The stove’s iron grate reminded Brandy of a jack-o-lantern, its orange blaze snapping and crackling behind a soot-stained grin. She sprawled in front of it on a makeshift bed, stretched like a cream-colored pea pod split with over-ripeness (the ill-fitting flannel gown much too tight across her chest). In the window, facing South, she caught sight of her reflection—plus that of the room itself; one entire wall was taken up by an unframed painting. Its details were obscure (the light being dim), but a nude, a solitary female was discernible, its treatment similar to the "Billitis" series at Esperanto’s gallery. Except this one was possessed by a melancholy air, due perhaps to the unmistakable absence of any significant other. Elsewhere in the room there were throw rugs, cushions, an old wicker rocking chair, and several built-in shelves lined with photos, sundry ceramics, and some paperback books. A hall led into the kitchen (where Jodi could be heard preparing tea). Hogging the limited space between bedroom/living room and bathroom was a free-standing hardwood wardrobe, in front of which sat a trunk like some disinterred treasure chest. Its huge metal clasps were thick with rust, its oaken lid enshrouded by a checkerboard coverlet. Seven oddly-shaped candles were arranged on its lid—sharing space with a hand mirror, an incense burner, and a porcelain figurine. This latter resembled a sort of abstract chess piece, horse and rider united to suggest the Knight (or a misshapen centaur), its shadow disproportionately large on the kitty-corner wall… along which wooden planks, supported by cinder blocks, housed a wide variety of creatively potted plants. More plants were suspended from the ceiling by macramé slings, the view panning right to left (again in reflection) lending the room an arboreal sort of feel—past which Brandy peered, attempting to focus on the yard outside.

Lantern and tea tray in hand, Jodi pitter-pattered in. Brandy turned and propped herself on a pillow, exposed her back to the fire (its warmth caressing through the well-worn flannel), then idly brushed her hair as Jodi arranged the tea service.

"Honey?"

"Let me taste first." Brandy took a short, inaudible slurp… "No, it’s delicious as is"… then gulped down half the contents in a single draught.

"It’s homemade. There’s a woman here who collects herbs and spices from the desert. This is a blend from six different plants. She gave me a year’s supply in exchange for one of my tea sets."

"Did you make these?"

"Uh huh. I’m sort of the Tea-time Expert-In-Residence of Esperanto. A lot of folks own sets I’ve thrown since opening up shop."

"Oscar's?"

"Oh, that’s right; you had tea with him. Yes, that’s mine. I made his planters, too. We swap for fruit and vegetables. You’ve seen his garden; isn’t it incredible?"

"Here; come sit by me. I’ll brush your hair."

Brandy re-positioned herself as Jodi sat cross-legged facing the fire. Needing a bit more height, Brandy wedged a pillow between buttocks and calves, then rested her hands for support on Jodi's slender shoulders.

"Hard or soft?"

"Pull as hard as you like; I’m impervious to pain."

Using slow, deliberate strokes, Brandy obliged. Jodi, gazing at the grate, grew partially hypnotized:

by the potbelly’s glowing embers
their crackling punctuation
and the confidential "shush" of her disentangling curls
each strand soothed, relaxed, brought into harmony
like concordant nerve-ends.

"Brandy, if only you knew… the dreams I used to have when I worked at that club… I’d get goose bumps every time I saw you dance; you’re so special! Some of the other girls were okay, but you… gliding around those tables as if nothing else existed, just music, incense, light, and the grace of your marvelous body! I’d watch your face. There was a certain point when your expression changed. As soon as that happened you were gone. It didn’t matter if the customers were rude or noisy; no one ever could touch you after you reached that state. To see you dance is a privilege—I really mean that—a gift from the Gods."

She turned and looked directly into Brandy’s emerald irises… then added: "Wait here."

Jodi got up, crossed to the bookshelf, took down a small ivory box, then quickly returned.

"Open it."

Brandy lifted the hand-carved lid. Inside was a silver bracelet, spiral in design, each end cast in the form of an elegant serpent’s head.

"It’s exactly like a piece I used to have."

"It is yours, silly. I stole it. I know that sounds awful, but that’s what I did. I waited for everyone to leave one night—my last night at the club—and just before Arnie locked up I sneaked into the dressing room. There it was, on your vanity… Sorry. I couldn’t resist."

"But why?"

"I had to have it! Something of yours. If possible, something you wore that touched bare skin. You never would have come without my taking it."

"But… I didn’t know you had it. I didn't even realize it was gone."

"It doesn’t matter. You're here; that's all that counts. I only wanted a keepsake. Now I can clear my conscience by giving it back in the flesh."

Jodi picked up the bracelet, and tenderly, almost reverently, wrapped it around Brandy’s upper arm—arousing, where it squeezed, a singular stimulation.

"There; that’s where it belongs… Have you any notion how gorgeous I think you are?"

Brandy smiled, then cradled her admirer’s upturned chin.

"You should have told me; I would have given you the bracelet."

Moved by an odd, uncontrollable urge, Brandy leaned and tendered a kiss on Jodi's mouth… tasting there a desire both sweet and disquieting… taken aback by the passion her impulse unleashed, as Jodi pressed her breasts against Brandy's and bent her over backwards in an ardent embrace.

Suddenly aware—without hearing or seeing anyone, simply sensing it—Brandy knew that someone (Simon) saw… was watching through the window… was peeping from the dark beyond the glass. She looked…

"Hey, what’s the matter?"

… but no one was there.

"Nothing… Nothing."

Brandy then succumbed to the lips engulfing her left nipple, allowing pure sensation to overrule qualm… giving in to a whim that took her unawares… narcotic in its absolute eclipse of her natural inhibitions… until, that is, she flinched; a movement had caught her eye!

"Brandy, what is it?"

"Out there. I thought I saw something."

She pointed at the window.

"Some 'thing' or some 'one'?"

"I don’t know."

"Maybe we should be a bit discreet?"

Jodi got up and crossed to the window. Brandy tried to join her but wooziness settled in. Parting a curtain of plants, Jodi framed her hands and pressed them against the glass.

"See anything?"

A shape was there, among many, that 'might' have been a man’s… in silhouette.… though it stayed so perfectly still Jodi dismissed it.

"Nope."

She dropped the bamboo blinds and returned to Brandy's side.

In a panic, Brandy fumbled with the buttons of her nightgown.

"The window!"

Having heard its "THUD" and consequent "CRACK," she scrambled to her feet and rushed to lift the blind.

"Simon!"

Her outcry (albeit muffled) appeared to startle him. He was cut; blood gushed from his forehead. Brandy turned and ran toward the door that led outside…

… while Simon, stunned and staggering, became marginally aware of someone taking hold of him, guiding him by the hand into an unfamiliar room (lamp-lit and musty), where a chair (that rocked when he sat in it) made him feel like throwing up.

Brandy fetched a washcloth; Jodi hovered in the background (like an angry bird of prey).

"Hold the light a little higher, Jodi."

Someone was dabbing his forehead, causing Simon to wince.

"Is it bad?"

"I can’t tell; there's too much blood."

Jodi brought the lantern closer. Simon’s brow bore two crisscrossing gashes that Xed the spot where head and windowpane met.

"I don’t think it’s too serious—though it may need a few stitches. Bandaging will have to do for now. Do you have any disinfectant?"

"I’ll get some."

Jodi left…

Simon blinked… then dizzily blinked again… his vision focusing… shifting… coming to rest on Brandy’s worried face. Her lips moved in response to his wordless supplication.

"Yes, I will. I promise!"

Simon closed his eyes, setting a seal on Brandy’s pledge, then spoke aloud (eyes still shut) for the very first time.

"I… love you."

Caught off guard—first by the sound (like wind through tumbleweed), then by the sentiment (so sincere), Brandy flushed…

… as Simon reached out to caress her cheek; her whole anatomy trembling at the touch of his fingers… waves of pure compassion (and affection) released… transfigured into fear upon her noticing Simon's position; neither hand had budged from its grip on the chair!

First-aide kit retrieved, Jodi entered from the bathroom. Simon, suddenly exhausted, wanted nothing more than to sleep, almost nodding off as the amateur surgeons worked.

"Ooo, it's really nasty."

Jodi grimaced as Brandy treated the wounds, coating each with a finger-full of antiseptic salve, covering up the damages with a pair of Johnson's Band-aides.

"Would you like to lie down?"

Simon nodded. He felt queasy—which only got worse when he was hoisted and led to the makeshift bed by his bracketing attendants, who knelt in unison to deposit the unsteady invalid.

"Brandy, you stay here."

Jodi padded to the kitchen, quickly coming back with a dustpan and broom.

"I’ll do that."

Brandy tried to rise; scuttled by an unexpected squeeze from Simon's hand.

"This won’t take me a minute. Stay with your pal."

Jodi crossed to the window and swept up the broken glass…

… as Simon nestled his head against Brandy’s compliant belly, feeling safe, secure enough to venture into sleep—dreamless sleep, he hoped… should Brandy remain close by… stroking his scalp… soothing the ache in his temples (Why, he wondered, did his head hurt?)… smoothing the pitchfork creases in his oddly encumbered brow… cradling him in a lap whose lips murmured lullabies (or so he imagined)… singing him to sleep… his face like a trusting child's.

Motioning to Jodi (who had patched the break with some cardboard), Brandy cupped her hands and whispered sotto voce, "You okay?"

Jodi scampered back.

"Asleep already?"

"So it seems."

"Good. He should rest. Come on."

"What; leave him?"

"We won’t be far."

… Jodi modified her tone.

"Come."

… then lowered her voice to a seductive-sounding coo…

"Come."

… turned imperious.

"Now."

Brandy stood, cast a fleeting look at Simon, then let herself be drawn to the lamp-illumined kitchen.

"Jodi, this is the second time he’s banged his head real hard. I can’t be sure, but I think he's acting odd. You know, odder than usual?"

"You think he saw us?"

"Possibly."

"And 'tapped' his head on the window make us stop?"

"Well, it’s cold out. Maybe his hands were in his pockets."

"That's pretty lame."

"Well… you say you get ‘feelings’ about certain people. What’s your intuition?"

"The last time I 'divined' it pissed you off."

"Only because you told me he was ‘dangerous.’ I admit, he's sometimes peculiar, but… "

She stopped herself.

"But what?"

"You tell me."

Jodi considered.

"Okay; my ‘feeling’? When you brought him in here bleeding, Simon hadn't a clue about where on earth he was—let alone about we two had been up to."

"You know, he did something similar on our drive out here. A coyote crossed the road. We stopped to watch. Then, ‘snap,’ like that, he kissed me—hard—on the lips. So hard it hurt. Then, not two minutes later, he acted like it never happened."

"Does he take drugs?"

"Not that I know of; he’s weird enough without them."

"What about that dream-sharing stuff?"

"Oh, there’s more. During breakfast, just this morning, we were having this conversation… "

"He was talking?"

"I was talking; he wrote notes… claimed that sleep and wakefulness were the same. You know, like states that overlap? He even made a me model to demonstrate what he meant. It was a strip of paper that he twisted once then fastened end to end. I was supposed to draw a line down the middle. It turned out front and back had the selfsame side."

"A Möbius strip."

"A who?"

"That’s what it’s called; the thing he made you."

"Oh… Hey, you don’t suppose he goes around seeing things all the time?"

"You mean seeing things that most folks rarely glimpse?"

"Huh?"

"His world sounds quite fascinating, actually."

"Fascinating? Awful is more like it. It’s unhealthy having ‘visions’ that make you act so strange."

"Kissing you is 'strange'?"

"No, but butting windowpanes is."

"Meaning you believe he needs some help?"

"I know he does. He's already asked."

"For whose? Not yours, I hope."

"And why not?"

"Because you, my dear, are the one who’s driving him nuts."

"That's not fair!"

"Oh? Didn’t he ‘write’ his dreams have changed since you two met?"

"Well, that’s debatable; I… "

"And doesn't he want your body but won’t have sex?"

"First, it's a little premature. Second, it’s… "

"And didn’t he see us getting it on, all warm and comfy-cozy, with him outside alone in the cold cruel night?"

"Okay; okay! So you and I indulged in a little fling; I won't deny it. But don't think that compares to me and him."

"You hardly know him!"

"I may just know him better that I do you."

"You mean you care about him more."

"I mean… "

"Which is it?"

"Jodi, listen. I'm 'fond' of you, but… "

"Say it; 'he’s a man. You'd fuck anything in pant-legs just as long as it's unshaven. You think I haven't heard the dirt about you? 'Brandy goes for losers. If he's shiftless, jobless, homeless, and pathetic, BAM, she's his.' Well you can sell your self-respect to the lowest bidder; that's your privilege. But don't you dare compare his puppy love to mine. A woman's love is always more mature."

Brandy did a double take.

"I… "

"Sorry. That was hostile. I'm just… lonely. Don't you understand? You two will leave together tomorrow; I’ll be stuck like always, here by myself. Unless… You wouldn't go tonight, I hope?! You can’t. You really mustn't!"

The urgency in Jodi’s voice made Brandy reevaluate…

"Please, Brandy!"

… an odd compulsion also giving her pause…

"You have to stay."

… her will-power feeling undermined…

"Maybe spend a day or two? A week, even?"

… then overruled.

"Let’s see how things progress."

"Do you mean with you and me, or with you and him?"

Repulsed by Jodi’s jealousy, Brandy, irrespective, acquiesced.

"One night. We'll stay only one night."

Satisfied (for the moment), Jodi revised her tactics.

"Oh, I’m being horribly selfish. And a damn poor hostess, too. You must be starving. I’ll rustle us up some dinner."

"May I help?"

"No, no. You stay put. There’s nothing very fancy I can offer. Veggies, is all—though I do have lots of herbs and spices to spruce them up. What about his-nibs; should I make enough for three?"

"I’ll go in and see how Simon 's faring."

Brandy rose (as if breaking Jodi’s dictum) and tiptoed into the living room where Simon lay asleep. She knelt beside him, leaned so close his slow and regular breathing tickled her cheek.

‘I almost wish that someone had heard what I think you said.’

She checked his bandage.

‘It can’t be true you’re hurt on account of me.’

She bent and kissed him.

‘Sleep, my silent wanderer. Sleep and wake up healed.’

*

*

Jodi had the table set...

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