Part 12: Nocturne in Tune
It was a peaceful night, which had followed a peaceful but eventful day. Elora had her hair chopped and shorn, and it was so very, very freeing. That was in the early morning, nano seconds after Wonderland Beauty Salon opened it’s doors. Freedom drunk as Elora was, she did what she had wanted to do since she was twelve: she got the beginnings of a back tattoo! The outline stretched between her shoulder blades and up to the nape of her neck. A beautiful rendition of Vincent’s Starry Night, arcing across her back…which was now in pain, and caused her to wince in a major wincing way when she moved just like “OW!”, or leaned on something, forgetting, “OH MAN!” She had her A&D ointment, her non-scented lotion, and had to ask her neighbor to help change the paper taped, saran covered bandage a few times. Three weeks until the next step. She couldn’t wait.
Bandaged up, clean for now, she knew she was in for at least three weeks of OWies, and no bras. Not until it healed properly. Nine weeks no bras? The thought of no bras made her think of her missing very expensive bra, and of Daniel, who she was pretty sure was the decolletage bra thief. That was for another time. She took her California Malbec in hand, streamed her favorite AAA radio station over her lap top auxiliary speakers with special sub woofer attachment, and went to sit on the windowsill of the wide open window in her living room. A couple of nondescript songs came and went. She sipped her wine, looking at the stars. She was in bliss. Pained bliss, but bliss.
But then.. one of Elora’s favorite singer/songwriters, Harlan Regan, a new song, from his new CD, Quoted, played, and she stopped sipping, stopped wincing, stopped focusing on the stars, and was enveloped by this:
Don’t limit to just one dream, And let them go where you want At the place in your life that you are when you dream them.. Open those doorways That you often find closed Dream the big dream for no one but yourself Don’t let the mediocre minds Crush your great spirit They’re jealous and scared Because you are unknown And the unknown is frightening As closed minds are to me as well One day I hope you’ll find What you’ve been wishing Hope is not just pie in the sky One day I know you find what you’re dreaming One day I know you’ll live your dream One day I know, another dream will find you Take that road…see where it goes.
Elora cried, hugging her knees to her bra-less chest, her short spiked shock haired head leaned down, resting sideways to the field beyond the window.
Daniel stood in the field that was just beyond where Elora sat in the window, crying. He saw her shake silently, illuminated in a glaze of softly spun light. He realized his mouth was agape, and winching it shut he felt and heard his heart beating away, like a Great Rift Gold Dwarf hammering away at his foes, aberrations from the Underdark.
“Dork,” he thought, “the most exquisite woman I’ve ever seen, crying her eyes out over a song, and I go to D&D.” He shook his head, and only then realized that he had been steadily walking towards Elora. Stopping, he looked into her eyes, and…
HE LOOKED INTO HER EYES… “SHEISLOOKINGRIGHTATME!
Elora raced out of her room, well, racing as much as she could with an “ouch ouch OUCH” running across her shoulders, the shoulder blades, down and up her back, into her leg (“Leg? What the…”), out the door, and over to where the peeper splendidly lay in the grass. Kneeling down was like a Herculean chore, but she made it. Elora stared down, not knowing what to do, exactly.
Daniel came to, his heart doing a hot tamborim infused Samba while he lay on the night grass. His eyes opened slowly, and he was “SHEISRIGHTABOVEMELOOKINGATME!”
“Are you ok?” she asked.
“Um, uh..” he answered.
“What were you doing outside of my place, staring stalking me? What is your major malfunction?” Her arms were akimbo across her chest, very aware of being bra-less at that moment with somethings poking into her loose, but not loose enough, night shirt.
“What happened to your hair?”was the first thing that came to his uber-fogged state of mind. “And your back?” he continued.
She would have kneed him if (a) they were both standing and (b) if she wasn’t in massive itchy pain at that second. Punching him was also out of the question due to (b). Instead, she went into a five minute vocal kick-punch about men, men with their thing about women with long hair, men who don’t know not to ogle women, men who are weak lily liveried lying lumps of…..
Daniel was gobsmacked. He couldn’t believe he actually was hearing her voice, her soaring musical, lilting lift of joy and heavenly words. He grinned in the best moronic way.
“Hi, I’m Daniel,” he said as nonchalantly as he could,when she stopped to take a breath, tucking away Captain Chickenshit as best he could. “…and, I meant to say, I really like your new hair do.”
A minute passed. Sucking in her breath, she let it out in a slow, steady stream. She just said “Elora.”
“I know,” they both said in unison. They stared at each other, smiled, and began to laugh, one more uneasy then the other, but pretty soon it melded into a harmonic blend that filled the night. The stars blinked above them.
Winston, who had been following Daniel all day and night, watched the scene unfold from behind a fence that straddled the land between Elora’s place and her neighbors, who were now…unnaturally…out.
Hearing the laughter, Winston put his finger in his mouth and made like he was gagging. Straightening up, he realized in 100% certainty: he’d found his fool.