Leigh-Anne had never spent an entire night with Elliott except for one weekend that they had gone to Key West together. At home, her children and mother expected her to be there when they got up, but there was always an easy familiarity between them right up until she went out west to get married.
Likewise, Elliott had only once slept over at Rebel’s house, only because he was too high to drive, and nothing between them ever had any air of domesticity. They did not share their intimacy with anyone else as far as Elliott knew, and it was usually initiated by her as if out of thin air, and totally unexpected by Elliott.
In fact, it wasn’t until Jedidiah and The Three Winds came to visit that she had ever acknowledged their intimacy at all, except to Aimée, it would appear.
As much as Elliott was already anticipating future visits from April, (at least he hoped) she would appear again when the took The Knowledge, he realized that they would never be ‘playing house’ again.
But here, there was plenty of room for houseguests, but if this became a long-term residence, they would need to have their own quarters, but given Chianna’s reaction to Jed, who knows who would be sleeping where in the days to come?
Since Elliott was almost always the only one to cook for them, Chianna had no real inclination to work in the kitchen to help, and although she rarely even offered, she was only too happy to see to it that the other guests were entertained and delivered everything that came from the kitchen to their table.
And although Chianna did not exclude anyone else from her attention, the attraction, the fascination, indeed the infatuation that she was experiencing over Jed was impossible to ignore, but graciously acknowledged by everyone without judgement or rancor, although it did not escape a few knowing glances between Leigh-Anne, Rebel or even Jedidiah.
In the kitchen, a genuine feeling of relief passed between Elliott and Aimée almost as soon as they started the breakfast preparations.
True to form, when Elliott entertained, he had a tendency to go more than a little bit overboard, bordering on the grandiose. From the time that he learned of their impending arrival, his brain began to go on overload, and whenever he was performing…(anything)…he had to check himself from time to time and remember to take a big breath, and just relax, because if he was already doing anything creative..anything that he really loved, he had to remember to savor the pleasure, the enjoyment of being in the moment doing whatever he loved.
And yet, right then, right there with Aimée helping him, he realized how easy it had been between them, just the two of them without agendas, or interference, or interlopers.
Not that either of them tried to push the envelope…in fact they were a little cautious, almost shy even, and it just made them even more adorable to each other; nothing predatory and in the absence of pretense.
“It really has been a long time…brings back some memories, doesn’t it?” Aimée cautiously observed.
It was exquisite just enjoying each other’s company.
And for once…Elliott managed to keep his mouth shut. Not entirely, but every little word or expression did not launch him into some kind of diatribe or rant.
Just a few very small, short, focused exchanges about preparation, seasoning, temperatures and the like between two people of one mind.
Turns out, she had become something of a regional celebrity regarding food, and had written several books on the subject of cooking.
Even Elliott knew to speak less and listen more. He suddenly felt lighter than air. Most of anything that he could do to impress her was to shut up and let her take the lead…she not only noticed it, but she suddenly saw him more in the light of how she had described how she hoped to envision him years later.
Subtlety and understatement was very, very attractive on Elliott.
He tried to simply follow her lead, and just help her navigate their larder and kitchen. And they both enjoyed it. A word of two here, ask her opinion about anything, and don’t try to control everything he touched.
This was entirely new ground for Elliott, but she made it easy.
They both seemed to be rationing their direct eye contact, perhaps for fear that they might both be overcome by it, and yet, they were both the only audience that either of them needed, or even wanted.
There were no discussions about their future plans, no heavy or lofty subjects at all, but the expressions on their faces, albeit more than a little guarded, spoke volumes with which neither one was inclined to argue.
They were just glad to be together, almost alone, once again.
At one point, they both reached for the Tamarind seeds at the same time. Their hands touched, and almost recoiled away, but Elliott placed his hand over hers, very gently, although somehow Aimée did not think he would release it instantly, so he just placed his hand over hers, like he was covering it, protecting or shading it, Very gently, as he stared up toward her face, waiting for her to look up, eye to eye.
For one thin moment, they exchanged the most beatific look, before Aimée raised two fingers to Elliott’s lips.
Long, long ago, they probably would have passionately embraced, and undoubtedly have made love right there in the kitchen, on the table, the floor, a chair, or right on top of the one hundred pound bag of rice in the corner of the pantry, or maybe even all four, and after all, for once no one was interested in “catching’ them anyway.
Long ago, swept away by a torrent of passions, amid entire volumes of testaments to Drama, and often supercharged with cocaine, Romance beguiled Reason as Love seduced Logic without regard for anything except the moment, and it was good…for awhile.
But now, the same winds of change finally catapult them out of the doldrums and horse latitudes of complacency, but in a far subtler, yet maddeningly more beautiful magnificence of Truth, and Authenticity without pretense or agenda into more still, clear, and deep waters so as to create the impression of yet another singularity of time and space to be reborn again within our own spheres of influence.
The Great Peace, and the Great Love…Big Love; those moments of realization via even the tiniest sliver of illumination presents the paradox of just how immense the passion of those realizations are, as if the subtler of the conditions can only be appreciated after the violent passions have been sated.
As Amy’s fingers touched Elliott’s lips, they suddenly felt galvanized, so strong was the current that flowed between them.
Another feature of the knowledge is the ability to send and receive tactile sensations from one to the other, back and forth, like alternating current transmitting their Dharma in a visible as well as palpable form.
A split second in Eternity.
Thoughts, states of mind, and emotions transmitted via touch.
Indeed, as the Buddha said: “I transmit my Dharma to you” please note: he did not say: “I transmit THE Dharma to you.”
Under normal circumstances, one cannot transmit a state of mind, or even a belief system of what is true or untrue by mere touch, or telepathy, which is itself not a normal capability of humans.
Unless perhaps you are a bodhisattva…
But these were once again, extraordinary people under extraordinary circumstances in extraordinary times.
Namasté
नमस्ते
Chazz Vincent
copyright © March 11th, 2021
Fish swim with the tides, in and out of the lagoon as it empties itself, receives from, and flows back into the sea.
*ALL REFERENCES TO ANY PERSONS CONFIRMED STILL LIVING IS PURELY CO-INCIDENTAL…AND THE DEAD ARE TOO BUSY LAUGHING AT US TO CARE.
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