Variation on a Theme, Book 6
Copyright© 2024 by Grey Wolf
Chapter 96: Hearts and Flowers
Thursday, February 13, 1986
My outfit today wasn’t much different than yesterday’s, but it was different. Burgundy shirt instead of red, and no gold chain, with one more button buttoned.
As with Darla, I gave Amy flowers, chocolates, and a card when she came out. She loved the card, liked the flowers, and was amused by the chocolates. She ate chocolate — I was certain of that! — so they certainly wouldn’t go to waste. Given her figure, I wasn’t worried about them going to ‘waist,’ either.
She had dressed up slightly. Her top was a blouse, not a t-shirt. No midriff was showing. Her slightly poofy black skirt went to her knees, too. The stockings and ankle chains were the ones I’d gotten her, she had the usual purple collar and cuffs with shiny metal studs, and her earrings were a pair of dangling ankhs, somewhat different from the other ones.
We held hands on the walk to the car, then for much of the drive. I hadn’t told her where we were going, just that it was ‘out a way.’ After about twenty minutes of driving, she joked about being lured to a field in the middle of nowhere.
I joked back about making love in the great wide open, which got a bit of a blush but also a grin.
When we reached Jose’s, the surprise was obvious.
“I knew there must be a restaurant out here,” she said. “But I still somehow did not expect a restaurant to be out here. It looks quite nice.”
“It is,” I said. “I hope you like it.”
“I believe I will!” she said, squeezing my hand.
She was right. She loved it.
It was a reminder of our different life experiences. It was clear from context that she had never been to a restaurant as nice as Jose’s. The garden view with animals was new to her, as was the level of service. As cool as Jose’s was — and it was quite cool — it was not a five-star restaurant. Probably more three-and-a-half stars. Very nice for a college town, but something snootier people would look down on.
It reminded me that her high school dates had probably done the bare minimum and that her parents had done what they could. They were, by all accounts, good and hardworking people, and I imagined I would like them. Amy found them hard to relate to, but she also loved them. That was obvious.
Would we ever meet? I once would have said ‘no.’ Now, it was closer to ‘it seems unlikely.’ There seemed to be little reason to meet, but Amy could ‘stick.’ If she did, meeting her parents might well happen.
I didn’t see her in the innermost circle, or at least thought it was far too early to tell. I didn’t really see her as a day-to-day member of the next closest circle, either. Maybe in college, but not after. The issue was simple: she wanted to be a kick-ass lead engineer. Unless she could do that where we lived, it wouldn’t work. It was that simple.
Not only that, but I think a big part of her needed to do it on her own. By herself, with her apartment, her cats, and her job. Not that long ago, that might have been the whole picture. Now, it might just be a part of the picture, with Amy not that different from Jess, physically separated but emotionally attached.
I needn’t have worried. Amy loved the movie. She particularly liked the ending, with its ‘tasteful’ pun about cannibalism.
“I can’t believe they said that!” she said, bouncing a bit in her Doc Martens as we walked toward the car. “Such a good ending line!”
“I think it was supposed to shock people,” I said, giggling.
Amy grinned.
“That woman was awful, all around. If anyone deserved such a fate...”
“You think that. I think that. Some people are just grossed out.”
She giggled a tiny bit, then said, “I would not eat ... that. Or ... um. Well. It becomes a question when I think about it.”
“Interesting,” I said.
“It is ... I cannot imagine killing someone to do that. In a world like that, where the person was awful, I can envision it, but not for myself. But ... if it was like those plane crashes? A person already dead? Or who was willing to sacrifice themselves to save others? It ... would feel like a denigration of their sacrifice to not eat.”
“That makes sense.”
“Or ... suppose someone I knew felt deeply that the way to honor them was to eat a tiny portion of them after they passed away. Would I reject that, if it was freely offered and they had requested it of their closest friends? I ... do not know that I would.”
“Also interesting,” I said. “For what it’s worth, I see both answers as probably where I am. I also really don’t want to get into the situations!”
She giggled a little, then said, “No! No, I would not, either. We will do our best to avoid plane crashes. Friends with unusual religious beliefs, though...”
“That’s on the more esoteric end, but it probably exists.”
“In theory, some people eat Jesus,” she said. “As in, they believe the thing they put in their mouth becomes flesh and blood during the process. They are willing to consume flesh and blood for their faith, whether or not that is what actually enters their bodies.”
“Transubstantiation is one of those things I haven’t read enough about,” I said. “But ... yeah. No, I agree.”
“Perhaps I will. I have no interest in it, for itself, but now I am curious.”
“You can give me the Cliff’s Notes,” I said.
She giggled and said, “Have you used those?”
“It’s been quite a long time,” I said.
That was true. It had been roughly forty years since I’d used Cliff’s Notes in any meaningful way. They’d been sometimes invaluable in my first life, though. Writing an A-grade paper using only the Cliff’s Notes and starting the night before it was due is a skill. Not necessarily a good or ethical skill, probably, but it was one I had been good at.
No longer, and not in this life, but ‘I’ had done it.
As Darla and I had, the next step was going back to the house. Amy and I also had more ‘new things’ to try, but this wasn’t the night for it. After she had switched to her flat cuffs and collar, it was one more night of using our mouths first, then slow, gentle lovemaking. One difference tonight was that Amy was on top for at least half of it. We also didn’t try 69.
She wound up collapsing on top of me, hugging me, wiggling her hips just enough to enjoy the feeling of me still being inside of her. My arms settled around her, holding her the way she loved to be held.
She bit her lip after a bit and said, “I think ... soon ... I want to try doing this actually naked.”
“I’d certainly be happy, if you want to.”
She said, “It may only be the once. I just ... I don’t know how it will feel. Some of that is silliness. By now, I feel certain you’ll never judge me poorly. And what is hidden now is nothing I worry about being seen, anyway. You have seen it! But I still find it awkward being around other people without something on my neck, wrists, or legs. Even you. But I should try it.”
“I’ll be looking forward to it. You are beautiful, Amy. All of you! But I very much like this ‘you,’ the one I’ve gotten to know. It won’t be better for me unless it’s better for you.”
She sighed and rubbed her cheek against mine a little.
“This is ... still magical. Still unexpected. Still a joy. I imagine you feel that way about Jasmine.”
“Oh, I do! What gives me hope is that I think my parents, and Jasmine’s parents, still feel that way, too. Decades later, they still find each other magical, still a joy. Not unexpected, but they can look back and savor the unexpected connection that brought them together.”
“It might be interesting to swap stories about that. Not tonight, I think, but ... soon,” she said.
“I’d be happy to. My parents’ story is ... it’s a good one for some thought. Not straightforward, and it’s ... well, you’ll see.”
“I think little about your family is straightforward. That seems to be a good thing.”
“It very much is, Amy.”
She smiled, and said, “I like it when you say that. Not too often, but it’s a little piece of joy at moments like this. You are ... this is the first...”
I nodded and hugged her a little tighter still.
“That had been my guess.”
“Valentine’s Day always seemed silly. It seems much less silly now. But that’s because it means something, not just an excuse for pretend romance.”
“I think it’ll matter for Jas and me as a couple, but it’s also ... if Valentine’s Day is the day you’re romantic, you’re doing it wrong. But if it’s ... well, say, Thanksgiving. If that’s the only day you have a sense of gratitude, you’re doing it wrong, but having a day for that is still wonderful.”
She looked a bit surprised, then nodded quickly.
“I had not put them together that way! I like that. It doesn’t have to be a holiday made to sell cards, candy, and flowers. Even if it did sell those things! If one has love and romance, it is a special day to celebrate, but also one among many.”
“Yes,” I said, then kissed her softly.
She wiggled her hips and said, “We should separate?”
“Just a bit.”
“We should separate more. A shower, then more snuggling.”
“I would love that,” I said.
We showered, then snuggled up in a chair, blanket around us. She made a ‘hmrph’ noise when my hug wasn’t sufficiently tight, pretended to pout, then sighed when I added a bit more pressure.
“You aren’t getting out of that anytime soon!” she said, eyes twinkling. “I enjoy this much too much. I could even say ‘much too much for my own good,’ except for knowing I’m very safe with you.”
“Very safe indeed,” I said.
“I think...” she said, then paused.
“Mmm?” I said, lightly stroking her back.
“That’s a relationship paradox. The safer you feel, the more vulnerable you are, maybe. The more someone knows, and the more you trust them, the more they can hurt you. But the more they can make you feel wonderful, too. I ... wonder...”
She didn’t continue, so I said, “Mmm? Again?”
She giggled a bit. Her giggle wasn’t entirely new, but she was mastering it, if not all at once.
“It occurred to me that, maybe, jealousy is a defense mechanism against that. If I cling tightly to the person I trust, and they cling tightly to me, neither takes the opportunity to hurt each other.”
“I can see that,” I said, nodding. “But I’m not convinced that jealousy stops breakups and hurt from happening. There’s plenty of cheating among people with ‘normal’ levels of jealousy.”
“True!” she said, nodding.
“It’s an interesting thought. I agree, though. Jasmine and Angie, in their different ways, could hurt me more than anyone else on Earth. I trust them completely not to, but that’s the point. If I trusted them less, it would hurt less if they plunged a knife into me. Metaphorically or physically, even.”
“Did you know some people plunge knives into themselves? Intentionally?” she said.
“I’ve heard about that.”
“I tried it, long ago. It did nothing for me. There are people in the goth community who swear by it.”
“Interesting,” I said. “The best explanation I’ve read was from someone who said, in effect, that life hurts. They experienced a randomly-timed steady stream of things hurting them emotionally. Hurting themselves physically gave them a controlled pain they knew and expected, and that worked for them. It seems extreme, but...”
“But sometimes life is extreme,” she said. “I had it easy, relatively. I was somewhat lonely, but otherwise happy, and I might have always just had my house with my cats. Which I might anyway, one day. True loneliness is supposed to be devastating, but I was only a little lonely. Other people have it much worse than I ever did, and I mean other people here, in this country, in lives with otherwise adequate means.”
I nodded a bit.
“Still ... I’m glad things are better.”
She smiled widely.
“So much better! I think, now, that even my house with my cats will be wildly different. I have friends and, most likely, I’ll keep them. And I know more about how to make more friends. Even if boyfriends are hard to come by after you — if there is an ‘after you,’ since we have no timetable — that’s very different.”
“Or girlfriends.”
She snorted and nodded.
“I still have no idea what I think about that, and that is reason enough to consider it more. But ... Jasmine has offered to help.”
She was definitely smirking at the end of that.
“I am not in the least surprised.”
She giggled. “Perhaps you will get to watch. I understand that guys like that.”