Dynamics
By L.B. Dale

The Knight in Lackluster Armor

Beneath the thick gray blanket, a bare arm slowly snaked its way out and begun to grope around to stop the sound.

After a moment of patting around for the clock and several failed presses of the snooze button, he finally realized that it was not the alarm clock that had been the source of noise. The lump underneath the bed covers rose, the blanket sliding down to reveal Mozart’s bed-rumpled hair. His half-closed eyes scanned around the room, and then finally at the curtained windows that leaked rays of the morning sunlight into the dim bedroom.

He was sitting up now, frowning as he tried to make sense of what he was hearing. The sound was clearly animal, and yet it was strangely akin to an erratic smoke alarm.

Eventually, sometime after the noise had stopped, he gave up caring and slid out of bed to wash up.

To wash up… was there even a point to it anymore? To wash the grime away, only to have to wait for more grime to build up and wash off again? It never worked, since clearly, he was left in this situation despite all best efforts to look presentable. He had been silently asking the same question to just about everything, seriously considering ending all routine and making a point to himself that there was no one to look and smell nice for anymore; to eat and continue to be healthy for anymore… Hell, to even live for anymore, as cliché as it sounded. It was irrational thinking, he knew, but on certain days, even the most foolish question and declaration made perfect sense. And these were clearly another one of those days.

He stared at his reflection in the mirror, brushing a thumb over his stubbly chin and idly wondered how he would look with a full-grown beard.

Donning the lumberjack beard… it was a laughable image. Carol would have definitely hated the look, he suddenly thought with malicious glee. It annoyed her immensely when his kisses were, in her words, ‘itchy-scratchy.’ What a ridiculous term. It had been her poor attempt to sound cute, but it had been more tacky than endearing.

Well now, she would no longer have to worry about being itchy-scratched.

The strange sounds returned, rekindling his urge to find the source. It was loud; whatever it was... A dog, perhaps? He had heard something similar from a miniature canine a while back. Come to think of it…

Didn’t the downstairs tenant own a dog? He looked down at the floor, realizing that the barks must have come from the odd-looking little dog the female carried around.

Thoughts of the young woman who had come twice to his apartment had reemerged as he brushed his teeth, annoyance bursting inside of him at the event of last night. She had come to intrude when he had been through one of his darker moments – again, for the second time. He could have easily called for the police and have her escorted out.

The nerve of the woman… To come uninvited into his home and demand that he cease playing his music. Playing was his life, after all. And he never had complaints before. In fact, the tenants who lived there before she moved in enjoyed every piece he ever played.

What annoyed him greatly was the fact that she had apologized and feigned kindness all because she had foolishly misplaced her house keys. He felt no sympathy for pathetic attempts, especially when they were motivated by such reasons. If she had come to simply apologize out of pure honesty over her regret, if she had felt any, he would have stayed longer to have listened. But her reason, in his opinion, had been purely selfish given the circumstances of their first encounter. Had she no sense of pride? And why, of all people, would she come to him?

When the answer didn’t present itself sooner than he had wanted, he pushed the thought aside, patted his face dry with the towel, and left the bathroom.

The room was notably dark. Windows took up all of one side of his bedroom and had been covered with long and dark, olive curtains that blocked majority of sunlight. He walked over to slide one curtain open, idly scanning around at the morning atmosphere.

What he didn’t expect to see was the familiar burgundy jacket and the mass of brown hair on the tanning chair by the pool. He squinted, trying to focus his line of vision and noticed that the body was curled in fetal position. Realization that the woman might have actually slept through the night outside immediately dawned on his face.

Pulling the window and screen open, he stuck his head outside. “Lady!”

The woman did not stir.

“Hey! Wake up!”

Still, no response.

He muttered a curse before rushing out of the room.

Idiot woman, he mentally jibed for the fourth time. He looked around as he reached the pool gate, seeing no one else walking about and realized that no one must have been outside yet to notice her. Not entirely surprising, for it was a Sunday. No one was normally up at this hour.

Fumbling over the small lever for a brief moment, he finally got it to open and pushed the gate wide open, rushing to kneel on the side where he could see her face.

“Wake up.” He nudged her softly on the shoulder, unable to rip his gaze from her face.

She looked horrible.

Snot that ran from her nostril had long since dried from the cold air, leaving a white crusted line running horizontally across her cheek. There had been crust lining her closed eyelids as well, both forming white pools at the corners of both eyes from where tears had collected. Her hair was a downright mess; notably frizzier and more tangled than the bed of slightly frizzy curls he had seen last night. And there was a God-awful smell she emitted… The odor smelled just like the wet rag from the kitchen sink he hadn’t laundered in over two months.

Under different circumstances, this would have been funny as hell to him.

After more failed attempts to rouse the woman with shakes and prods, he finally gave up and moved to gather her into his arms. Fortunately, she was a light carry, allowing him to walk back up to his apartment without breaking into a sweat.

A moment later, he stood there by the couch where she lay, looking down at the woman he had wrapped in two thick blankets. Arms crossed, he had finally convinced himself that he had done all he could do for the time being. He felt her temperature, which had still been cool under his touch, though he knew that there would be the inevitable fever to follow later on. But there wasn’t much he could do until then. For the time being, he decided to carry on with his usual routine.

Maybe good ol’ Liszt’s Liebesträume would be just the thing to start off the day. But… which one? There were three pieces of Liebesträume – all composed for three types of love: worldly, erotic, and unconditional.

Taking a seat in front of the piano, he lightly played a fragment of each one to test them out.

He was in a particularly ironic mood… Perhaps, he would play the last one. It was, after all, the only kind of love he ever failed in.

--

The lighter branches of the trees visibly swayed with the wind, as did the tall blades of the rich green grass where she was currently standing. Ahead of her, the untamed yard seemed to dip like a hill and beyond that, she could see the vast amount of trees rooted along the strip of the large lake from a distance below.

It was too bright out, the blinding sun causing her to shield her eyes with her hand as she tried to figure out where exactly this place was. It seemed like she was standing on either a hill or a cliff.

Instead of proceeding forward to find out, however, something in the back of her mind kept her rooted in place. What it was she had to wait for, Evie wasn’t entirely sure, but she complied with intuition.

She turned around, looking up curiously at the back of the house that looked so very familiar.

The two-story home seemed to have held its own aura; the fresh white paint of the house reflecting the sunlight that an ethereal glow radiated from it. Even the wild primroses that naturally scattered around seemed to emit their own glow – the lower half of the house looking as if it had been feather-brushed with pink and yellow water color.

Everything looked so alive, as if it were beckoning her to come forward with welcoming arms. She began her walk toward the house, anxious to meet its owner.

After several yards, however, Evie realized that the distance from the house had not changed. In fact, the house appeared to be shrinking. She thought she had imagined it, but the more she walked, the more she grew convinced that the yard had stretched further with every few steps. She broke off into a run.

But the faster she ran, the further it grew.

Why? Why can’t I get to it?

--

Two hours had passed since he had been forced to take the woman in, and it wasn’t until now that she had begun to stir. He was in the midst of playing the climax of the third piece when the incoherent talking began.

“It’s too far!” He heard her whimper before uttering more unintelligible words.

Parts of her hair were damp, the curls clinging to the sides of her flushed cheeks. Her entire face was sweaty, he noted. He stood up from the piano and walked toward her, pulling off one layer of blanket and set it on the floor. Kneeling down, he frowned the moment his hand rested on her clammy forehead.

“You could have gone to other neighbors.” He pulled his hand back and shook with surprise when she immediately grabbed it.

Her hands were burning. More pathetic whimpers and mumbles came, causing him to frown even deeper as he tried to pull his hand free. But her grasp had gone even tighter, as if she were clutching onto him for dear life. She pulled him to the side of her face, hot tears spilling out of her shut eyelids and onto the surface of his hand.

“I can’t—I can’t fail… Not again… Please let me…” Pulling him closer, she buried her face in the crook of his arm and wept.

Feeling thoroughly uncomfortable and even more irritated that he was even in this situation, he tried pulling back again. “Lady…” he began feebly. “It’s just a dream, snap out of it.”

Her sobs were strained, and the grasp on his arm was growing tighter. “Please let me… I have to get it…”

Grunting, he made one final yank and managed to free himself, though doing so had caused her eyes to flutter open. He froze – staring at her with his hand on the carpet supporting the weight of his upper body.

Her head felt heavy, as if her body was telling her to shut her eyes again and go back to sleep, and immediately Evie felt the soreness coursing throughout her entire body. She stared at him for the longest time, confusion clearly written on her face as she tried to relay the events of yesterday.

There were still hints of sleepiness in her blood-shot eyes, and he wondered if she was still undergoing some kind of dream. The question that came out of her lips, however, quickly answered that.

“Did I… sleep out there?”

The annoyance he felt about having his day interrupted and to be just dealing with this woman was still strong, and without thinking, the words had slipped out.

“You did, and that was a completely moronic thing to do.”

All traces of sleep were immediately wiped from her face, and she sat up slowly to level with his face, a look of increasing fury clouding her amber eyes. “Excuse me?”

“You couldn’t bother the other neighbors? Had to come to my doorstep after that little scene you pulled the other day? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with—what’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you should be the fucking question!” Both the volume and pitch of her voice grew as she pointed a finger, but it apparently it had been too much for her delicate senses that she winced and held her head in her hands. “Had to slam the frickin’ door in my face after I apologized—”

“First, calm down or you’ll regret it later,” he interrupted while standing up to head toward the kitchen. “Second, just because you apologize doesn’t mean that I have to accept it,” he said as he pointed an empty mug at her, “I had every right to slam the door in your face.”

Her face scrunched up, staring at the back of his turned head as if to say ‘are you kidding me?’ “And you—did you actually—how insensitive could you—” she stammered; frustration and annoyance rendering her incoherent.

He hid a satisfied smirked, waiting patiently for the water in the mug to heat in the microwave.

A teaspoonful of instant coffee later, he was walking back to the woman, stirring the mug with a spoon before holding it out for her.

Evie slowly shook her head, a grimacing look on her face as she leaned back against the couch and away from the offered mug. “I’m not very thirsty…”

“I don’t care. As it is, you’re under my roof, therefore, under my care.”

Despite the fatigue that was quickly creeping up on her, she managed to effectively narrow her eyes at him before taking the mug. She didn’t drink it, however, setting it on her lap instead. “You’re an asshole.”

He snorted; taking a seat by the piano though had no intention to play it as he sat to face her, frowning. “An asshole that brought you here before you could freeze to death.”

“Which was entirely your fault to begin with.”

“You hold me, a complete stranger, responsible for your stupid decision to sleep through forty-degree weather?”

“Well last I knew, humans were supposed to be hospitable.”

“Only to those who are deserving of it and don’t come barging into someone’s home during the night.”

Neither of them spoke for the next couple of minutes – with Evie glaring at the man while he made himself comfortable on the piano seat, his elbow rested on the little table settled beside it. He remained silent; satisfied that he was able to hold on for this long while managing to annoy the woman further.

Eventually, Evie had finally given up. “What are you then, a piano teacher? Is that why I keep hearing your music every day?”

He raised a brow. “At one o’clock in the morning?”

“No. At ten in the morning.”

“No. I give afternoon lessons twice a week,” he answered, glancing at the neglected mug in her lap.

“So you play all of them by yourself?”

He gave her a look that told her just how stupid he thought her question was. “I said, drink your coffee.”

“You’re not my father.”

You're not my father... he was expecting her to finish it off with 'You're not the boss of me!' but it never came. She was being gallingly childish, though he would not give her the satisfaction of seeing him riled up. Instead, he remained to look comfortable in his spot and ran a hand through his dark strands. “Tell me – are eight-year-old antics your preferred choice for stinging comments, or is this some special treatment that I’ve been graced with? Because let me tell you—”

There was the sound of jingling keys and the turning of a lock, and before he could finish what he needed to say, someone had already let himself inside.

“—Hey Rowan. Hope you don’t mind me crashing in, I don’t think I can stay out in that traffic without falling asleep. I—Evie??”

Evie was in the middle of glaring murderously when someone had uttered her name, and when she soon realized there was someone else in the room, she looked up to see who it was.

“Quincy?”

There, standing in the doorway of her neighbor’s apartment, stood the same handsome blond-haired, blue-eyed man who visited her on a daily basis at the pizzeria. He was wearing his navy blue hospital scrubs, looking positively tired. “How… how do you—” She could barely make sense, and even Quincy hadn’t been able to help finish the question for her as he had been openly gaping as well.

Rowan was looking at them both; confused, surprised, and growing increasingly bothered with the fact that his younger brother was associated with the woman in some way. “What is this? How do you two know each other?”

“I come visit her pizzeria all the time…” Quincy answered, his eyes still locked with Evie’s. He then turned to look at him, frowning. “How do you know Evie?”

“She’s the downstairs tenant.”

Quincy’s mouth dropped open a little. “That’s the girl you were talking about? What is she doing here then?”

“Are you dating this woman?”

“Ah-wh-what? No, we’re just friends.”

Rowan narrowed his eyes. “Really?”

“Why, are you dating her?”

“Course not, you idiot.”

Evie, looking more confused with seeing the two talking so casually toward one another, decided it was her time to say something. “How uh… how do you two know each other?”

“He’s my older brother,” Quincy answered, a look of worry slowly growing on his face. The mild shock of her being in his brother’s apartment had finally passed, and now he could see that something was wrong with her. “You don’t look so hot. Are you alright?”

Evie failed to hear the last question, still trying to register the idea that the two unlikely men were of kin. She looked at them back and forth, from brown hair to blond – brown eyes to blue – long nose to a slightly perky one – tall to even taller. The only resemblance she could catch was the similarity of their lips, though if given only one quick glance, she wouldn’t have been able to see the comparison at all. “Your brother? How come I never see you around here?”

“I only come by when I’m too tired to drive home. Are you sure you’re alright? You look really pale…”

“I’m fine, really,” she insisted, trying to prove she was well by standing up and ignoring the screams of her sore muscles. Everything in the room began to spin slowly, however, forcing her to shut her eyes for a moment to let the dizziness pass. The last thing the guy needed was her vomiting all over his floor. Quincy instinctively budged, though had stopped when Evie had put up a hand to gesture that all was okay.

“I should go.”

After a few steps, everything in the room had begun to spin again, and the heavy weight she felt in her head was throwing her off balance.

To which she almost fell over, if Rowan hadn’t been there to catch her in time. He set her back down in the couch, ignoring her insistence that she could walk on her own.

Quincy was soon by his side, feeling her burning forehead and neck. His frown deepened. “What happened exactly? Why is she here?”

“I found her outside sleeping by the pool.”

“Why the hell would she be sleeping outside by the pool??”

Rowan hesitated, opting for the vague truth. “She forgot her house keys and wound up staying out there.”

There was a puzzled and annoyed look on Quincy’s face, unable to comprehend how someone could end up sleeping through an entire night of harsh weather. “Why would she… what time did you find her like that?”

“Around seven, I think.”

The barking that Rowan heard earlier in the morning started again, though this time, a muffled voice seemed to be attempting to calm it down. Both men looked at the floor. Quincy, who had been thinking for a moment, finally looked up at his older brother. “You should go and see whoever that is. Let them know that Evie’s up here and tell them to bring up some fresh clothes.”

“Why don’t you go and I’ll stay with the woman?” Rowan had no desire whatsoever to step foot into the downstairs apartment.

“Right, then. You can borrow my RN license, four years of nursing education, and the immunity to bad smells and nudity because this woman desperately needs a sponge bath. And I'll go tell that person downstairs what's going on.”

Rowan narrowed his eyes and stood up, heading for the door. “Sarcasm isn’t becoming of you.”

“I only learn from the best.”

Of all the days for Quincy to come by… Rowan sighed deeply before descending the stairs. He had hoped to get the woman out of his hair at least by the afternoon, but now, it seemed unlikely.

There was the sound of the door being opened from downstairs, and by the jingle of keys, he figured that the person must have been leaving. He hurried down and walked around, seeing the back of the head of a dark-haired woman wearing what appeared to be some kind of white lab coat. His footsteps had caught her attention, and she turned around to face him.

The woman looked young; had to be around Evie’s age, he noted. “Who are you?” He had no idea how to approach the woman, and that had been the first question to slip out of his mouth.

The woman raised a brow, confused and looking a little wary. Rowan could see her hand gripping tighter onto the plastic bag she was carrying, as if she were ready to whack him with it in case he made any sudden movement. “Aira… Who are you?”

“I live upstairs. Are you a friend of Evie?”

She looked at him bewildered for a moment, eyes darting up to where his apartment was and then back down to meet his eyes. “Yes… I’m a friend of hers. But how do you—”

“I found her asleep out by the pool this morning... Apparently she forgot her house keys. She’s upstairs in my apartment right now.”

“WHAT?!”

She made a move to push past him to run up the steps, but he quickly held up a hand to stop her. “She’ll be fine. She’s being taken care of by my brother.” He had obviously worded that wrong, due to the heightened look of worry on her face. “He’s a registered nurse so she's in good hands,” he added quickly. “And she needs some fresh clothes.”

“O-oh, of course.” Aira set down the plastic bag she was holding and rummaged through the hoard of other keys and key chains.

After unlocking the door, she glanced back at him, looking unsure whether she should let him inside or not. Pressing her lips together, she motioned her head for him to follow her inside. “The place is a mess,” she said, though Rowan didn’t think it had been necessary to point out since he could see for himself.

A horrible smell welcomed him when he stepped in – likely to have been a combination dog urine and feces that the Aira woman must have cleaned up while being inside earlier. The layout of her apartment was very similar to his own, he noticed, though looked brighter than his darker-themed abode. Brighter and more feminine, with all the flowery drapery. Papers were strewn all over the place – on the couch, on the coffee table, and a few sheets of paper had made it onto the wood floor. The floor itself looked like it needed a good sweeping, since he could see large masses of dust bunnies on the corners of the sitting room. The woman had the decency to not let her clothing or knickers hanging around where he could see, however, and the mess appeared to be only work-related.

There was a whimper, and then a movement that nearly caused him to kick at it. Rowan looked down, seeing an elongated black-dappled canine with ears as big as its head, standing on its hind legs as it pawed at his knees. “Down,” he muttered, trying to move backwards so that the dog would move away. The dog only moved forward, doing a ridiculous little hop to keep up with the human stranger.

“Down, Aristotle,” Aira ordered. To his relief, the dog complied and moved to sit beside the couch. “Hey, could you do me a favor and stack up all those papers while I grab her clothes?”

Before Rowan could politely refuse, she had already gone into the bedroom.

After picking up several sheets of paper, Rowan had come to the conclusion that his downstairs neighbor was a fiction writer. He gathered as much after quickly glancing at some of the papers he had picked up, seeing bits of the brainstorming she had probably been working on before throwing her little tantrum the other night. No wonder she had been so angry.

This must be her brainstorm work, he thought as he picked up another sheet of paper. This one appeared to have been a draft of her story.

After several turns and a few wrong turns despite the use of a navigation device, she was now driving up a tall hill where a white block-sized house could be seen at the top above all the trees in her path, growing larger by each passing second. Lily, who was accustomed to speed driving and the flat plains of his own city, was driving so awkwardly up the hill that she had nervously gripped the handle of the wheel whenever she reached a narrow curve.

Rowan shook his head, a small frown growing on his face as he continued to read.

There were certainly a couple of errors; a “his” which should probably have been “her.” Simple errors, though he figured that this must have been a rough draft. And he didn’t think the mentioning of the GPS had been necessary…

Taking once glance at the room where woman was, he could see that she was still looking through Evie’s wardrobe. The woman was taking a ridiculous amount of time… Was it really that difficult to find an outfit?

He’d kill the bit of time left, he supposed, and then grabbed the pen that had been sitting on the couch.

-- Note -- This took foreverrrrr to write... mostly because of finals looming over my shoulders and other non-academic things. Well, I'm glad all that's over.

Review, por favor!