Matt stared in disbelief as the fat lady he'd spent the afternoon with waddled up to the console and-avoiding all eye contact-picked up a handful of red and yellow wires and a roll of tape. Her lips were clamped in a tight line as she walked to the side of the bed, squeezed some gel out of a bottle with a farting sound, and spread it on his head.
"Maloria?!" he said.
She just kept spreading the gel. It was cold and slick.
"Maloria, what are you doing? Maloria?!"
"Save your strength," Hirotachi chuckled. "She's a little more obedient when the night shift's on duty. Aren'tcha, Fatty?"
No answer. Maloria's big eyes had narrowed to slits, and her lower lip covered her upper as she attached the wires to his forehead with duct tape. She backed away quickly.
Matt looked back to Hirotachi. "Whatever you think you're-"
The words died in his throat, along with every thought in his head, as a current of electricity shot through his body, making his back arch and his teeth snap together.
It ended. He collapsed back against the table with a gasp.
"Well, whaddaya know?" Hirotachi said, patting the console. "It still works! This is an old, old system. We've got a newer one, but it's pretty painless. I like the vintage systems myself. Reminds me of the old days, you know? Gives me a real"-again she flipped a switch-"charge."
More juice this time: held cruciform, he lunged upwards, going nowhere, teeth clamped, fingernails digging into his palms, vision shot with fire in alternating patterns of
RED BLACK RED BLACK RED BLACK RED BLACK RED BLACK
A cool, wet breeze.
The smell of lotus.
And the light: soft and forgiving, the kind that falls from a sickle moon in spring.
Beneath his feet, the creak of the wooden bridge that spanned the pond at its narrowest point. The stars above the water were reflected in its shallow depths, and between their reflections were pale water lilies and hyacinth, whose fragrance made the air lush and thick with promise.
He was standing next to his wife, Janey. They stood on the bridge, watching the moonlight make a path of light on the water. Nearby, he could hear the sounds of the band playing at Janey's sister's wedding. The party had been going for two hours when he'd realized that he'd lost track of his wife in the crowds of sweating, laughing, drinking relatives, and on an impulse he'd walked to their favorite spot, guessing that she might have wanted to get away for a few minutes. He'd guessed right.
"Hey, you," he said, running his hand along her bare back. She was wearing a beautiful backless green silk number that had cost a fortune. It'd been worth every penny when he saw her standing next to her sister at the altar, hair up, eyes wet with emotion, looking so radiant and alive.
She let out a murmur at his touch and leaned into him. He moved his hand up to the base of her neck and inhaled the soap-and-sandalwood scent of her auburn hair. He loved her scent.
"I just needed to get away for a bit. Get some fresh air."
"Me, too."
"I saw that my uncle Robin cornered you by the punchbowl. Please tell me he didn't…?"
"Try to drag me into that goofy pyramid scheme he's got, the one with the tax referrals? Oh yes."
She squeezed his hand and groaned. "I'm so sorry about that."
"No prob. Although I did have to drag your aunt Myrna onto the dance floor just to get away from him."
"I bet she was thrilled."
"Certainly was. Especially when we realized that the song was 'Sexual Healing.'"
Laughing. "Oh my God. You've got to be kidding."
He held up a hand, laughing, too. "Cross my heart and hope to…" He didn't finish the phrase.
Her smile trembled, and her eyes got a bit brighter. She turned back to the moonlight on the water. "I'm so glad my sister finally found someone. Someone worthy of her."
"Me, too."
She leaned back, pressed her head against his collarbone. "It makes such a difference, to be with someone who's right for you. Who'll stand by you when things… when things get…"
Her shoulders started to shake.
He gently took her in his arms and turned her to face him. "Hey," he said quietly. "Hey. Look at me."
She did, a tear streak below each eye. The moon illuminated those, too.
"You and I are going to beat this thing," he said, and she nodded. "We're gonna be toasting your sister on her fortieth anniversary!" She nodded again, fiercely, but still not meeting his eyes. "You don't have my permission to bail, do you understand? Not with your aunt Myrna waiting in the wings."
At this she laughed-a big laugh, full of relief. She stood on tiptoe, put her arms around his neck, and kissed his cheek. "I love you," she whispered.
"I love you, too," he said. He ran his hands up her waist, feeling the green silk slide between his fingers. His hands traveled over her ribs, to the swell of her small, firm breasts. She let him.
Her arms tightened around his neck, and he leaned down so that she could press her forehead against his. "What are we going to do?" she said in a frightened whisper.
"You've got the surgery next Tuesday. After that, your only job is to get better."
"But what if… what if the MRI shows that it's in my bones?"
"Shhh. No use borrowing trouble." The phrase was old-fashioned, was his mother's, but it did its job, and she relaxed a little.
"I know. I'm such a freak. I'm just wound up so tight."
"No kidding. So what can we do about that?" His hand drifted carefully down her abdomen and gently played across the cleft between her legs. It would work, or it wouldn't.
She made a soft sound, and after just a moment, imperceptibly parted her legs. He took it for an invitation and made the most of it. He could feel the heat of her through the silk.
A moment later, her breathing became raw. "If you don't stop, you're going to spoil my nice new dress."
"There is a third option," he said, quickly taking hold of the green silk hem and lifting it. When he slipped his hand beneath, he found a surprise waiting for him.
"Oh, my God," he said. "You went commando to your sister's wedding?"
She bit her lip and widened her eyes flirtatiously. "Couldn't help it. Forgive me?"
"Only if you forgive me for this." He gently pushed her back against the bridge railing and sank to his knees in front of her.
"Matt, are you crazy? Not here-there's people everywhere!"
"Won't take long," he said, and closing his eyes, pressed his mouth to her warm crux, tasting her soft nest, easing his tongue into the familiar, fragrant groove.
He heard her gasp as he went to work, felt her fingers clutch his hair, tasted her salty acquiescence. She opened beneath his insistent touch like the night-blooming flowers of the pond, and her scent mingled with theirs until it overpowered him. She let out a small, familiar cry as he drew her into his mouth. Like sucking on an orchid, he thought for the thousandth time.
When she released, he drank her like he always did, until he had drained away her fear, her anxiety, and her will to do anything other than stroke his head and whisper, "I love you, Matt… I love you so much."
He nodded wordlessly, wrapping his arms around her, knowing it was the truth, knowing that he felt the same way and that nothing that was to come would ever change that.
RED BLACK RED BLACK RED BLACK RED BLACK RED BLACK
Matt came crashing back to the reality of the padded table, the blinding fluorescents, the ache in his jaw, the fire in his veins.
And the smell of singed hair and urine.
"Well, look at that," Hirotachi croaked. "Looks like someone messed himself real bad. Do we need a dia-dee, Matthew?"