Love don't speak my name…I'm not ready to answer the call of the far-shooting boy.
The woman with the raw honey hair screamed out as her orgasm crested. For a moment there was a strong arm under her back, holding her up, a hand resting intimately on her inner thigh. The moment passed as the waves ebbed; the hand withdrew into it's own privacy. The woman rolled over with a deep sigh.
"That was incredible. You sure you don't want to take your jeans off?" She asked.
Seated on the edge of the mattress was a handsome girl with a shock of black hair, her body held out of the way of any physical contact. The girl stood up with a swift, controlled motion. From behind she was a young man, from the curve of shoulder dropping down to the line of hip. She stretched her arm and froze in the posture of an archer; a flexing of long muscle under the tattoos that covered her naked back. The pictures were strange, pagan. The woman tried to understand the images, grab a handful of knowing about the girl, but they were covered abruptly by a black T-shirt.
"Yeah. I'm sure." She stalked to the chair and picked up a pack of cigarettes.
The woman on the mattress leaned up on her elbow. She looked carefully at the lean body of the girl, at the distant, brilliant eyes. Nineteen tops, probably eighteen, she thought. "You've got to be young. My friends will not believe this. I mean, I never…How old are you, anyway?"
"Old enough."
"I'm twenty five. I bet that seems ancient to you," The woman said.
The black haired girl shrugged, as if the question were irrelevant. "No."
"What are you doing way over there?" The woman asked. She wanted the girl to talk. The rough edged sound of her voice was delicious, but she craved the validation of conversation. The sweat had started to cool on her body, the room was cold. It was the middle of February in Buffalo, the dead heart of winter.
The girl was sitting on the sill with the window cracked open to the demon chill, seeming not to feel it. "Smoking," She said.
The woman laughed. "How old fashioned. Smoking after sex. Come back over here."
The girl didn't reply. The room felt colder.
The woman sat up, the sheet wound around her body like a shroud. "Do you want to know my name?" She asked, her voice much softer now. "You didn't ask, back at the bar."
The girl shrugged again.
"It's Sharon."
The handsome girl stood up and threw the cigarette out the window. It fell like a firefly, smothering out in the snow that drowned the city. "Get some sleep."
"Aren't you coming to bed?" Sharon asked, hating the naked sound of her voice.
"No." The girl closed the door behind her as she left.
Light through stained glass, my love…rivers of color painting your skin.
It had to be the day, Rosalind thought with edged humor. Valentine's Day just dares the Universe to put slush in your boots, parking tickets on your car, late fines on your library card, traffic in your way. The world throws everything it has at you, just to see if it can shake your mood loose. Because it knows I'm going home to paradise. People are not supposed to be this happy.
Valentine's Day had never mattered to her much. She always got a few cards with the candy red hearts on the front, cute little baby Cupids with their harmless looking arrows simpering at the viewer. They have no earthly idea what love is like, Rosalind thought. Cupid was just the Roman name for Eros, and Eros was a beautiful young man armed with a bow to shoot the arrows of desire into mortal hearts. The desire aroused by Eros was swift as a bolt from heaven and as merciless, the golden arrows with dove's feathers that made you weep. He was a handsome boy with deadly charm, unscrupulous to those around him, who delighted in causing amorous havoc. Then, as the story goes, Eros himself fell in love and everything changed.
Here she was, running late, daring a winter storm that danced just this side of blizzard to race home to her own beautiful, deadly boy. Taryn was only twenty, a positively scandalous choice for a respected professor of thirty-three. As Rosalind had learned, there was no reasoning with the heart.
The snowdrifts were twenty feet high, heaped along side the street, looming like a tower above her car. She had to park two streets away, where the snowplows had already started to work. The snow was blowing sideways in a stinging barrage, adding teeth to the wind. She was wet and she was cold, blind from the ice on her lashes. The steps to her house were buried, the snow spilled over the tops of her boots. It was pure physical misery.
Rosalind opened the door and none of it mattered. She was there in the living room, snow running down her hair and lashes, dripping onto the floor, grinning her fool head off. She couldn't help it. She was home, and there in front of her was the black haired Eros, lancing her through with arrows of desire. She dropped everything she was carrying and ran into her boy's arms.
Taryn's mouth was a hot coal on hers, kissing her was like eating fire. Rosalind didn't know how they got upstairs, didn't recall taking off her clothing. All she knew was the bed under her, her smile of pure lust, the way her legs spread with a woman's worldly generosity. She opened herself and the boy all but fainted. She felt the rain of fire on her skin, the tension in her muscles, the rising. Rosalind was hungry and the boy was food to her and she was life to the boy, she knew it by the way she was held. She couldn't get enough, the only word she knew was more. Then Taryn was inside her and it was glorious. She was in her skin, she was out of her skin, she filled the room. Right on the edge she hesitated, vibrating, caught between worlds. It was too much, wearing the ocean between her muscle and bone. If the boy stopped touching her exactly like that the room would collapse, the bed would crash into the basement. It wasn't enough, it was never going to happen, she was going to die in a knot of sinew and splintered bone from the effort. The coal touched down like a cat's paw, Taryn's tongue on her, exquisite. She never wanted it to end, she couldn't bear it if it didn't- Rosalind came, hard, into her boy's mouth.
The boy crawled up her body; Rosalind opened her arms in welcome. She felt the rough thatch of black hair against her neck, felt the boy relax with a long sigh in her arms. "You're incredible." Taryn's voice was a low rumble against Rosalind's throat.
Rosalind felt like purring.
"What are you thinking about?" Taryn asked.
Rosalind hugged the boy. "Chartres Cathedral."
"What?"
"There's this cathedral in France. The stained glass windows are famous for the blue used- it's a unique ethereal blue, like melted sapphires infused with light. The whole room looks exactly like that right now," Rosalind said.
"You having a religious experience on me?" Taryn asked.
"I think I'm having a religious experience with you. That seems fitting. It is Valentine's Day. The day of love."
"I never celebrated Valentine's Day. It's a greeting card holiday," Taryn said.
Rosalind kissed her. "Me neither. But being with you makes me want to celebrate. We could make a real holiday of it, a day to devote ourselves to Eros."
"Rhea would be proud," Taryn said.
Rosalind laughed. "Love makes pagans of us all. So what do you think? We could have a tradition of our own."
"I love you. I'd follow you anywhere. We can devote a day to Eros."
I will wait for you with open arms forever in the fields of paradise.
Professor Rosalind Olchawski checked the mirror one last time before leaving the bedroom. Not bad for thirty eight, she thought. She pushed her hair back behind her ears. There was more gray mingled in the electrum, but you had to search to find it. There were a few more lines here and there, her cheekbones stood out more, but the biggest difference was her eyes. The searching look was gone. Here was a look of peace, of joy. It was the look of a woman who loved, and was loved, well.
Feeling satisfied, wearing her new brown silk suit, Rosalind strode purposefully into the kitchen and shrieked in pain. She danced sideways, clutching at her foot. The offending object was plucked from the floor and regarded with suspicion.
"Joseph Alexander Olchawski, did you leave your Brontosaurus in the middle of the floor again?" She asked, sternly.
The boy pushing his cereal into piles on the table looked up at her with round green eyes. "No."
Rosalind had to keep herself from smiling. He looked exactly like her brother Eric had at two. If the resemblance ran true as he got older, the white blond hair would darken to a soft brown, the green eyes would gradually turn hazel. He would always look like an Olchawski. "Then what's this?" She asked, holding up the plastic toy.
"Brachiosaurus, Mom," Joe said, seriously.
"They're lawyers at this age. You have to be exact." Taryn took the bowl away from the boy and scooped the cereal back into it. "Come on, Joe-Joe. Time to get ready. Pack all your guys."
"Okay." He took off, slipping down the hall in his socks.
"Sorry about the hallway surprise. He and Quinn are comparing dinosaurs today at playgroup. We had to bring them out and examine all of them," Taryn said, setting the bowl on the counter. She poured a cup of coffee into a blue glass mug and handed it to Rosalind.
"Goblin babysitting tonight?" Rosalind asked.
"I had to bribe the hell out of her, but yes. It's Eros' night." Taryn smiled.
Rosalind felt her heart melt. She put the cup down and grabbed Taryn around the waist. "God, you're handsome. I know you're kind of young for me, but would you marry me?"
"Already did. But I like older women." Taryn leaned down and kissed her.
"I can't find Dimetrodon!" Joe shouted down the hall.
"Let's see which one of us he wants," Rosalind said, against Taryn's lips.
"Abba!"
"He's your boy," Rosalind said.
"Only because I'm home with him during the day," Taryn said. She kissed Rosalind quickly.
"Abba!"
"I'm being summoned. Your keys are on the table by the door. Briefcase too. I'll see you tonight." Taryn sprinted down the hall.
Rosalind picked up her keys. An envelope was balanced on the top of her briefcase. She opened it. To My Wife-
I will love you until death stills my heart, until I find you again in our next life.
I will wait for you with open arms forever in the fields of paradise.
Taryn
"You are the love of my life," Rosalind said, softly. "Happy Eros day, beloved."
Susan Smith