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A
Yook by Any Other Name
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Chapter 5: Sheds and Ankles Sid smiled. He liked that. The Promised Land. His smile broadened. A good place for his idea to find its fruition! Now all he needed was to locate an abandoned shed. ****************************** Sid walked down the street, past the old Butter Factory on his right that had been turned into a craft center, past the Yellow Shed on his left, some sort of selling point for local artists. He sniffed. It was all way too primitive for his tastes. Passing the Shell station, he turned right in front of the post office, heading for the bridge across the Bellinger River. Soon he had found the Gleniffer road and his pace quickened as he came down onto the flats. Skirting through the undergrowth, he studied the film site.
"What a wreck!" he murmured, frowning at the large pink house that looked to him like some cast-off from a drunken architect's drafting table. Wasting no more time, he went back through the underbrush, heading toward the small Never Never River. Following it upstream, he came upon an old burned-out farmstead. All that was left of it were its concrete front steps, two chimneys, and a shambles of collapsed, blackened wood. Behind it was a ramshackle barn. Passing that, he went further and further off the small dirt road, stopping and smiling when he saw what had once been a large storage shed for farm implements. It was completely surrounded now by overgrown eucalyptus of various sorts, making it almost invisible to the casual eye. The unpainted wooden door, faded dark grey and warped with the years, opened with a loud creak of rusty hinges. "Perfect!" he pronounced, stepping inside. There were no windows and only the one door. A shovel with a broken handle, a rake with bent tines, a heap of old rope, and several empty paint cans were all that remained. He raised his eyebrows. "Well, ladies and gents, you can see it's a real fixer-upper, but with a little TLC, you can move right in within a day or two!" Then he laughed. Time to go raid the supplies of nearby farms. He didn't need much. No food, no sleeping accommodations. Just a few special...things... for him to, um, tinker with.
At the
sound of steps in the hallway, everyone turned and looked at the
door as Maximus entered, followed closely by Joimus. There were 3
definite gasps in the room at the sight. He was in full regalia, his
rust-colored cape with its wide fur drape hanging from his
shoulders. Neither Terry C., Jocelyn, nor Laura had ever beheld him
in person before. Well, Jocelyn HAD seen him, but he was in bed,
tucked under the covers and wearing only his tunic. This was
different. This was...there was no other word for it...this
was...magnificent.
Himself grinned. He remembered Ridley's first sight of him in the gear. "We've found our General," someone had remarked and Ridley had nodded, his eyes sparkling with happiness and relief. Ever it had been so. The armor, especially when overlaid with the marvelous wool cape, added gravitas and presence. He recalled how, when wearing it, he had moved differently, carrying himself in a more authoritative, commanding manner. But, of course, Maximus simply WAS Maximus, and this manner was part and parcel of his being. "G'Day,
Maximus," Himself said, introducing the General to his mother,
his brother, and Laura. Maximus turned, curving his arm about Joimus, moving her gently forward, but keeping her tucked closely to his side. Jocelyn, who noticed everything, was very aware of the statement the General was making. She liked it. She liked that it was in her son to bring such a man so alive. And he was a man to bring fulfilled delight to any mother's heart...to take that maternal need to gaze upon a full-grown son and find in him nothing left undone.
Himself saw
the expressions passing over his mother's face and knew that she was
quite smitten, though in a different way than every other woman in
the world. He was used to feminine response to the General's
presence, but it was new to see it on his mother's face somehow. He
felt the smallest spark of jealousy, then laughed it off. Maximus
was only Maximus because he was Himself. With all his years in epis,
he thought he might be more used to having the 25 men, who were
extensions of his being in their foundational forms, be with him,
present and external as they were. Still, from time to time, the
strangeness of it hit him. He wondered, then, what it was like for
his mother and his brother to have him there in 26 so differing
forms. His mind wandered to Teller, who was, as yet, not fully
realized nor would be until Eucalyptus wrapped. Teller could not be
fully Teller until Himself made him so. It was how it...worked. It
was how it had been with the earlier 24.
He couldn't bear it. He stood quickly, his chair legs scraping harshly on the floor, and walked quickly from the room. Arriving at the main entrance, he let the screen smack behind him as he followed a pathway leading off between tall trees. Laura blinked two or three times and let out a long breath before she noticed Steve was no longer in the chair next to hers. "Where did he go?" she asked, turning to look up at Himself, who was completely aware of what Steve was feeling. Himself nodded toward the General. "I know he takes a bit of getting used to in person," he said softly, "but that will come." Then he added, looking at her levelly, his seagreen eyes serious, "I heard the screen slam." "Steve?" "Yes." "Excuse me a moment," she said to the others. Standing on the porch, she saw Steve disappearing around the curve of the path that led to the chapel. Looking quickly back over her shoulder into the house, she decided to follow him. She wasn't able to put her finger on just why she wanted to. After all, they had only just met. Yet she had sensed some meaning in Himself's eyes, something that said this would be the right thing to do. She had just gotten to the edge of the tree line when the path sloped sharply. It lay in deep shadow at that point and she hadn't seen the drop. The slender heel on her right shoe twisted sideways and she fell onto the grass beside the path, landing hard on her hip. Steve turned at the sound of her sharp cry, his eyes widening as he saw her fall. He sprinted rapidly back up the path, dropping to his knees close beside her. Her eyes were squinted with pain and her lips pressed tightly together.
"It's my ankle," she gasped. Gently, he took her foot between his hands, removing the pink shoe. "Ow!" she said. "I think it's sprained." It didn't dawn on her that he hadn't said a word. He just scooped her easily up into his arms, pressed her to his chest, and carried her back toward the house. She let her head rest against his shoulder and, despite the pain in her ankle, could have sworn she felt his cheek touching the top of her head. Opening the screen door with his foot, he carried her into the house. Hearing the slam of it, Himself and Jocelyn walked in that direction, finding Steve just settling Laura on the couch. One of her pink heels was missing and he was gently placing that foot on a pillow. "Laura!”both of them said in unison. "What happened?" "I tripped," she said, her eyes still blinking back a few tears of pain. "I'll get ice," Himself announced, hurrying into the kitchen. When he came back with a large plastic sack filled with ice and wrapped in a towel, Jocelyn carefully curved it around Laura's ankle. Himself sighed. "Well," he said, "doesn't look like you'll be driving back to Bellingen this afternoon after all." "Right," Jocelyn chimed in. "You're staying here with the rest of us!" Himself saw the look that flitted across Steve's face, though the women did not. "Do you have a bag?" Jocelyn asked. "In the trunk of my car," Laura replied. Steve moved to go get it and Himself said, "I'll come with you." Once in front of the house, Himself stopped, putting his hand on Steve's shoulder almost paternally. "Slow," he said, holding Steve's eyes with his own. Steve was a
bit taken aback. "Wh...what do you mean?" "With Laura. Take it slow." "Take what slow?" Himself smiled fondly at the younger man. "What you're feeling," he said. "Don't forget I know you as well as you know yourself." Actually, most of the characters seemed to forget that more often than they remembered it. The reality of what Himself was saying hit Steve almost like a blow. He looked straight across into the older pair of matching seagreen eyes, seeing clearly the certainty of the truth of that statement. He knew Himself knew everything about his loneliness, his feelings of being somehow left out of everything that had been going on around him for the past three years. Himself smiled again, giving Steve's shoulder an affectionate squeeze. "As our good Captain might say," he laughed, "I think there is a sea change in your participation level!" Then, removing his hand, he looked at Steve seriously. "She's not Monica. Not at all. It's time for you to grow up, you know, and discover what it is you truly want, truly need." Steve
nodded silently. "You always said you felt you had lost
yourself when you were in her apartment and you needed to go home to
find if you were still there." Steve gulped, remembering.
"You can't do that with Laura. You must learn to carry the truth of who you are with you. You must bring that to whatever comes or...or it will all end just the same as with Monica." Steve looked admiringly at Himself. Once they had been the same age, looked exactly the same. Now, though, he realized that while he had remained relatively the same, Himself had grown wiser by far. "You've changed," he said, meaning it as a compliment. Himself laughed again. "A decade will do that for you!" "Do you still want to be like Marlon Brando," Steve asked jokingly. Himself puffed his chest out grandly, entering into the spirit of the question. "I AM Marlon Brando!" he pronounced, trying to stifle a chuckle. Steve,
though, suddenly grew serious. "You are better," he said
softly.
Next
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