Chapter 22

He hath never fed of the dainties that are bred in a book; he hath not eaten paper, as it were; he hath not drunk ink. (27)  Not yet.  Not really. 

V could not sleep.  Neither could Evey though she was putting in a valiant effort pretending she was.  She had promised not to molest him and he had not yet found the words to tell her he would not mind if she did.  Courage man, how hard can it be?

He sighed and rolled over onto his back.  It was no use.  He suffered from a strange mix of idealism and pragmatism which was often very useful, but lately left him planning perfection while second guessing himself.  

Too many books, too much unwanted advice, it was all too much.  Perfection was impossible, but settling for less was intolerable.  It is only the opening salvo.  One tiny move is all you have to make, he told himself only to instantly rebut, it sets the tone.  It must be perfect.

Just touch her, it might not be perfect but it’s all you need.  Instead he said her name.

“Hmm?”  She pretended to wake and in V’s opinion did it beautifully.  She turned on her side, raised up on an elbow with her face hovered above him, lips mere inches away. 

Her gaze was steady and sure.  He could not hold it and glanced away, his eyes landed on her chest.  The camisole had shifted and one of her nipples was exposed.  Dear God.

He was awash in a sea of contradiction.  What he wanted, what he did not want, possibilities and problems, worries and hopes.  He was dying of anticipation and yet very far from ready.  He had done the wrong thing. 

“Are you alright?”  She asked.

“I’m fine.”  A fine liar, you mean. 

“You don’t sound fine.” 

“I…”  He forgot what he was saying when she shifted against him. 

Her lips descended closer.  “Do you want to kiss me, V?” 

There was a hairs breadth between them.  It was insane, truly the most stupid blunder in the universe, but the distance was too great.   All he had to do was lift his head and her lips would be his.  “Yes, I do.” 

“So why aren’t you?”  She voiced the question he was currently asking himself.

There were so many available answers, so much he needed to say but knew he should not.  He offered the obvious in lieu of the truth.  “You were pretending to be asleep.  It seemed rude.” 

She looked puzzled and his hand drifted to her cheek, pushing back imaginary ringlets as if he needed a better look at her face and immediately remembered cutting her hair.  Then as now, he had wanted to run his fingers through it and bask in the luxury of her honey brown curls. 

Instead he ran clippers over her scalp.  She cried when he shaved her head.  He held back his own tears until later when he was picking up the remnants of her hair.  He felt like crying again.

“I’m not sleeping now.”  She whispered.

He didn’t notice.  Still lost in the memory he said, “I’m sorry about your hair, Evey.” 

She pulled back a little.  “You don’t like it short?”

“No…I…”

“I’m growing it out again.”  She cut him off, running a hand self consciously over her shorn scalp. 

It felt like more than the moment was lost.  Trying to recover he said, “You are beautiful no matter the length of your hair.  You are that rare creature as lovely on the inside as the outside.”

She brought her lips extremely close to his, and unwittingly struck a killer blow whispering, “Good save, V.  There’s nothing like flattery to take a girl’s mind off having her head shaved.”

He turned away, unable to exonerate himself. “I deeply regret having done so.”

“I know.  It’s okay.”  She let her hand drift over his masked cheek reminding him of his cowardliness. 

When he could not respond she sighed, “You know, the sooner we fall asleep the sooner we can wake up and open the rest of the presents.” 

She turned over and away, her back to him barely touching his arm.  Within minutes she was asleep. 

V climbed out of bed.

VEV

Evey dreamed of gunfire and black bags.  Once again imprisoned and facing death she was presented with a choice.  She could either have the freedom of England or she could have a life with V. 

She woke panicked and alone which seemed far too much like an answer. 

When faced with the same consideration V had chosen duty over love.  Fate had intervened for him and in the end gave him what he had denied himself.  Would God give her the same reward?  She doubted it. 

She would have to balance.  So far she had not done a very good job. 

V was not helping.  He resisted everything.  Absolutely everything.  Feeling grouchy and aware Christmas was not the day to be angry she tried to adjust her attitude, but it proved hard to be happy when the person closest to her was so obviously miserable.  Aloud she said, “I’m determined to be happy which means you have to get happy.  How do I do it?” 

“Do what?” came from the vicinity of the door.

“Make you happy.”  She replied to her backlit paramour.

He stepped into the room and handed her a cup of coffee as he sat beside her on the bed.  “I am.”

Lying liar, she thought recalling a phrase she and her brother had batted about when they were kids.  Aloud she said, “Lying liar.”

His back stiffened and she knew she had wounded his sense of integrity.  His words were clipped when he said, “Perhaps you should define happiness for me, Evey, so I will know if how I feel suffices.”

“I’m sorry.”  Way to start a fight.  Good job.  She tried to come up with an answer to diffuse the moment while taking a sip of her coffee.  He had made it just the way she liked it with a little cream and a lot of sugar.  She should thank him and let the subject of happiness drop.

“What makes you so sure I’m unhappy?” He asked in a softer tone, apparently not wanting to argue either. 

“If you’re so happy why are you still sabotaging yourself?  Like last night with the comment about my hair.  If ever there was a mood killer that was it, V.”

“I didn’t mean to…”

“Oh yes you did.”  She countered and then changed gears. “Don’t you get it?  In three days, just three, everything you hoped to do will be done.  Norsefire will be a ruin and all of us will be free again.  You made this possible so I don’t understand what you feel so guilty about anymore.” 

He didn’t say a word which meant he disagreed. 

“Maybe you feel guilty for not seeing it through?”  She asked him, knowing she was making things worse but unable to hold the question back anymore.

He still said nothing but his posture went rigid and she knew what might have passed as an uncomfortable conversation had just become a battle.

She tried to rein herself in and salvage the day.  “I don’t know what’s gotten into me this morning.  What I am trying so unsuccessfully to say is if you would help me, I wouldn’t be so insecure and you wouldn’t feel so guilty.”

“We have already discussed this.”  He stood up and started toward the door. 

“I think we need to discuss it again.” 

He turned and she could feel his chilly blue eyes on her though all she could see was crossed arms and lips in a thin line. 

Posture told her he was no longer listening to her which served only to upset her more.  Pulling a page from a disagreement she had recently had with her fellow revolutionaries she scuttled the day saying, “Here’s a quote for you: the country is the real thing, the substantial thing, the eternal thing; it is the thing to watch over, and care for, and be loyal to. (28) Mark Twain said that.  Stupid bloody Americans didn’t listen to him.  Will you?”

“My part is already played.”  He replied and she knew he was thinking about the death he should have had. 

“So you leave the fate of the nation in the hands of a twenty-five-year-old girl with no education, no training and no guidance.  I thought you were smarter than that!”

“And I thought we were arguing about not having sex last night!”  He snarled as he stalked out slamming the door behind him.

VEV

V leaned heavily against the counter in the kitchen and took several deep breaths willing his anger back into its box.  You should be dead, he told himself.  You should not be here for her to lean upon.  Her world will become your world and your world cannot exist. 

He had envisioned anarchy often.  Each person self governed, no central authority, no ruling body, no corruption.  For twenty years he had fought for what he hoped might happen and ignored what probably would. 

She meant well.  They all did.  For a time it would be better, but as the generations who had lived through the black bags and oppression died off, corruption would regain its finger hold and before long strangle England again.  It was a cycle history had taught him to expect.  Don’t do this.  It’s not futile to hope for a better future.  People can be greater than you imagine them.  Look at Evey.  She is more than you ever thought possible.

He had faith in her though he realized he was actively undermining her belief in herself.  His self doubt was breeding insecurities in her.  An insecure leader becomes a tyrant, he reminded himself.  Growth and change are joined, fearing the latter impedes the former.

Change had already been visited upon him but growth had yet to occur.  I am afraid, he admitted to himself.  Growing frightens me.

VEV

Evey stayed in bed for a long time.  She was angry, sad, frustrated, confused and sorry all at the same time.  Overshadowing all emotion was hopelessness.  There was nothing she could do. 

She was a cog in a wheel, not the engine of anything.  Her relationship was out of her hands and the harder she tried to direct it the more off course it went.  The apparent leader of a revolution, she was hiding underground while others did the fighting.  She was poster child for many things, but leader of none of them. 

There was nothing she could do about V.  He remained oblivious and frightened.  No matter how she tried, she could not make him see reason.  God knew she would not give up, but the distress of loving someone who could not accept it was crushing. 

She was the only one who knew what V had hoped to create, but she was shunted away underground for her own safety.  They would tell her what was happening and what to say to encourage the people to believe in the new era in front of them.  Whether or not her advisors were truthful, she could not know.  She was operating on blind faith.

The need to reconnect gnawed at her and she retrieved her mobile and walked around the Gallery until she had a weak signal.  When Finch answered the first thing he said to her was, “Happy Christmas.”

There was nothing joyful about it to Evey.  “I guess.”

“Are you alright?”

No, I am not alright.  I am anything but alright.  “Yeah, I’m fine.  Is everything still on track?”

“We’re all set to go.  You will be contacted the moment it does down.  We need you to be ready to speak immediately.  Any idea what you’re going to say?”

In one sentence she was reminded her compatriots were allowing her to speak as she chose.  It meant they were following her lead, which meant these people honored V’s wishes.  She had been worrying about nothing.  Bolstered, she told him, “I have some notes.  Some of it will depend on the day you know.”

“We need to test the link and make sure you can broadcast from there.  The window for trouble shooting it is pretty narrow.  Do you have everything set up yet?”

“Nearly.”  She lied.  V had brought her things in, but everything was still sitting on the floor in her room.  They told her it was a very easy installation.  A laptop, a camera and an antenna on the roof and she was all set. 

“Evey, we’re counting on you.”  Finch sounded like he was scolding her and it made her feel better, more in control.

“I know.  Everything will be ready, Eric.  I’m on it, alright?”  She said.

“Today at four o’clock.  Call this number,” Eric gave her the number for Monroe their tech-guru. “He’ll establish the link and we’ll be all set.”

“Okay.”  Evey replied worrying she would not get things set up in time.  She wasn’t sure V would help her and the lift was still broken. 

“I have to go.  I’ll talk with you later.”  Finch hung up.

She immediately climbed out of bed and hurried to her room to get started.

VEV

“Evey, I…what are you doing?”  V asked from the door to her bedroom.  His reason for being there was two fold.  First, he was checking to make sure she was not packing to leave again.  Second, he planned to apologize for their fight earlier.  His pursuit of perfection was scarring everything and though he doubted he could make her understand he hoped having it off his chest would enable him to seek acceptable rather than ideal.   

“I have to get this stupid computer to hook up with this bloody camera somehow using these things.” She held up several cables. “I have to set up an antenna,” she held up a collapsible gray contraption that looked like an inside out umbrella.  “And then I have to record something using software on this,” she held up a disc, “and I have to make it all work by four.”

“I see.”  V said as he stepped into the room and knelt beside her, forgetting for the moment his purpose in visiting her.  The equipment was old wired stuff V assumed was chosen because someone thought it was safer than the more common wireless equipment Norsefire monitored so carefully.  He was not impressed.  If she used it they would have Fingermen in the Gallery within the hour.

“You don’t have internet access and I have to test the broadcast capability and make sure I can do my job from here.  I told them I could.  Now I need to prove it.”  She turned the page on a handwritten set of instructions and blew a puff of air that would have ruffled her hair if she had any.  “Did you fix the lift yet?  I have to set up the antenna.”

“I will do it today,” V promised, though it was not broken and there was no need for an antenna on the building.  He felt like slapping himself.  He had neglected giving her a tour of his…their…home.  His equipment was tried, true and untraceable.  She would be angry when he showed her, but she already was and adding to it would not make his day any worse. 

“Aren’t there wireless contraptions that would work?”  She mumbled as she tried to untangle a single wire from the snarl in her lap, “Damn it, I can’t do this.  I’m technologically challenged. You’re the genius in this house.  Will you please help me?” 

“Come with me, Evey.”  V stood and held out his hand.  It was time to show her the brain of his home and face the consequences for not showing it to her earlier. 

She looked at his hand but did not take it.  “V, I don’t have time for another one of your games.  Please just help, will you?”

“I would never waste your time, love.”

She turned her full attention on him and her gaze was heavy with unspoken hurt.  He willed himself not to turn away while silently asking her to take his hand.  After what felt like far too long, she did and he pulled her up easily reminding himself of her impossibly light weight.  He needed to do a better job feeding her.

She did not let go of his hand as he led her down the hallway past his room, past his gallery/studio to a large Caravaggio canvas.  Carefully he pulled on the frame and the painting came away from the wall revealing a large opening.

“You and your secret doors.”  She shook her head.

He gestured for her to precede him through the door, but she didn’t move instead saying, “I thought you didn’t want to help.”

“This would have been yours regardless.”  He replied, squeezing her hand attempting to reassure her.

“You mean if you had died.”  She accused, withdrawing her hand.

He needed to stop referencing his death.  To him it was an event on the timeline of his life, something pivotal to them both and worthy of noting when applicable, but she hated it.  To her it sounded like he was lamenting having missed it.  As she stepped through the door without his assistance he tried to explain, “Yes, but…”

“Oh my God.”  Evey whispered as she stepped into the nerve center of his home.  She turned a slow circle taking in a wall of monitors, a huge table with maps and blue prints strewn over it, a bank of servers, and shelves of gadgetry.  Turning her eyes on him she sounded amazed as she said, “This is how you did it.  How you knew what they were doing.”

“Yes.”  He could not keep the note of pride out of his voice, but he could also see her anger building and he braced for it.

“Do you have any idea how helpful this would have been to our cause these past weeks?”  She asked with her arms crossed over her chest.

Half of him wanted to offer excuses.  Between gunshot wounds, temporary insanity and learning to trust, he had honestly not thought of it.  Not even when he had been watching her at dinner with Finch.  The other half knew he was supposed to apologize and that was what he did.  “Retrospectively, yes.  I’m sorry, Evey.”

She sat down in his great leather chair before the wall of monitors and was quiet for a moment.  There was only one chair in the room and though it was huge, encroaching on her personal space seemed wrong given her anger.  He stayed by the door waiting for her to engage him.

“You had to go to BTN to broadcast.”  She said, clearly not appreciating the true scope of his computer room.

Smiling proudly he said, “No, I could have done it from here.”

She swiveled the chair around to face him and her expression was curious.  “Then why did you risk it?” 

He stepped into the room and leaned against the server cage.  “If a man in a Guy Fawkes mask could stroll into the seat of Norsefire power and use their propaganda system against them what more might be possible?  Might I be able to keep my word?  If I did, might we be strong enough to overthrow them?” he shrugged.  “It was necessary.”

She gestured to him to join her and scooted over so he could sit beside her.  As soon as he squeezed in she swiveled the chair around and poised her hands over the keyboard asking, “So how does all this work?”

VEV

In a matter of minutes V had shown her how to use the digital recorder, how to link to Monroe, and how to independently (and more securely) uplink to the emergency network. 

V read her thoughts and patted her hand saying, “Don’t worry.  I will help you this afternoon.”

“You will?  What changed?”  She was perplexed.

He withdrew his hand back into his lap and assumed the posture Evey associated with earnestness.  It meant he was going to tell her something she didn’t want to hear and he wasn’t sure she would understand.   “I will help you as I can Evey, but you must understand.  What I said at the train I meant.  It’s not my place to shape the future.  What is to come must be molded by you and the people you choose to advise you.”

“But I want you to advise me, V.”  It sounded like whining, but in matters of politics no one’s advice meant more.  She was ill equipped and under prepared.  V was the master in this arena and she had not had enough time in his tutelage.

He chided, “We must be grateful for that which providence provides us.”

“You don’t have to tell me what to do, but you could let me bounce ideas off of you and tell me when I’m being silly like you used to.  Is that too much to ask?”  In her opinion it wasn’t.

“You are not my instrument.”

“That’s debatable.”  She quipped, a reminder of how he had made her exactly that sat on the tip of her tongue waiting to be released. 

He sighed and his head turned away.  She almost felt bad, but he had been the one to bring it up when he mentioned cutting her hair.

“I don’t want to fight anymore.  I will be your sounding board, but I will not be your advisor.  The past has left me too jaded to be of much use in that capacity,” He turned back to her.  “But I have faith in you.  If things had gone according to my plan...”

“Fine, okay.  I get it.”  Leaning her head on his shoulder she took down her tone and admitted, “I had the most horrible dream last night and I’m feeling frightened and out of control and I’m projecting that onto you.  I’m sorry.”

He leaned his head on hers.  “It’s my fault.  I have been foolish.  I have sought the impossible and punished you when I did not achieve it.”

Unable to think of anything else to say she told him what she most often told herself, “Everything is going to work out you know.”

V nodded and she knew he was fighting to believe it.  Finally, he asked, “Would you like to get on with Christmas?”

VEV

In the kitchen, V put on his new apron.  He enjoyed the juxtaposition of the silly against the somber and his old apron had been a wonderful little amusement.  This one was even more amusing since Evey provided it. 

When he looked at her she was smiling.  Glad they were no longer fighting and hoping to reinforce the lightness of the moment he turned a circle and curtsied.  “For your amusement and pleasure, madam.”

“I’m glad you like it.  The moment I saw it I knew it was you.” She replied still smiling. 

“Then I am a most silly man indeed.”

“Or at least one with a fantastic sense of humor.”  She complimented.  “What culinary masterpiece are you making for me today?”

“Frittata all sardegnola.” When she cocked her head at him he clarified, “A sort of baked omelet.  Very good.” 

“Sounds delicious.” 

She hopped up onto a kitchen stool and watched as he prepared breakfast.  He worked in silence because he wasn’t sure what to say.  Almost everything that popped into his mind would result in another argument.

She broke the silence when he put the frittata in the oven.  “Did I tell you today I love you?”

“You have now.” A warm feeling spread through him and he passed out of the kitchen and put his arms around her.  With his cheek resting on the top of her head he said, “I love you too.”

“Prove it.”  She challenged turning her face up toward him.  Her eyes closed and her lips parted slightly in invitation.

Nervousness sprang to life in his belly as fire ignited in his blood and he put his lips to hers before thoughts of perfection could stop him.   

Her hand drifted up to the back of his head as she pulled him down giving herself better access.  She deepened the kiss and he pulled her tight against him unconcerned with anything other than being closer to her. 

When she broke away he was not ready.

“I could kiss you all day.”  She whispered at his throat.

“You have my permission to try.”  He said, surprising himself with how bold he sounded.

She smiled and reached up reconnecting with him.  Somehow they made it to the couch and she kept kissing him, her hands beginning to grow bolder, running over his second skin reminding him of what she could do and had done to him.

Time lost its meaning, if it ever had any, and he wanted to let go.  He wanted to give in and succumb completely.  If only he could turn off his mind, stop thinking, stop worrying.  He wanted to touch her in inappropriate places and had nearly convinced himself she wouldn’t mind when she put a hand on his cheek and pulled away.  “I’m sorry.” 

“Pardon?”  V stuttered as everything he feared seemed to become reality.  He was on top of her, holding her down…against her will?  Oh God.  Oh God.  Oh God…

He immediately pushed off of her offering mumbled apologies.  A black tide of self hatred swept over him as whatever remained of his honor leaked away. 

She sat up and patted the seat beside her.  “Sit down, V.  It’s okay.  I made a mistake, not you.  It’s okay.” 

Slowly his body unfolded and he sank into the seat beside her.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, stop beating yourself up.  I said I could kiss you all day, but I also said I wouldn’t molest you.  Now I have…again.  I know what you’re going to say.  You don’t mind.  But I mind, V.  I keep saying a lot of things I mean, but don’t mean, do you know what I mean?” She said as she collected herself into a little ball next to him with her knees at her chest. 

After a long silence as he tried to reconcile what he perceived and what she said she tried to explain, “I don’t know what to do, V.  I really don’t.  I keep thinking we are going to reach a place where we understand each other and can talk about anything, but we are nowhere near that are we?  I mean we can’t even communicate without arguing these days.”

“I don’t know.”  He replied, wondering if this was how it finally ended.

“We keep coming back to trust, you know that?”  She put a hand on his arm and he knew she wanted him to look at her, but he could not.  She continued, “I think our big problem now isn’t a lack of trust in each other but a lack of trust in ourselves.  Does that make sense?”

He nodded, feeling exactly as she described.  He was the danger, he was the predator, the monster, the reason there was no hope.

“I am constantly second guessing myself.  Ever since you told me the truth I can’t make a decision and stick to it.  I come up with so many reasons why I am doing the wrong thing, it’s totally ridiculous but I’m doing it.  I always think I’m the one hurting you, not the other way around like you suppose it.”

He disagreed, but she spoke first.  “I don’t know what to say to you.  That’s the problem.  I talk to you like I would anyone else and then remember you don’t have the context for it and then I start thinking of all the ways you could mistake what I mean.”

“I see.”  He said.  Without context how could he ever understand her?  Twenty years of trying had not yielded a single usable memory.  He could not change things.  “You present an irreconcilable problem, Evey.”

“You don’t give up that easily.”  She chided.

“What would you have me do?  You’ve said nothing I can refute.”  The moment he said it, his spirit resisted reminding him, we create our own truths when we have none, we rise above and we restore what was taken.  We do not lose, not anymore, not ever again.

She sighed.  “Then I don’t know what to do.”

“Perhaps we should get on with Christmas.”  He offered, not ready to give up but not wanting to think about it either.

VEV

Evey had finally found the courage to speak her biggest fear and the moment it left her lips she felt lighter.  Neither of them could fix it alone, God knew each had been trying.  Perhaps together they could. 

He had his face in his hands and his elbows on his knees.  Sad but thinking, she told herself.  Aloud she said, “I love you.” 

He was quiet for a while and then stood up and said, “Evey, let’s get on with the day.” 

He moved to the tree and pulled a package from under it.  He handed it to her and sat cross-legged on the floor between the couch and the tree.

“I love you.”  She said again.

“Yes.”  He said, and she wasn’t sure if he was agreeing she loved him or too overloaded to deal with it. 

Slipping onto her knees beside him she pulled off the wrapping paper and opened the box revealing a deep violet, cashmere jumper. 

Leaning against him she wrapped her arms around his neck and draped the jumper over his back.  Close to his ear she whispered, “Thank you.”

He reached around her and pulled another present from the pile.

It was the first indication he might be angry.  It only took seconds to come up with a list of things she had said or done to make him cross.  “V, I’m sorry.  I’m doing a bang up job of ruining Christmas, aren’t I?  Please don’t be angry.”

“I’m not.”  He said and she felt sure he was lying.

“Are you sure?”

He sighed, “I’m not made of glass, Evey.  You can’t break me.”

She wasn’t so sure and almost pointed out how often he had fallen apart lately.  His confidence had all the strength of a butterfly wing and crumbled under the slightest touch.  Instead she laid the blame at her own feet.  “I know, but I do have hoof in mouth disease, don’t you think?”

“I wish you wouldn’t.”  He said and she knew he saw right through her.  He pushed another present at her.

Accepting the gift and turning it in her hands she said, “If we do this one at a time we will be here all day.  Let’s separate them into piles and go for it.  What do you think?”

“As you wish.”  He replied and began separating out the gifts he had wrapped and piling them neatly near her.

Crawling to the tree Evey joined in the piling effort and stacked his presents on the floor beside him.  Still feeling foolish for the gifts she bought him when she compared them to the two she had already opened, she handed him a package and prayed he would find it funny.

He opened the box much faster than he had the night previous and laughed out loud as he pulled out a pair of acid green boxers with neon yellow smiley faces all over them.  “My fashion sense must be bad indeed to warrant these!”

She smiled, relieved.

He leaned over and kissed her.  “They are terribly amusing.  I will wear them.  Thank you.”

Evey didn’t pay much attention to her own gifts, delighting instead in V’s mirth as he opened each package.  He enjoyed the silly socks, the second apron that said ‘kiss the cook’ on it, the fuzzy bunny slippers, the Guy Fawkes bobble head doll she found in the back corner of a pawn shop, the DVD collection of Marx Brothers films, the sippy straws with cartoon characters on them which were completely irrelevant now that his lips weren’t hidden anymore. 

He laughed outright at the plastic light saber she had bought to accompany banned copies of the Star Wars films she had found in the vast pile of media in her room. 

As he shook out the collapsible ‘blade’ she said, “For midnight swordplay.”

He smiled, “I believe I shall have great fun with this.”

The next package contained white boxers with a bull’s eye on the front.  When he opened the box and pulled them out he almost immediately put them back.  Had he not been covered over in black, she was sure he would be bright red. 

“Aren’t you even the least bit interested in your own presents?”  He asked in what she believed was a ploy to focus her attention elsewhere.

“I was really enjoying yours.”  She winked at him and his head dipped away.  The last one really was terrible.  She almost wished she hadn’t bought it.  “V, I don’t think you want that one.  Not now anyway.  By the time I bought it I was on a roll and it was downhill all the way.” Straight into the gutter. 

“As you wish.” 

He handed it her without any hesitation.  She put the package on the ground behind her back. 

He moved closer and lifted a large silver box.  Holding it in front of her he said, “I couldn’t resist this.”

Inside was a pile of blood red velvet.  When she pulled it out she discovered it was a long coat lined with turquoise silk.  “Wow.”

“It’s Japanese.  The lining is kimono fabric, hand painted, utterly gorgeous.  It had to be yours.”

“I love this!”  She exclaimed draping the rich velvet over her shoulders.  

V’s hand drifted down her arm and she leaned over and pecked his cheek.  “You are wonderful, do you know that?”

His arm wrapped around her back and he pulled her into his lap.  She leaned back against his chest so he could see over her shoulder.

Everything he gave her was beautiful.  In addition to the purple jumper, and the coat there were several dresses, shoes, books, movies and two more pieces of jewelry.  All of it was elegant, tasteful and expensive. 

Something was missing though.  “Where is the little purple box?  I haven’t forgotten it.” 

“That one is for dinner.”

“It’s edible then, is it?”  She teased, unable to resist correcting him the way he had once corrected her.

He smiled and shook his head.  “Perhaps after dinner then.”

VEV

(27) William Shakespeare - Love's Labour's Lost

(28) Mark Twain – A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court

Last ~ Next ~ Back to Fiction Page