It's the simple things that make it complex. Lost in my thoughts and the view
from the window, I vacantly watch the sky turn pink and orange as the sun moves
farther into the sky. It seems that nothing is stronger than this, this bright
orange ball of fire before me. But I realize that this new sun, rising over a
trusting world, wanes quickly, lasting just a few hours, fading into a vast
network of stars and planets that crowd the night sky. So many trying to shine
the brightest, only to lose to a new sun when the morning comes, the cycle
starting again. The old fall as the new rise. I shake my head and shift my
weight onto my left foot, and lean against the wall.
People think that they can control their lives, their destiny. But they can't.
If it's not some government guiding them, then it's the laws of nature. I used
to think I could change the world, that I had some kind of control. After a
while, I realized I couldn't, that I had no control. Sure, I can adapt, survive,
learn how to manipulate the world around me, but I can't determine my fate.
There's too many other people trying to get ahead in life, ready to push me into
the undertow. My life is in their hands. There is always someone that wins,
someone that can control fate, but only for a brief time because the power is
lost easily. There is always someone stronger than yourself.
So I gave up. Forgot about fighting to live. Decided I'd just go with it.
Learn to switch sides and move with the current. Exert my own power and tower
over the people who were weaker than myself. But something, or should I say,
someone, threw a kink into my newfound philosophy. And before I knew it, I was
back, struggling in the undertow, gasping for breath. Trying to stop my fate.
With my bare back against the wall, I turn and look at the rumpled bed behind me,
at the man sprawled in the center. And I realize that it was beyond my control.
That it was going to happen sometime. The powers controlling us forced us
together. And while I was trying to steer clear of him, trying to change my
destiny, I should have given in to it. It was only a matter of time. Years of
repressed desire, heightened by his anger. Of course, he was fighting it, too.
So when we finally gave in, let ourselves go, we were consumed by it. Nothing
could sate our appetite for each other. And we still keep coming back to this.
Even as I watch him sleep, still tired and sore from last night, I am aware of
how much I want him. How much I want to tangle my limbs with his in that too
soft bed with the nondescript white motel sheets. Leave the rest of the world
behind. I lean my head against the wall and put my hands over my eyes.
At the same time, I am aware of how much I fear. I fear him, what he will tell
me when he wakes. Will he be sullenly quiet or yell at me? Will he say goodbye?
Acknowledge me at all? I fear, or know, that I have nothing to give, nothing
that he could possibly want. Just the means to quell this strange need he feels
to be with me, if only for a night. But I also fear how much I have to lose. Not
only my life, which I would if the men who are our enemies were to find me here
with him. But also my soul. I may have already given it to him. The brief
glimpses I see of him, the real him, fill me with longing. Desire that can't be
dispelled by a night in some crummy motel in Denver or wherever he is following a
case. When I'm away from him I feel hollow. Empty. So, I follow him. Track
him. Steal him away for as long as I can, lure him with secrets. I usually get
a couple of hours, but when I'm lucky, like last night, I get an entire night.
But as soon as I feel that desire fulfilled, when I feel whole again, another
feeling arises. I fear that he'll leave me for good. Refuse to see me. And
where will I be then?
Looking at him, I think about how complex he is. But his complexity lies in his
simplicity. He needs food, he eats. He wants the truth, he searches for it,
trying everything until he finds it. He needs sex, he finds me. Or I find him.
When he has an emotion, he locates it in the swirling mass of his brain, and
shows it. He doesn't hide or pretend to be something he's not. His goal is
simple. Find Samantha, beat the Consortium, save the world. He believes that he
can control his destiny. When something goes wrong, he looks for ways to make it
right. Despite the risks. If he must die to find the truth, to save people, so
be it. Life is what he makes of it. When the others knock him down, steal his
work, kill his family and friends, he doesn't fall into the undertow. He doesn't
get caught up. He continues. When he does waver, and almost gives up, something
reminds him of his goal, and he continues. He spits in his enemies' faces, and
never kisses ass. He will never back down.
I move closer to the bed. Standing above, looking down, I hear his steady
breathing. I brush my hand through his hair, feeling the soft strands as they
run through my fingers. Somewhere in my mind I know that this can't keep
happening. He will stop needing me. And I fear the end. He knows that this
temptation will destroy our lives. If anyone knew, both of us would pay. He
would lose his job, his life's work, and probably his best friend. And I would
lose him. And my life. But I cannot leave him. He has to be the one to break
it off. I will not fight these feelings. I've learned I must sink or swim, and
I'm doing all I can to stay afloat. I'll stay close by him, whether or not he
knows I'm there. And if I have to die to save him, to save his determined,
stubborn, amazing self, I will. Because he is what I'm not. I am what he never
should be. And I'll make sure he never has to.
Fear
by Susan
I watch the sun as it rises, standing to the side of the windows in this cheap
motel, looking out through the partially closed blinds, unseen by the outside
world. It's amazing how the days seem to start anew. A fresh start, a clean
slate every day. But not for me. I don't get that luxury. No, I tell myself, no
one does, really. The decisions I made yesterday, and the day before that, and
the day before that control the decisions I make today. Today's decisions affect
tomorrow. I sigh. If only the world was as simple as it seems. If only I didn't
know exactly how complex it is.
