Chapter 10

May 2001

They were eighteen now, and life was golden. They were the same age as the incoming freshman, and it amused them to see how they were trying to pair up, hook up, meet up in new and different configurations while enjoying that first taste of freedom and those last throws of puberty. While every night they got to go home and play with their best friend all they wanted. "I think I might have to start wearing bras soon." She said one night, in between kisses.

He kissed her with a hum of pleasure. Their bodies were finally catching up to their minds and souls, settling into adult shapes and sizes at last. He'd been thinking of new shirts, his old ones were getting rather tight in the shoulder. In reply his hand skimmed up her side and cupped her where she was growing rich and full, making her gasp and arch as he pictured her in something lacy. "That might be fun."

She laughed delightedly and rolled to him. "I'll show you fun."

Three days later the mail arrived, and with it a package from a well-known lingerie company. She laughed wickedly when she opened it and found the black, lacy things. "Good guess on the size." She said.

He up from his books and frowned. "I didn't buy you anything."

She frowned and looked at the card. As he watched all of the color ran out of her face, and she threw the package across the room as if it burned. He didn't say anything; he packed his books back in his pack, put his pack on his back, picked up her belongs and the note, and nudged her out the door.

Once they reached the safety of the library he stopped and read the note. It talked about how she was growing into a beautiful woman, how he looked forward to seeing more, to seeing her do what pleased him in stomach turning detail. Him. The one they called Voldemort now. "I'm sorry." He said.

She was shaking even though it was a warm California spring. "I don't know what to do." She said. "We're not supposed to encourage him but I can't help it! I can't stop getting older!"

His mind worked this way, links were made faster than he could track them, solutions just appeared to him and they always worked. "It's not getting older." He said. "It's puberty."

She shrugged. "The difference?"

"You can shut down puberty." He took a deep breath and told her how.

She paced in a slow circle while she considered this. "It would work." She said. "It's dangerous though."

"I know." He said. "We'll have to be careful."

"And it's not an instant fix. He's watching us now. Jesus, what happened to his wife anyway?"

"We'll look later. We don't have to be here while we work on it. If you're portable right now I can take that offer at Temple University for the summer. We'll do it there. By the time we get back he'll be so repulsed he won't even want to look at us."

She sighed and kept pacing for a long moment, but in the end she nodded. "Let's do it." She said at last. "But we should take pictures first. Remember what we were becoming."

He nodded even as he felt his heart start to break.

He checked that night. Carla had committed suicide. "I can't say I blame her." She said

Two weeks later they drove across country to Philadelphia. The day they arrived they got started.

It was physically painful for the first week.

It was psychologically hard for the second.

By the fifth he realized she had stopped reaching for him in the night. "I just don't want to anymore." She said.

"Neither do I." He admitted. "We will again, when this is over."

"I hope so."

"All the research confirms it."

"One study."

"It was a very good study. Very well done."

She sighed and curled closer.

By the eighth week they had bought more blankets to pile on the bed. "I just can't get warm." She complained as she curled in his arms.

"I know." He admitted. "Neither can I." It was a warm, muggy night but they shivered their way to sleep.

At ten weeks they packed up and returned to California, all traces of oncoming adulthood erased from their bodies. They went back to work and school bundled in sweaters despite the heat of a California August. "I scared the crap out of Solomon today." She said when she met up with him that night. "She was very concerned for me."

"Really?" He said. "No one said anything to me."

"They probably just think you're not paying attention. Have you checked voicemail yet?"

"No." He pulled his old phone, the one from before the summer, from his pocket and checked. It was full of new messages, all angry ranting and vicious threats. How dare they make him look bad, how dare they.

She smiled. "You're right, it does feel good to be in control."

"See. Just be careful, yeah?"

"Stay around others, don't stop moving. I know."

The next day he was at his desk when the first delivery arrived. He stood and very deliberately looked over the pile as he sipped his black coffee. "Help yourselves." He said to the others in the department. "On me."

He turned his back on the pile. Control was sweet.

The deliveries continued for two weeks. After that they tapered off.

They didn't bother to learn the name of the new wife. She wouldn't live long enough to matter.