt look fading from her eyes. It made him wonder how bad it had been when she’d been a student. Bookworm, teacher’s pet, valedictorian, the talk of every teacher burned by her incandescent brilliance. And riding it all, Chthonic, taboo, unwanted, a life blackened by centuries of history.

It was hard for adults to understand the different, the few that that didn’t fit. The special ones that lived in their heads and thrived on knowledge. The fey few that dreamed while awake, lost in their own world because this one rejected them. No one welcomed them, they were cut out, degraded for being different and boring. It was worse for kids, they openly preyed on the students that found joy and life in-between the pages of a book.

“What are you learning?” Cesare asked.

“You really want to know?” Elizabeth shot back doubtfully. “Even I admit it’s not exciting. Interesting and thought provoking, absolutely, but far from exciting,” she said, tone making light of it, offering him an easy out. How many times had she tried to talk about her studies, only to get vacant, bored stares in return? And when had she learned that no one cared?

“It’s important to you, that’s enough for me,” Cesare said quietly, watching as she blinked rapidly at him. It was always the small things that meant the most. Being able to talk to someone about your passions was one of those small things that breathed life into your world.

“Let me know if I bore you?” Elizabeth said, giving his hand a squeeze.

Hesitatingly, she settled into a groove, continuing even as they picked up the trays to take back to the cafeteria. He didn’t understand; the subjects were way over his head. Hell, he had trouble with anything more complicated than basic math. But this wasn’t about understanding, it was about interest and love, and he had enough of both to keep up his end of the conversation, even if his questions were met with light laughter and long explanations.

As he dragged dead branches back to the cottage, Elizabeth kept at it, years of need spilling out from her. After seeing her naked joy at his questions, he started asking more, trying to stay afloat in the sea of arcane knowledge she lived in. She didn’t want someone to talk at, her plants and ravens gave her that, no, what she thirsted for with every part of her being, was someone interested in her.

It was worth it to see Elizabeth’s eyes light up with sharp intelligence, the same fire he’d seen shining in her from the first. Coming alive with animated gestures, she couldn’t help arguing, not just her preferred point but coming around to the other side as she talked, trying to show him why she thought that way. Knowledge streamed from her in an endless river, a product of decades immersed in the cutting edge of her fields.

She hadn’t trained to be a teacher; she’d been born to teach. Cesare could see why her job meant so much to her, it was a calling, the only thing she’d ever wanted to be. Teaching was integral to who she was, it was who she was in the sacred dark of her soul.

“I’m boring you,” Elizabeth said, looking away in some vague sense of shame. “I know that look on your face, I’ve seen it before. I’m sorry, I get carried away ...”

“I doubt that,” Cesare said, giving a grunt of effort as he tugged the branch to the wood chipper. “I was thinking how beautiful you are. How alive you look, and how impressive you are.”

Blushing, she looked at him, unconsciously turning the purple wood ring around her finger. A smile tugged at her lips as she lost herself in the moment. “Well … that’s okay then.” Her words came out quietly, dazzled by the rawness of the compliment.

The mulch went into sealed barrels, ready for the gardens later in the year. They hadn’t finished, but the rest would wait for tomorrow. Heading into the cottage, Elizabeth started making tea, her words thrown back at him. “I thought you’d be working on a plan to help Anastasia in her fight.”

Cesare tried to work the kinks out of his body as he struggled to keep his eyes from settling on her marvelous ass. “She thought so too.” He stopped, rolling the words around his mind before committing, “You want to see?”

Frozen in mid-motion, Elizabeth stopped measuring tea. “I thought you didn’t like telling others about your plans. Especially with Anastasia.” The words were sterile things, stripped of all emotion.

“I won’t be telling you everything, just showing you the work she’s put in. Besides, I can use your help in bringing the dummies back from the dead,” Cesare said with a smile.

Quietly, she finished making the tea, bringing his cup to him with an answering grin. “Well, it is a beautiful night for a walk.”