Behind the Curtain
"For you, a sight envied by all and seen by none."
Technically not true. It's only been given to one other person, and I hope she won't mind that I'm allowing you to see this side of me as well.
"You'll be astounded by what you find behind the curtain."
I've startled her with the closing of said curtain, and my close proximity. She smells like sunshine and fresh air, and the jewels crowning her tiara sparkle in the dim lighting. When she comments on the tightness of the space, I respond with my trademark "Nice, isn't it?" and give myself a mental kick. The memory of the last time I used that line on a different witch still stings me with shame.
For once, I'm not up to what she thinks, though I don't blame her. This is the perfect place for me to make a move, and to not do so screams against all my instincts. Right now, something more important is on my mind.
"I want to thank you for opening my eyes."
I never even knew they were shut or how much I was missing.
"And what do you see?" she asks, her face full of curious hopefulness.
"That I have everything I ever wanted."
And everything I never even imagined could be mine.
"For the record, I knew you had it in you all along," she says, her lilting voice filling the tight space even though she is whispering.
I smirk, knowing what is going to come next. "Greatness?"
Isn't that what I've finally accomplished here? Haven't I fulfilled the end of the bargain I promised whatever deity sent me to this strange land?
"No, better than that," she insists. "Goodness."
The moment the words spill from her perfect, pink lips, time seems to pause and take a breath.
Goodness. That which I've spend my entire life running from for fear I would die of its banality, its gray lifelessness. What is goodness? She speaks of it as though it were almost hallowed. Good is not something I'm comfortable with, but here, in this space, when she says it, I can almost believe it is the truth.
Here, the goodness she speaks of has little to do with planting crops, attending church, or raising babies. Here, there are opportunities to perform great things only a good man can accomplish. Here, goodness is something buried within me, not an insurmountable goal I will never be able to achieve. And here, I realize as I gaze into her eyes, is where I am going to kiss this indomitable woman who never stops believing anything is possible. Never have I met someone who combined the wonder and mischievousness of a child and the wisdom and clarity of an adult with such grace and ease.
Time releases the breath it was holding I pull the fair-haired witch closer, eyes flicking from her eyes down to her parted lips and then back. When her hazel eyes follow the same path on my own face, I lean down to press my lips against hers. She is shy, a little uncertain, but not unwilling in the least.
I hear a click and feel the heat of the praxinoscope's lamp shining on us, but time once again seems to grant us respite, and I lose myself in the softness of her body pressed against mine and the heat of my hand on the bare skin of her back above her dress. Somewhere in the distance Sourpuss is blowing a fanfare.
The witch smiles into the kiss and curls a hand behind the back of my neck to keep me from pulling away.
Yes, good men can do great things here.
