Som #2 - Liz's Version

Liz wrote another version for Shiney Planet/Som as per my request- hurrah!  Not written by me!

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” I entreated. Peter jerked a moment at the sound of my voice then froze again in contemplation. I would have known it from the newness in the look in his distant, examining gaze, even if I hadn’t known it from the question he’d asked and already forgotten, or the weight in my pocket that was moments ago empty. Magic! The thought made me giddy.

“It’s simply iridescent.” I bubbled over with laughter at the word. Sometimes, as now, there was awe in his voice, like this was some sort of heaven, and I hoped it was for him. My favorite times were those when he tossed the word matter-of-factly as though not sure if this was really an acceptable thing for this place to be. But it was iridescent, always iridescent.

I gasped for air between peals of laughter, drawing in clouds of glinting particles instead. I coughed as heavily as I’d laughed. Always a price to be paid. He turned toward me, took a step, but I waved him off, eyes still crinkled. I found my water bottle and took a deep draft from it. His lips pulled up in the corners, a hesitant smile. “I didn’t mean to be funny.”

“You never do.” I assured him, “But that’s what makes it so funny!” I’d automatically brought my arm up, index finger outstretched. I would have tapped him on the nose to add an affectionate emphasis. Instead, I turned the movement, bringing both arms up high above my head and bending backwards to feel the pull and crack in my back.

As I brought my arms back around they brushed the bulge in my pocket. “Oh!” I gasped with sudden alarm. I brought out the darkly tinted goggles and held them out to Peter. I hadn’t realized that as I’d been looking into his eyes that I’d actually seen them and not a murky shielded version of them.

I felt the heat of his hand near mine but not touching, a different kind of heat from this place, and the lift of the weight from my palm, the soft brush of elastic as it left me. This was the closest to a caress I would ever again be allowed. I turned my head away.

Damnit! I’d lost. I usually challenged myself to see how long only he could hold my focus. I didn’t really wish to see this barren landscape. But now it was forced on me. Red everywhere, and orange and brown as well. Desolate. Even in life, I’d never cared for red, a jumpy irritable color. My Pete was the opposite, complementary my artistic training corrected, to this place with fresh mint green eyes. Maybe that’s why they always had to be hidden away from me behind those damn tinted lenses. The light here didn’t seem to actually harm his eyes as it would mine, but I couldn’t risk him. Mine would blister and liquefy. I covered them protectively with my hands, though the smoky lenses seemed to be doing their job.

“Look here!” I turned back to see Peter gesturing to an oblong bag propped against a stack of crates. “We should set up this tent and get you out of the sun.”

I sighed. It wouldn’t help. “I don’t have the energy just now.” I felt my lips draw into a pout.

There was an audible pause before he spoke. The place where a name would be. “…Better to get it done now than regret it later when it’s dark.”

“We don’t have to worry about that.” One more regret? And such a small one, too. I wanted to say it but he was being so sincere and…practical. I missed that. I couldn’t really argue with it. “It never gets dark. What would be the point?”

“Oh.” He seemed chastened and I hadn’t really meant to upset him. I walked over and tore open one cinched end of the oblong shape, revealing the insides. I dropped it and stepped back, uncapping my water bottle and taking a deep swig, hand shaking. The water was blessedly cool, the only thing here that ever was, as it ran across my tongue and down my throat, soothing. I didn’t even care about the tang of salt that remained as I wiped the residue from my lips. I would only grow thirstier later.

Peter cast me a look but took over the task of removing metal rods, twine, and black canvas from the bag. “How about I do this and you find us some instructions on how to throw this thing together, hm?”

I smiled brightly. It was amazing how easily he made me feel alright again. I didn’t even care that I wouldn’t find the instructions; that as far as I knew none had ever existed. I removed the top crate and set it aside with a spring in my step. I didn’t spare a glance for what I knew would be some logs and matches, a sort of cosmological joke. I dug through the next box and rifled around in a third.

I turned over every item, feeling the weight and texture, studying the play of light on their surfaces. I could close my eyes and make a still life study from the memory of each piece but I searched anyway. It didn’t even bother me that all our supplies had been organized as neatly as though we’d only just arrived. In a way we had only just arrived. Roots, I’d come to understand, are a privilege.

“I think I’ve actually got most of it figured out, but I could use a hand.” I turned away from my mission, content that enough time had passed that the tent was now a standing skeleton. I helped him finish it off and we collapsed inside pleased with a job well done.

The black canvas magnified the heat and pulled the sweat from our bodies making a sauna. But here the wretched goggles were unnecessary. Peter took in a gulp of the humid air, held it for a long moment, then turned to me with a familiar mischievous grin. My gut clenched in recognition of it. Peter yanked off his top and undershirt together, revealing the planes of muscle beneath and the dark thatches of hair under his arms. Then he started unfastening his pants, halting just long enough to throw that grin back my way and demand, “Well?” I giggled, caught by his fervor. We raced to get our clothes off, kicking at them and pulling. It felt illicit and daring to expose ourselves, like it had the very first time. My body knew better though and it filled with an old ache at the sight of him, my Pete.

Our chests heaved to fill our lungs as we both struggled to reclaim a steady rhythm, our eyes locked together. Puffs of dust swirled around and clung to our sweat. The mud masks for our little sauna. I wanted so badly to touch him. His eyes were hard on mine. Then they closed and looked away. I fell onto my back and stared at the ceiling of our shelter, listening to the rustle as he gathered up our discarded clothing and set it to rights in a tidy pile.

“What would you like to do?”

I focused on the black above me. “Oh, I don’t know.” I did of course, but that was forbidden.

“There must be something here to do…” There were more sounds of rustling.

“This isn’t how I thought it would be, you know?” My voice was weak and I sat up to grab my water bottle. Peter had pulled one of the crates into the shelter of the tent, digging through its contents himself. He made an inquisitive sound and I half smiled gesturing around us. “Well, I did think it would be hotter.”

He laughed. “Is that possible?” I smiled too. “Perhaps you want me to build a fire then? We’ve got the supplies right here.” He held up a hunk of wood sardonically. He dug around again and produced a wicked looking knife. “Or maybe you’d rather have a go at carving. It’d give you something to do.”

“No!” I hadn’t meant to snap like that but…I paused. “That is, we would never get the splinters out.” I flexed my palm and he seemed to accept this. I wasn’t really worried about splinters. We both knew I was quite handy with a knife after all.

Peter moved back to me but I wouldn’t let him sit right away. Instead he turned for me. Let me see each line and shape of him. I looked over his body, so smooth and rough, soft and hard, so beautiful. I told him so: “You are so, so beautiful.” He earned every cliché. His body was clean with no mark. There were no scars, no rips or tears; his blood was safe inside. He was like new, like he was before that time. He was Peter minus Anne, and I knew it wasn’t just the physical horrors I’d inflicted that had been erased. They had taken me from him.

“Let’s just…let’s just sleep, okay?”

He pursed his lips and nodded; unlike me he never bit his lip. The edge of my teeth clenched at my mouth and the familiar iron taste of the dust mixed with my saliva. “I think you should rest. I’m not really tired though. I was thinking of exploring, seeing if there’s anything useful out there.”

“Let me come with you?” There was more begging than I liked in my tone.

“Of course.” We donned our goggles but not our clothes and pushed out into the oppressive brightness.

The place was small and we circled it many times over before returning to the tent. I’d drank the salty contents of my water bottle twice over and was feeling quite woozy. We lay so close that the outline of him was like a tangible sense in my mind. I closed my eyes and let my consciousness sink into the beats of my pulse. It was comforting.

There were so many ideas of this place. So many images and epic poems. In life, when each day would descend into darkness after what I’d…after Peter, each time I had imagined a new torment.

“Hey there.” Peter was smiling, head turned to me when I opened my eyes a long while later.

I stretched, careful not to brush him. “How long was I out for?”

His lips quirked, my heart skipped. “Too long.”

I flicked some water at him playfully. I liked to see the drops land on him. It seemed like evidence that he was not a mirage but really, truly here and smiling like that at me. That smile caught and his expression became serious.

“I’m sorry I dragged you out there. It really wore you out.”

My face fell. “Please don’t apologize.”

“But I feel like it’s my fault and I should have been more considerate of you.”

“I said ‘Don’t!’” It was a bit more biting than I’d intended. “Please Peter, just don’t.”

His lips pursed. I held my breath. “I’m ashamed. I seem to have forgotten your name…”

Too soon. It always happened too soon. “Anne. My name is Anne.” And I love you. And I’m so sorry.

“Anne…” He tried the syllables on for size. It should have been the most beautiful sound; it was once. “I’m sorry to have forgotten.”

“Please don’t apologize. It’s not your fault. Any of it. You’ll forget it again. You always do.” I swallowed. I reached for my water bottle. Empty now though it’d been full moments before.

“But you remember?”

“Yes.” I swallowed, swallowed again. There was no relief in it.

“Why?”

“Because I,” I have to remember. So that it crushes me when I tell you. So that I relive it when your face contorts. “I killed you.”

He drew back. He had to when he realized he was inches away from his death, or the cause of it at least. But he never pulled all the way back. “Why?”

“I’m not…I don’t…” Swallow. “Does it matter?” How many times had I wondered this myself? I played it over. I ran it through so many variables that I really wasn’t sure if the version I remembered was truth or construct. Was it even my choice or had I been born to it? A predestiny of brain chemistry and circumstance?

Tears filled my eyes. He reached a hand out toward me. Stopped. He brought it up to his forehead instead. “If you…” killed me “then why am I here?”

“I don’t know!” Anguish and frustration destroyed my voice. “When I got here, you were here. You waited! For me…and I don’t know why. I don’t.” I sobbed once and pressed my clenched hands to my open mouth to prevent more. “It was so awful and they said you chose to be with me anyway. I had to come here. This is where they send the people like me.” I spat out the words. Tears were no match for the anger. “People who kill the ones they love.

Peter looked around, completely at a loss. I reached my hand out to him. “Peter…” My voice was a plea.

“Don’t touch me!” He jumped back. I snatched my arm back. His eyes were desperate. “You know I didn’t mean it like that. You know we can’t…” I nodded. I should be grateful that there was the one thing he always remembered, this most important thing. But I wanted so badly to touch him.

“But how can it be that it seems like we’ve only just arrived?!” He gestured at the nearby crate, still unpacked. His tone was almost even now. Of course Pete was being calm and rational. Of course I was the one falling apart. “How long have we been here?”

“Forever and never and ever.” I felt a hysterical giggle rise up and mix with the omnipresent glitter to choke me.

People are so silly, so stupid and arrogant to think we know what this could be. Eternity. I used to think it meant all of time but now I knew better. This was eternity and eternity was no time. Nothing to connect to, to establish a linear sense of before or after. Nothing around which to build your self.

I was standing beside him and the tears couldn’t stop the horrific burning in my eyes. I grabbed the pair of goggles from around my neck and pulled them over my eyes. Peter looked at me, his lips pursed for a moment. “I’m terribly sorry to admit this but I seem to have forgotten your name.”

He looked away in embarrassment. I smoothed a hand down the odd material of my top. Behind me I knew the crates would be neatly stacked, the tent within an oblong satchel bag leaning against them.

“Anne.”

“Hmmm?” Something had caught Peter’s eye in the distance. Maybe a gust of the heat that passes for a breeze here had flung up some of the glittering cloying dirt and mesmerized him. I wasn’t sure. He stood staring off for some time, lowering his eyes against the brightness. I fumbled in my pocket for the other pair of goggles, held them out to him.