This week's prompt was: "peanut butter jelly time", and the alternates were: use: fish, magic, investment or "dreaming in the quietest moments" or use some sort of dessert or "When I looked into your eyes, I saw..."
Trapped in Time continues. As you'll recall, last week we met Charlie's sister, Mary, who has joined the group, who are traveling to see the Professor. Doll hopes he can help them with their dilemma - namely finding their way back to their own time. Enjoy! And don't forget to visit the rest of the Wednesday Briefers, whose links follow my tale.
Trapped in Time #13
As we make our way through this prehistoric jungle, privy to scenes unwitnessed before by the eyes of men—until I see this so-called professor for myself, I have to remain skeptical of his existence, therefore I must consider us the first—I find myself dreaming in the quietest moments. My mind begins to spin what-if scenarios, playing them out in my unconscious mind, even as I cling tightly to my Vittorio.
What if we can never leave this place? What if this is our home for the rest of our natural lives? Us and Myron—what a thought that is. Mostly unpleasant, but perhaps less than so than before we began our unexpected adventure. Am I softening toward the schmuck?
I hate to admit it, but maybe I am.
“Yes, my Doll?”
“What if we can never leave here?”
“Then we shall stay here.” He is so practical, my sweet Vittorio.
“Will you not be upset if we can never get home?”
He brushes aside stray locks of dark hair as he regards me most seriously. “Doll, if I am with you, then it doesn’t matter. As long as we are together, then that is where I wish to be. That is our home. I am just sorry that we cannot let your mother know we are well.”
Mutti. She is worried, of that I have no doubt, wondering where I am, where we are. If only there were a way to let her know we are well and happy and thinking of her. But there isn’t.
I feel a sudden wave of irritation wash over me at the image of my poor Mutti, fretting over me and worrying herself into an early grave.
“Damn Myron and his stupid magic,” I mumble, glaring at the back of his head. He’s too busy playing family man with Charlie and Mary to pay me any heed. I grab at a palm frond as we pass by, tearing it off and shredding it in my frustration. Unfortunately, the unruly plant is stronger than it looks and for my efforts, I am rewarded with bleeding fingers. Tears spring to my eyes—both of pain and anger.
“Shhh, shhh, Doll, please do not cry,” Vittorio frets.
As luck would have it, we find ourselves near a small rivulet. The others leap over it rather handily, but Vittorio places my hand in the cool water. Near to us a fish leaps, its gold scales shimmering in the sun and we catch our breath at the sight before it plops back into the water and disappears.
Vittorio kisses my cheeks, and my eyes; he kisses away my tears, cooing over me until I feel a measure of calm return. He gathers me into his arms and holds me close. I sigh against his chest. “I’m sorry. You know I want to be with you, now and forever. Always. I just can’t help worrying about mein Mutti…”
“I understand and that is why I love you so.”
I feel another hand on my arm and I look up to find Charlie standing before me, his large eyes both quizzical and sympathetic. “Doll unhappy?” he asks. “Don’t be unhappy. We love you, Doll.” He bends toward me and I feel his lips brush across my cheek.
I notice Myron standing just beyond Charlie. He’s holding Mary and fidgeting uncomfortably. Maybe even guiltily. I try not to glare at him, but it isn’t easy.
“You will see your Mutti again,” Vittorio assures me, and I trust him, and believe in him.
Somehow I find myself being hugged by both Vittorio and Charlie, and the attention is unexpected, but rather pleasant. I must not be such a baby, I tell myself. I am worrying Vittorio needlessly, and not doing myself any good. I will be of no use to anybody if I cannot control my emotions. Being German, that should not be hard to do.
“Thank you,” I whisper. Vittorio helps me to my feet, kissing my damaged fingers, holding my hand carefully
Charlie returns to Myron, and they whisper together for several minutes. Myron’s frown deepens accordingly. At last, Charlie kisses him, and he approaches me.
“I’m very sorry, Adalbert, that I got you and Vittorio all balled up, and caused you so much trouble. I was wrong to try to take him away from you. I see that now. And I’m sorry that I am not the… the wizard… I thought I was…” He takes a quick swipe at his eyes, and I’m surprised to realize that he is crying. He sounds sincere, but can I trust him? “Maybe someday you can forgive me.” He gathers himself with what dignity he can muster. Charlie slides an arm about his waist, and they start to walk away, Mary chittering away between them.
I should stop him, tell him that I do forgive him, but I do not feel quite so sure that I do. Not yet. At least he’s admitted to being wrong; that’s a start.
He halts in his tracks, and they all turn back toward me.
“I cannot make a promise, but I will try. Is that copacetic with you?”
“Copacetic.” He offers me a shy smile, and just that suddenly the mood lightens, and we resume our journey.
As promised, we return to the area where my bike was last seen, and there it is, poor wounded baby. I shake my head and cluck over it like a mother hen, but Vittorio knows just what to do. He eyes it carefully, making sure everything else is where it should be, and then, to my amazement, he begins to twist it back into its proper position. Until this moment I hadn’t fully appreciated how very strong he is. And now she is as good as new. I fling my arms about his neck, pepper him with kisses.
Life is looking like the cat’s meow once more.
to be continued
Now go check out the other Briefers and see what they're up to!
MA Church m/m
LM Brown m/m
Michael Mandrake m/m