“Play your cards right, and I might give you a ride sometime,” she said in a low, warm mezzo.
He could listen to that voice forever. He let his own smile and tone match hers. “Deal.” She rewarded him with a flashing smile and the honor of holding her helmet as she mounted the bike. As soon as she was out of sight, he glanced back at the building. The windows were darkened, the curtains drawn. No one was up and watching. He let out with a joyous whoop.
It was going to be an incredible summer!
*
Ydrel sighed and let the curtain fall back into place. His window overlooked the commons, not the parking lot, and sometimes he liked to look out over the neatly manicured lawn with its old oaks and pretend that it was just his yard. That was easier to do at night, when the grounds weren’t used by “clients” with white-uniformed orderlies and nurses milling about, making sure everyone was comfortable—and controlled. Not that they really needed to. Most of the time when people went outside, it was to sit quietly in the sun, lost in their own thoughts. Occasionally, a client with a passion for fitness and nature would shun the gym for jogging the fence line, and there were conversations among clients or between them and visitors, but mostly the commons was a quiet, brooding area, and it always felt darker to Ydrel, as if the moods themselves blotted out some of the sunlight.
When he’d pulled himself out of his initial depression after being admitted, Ydrel had tried to get some people involved in a game of football or catch or...anything. An orderly would usually oblige him, but their minds were always on the other clients, watching, anticipating. After a while, Ydrel gave it up and spent his requisite “sun therapy” time quietly reading or brooding along with the others.
Maybe I could get Joshua to bring a football. No, a Frisbee , he decided. He remembered diving for the ball, missing utterly and falling face-first into the dirt while his friends alternately groaned or laughed. Joshua’s memory, along with the knowledge that Joshua was on the unofficial college Frisbee golf team.
His head swam for a moment, and he wondered if it was from the alcohol or from the double-life effect of probing someone else’s thoughts. He had meant it when he told Joshua that he seldom consciously entered another’s mind; in addition to the vertigo it gave him, it made him feel dirty.
I had to do it. For Sachiko. When Ydrel had sensed Joshua’s attraction to his friend—one of the only friends he had—he had to be sure the young intruder could be trusted. Ydrel had forged an initial link after she left the room to fetch the sweets and had found Joshua’s surface impressions confusing, but the intern had been honest enough in intentions that he backed down.
Nonetheless, when Joshua lingered after Sachiko left, Ydrel took the opportunity to probe deeper, guiding him gently into a daydream while he delved, seeking to absorb the essence and motivations of this person who was already threatening to have a major impact on his life—and Sachiko’s. He’d sensed the interest in her too, deeply guarded even from herself, yet ready to come crashing to the forefront with the right provocation.
I had to do it. I had to be sure she could trust him. Last time, I didn’t step in until it was too late and it almost killed her. I won’t let that happen again. He knew that was only half the story. He had to know if he could trust him. As lonely as he was, he’d misplaced his trust before, too. But what he’d found was that Joshua Abraham Lawson was one of the most genuinely genuine people he’d ever encountered.
Genuinely genuine , he chuckled to himself, suddenly realizing he was just a little drunk. One of the other advantages of his little probe was that Joshua didn’t notice when Ydrel had poured the other’s Scotch into his own cup.
“Genuinely genuine. Genuflect. Genouillere. Genu—” He’d run out of words, so he
He could listen to that voice forever. He let his own smile and tone match hers. “Deal.” She rewarded him with a flashing smile and the honor of holding her helmet as she mounted the bike. As soon as she was out of sight, he glanced back at the building. The windows were darkened, the curtains drawn. No one was up and watching. He let out with a joyous whoop.
It was going to be an incredible summer!
*
Ydrel sighed and let the curtain fall back into place. His window overlooked the commons, not the parking lot, and sometimes he liked to look out over the neatly manicured lawn with its old oaks and pretend that it was just his yard. That was easier to do at night, when the grounds weren’t used by “clients” with white-uniformed orderlies and nurses milling about, making sure everyone was comfortable—and controlled. Not that they really needed to. Most of the time when people went outside, it was to sit quietly in the sun, lost in their own thoughts. Occasionally, a client with a passion for fitness and nature would shun the gym for jogging the fence line, and there were conversations among clients or between them and visitors, but mostly the commons was a quiet, brooding area, and it always felt darker to Ydrel, as if the moods themselves blotted out some of the sunlight.
When he’d pulled himself out of his initial depression after being admitted, Ydrel had tried to get some people involved in a game of football or catch or...anything. An orderly would usually oblige him, but their minds were always on the other clients, watching, anticipating. After a while, Ydrel gave it up and spent his requisite “sun therapy” time quietly reading or brooding along with the others.
Maybe I could get Joshua to bring a football. No, a Frisbee , he decided. He remembered diving for the ball, missing utterly and falling face-first into the dirt while his friends alternately groaned or laughed. Joshua’s memory, along with the knowledge that Joshua was on the unofficial college Frisbee golf team.
His head swam for a moment, and he wondered if it was from the alcohol or from the double-life effect of probing someone else’s thoughts. He had meant it when he told Joshua that he seldom consciously entered another’s mind; in addition to the vertigo it gave him, it made him feel dirty.
I had to do it. For Sachiko. When Ydrel had sensed Joshua’s attraction to his friend—one of the only friends he had—he had to be sure the young intruder could be trusted. Ydrel had forged an initial link after she left the room to fetch the sweets and had found Joshua’s surface impressions confusing, but the intern had been honest enough in intentions that he backed down.
Nonetheless, when Joshua lingered after Sachiko left, Ydrel took the opportunity to probe deeper, guiding him gently into a daydream while he delved, seeking to absorb the essence and motivations of this person who was already threatening to have a major impact on his life—and Sachiko’s. He’d sensed the interest in her too, deeply guarded even from herself, yet ready to come crashing to the forefront with the right provocation.
I had to do it. I had to be sure she could trust him. Last time, I didn’t step in until it was too late and it almost killed her. I won’t let that happen again. He knew that was only half the story. He had to know if he could trust him. As lonely as he was, he’d misplaced his trust before, too. But what he’d found was that Joshua Abraham Lawson was one of the most genuinely genuine people he’d ever encountered.
Genuinely genuine , he chuckled to himself, suddenly realizing he was just a little drunk. One of the other advantages of his little probe was that Joshua didn’t notice when Ydrel had poured the other’s Scotch into his own cup.
“Genuinely genuine. Genuflect. Genouillere. Genu—” He’d run out of words, so he
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