The Night

It was long and painfully pent up. That’s how winfry remembered the trip. Neither he nor isa spoke save giving directions, but when you’re on the only road from nilbmah citadel to nighline there aren’t too many directions unless they’re warnings about deer crossing the road. The head lights were they only light in the night and they had long since become insensitive to the monotone rush of the vehicle traveling at 85 miles per hour. This dulling of physical sensations let the paranoia of the chase crash them on edge. The illusion of tracking headlights in the rear-view mirror was much more than a motif of the trip. Were they being followed? What if they were? Was that creature following them? Could it freeze the car like it froze them? Could they break from the road if need be without four-wheel drive? Should they have stayed in the city? How much longer till the border? It would have been easier once they started to talk but the activation energy was too high. Not even the radio was on.

They stopped once before nighline when isa absolutely couldn’t wait any longer for a bathroom and asked winfry to pull over. winfry got out of the car to stretch his legs and watch as isa disappeared into the brush on the side of the road. A chorus of chirps and burps had replaced the artificial drone of the car and at this moment in the middle of the night middle of nowhere nilmbah, winfry realized, for the first time fully realized, the absolute extent of his dependence on isa, and hers on him. They had hardly known each other 4 months. Were they really up for this? They might as well marry each other with the commitment the situation demanded. Shotgun weddings never ended well. Maybe that’s why there was a lump in winfry’s throat when isa came back prematurely to ask if they had any napkins and a band-aid to wrap around a cut she received on her finger from a briar patch.

When they finally reached nighline, it was apparent they would have to rest there before adventuring off into the woods of LusciousLocks. They stayed at the englewood estate, which isa still owned. Even as late as it was, isa played the gracious hostess and gave winfry the tour of the house: the by then dusty living room with an ostentatious grand piano that isa pretended she couldn’t play, the ergonomic and efficient kitchen where they dropped off the remains of their baguette and brunj paste, the long and lonely unused dinning room, the grand carpeted marble staircase, the nursery turned science lab combination art studio, the library study with an alpha-male beast of a desk, luscious leather sofa chairs and flights upon flights of books, and of course isa’s old room. isa still wasn’t able to enter her brother’s room and who show’s guests their parents’ bedroom – that’s just awkward.

The exhaustion of the night’s ordeal kept winfry and isa from having the energy to set up a bed on a sofa so they both collapsed, clothes still on, onto isa’s childhood twin bed that still had the unicorn princess sheets. It was the first time they slept with each other.

“Um, isa,” yawn, “where do you,” another yawn, “keep extra sheets? So I can set up the couch.”

“Oh I don’t remember.” yawn, “especial while I’m this tired. How about we just lie down for a minute to regain some energy before we go searching for sheets?”

It took a minute or so for winfry to inch from sitting on the bed to lying beside isa. It took two seconds for him to join isa in dreamland.

Just before dawn, winfry rolled over in his sleep on top of isa, the quilaire pressed in between their bodies. With their limbs wrapped together, it began to grow. The oval clenched as the handle expanded in between their stomachs. winfry and isa remained asleep, but it appeared that their subconscious were, at that moment, quite conscious.

When the sunrays slipped by the curtains and woke them, they were both naked and the sheets were thrown across the floor. In spite of himself it took a few seconds for winfry to tear his gaze from isa’s perfectly pale curves. After that though, his eyes were hooked by the floor as he cautiously selected his clothes from a haphazard pile amongst isa’s cardigan and under-things. He was utterly aware that isa watched him from the side of the bed. What was her gaze saying? Was she ashamed? Disappointed? Hurt? Confused? Violated? His peripheral vision must have been waning because he could have sworn he saw a smile in the corner of his eye as he donned his briefs. Once dressed, winfry carefully examined the fairy-tale figurines on the top of her chest-of-drawers, while isa put on her clothes. He persisted in his examination until the air of awkwardness became so suffocating that he couldn’t resist sitting down with isa on the bed.

“Did we…”

“What…”

“You know…”

“Umm…”

“I can’t…”

“What… Me neither…”

“We should get breakfast.”

“ok”