WISHBONE (18 page)

The Albany Parks Account had proven to be quite lucrative, though not much of a workout for his creativity. He and Rachael had begun to pace their wishes, suppressing overzealous urges to abuse the phenomenon and risk having to explain themselves to others.  Neither could explain the happenings to themselves, how would they explain any of this to anyone else. The biggest challenge for Julien had been to let go of his longing to
disbelieve
. To forfeit what he knew to be impossible and allow himself to accept the magic. From time to time, he still had a tendency to try to rationalize, but there was no use, no possible explanation, and he was having too good of a time to taint it with rational thought for long. 

He turned onto the mountain heading home, accelerating and skimming the cliff’s edge at each curve. Dirt kicked out from beneath his wheels and, had he wanted to, he could easily reach out and touch the ground, the bike tilting considerably to the right, then the left, zigzagging nearly on its side the entire progression up to the clearing. He leveled onto the pea gravel driveway, loudly approaching the house. 

Rachael came up from beneath the water. The pool was her favorite new addition to their property.  She heard Julien approaching and hoped he would not scare the horses again. She pulled herself up onto a floating lounge chair and paddled to the edge of the pool where a drink awaited her. It was a beautiful spring day and the heated pool allowed her to swim, but once above the water, the breeze gave her a chill. She wrapped herself in a towel then laid back for the sun to warm her. She felt she could easily drift off for a nap, as the raft bobbed up and down methodically. Through her eyelids, she sensed a shadow suddenly block the sun. She opened her eyes.

“Sarah.”  She smiled at the girl. 

Sarah stood beside the pool looking down over her anxiously. 

“What’s the matter, sweetie?” Rachael asked. She had been ordering new clothes for the girl, thank you gifts, yet day after day, Sarah returned wearing the same old worn out hand-me-downs. 

Sarah rocked on her heels looking back nervously in the direction of the coop.

“Use words Sarah,” Rachael urged. “C’mon, I know you can.” Rachael began to drift back into the sunlight and hooded her eyes with a curved hand. She tried to read the girl’s zealous body language.

“Julien?”  Rachael asked.

Sarah became instantly bashful. Rachael smiled. “I know he’s home. I heard him coming.”

Sarah paused, standing very still for a brief moment as if deep in thought, and then turned to scurry back to the barn.

“No, Sarah, stay…” Rachael sighed with empathy-laced frustration. 

Initially she thought Sarah might be afraid of Julien, but quickly realized that little demure, simple Sarah had a whopper of a crush on her husband. Rachael found this brilliantly funny and wished she could convince Sarah not to run off every time Julien showed himself.

Julien walked around to the back of the house on the opposite side from which Sarah had disappeared.

“I figured I would find you back ‘ere,” he said.

“Look at you…” Rachael grinned. “Like my very own biker dude.” She giggled. “Does that make me your
Old lady
?” She found it both easy and amusing to embarrass him, but changed the subject. “Hey, you just missed your
real girlfriend
.”

Julien looked up in the direction of the barn but there was no sign of Sarah off in the distance. “I am telling you, you have it wrong. She hides because she is very afraid of me.”

“Now why would she be afraid of a sweet guy like you?” Rachael teased him, removing an ice cube from her drink. She licked the dripping liquid then slid the cube down over her chin and along her throat, trailing slowly into her bikini top. “Come for a swim?” She beckoned with a delicate grin.

Julien’s first thought was to say no, but his wife’s seductive gestures were the first he had seen in nearly six months. He bent down to feel the water, keeping an eye on her. She sipped from a straw then dipped one finger into the frozen drink before lapping the bright red ice from her fingertip. Julien dropped his leather jacket onto a patio chair behind him then kicked off his boots.

He did not want to get his hopes up but he couldn’t resist the possibility that Rachael might see this through. He watched her push off the edge of the pool, the raft drifting quickly to the other side, where she hiked up the volume on the CD player, then skipped from one song to the next until she found just the right one.

Rachael hummed, “Now, that’s perfect.” She turned back to find Julien already in the water and directly behind her. She slid down off the raft to face him. The fluted daiquiri glass dropped into the pool, sinking quickly in a diluting cloud of red. Julien pushed the raft out of their way and swam closer. He studied her eyes. He desperately wanted her, but took the time to look for any sign of fear, or that she might need to change her mind.

Rachael placed a hand to Julien’s newly tattooed chest then ran the other, wet, through his hair. Julien, prepared to pull away at the first sign of panic, leaned in to kiss her. She took his face into her hands and kissed him back. He could taste the sweetness of the daiquiri. He wanted her to make the move first, but absently began to slide her bikini bottom down, until it floated haphazardly around her ankles, eventually slipping away, sinking to the bottom. They bobbed up and down at the deep end of the pool, awkwardly gripping one another without a care in the world. He kissed her again, allowing one of his hands to go below the water to prepare her. Her warm breath on his ear, her teeth grazing his flesh, he prayed she wouldn’t stop now. She moaned impatiently, ready for him. He pressed her back against the corner, where she rested her elbows for leverage on the pool’s edge. Julien found her as he gripped the pool with his other hand. For the first time in much too long he felt himself inside of her. Rachael gave herself over as if there had never been a pause in their passion. She let her elbows come off the ledge and hugged him tightly, curving herself into him. Her back scraped the cement repeatedly; she did not care. Julien sank deeper into the water as their bodies became one. He slid his arms beneath hers, holding on and listened to her breathy, desperate sounds. He found the strength and agility to pin her harder to the corner. His power motivated by her gratifying cries, increasing with each rhythmic pulse. Rachael opened her eyes; she wanted to look at him now, see his desire for her, but her eye caught movement in the distance, where between the trees, she found Sarah watching them.  Unwilling to allow Julien to stop, she closed her eyes again and ran her tongue along his neck and to his ear, pretending not to have seen the girl at all.  

Julien’s stamina was depleting in the awkward setting, and he struggled to reposition himself without losing momentum. He kissed her again, fast and out of breath, he too groaned.  He threw his head back in a fight to sustain when he saw him…someone…her attacker.

As if right before his eyes, he could see Rachael on the floor, in the closet of their city apartment. The dark figure was straddling her, yet she did not try to get away. She was hugging tight to him, groaning with delight as he entered her violently. Julien flinched and tried to ignore the intrusive vision, working to remain focused on the now.  He shook his head while trying to retain their rhythm. Rachael was too far gone to notice her husband’s odd behavior. The vision would not leave him. Julien opened his eyes but the horrific scene remained. He shook his head again, attempting to chase it away. His pace began to suffer. 

Rachael sensed something was wrong. In the moment, she continued to hold onto him, but their movements began to slow. Julien repeatedly shook his head, flinching as he sometimes would in his sleep. He could not erase the sight of Rachael beneath the other man. He let go of her and swam backward in the pool. Rachael treaded water, silent in the corner, confused. 

Julien, moving slowly away from the real Rachael, was spellbound by the vision. He watched them in the act—it felt so real. She narrowed her eyes at Julien; they were aware of his presence. She began to laugh eerily. Her attacker also began laughing and slowly turned to look back over his shoulder at Julien, who was once again, face to face with his father. The vision of Rachael and Jérome in one another’s arms, mocking Julien with laughter, overwhelmed him. He was there with them, his mind telling him that the scene was not real; his eyes, wide open, telling him it was very real.

Rachael did not know what to make of Julien. They had been making love one moment and now she was watching him back away to the far side of the pool, his expression one of torment. 

“Julien?” she asked. “Julien, what’s wrong?” He was scaring her so much that she broke out in goose bumps and feared swimming toward him.

Julien watched them laughing until, without warning, his father swung, backhanding him and snapping him back to reality in an instant. The vision was gone.

Rachael watched Julien fly to the left like a ragdoll in the water. She swam toward him. He had his back to her now, holding onto the side of the pool. She came up behind him.

“What’s wrong?” she placed a hand on his shoulder. He jerked away from her, and hoisted himself out of the pool in a hurry. 

She moved toward the ladder. “What did I do?” she asked, tears welling in her eyes.

“Nothing,” he mumbled, wrapping himself in a towel. He could not say another word or the blood, which was rapidly filling his mouth, would spill, forcing him to explain
the unexplainable
, yet again.

Rachael pleaded with him. “Something’s wrong. Something happened, Julien. What is it?” She climbed out of the pool.

Julien gathered his clothes quickly and as Rachael came up behind him, he turned away, heading for the house.

Rachael sat down at the foot  of a lounge chair. She had no idea what had happened. Suddenly she remembered Sarah and turned to look toward the trees. The girl was gone. She sat there thinking about the scenario and what could have upset Julien, but there had been nothing.  It had been so perfect. She buried her face in her hands
. Everything has been going so well lately, and now this
, she thought. She had kept her word and wished for only simple, explainable wishes. Nothing that would affect anyone else or draw attention to the phenomenon, as Julien had insisted, and certainly not the one wish her heart ached to make the most. She had given him no reason to worry or be angry with her. She uncovered her face and saw his Zippo laying a few feet away on the cement. She reached for it. Her eyes fell on two large droplets of blood still wet and glistening in the sunlight. She pressed a fingertip into one, smearing it on the pavement then inspecting it closer. She immediately got to her feet; she wrapped herself in a towel as she ran to the house, her bathing suit at the bottom of the pool.

* * * *

Julien stared into the blood splattered sink. He spit again then looked at himself in the mirror. He licked at the blood coating his front teeth then spit again.

There will be no way to conceal this.

He studied the damage done by his father’s backhand. He was fast learning to accept the unexplainable and could not bother with rationalizing now. All he could think about was how he would hide this from Rachael. It was not the fact that none of it made sense; at this point,
Rachael was quite accustomed to nothing making sense,
but more so, the thought of having to explain what he had seen. He splashed his face with water then rinsed his mouth several times. The bleeding had finally slowed and he carefully examined the long gash on the inside of his bottom lip.

He could still see his father laughing at him antagonistically.

Va te faire enculer!
 

He wished he could tell him to
go fuck himself
to his face, or fight him man-to-man, now… today.

You just did.

You lost.
 

There was a loud pounding on the door followed by, “Julien, let me in. Are you okay?”

“Yes,” he groaned. “Everything is okay, Rachael. Give me a moments, please.”

He examined the side of his face again. There would be no way to conceal the damage. His mind raced for a solution…an excuse to give her.

“No, you’re not!” She barked. “There’s blood by the pool.” 

Fils de pute
.

Casse-toi.

He closed his eyes pleading with the universe to save him then quickly dressed.

She banged on the door rapidly again saying, “Open the god-damned door, Julien, or it’s my turn to get the fucking screwdriver.”

“Okay, okay! One second.” He dried his face carefully. “I’m going to open the door, but you have to promise me you do not make a big deal of this. It is nothing.” He unlocked the door and stepped back to rest against the sink in preparation of her impending interrogation.

Rachael barged into the bathroom immediately gasping. “What the fuck?” she asked, turning his face from side to side. “How the hell…?”

Julien’s mind continued to race for a story when the words began to flow from his lips, “In the heat of the moment I hit the side of the pool.” He declared.

“Why didn’t you say something? I didn’t know what happened. You were like…in a trance. I thought you were freaking out or something.”

She believes, non?

He interrupted her, unwilling to relive the moment and not wanting to know what it must have looked like. “I was embarrass.” His lie continued, “I thought I was about to pass out. It is okay now. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine, Jules. You look like you just got punched in the mouth.” 

Oh, Rachael, if you only knew…

She touched his face again and Julien pulled away. 

“Should we go see Dr. Lind?” she asked.

Julien jumped and quickly responded, “Uh, no. It’s nothing, really.” He slid from the sink and left the bathroom with Rachael following close behind. He heaved a sigh of frustration. 

In the kitchen, Julien filled a cup with ice. Rachael took it from him and spilled the ice into a towel, handing it to him.