over. After joining the Army at thirty-one years of age, the senior captain
had been too old to make major, passed over twice before realizing the rank of
O-3 was as far as he would ever go. Unable to have children, he and his wife Rose, an elementary school
teacher, made the most of their military time, approaching each of his frequent
transfers as a new adventure. They had
hiked the jungles of Panama; learned to love garlicky kimchi in Korea; explored the Napa Valley area while stationed in San Francisco, and
it was there the couple had learned to appreciate the science—and the art—of
wine. Rose had loved the subtle, less
oaky whites; Ellis preferred the big, explosive reds. And then, just before he was scheduled to
make what would be his last move to Germany, a hyper-aggressive brain tumor had
ripped her from him in less than sixty days.
“I wish you were
here to go to France with me, darlin ’,” he said to Rose,
gripping the frame in both hands. After
kissing her image, he turned his attention to the television, wiping his eyes
as the Titans marched down the field.
***
Gage and Monika lay
under the blanket together. He was
quiet, his chest rising and falling as she lay in the crook of his arm, tracing
a finger up and down his torso. The hotel was nice, not a four-star, but one of
the more than adequate inner-city hotels Frankfurt welcomes its many business
travelers with. Monika had paid,
insisting that Gage let her, using her credit card. Normally he would have objected, but not
knowing the surveillance situation, he had relented. Gage had barely breathed as they shared the
elevator with another couple, riding in silence to the fifteenth floor.
Safely in their
room, Monika unzipped her knee-length boots and tossed them in the corner.
Gage was
silent.
She unbuttoned the
highest button of her blouse, using a washcloth to mop the haze of perspiration
from her chest and forehead.
Gage had stared
out the window at the snow falling on the striking Frankfurt skyline, his arms
wide on the mullions of the modern, pane less window.
Monika retrieved
scotch from the mini-bar, pouring a mineral water for Gage. She downed the mini-bottle before drinking
another in three gulps.
Gage lowered the shade,
darkening the room. He removed his watch,
placing it on the table with his sunglasses, wallet and keys.
She moved behind
him and pressed the glass of water into Gage’s hand.
He thanked her,
never making eye contact.
Monika reached
around him, rubbing his chest with her red nails before spinning him around.
Gage stood stone
still as she reached for his mouth on her tiptoes. Her tongue pressed through his lips, sending
his heart racing and providing him with tangible, and embarrassing, excitement. While certainly reveling in their union, he remained
still and let her do the work. The kiss ended when Monika pulled away and wiped
her wet lips with her sleeve.
“What’s wrong, Gage? Why won’t you return my kiss?”
Gage was still
standing in the same position. His head
shook almost imperceptibly, his mouth still open. “Monika, I want to. It’s just—”
“I’m here,
Gage. Here for you . Ever since I met you, I
have been. Just waiting for you to love
me. And I’ve been so patient with you
because I know, I just know, there’s something in your mind…a schism that
divides you into two men, one of which is tormented by something…I see it when
the pain passes through your face, but I just don’t know why.” Her voice cracked. “You wear those black sunglasses at the
oddest times, and I always see you rubbing your head. The headaches you get, Gage, I looked them
up. They’re not normal and they’re not
healthy.” She opened her arms. “Let me in, Gage. Don’t keep me on the outside any longer.”
Gage blinked
several times, in disbelief over the way she had leapt into his soul. Overriding his
had been too old to make major, passed over twice before realizing the rank of
O-3 was as far as he would ever go. Unable to have children, he and his wife Rose, an elementary school
teacher, made the most of their military time, approaching each of his frequent
transfers as a new adventure. They had
hiked the jungles of Panama; learned to love garlicky kimchi in Korea; explored the Napa Valley area while stationed in San Francisco, and
it was there the couple had learned to appreciate the science—and the art—of
wine. Rose had loved the subtle, less
oaky whites; Ellis preferred the big, explosive reds. And then, just before he was scheduled to
make what would be his last move to Germany, a hyper-aggressive brain tumor had
ripped her from him in less than sixty days.
“I wish you were
here to go to France with me, darlin ’,” he said to Rose,
gripping the frame in both hands. After
kissing her image, he turned his attention to the television, wiping his eyes
as the Titans marched down the field.
***
Gage and Monika lay
under the blanket together. He was
quiet, his chest rising and falling as she lay in the crook of his arm, tracing
a finger up and down his torso. The hotel was nice, not a four-star, but one of
the more than adequate inner-city hotels Frankfurt welcomes its many business
travelers with. Monika had paid,
insisting that Gage let her, using her credit card. Normally he would have objected, but not
knowing the surveillance situation, he had relented. Gage had barely breathed as they shared the
elevator with another couple, riding in silence to the fifteenth floor.
Safely in their
room, Monika unzipped her knee-length boots and tossed them in the corner.
Gage was
silent.
She unbuttoned the
highest button of her blouse, using a washcloth to mop the haze of perspiration
from her chest and forehead.
Gage had stared
out the window at the snow falling on the striking Frankfurt skyline, his arms
wide on the mullions of the modern, pane less window.
Monika retrieved
scotch from the mini-bar, pouring a mineral water for Gage. She downed the mini-bottle before drinking
another in three gulps.
Gage lowered the shade,
darkening the room. He removed his watch,
placing it on the table with his sunglasses, wallet and keys.
She moved behind
him and pressed the glass of water into Gage’s hand.
He thanked her,
never making eye contact.
Monika reached
around him, rubbing his chest with her red nails before spinning him around.
Gage stood stone
still as she reached for his mouth on her tiptoes. Her tongue pressed through his lips, sending
his heart racing and providing him with tangible, and embarrassing, excitement. While certainly reveling in their union, he remained
still and let her do the work. The kiss ended when Monika pulled away and wiped
her wet lips with her sleeve.
“What’s wrong, Gage? Why won’t you return my kiss?”
Gage was still
standing in the same position. His head
shook almost imperceptibly, his mouth still open. “Monika, I want to. It’s just—”
“I’m here,
Gage. Here for you . Ever since I met you, I
have been. Just waiting for you to love
me. And I’ve been so patient with you
because I know, I just know, there’s something in your mind…a schism that
divides you into two men, one of which is tormented by something…I see it when
the pain passes through your face, but I just don’t know why.” Her voice cracked. “You wear those black sunglasses at the
oddest times, and I always see you rubbing your head. The headaches you get, Gage, I looked them
up. They’re not normal and they’re not
healthy.” She opened her arms. “Let me in, Gage. Don’t keep me on the outside any longer.”
Gage blinked
several times, in disbelief over the way she had leapt into his soul. Overriding his
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