Fruitbat

21. 21

21

Si

Beyond time . . .

The river rushes under the concrete bridge, slamming against its piles with brute force that shifts and sways the superstructure under our footsteps, as we crossover to my side of the city, and head for the park.

The birds sing for the sunshine and squirrels scurry about the ground, foraging for bounty, preparing for the coming winter. They pay no attention to us ghosts. The world is just moving on.

The gravel path still pops and crunches as we walk on the crushed stone. The air is nutty and sweet, I can almost taste it.

“This is weird, right?” I ask .

“Very.” Danny says, and sighs.

The static between our hands is still there, but it’s subtle and just feels natural. My eyes float around the park, to all of the people carrying on with their lives. A pack of children with backpacks, walking to school together, the businessman with his briefcase taking long strides and huffing grumpily on his way to work, then the old woman sitting on a bench feeding birds with scattered fistfuls of seeds she’s pulling from a burlap bag.

“How can you tell who’s dead and who’s alive?”

“Spirits usually have a faint sheen.”

I look at all the strangers again and now I see it. The old woman shimmers like the sun is reflecting off her skin. I’m surprised I could never see that before. Or maybe I could but never thought twice about it. I can’t recall a time though.

All of the world around us starts to blur, ever so slightly, like watercolor paint joining a wet canvas. Colors bleed into one another, creating new hues, and then pull back into focus.

“What was that?” I ask.

Danny shrugs and his fingers tighten around mine.

“Stay with me.” He seems nervous.

“I’m not going anywhere.” I assure him.

“Good,” he smiles.

Danny pulls me toward a park bench, facing a fountain, with stone cherubs aiming bows and arrows that spout water, at its center.

He sits and welcomes me to join him, wrenching me into his arm, holding me tight against his chest .

I shimmy down and nuzzle into his warmth, laying my head back onto his shoulder.

“What do we do now?” I ask.

“I’m not sure, I never asked anyone what this would be like.” Danny’s chest heaves under my head.

I twist my neck to look up at him and he’s changed. Not a lot. He’s still beautiful Danny, but subtle lines that were around his eyes are gone, his hair is shinier and neatly arranged.

“You look different.” I kiss his cheek.

“I do?”

“A little bit.” I hop up, off the bench, and float over to the fountain, kneeling on its edge and peering down at my reflection, babbling under the cherub’s stream. “I look the same.” Except my curls are glazed and tidy.

“You were already perfect.” Danny charms.

I trot back and kiss his sweet mouth.

“My place is a few blocks that way,” I point. “Do you want to go see it? Before whatever is supposed to happen, —happens?”

“Yes.” Danny beams.

I tug him up off the bench and wrap an arm around his shoulders, leading the way toward Park Row.