Chapter 1.1: To All Good Things

(excerpt one of three)

 

     They watched it together, one at a time.

     "So thats how it ends..." Her voice trailed off as she focused on her target, ignoring the dissent of the other one here.

     "Or, how it begins," he insisted.

     "Hmph."

    The musing watcher was a gilded Lily, drenched in golden sunlight. Lying in their little boat, she aimed her binoculars heavenward. Her combative companion recklessly drove his forceful Will right at her, steering their conversation toward a head-on collision. They weren't discussing the weather on their final day of rest.

     "It's the same creature, Lily, I'm telling you. Life carries over and on."

     "Old one and then a new one, Willie; they're separate. Two different lives."

     "No. They're one," he persisted. "It's inside, changing." The blond teen motioned for the field glasses that Lily held clamped to her eyes, and wiggled his fingers impatiently. "My turn now."

     "Not yet," she murmured, "but soon it will be." She settled back, laying her head on the bow of the ancient, battered dinghy, her long dark hair dipping into the lake's green water, floating like a dusky lily pad in a swirling pool of her own. "Just wait." She held the glasses to her eyes and hummed a tuneless, happy melody while she fiddled with her focus.

     William put on the brakes while she watched, as he did, her. Reclining sideways, he rested his head on the side of the vessel and held his tongue, if not his thoughts. As long as I'm with you, I'll wait, for as long as it takes... He strained his eyes toward her, even though he knew every line of her features and form. God, she's beautiful, he thought; too beautiful for others. He had her all for himself, and wanted it to stay that way. But time was running out, for that...

     Will's possessive eye fell toward the source of the splashing sound close by. Lily's leg dangled unselfconsciously over the side of the boat, her foot feeling the current. The boy's lingering gaze traveled up from her delicate ankle, swishing slowly through the liquid. He lovingly traced up her glistening calf and around to her shiny shin, and then inched higher to her not-quite-knobby knee, so deliciously dimpled and round. There wasn't a blemish or a mark on her tawny skin, not even the tiniest scar left after she tripped on the stairs and cut her knee that time.

     Lily was perfect, to him... well, almost. She's a bit of a dinghy herself, he chuckled aloud, patting the boat.

     "What's so funny," she murmured.

     "Besides you, nothing," he mumbled from his position. "Don't mind me."

     "I won't," she promised, and continued her observation.

     "Don't I know it," he replied under his breath. He licked his salty lips, allowing his eyes to continue their admiring journey along her skin. It looked so inviting - soft, tanned, and gleaming; over the top of her moving leg, muscle flexing fluidly just beneath her flesh, up and down, there and gone...

     His trail's lascivious descent over the length of her thigh, and then the paler, softer inside, vanished unfairly beneath the blue jean cutoffs that caressed her hips and every other blessed bit they hid, and quite barely. In between was no-man's land, where he dare not loiter, or look. He forced his eyes away from the tantalizingly thin, stuffed strip of denim; he didn't want her to catch him again.

     The last time, he recalled, she had looked surprised to see his furtive, yet instinctive glance sneak beneath her dress when she had presented an unaware opportunity. There were lots of those with Lily. Well, he heatedly thought, what does she expect? It's like she doesn't even know how attractive she is. She's so unconscious!

     The object of his desire swished her leg innocently, unaware of his not-quite-guilty gaze. Then, as if suddenly sensing it, she lifted it dripping out of the water, startling him. Her foot stomped with finality to the dinghy's bottom, and she drew her legs together as she adjusted to a more comfortable position. Without worries, she twisted the bottom of her blue and yellow tie-dyed top absentmindedly, as she continued her study, and he continued his...

    

     Above them, the chrysalis glistened indifferently in the afternoon sunlight. Like a green organic gem, it dangled precariously from a beach-bound tree's broken branch, concealing its secret safely inside its supple silken shell. Nearby, on this same creaking limb labored a small striped caterpillar, constructing its own changing room.

     They were all of them caught near the shoreline, in a small rocky fingerlike cove, two in the tree on the crumbling land, and two in the boat on the water.

     Overseeing all, the sun's golden pupil burned against the inquisitive iris of blue sky. It gazed down warm upon the pair in the small, shallow craft, but did so impassively. The scene seemed filtered as if through amber or honey.

     Lopez Lake undulated beneath and around them, reflecting the sunlight in its wavelets, equally unconcerned with the ongoing debate on its otherwise placid surface. The adversaries were almost all the way back to shore from a row around the cove; they had stopped beneath this tree near the rocks to eke out a few more hours of playtime before leaving for home.

     However, right now, Lily was in no mood to debate, cooperate, or play. Fascinated with her study, she stretched her slight form out uninhibitedly, catching as much sun on her flawless, tanned skin as each would seek, which was all of it but for that concealed beneath her unbuttoned cutoffs and tiny tank top. Even though quite modest (when mindful of it), her clothes fit her as if she wasn't. She tended toward the second skin, or as little as possible to bind her. She wasn't at all voluptuous; she didn't need to be.

     Will, of course, was not about to complain; he quietly observed her watching the busy bugs. He knew when to press the attack, and when to retreat in silence. No time like the present, he sighed internally. Their debate could wait, as he did.

     The green, yellow, and white-striped caterpillar's spinneret continued to spin a thin stream of liquid silk around itself, already beginning to harden in the gentle heat of this spring afternoon. The other's finished jade chamber dangled glistening right next to the laborer, where something inside was at work as well. The mystery of life made manifest, for all of them concerned...

     The pair of passengers rocked in their floating cradle, as small eddies and ripples swirled and slurped around their vessel. Sparse stands of oak dotted the hilly lands close by; songbirds and butterflies darted and flitted through the warm air. The only other sounds were the buzzing of bees, thrumming hummingbird wings, whizzing dragonflies hovering here, then there, and then away; the occasional shrill screech of a soaring hawk from on high, far above them all; almost. On its last day, March was going out like a lamb, with nary a lion in sight.

     It was to be something else quite entirely...

    

     "Such a pretty little tomb," Lily murmured.

     Will finally lost his patience, and sat up. "It doesnt die; it changes," he scolded. "Why dont you get that?" He wanted the binoculars, and her indifference annoyed him, not to mention her stubborn and contrary position. "Now gimme, I want to see too!"

     She nonchalantly shrugged him off. Lily loved butterflies, but caterpillars, not so much. Crawling things made her squeamish. Yet the process of metamorphosis fascinated her, and so she watched, transfixed. She just couldn't see that the emergent creature was the same as the one going in. "Death is supposed to be part of the deal," she replied with finality. "The caterpillar dies. Everything dies. That's just how it is down here."

     "C'mon, Lily; get real." He didn't argue with her very often, but when he did, he fully committed. "You know that the butterfly comes out of there, so it can't be dead," he insisted. "And when it does come out, the caterpillar's little brain will go, 'Whoa! I just turned into a butterfly! This is way better than being a bug!'And then he'll fly away, all cool and stuff."

     With a sigh, Lily lowered the binoculars at last. Her eyes were so blue that they seemed as if formed from the deepest part of the sky, with tiny clouds in them: minute, perfect puffs of white that flecked the cobalt color. They flashed at Will with either humor or sadness; which one, though, was hard for him to tell. With her, it could be both. In either case, she replied to him with certainty, "It'll just say, 'I'm a butterfly.' It won't remember about caterpillars anymore. That life is dead."

     "You're wrong."

     "Right." She finally tossed the field glasses to him saying, "The caterpillar's dead, Jim. Long live the butterfly. Deal with it."

     "You're just death-obsessed, is all," he replied, scowling. "And mean." He cradled the binoculars in his lap, averting her curious gaze.

     Changing her demeanor as quick as a ray of sunlight released from a ghosting fog, she teased him, as she often did. "Aw, Willie, I'm not mean now, am I?" She beamed her radiant smile at him, diminishing her usually latent melancholia, and most of his defenses as well. "If I have been, I'm sorry, okay?" She didn't want him to see her in such a dark mood; lately it had become harder for her to get away with her lapses, whether of spirit, judgment, or memory, without him calling her on them. Daily now, it seems, she thought.

     Will just nodded in response, as if to himself or perhaps keeping count of her offences. He tumbled the binoculars absent-mindedly in his lap, but watched her solemnly, bugs now forgotten. He looked as if he wanted to say something but kept it sealed inside, where he muzzled so many other things. He dropped his eyes again, and mumbled, "Whatever."

     A smile played at the corner of her lips as she regarded him from beneath her bangs. Oh, my tough little man, she thought with amusement, I know how to get to you. "Hey, I just made a poem," she announced, "want to hear it?"

     Before he could even start to protest, Lily commenced. "It's called 'To a Caterpillar, For the Butterfly.'" Making sure that she had his grudging attention, she addressed the knitting caterpillar above them, preparing its un-final resting place on a fluttering leaf of a twisted twig of a broken branch of a tilted tree, half rooted near the waterline. She recited:

          "Spinning 'round but not a web;

          Closing down your earthly net

          Stop the crawling to your end

          Trap your self inside of it.

          Fly through where your skin is rent

          Another's point of view is set:

          By growing up, and toward that Friend,

          Another point of You ascends."

     Then she flashed Will their smile, their very private one, and leaned toward him. "The 'y' in 'you' is capital," she explained conspiratorially. "Pretty good, huh?" Her laughing eyes showed that she knew what was coming, judging from his sardonic expression. Nevertheless, she asked anyway. "What do you think? I just made it up."

     "Yeah, I can tell," he snorted. "I don't get it." He yanked off his cap and began bending the bill in half.

     "Hey, it's hard to think this stuff up! And don't wreck your cap."

     "We're on vacation," he blurted. "We don't need to think! Don't be so -" He smacked his cap through the water in frustration, resulting in an arcing splash that unexpectedly (for both of them) drenched her face.

     She gasped and froze as the water dripped from her soaked face into her lap. Then she burbled, " Oh!"

     " - thoughtful," he finished. "Oops."

     In the expectant silence following, Lily gave no reaction but for a barely audible growl rising in her throat. Not the reaction he had hoped for, not by a long shot. She slowly wiped her face with her hands, and then flicked the excess water into the lake. It did little to dry her.

     "S-sorry," he stammered, "Forgive me?" With no response out of her but a growing smolder, he decided that she wasn't receptive just now. Time for a hasty retreat. He scooted back over his seat, realizing very quickly that he had nowhere to scoot to.

     Practically. "Uh oh ..."

     Still dripping wet, Lily grasped for his feet and latched onto his ankles. She was strong for her size, with the body of a gymnast not built in a gym. "Gotcha," she snapped.

     "I said I was sorry," he wailed, and tried to kick free. No dice. From the strength of her grip, he knew that he was in for trouble. " Lemmego!"

     Grim determination settled on her face. " Sure I'll let you go," she muttered. Trying to maintain her equilibrium, she twisted his legs. He flopped over onto his chest like a big fish. "Like to splash in the water, do you?" The boat lurched accordingly as she wrestled with him, and got a better grasp around his ankles. "So, didja like my poem, Willie?"

     "NO!" He scrabbled at the wooden seat in futility. " Don't!"

     "Oh, wrong answer; sorry!" She raised his ankles higher, struggling with his shifting weight and her faltering balance. " Here comes a wet Willie," she yelled gleefully. But his squirming made it hard to toss him without -

     Suddenly the dinghy listed and, accompanied by Lily's surprised shriek, cast its two flailing occupants into the water with a huge concussive splash. They entered the next world willingly, for the most part.

     The small craft righted itself just as if nothing had happened, spanking the water with a hollow thump. Ripples spread outward from the slowly turning boat in anticipation of the air-breathers' return from the depths. The lake was quiet again, but just for a moment...

     Explosively, the two spluttering combatants broke the surface, screeching outraged accusations fueled by the spring-chilly waters. Loud, repeated smacks of palms cracked the quiet, propelling tiny tidal waves at gasping mouths. They gurgled and cackled crazily in the afternoon's waning heat, playing like children out well past their bedtime. By and by, they broke off their attacks and decided to get one last swim in before their vacation ended with the subsequent return to real life, yet another world away.

     Finally sated, they struggled to climb back into their traitorous boat. Both passengers slumped to their seats, drenched and breathing heavily. The exertion and exhilaration had drained them of words, but filled them with sensation, with exuberant life.

     Still panting, Lily gathered up her raven-glossy mane and began squeezing the water out of it. Her joyous over-excitement diminished as she began her hair drying ritual. She relaxed and shut her eyes, feeling the warm sun on her heart-shaped face, coating her form completely and kissing her silky skin with its radiance. It felt to her like a caress, direct from her Father, just for her.

     Out here, with Him all around her, she felt as if He had no choice but to embrace her, along with everything else that He deigned to Love. Its the Law...

     Despite what she felt inside, or didn't.

     She continued going through the motions, as she oftentimes did. A breathy sigh of contentment escaped her and swept up and away, leaving her behind on the Earth. She felt so close to Heaven, nonetheless...