A/N: Chuck and Sarah finish their Saturday.
HER GIFT
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Little Movies
Chuck and Sarah left the High and walked outside, both of them blinking in the brilliant, temporarily forgotten sunshine.
Chuck had been blinded indoors by Sarah, so his sun-blinding outdoors did not seem like a radical change of circumstance. Sarah was still smiling; her posture radiated happiness. As Chuck's eyes adjusted to the sunlight, he realized just how far from happy must normally be, how distant and reserved she kept herself from herself. He loved seeing her so happy, he wanted to make her happy.
But he was not sure how to do that. All he had to offer her was himself.
He shook off the thought and made himself focus on her, just on her, not on himself in relation to her. "Where to next, O Tour Guide to the Gods?"
Sarah shook her head and laughed. "Wow, I got a promotion. — Except how can you conduct a tour for a being who is omniscient and omnipresent? Wouldn't everything already be known, everything already seen?"
"Huh," Chuck said. He was typically the one who made remarks like that. "You know, you're right. I guess there is at least one thing a deity cannot be, and that's a tourist."
"Well, luckily you and I are finite beings, Chuck, we can be tourists, and we are not everywhere at once, so we can enjoy the pleasure of a walk, of locomotion. The Botanical Garden is just a little over a mile away. Shall we?"
"Lead on You Bright and Risen Angel."
Sarah stopped and stared. "What's that?"
"The title of a William T. Vollman novel. Weird book."
"Weird title."
"This from the woman who crashed my niece's trick-or-treat in a discombobulating angel costume."
"Discombobulating? Is that like whopperjawed?" Sarah grinned and elbowed Chuck softly.
"Much like, it just involves more awe."
"I'll have you know, Mr. Bartowski, that costume did not discombobulate me in the slightest."
"That's 'cause you weren't on the business end of it…" Chuck muttered, taking long strides and stepping ahead of Sarah.
"What did you say?" Sarah said, almost skipping to catch up.
"Oh, nothing. Nothing. Did you order this weather? A Botanical Garden in November…"
"...in Atlanta." She beamed and looked around.
On the other side of the entrance, Sarah slowed, a map of the Garden in her hand. She'd insisted on paying and the clerk had given her the map, not Chuck.
Chuck tried to shed his slight embarrassment and looked over Sarah's shoulder at the map. "I thought we'd go to Storza Woods. It's about ten of the Garden's thirty acres. It's one of the last remaining secondary growth hardwood forests in the city."
"Okay, that sounds peaceful."
Sarah took one last look and folded the map. "It should be. " She put the map in her bag.
Chuck gestured to the bag. "You won't need the map?"
"No, I'm…I'm really good at remembering things like that. Dad stressed it from the time I was little. Time and space — always know when and where you are. I guess it was connected to what I told you about the mazeway up to the penthouse office. Dad always wanted to know where he was, but he didn't want others to share his knowledge."
Chuck mulled that over as they walked along. Sarah was gazing at everything they passed. She pointed out several flowers to Chuck and he did his best to remember the names. Sarah pointed to a walkway that climbed into the air. "Let's take the Canopy Walk. We can see the Woods from above."
Chuck nodded and let Sarah lead the way. She did so eagerly, reaching back for Chuck's hand and hurrying him along. Sarah looked at him, the expression on his face as he pulled even with her. "What is it?"
"I was just thinking about your comment about a deity not being a tourist. — Isn't it part of the Eden story that God came and walked in the Garden in the cool of the evening?"
Sarah gazed at Chuck. "You do say the oddest things."
"So says my sister."
"I guess that's right. I seem to remember that phrase: 'the cool of the evening.'"
"But, given what you said, it's not like God could discover anything about the Garden, right? He knew it already inside and out, and Adam and Eve too. So, what was the point? God's a spirit, so he couldn't get hot, couldn't need to cool off. No body."
They'd climbed up along the Walk. The Walk was a small-scale suspension bridge and its masts disappeared into the treetops, making it seem as though the Walk was floating. Sarah stopped and leaned against the railing. "Maybe God didn't need the company, but maybe he wanted it?
Chuck nodded, frowning. "Huh. Maybe."
Sarah turned to him with a bashful, hesitant, questioning look. "What?" Chuck asked.
"Do you think Adam and Eve had sex in the Garden?"
Chuck was ill-prepared for the question, personally and theologically. "What?"
Sarah shrugged. "They were supposed to multiply, right? Create little Adams and Eves?"
"Yes, I guess. I haven't read any of that in ages."
"So, unless they reproduced in some unheard-of way, at least for human beings, they would have had sex, right?"
For Chuck, lavender was entirely too fresh on his mind for this conversation for this woman — while suspended in midair. He thought about the question for a minute, then began to answer in a rush. "You know, I had a friend at Stanford who was into theology and philosophy. Now that I think about it, he told me once that St. Thomas Aquinas…"
"...the medieval philosopher?" Sarah asked, interrupting, and Chuck nodded.
"...Aquinas argued somewhere that Adam and Eve not only had sex in the Garden but that they had transcendentally good sex in the Garden. Edenic sex. Although," Chuck said, slowing down from his roll of words, "I might be misremembering…"
Sarah took a deep breath and looked out over the Woods. "That sounds right to me. Garden sex, the best sex ever."
About that time, two older women walked by, going the opposite direction.
One must have caught a bit of what Sarah said. "C'mon, Madge. Who knows what goes on in this Garden on the weekends." They sped up. "I told you we should've waited for Tuesday!"
Chuck and Sarah managed not to contain themselves for a moment, then when the women were out of earshot, they broke out in laughter.
They stood there, atop the Walk, for a long time. Chuck had been asking Sarah more about photography, about her giving it up. She told him she still had cameras in a closet in her penthouse apartment but that she had not had any out in a long time.
"So," Chuck asked, resting his hands on the rail beside Sarah's, "when did you take that photograph of Conklin Tower?"
"A couple of years ago, roughly."
"How did you take it?"
Sarah smiled. "As you know, I like to stand and look out my office windows. One day, I noticed I could see a rooftop in the distance, and that nothing stood between it and the tower. I mapped out which building it was, and I snuck in one night, carrying a briefcase full of camera equipment. I managed to get to the rooftop, and I set up a tripod and my camera and I waited for the Tower lights to come on, and took my shot."
Chuck shook his head, raising his eyebrows. "You just…snuck into a building?"
"Well, I put on coveralls, put my hair up in a cap, climbed twenty-odd flights of stairs with all that equipment…"
Chuck laughed. "See, I knew you omitted killer details. Despite your faded Harvard sweatshirt, very nice, by the way, I have a hard time imagining you in a pair of coveralls."
Sarah gave him a smile full of mischief. "Do you find it easier to imagine me out of them?"
"That's neither what I said nor what I implied. Don't put words in my mouth. Or try to capture me in your twisty logic, Sarah Walker. I have no impure thoughts about my boss."
The mischief remained on Sarah's face. She gave him an exaggerated sigh. "Now, if Adam had imagined Eve out of her figleaf, would that have been an impure thought, there, in Eden?"
"I'm pretty sure the fig leaf came after the impure thoughts, Sarah."
"Oh, that's confusing."
"I've been confused for two straight days," Chuck noted, hurrying away from the rail and farther along the Walk, looking down at Woods.
Sarah felt a twinge of guilt. She should not be teasing him like this; nothing would come of it. But she could not stop herself. Teasing him was so much fun. Her father had been impossible to tease, to joke with. He took everything personally, as an attack. Bryce thought he was funny but he found no one else funny. He had a special allergy to flirtatious humor: as a paramour, he took himself deadly seriously, he self-identified as a lady-killer.
Chuck was free of her father's brittleness or Bryce's vanity. After last night, the lingerie, talking about Garden Sex or about herself out of coveralls or about fig leaves was not the smart play, but it was play, and she was enjoying it so much. The closest to this she got was raillery with Carina, but that was always one-sided. Sarah was always the straight man. It was a hoot having Chuck as her straight man.
She could reign herself in tomorrow, sober up, so to speak. She hurried to catch up with him.
He slowed up so she could do so, and when she reached him, he smiled at her. "Say, do you think a fig leaf counts as underwear or lingerie?"
It was her turn to be confused and a little embarrassed. Chuck laughed and walked on a step or two, then turned and kept walking, but while facing her.
He spoke in a colorable impression of Sarah herself. "I say, Mr. Adam, is that a turkey fig, or are you just glad to see me?"
"Chuck!" Saray said, outrageously delighted by him. "Stop that!"
He turned and ran and she chased him along the Walk, high among the trees.
At the end of the Walk was a Terrace. Chuck stopped and Sarah caught up with him. They were both out of breath. "What's this?" Chuck asked, looking around.
"Sourwood Terrace. I guess you can rent this out for events, like weddings, or parties."
He gawked a bit. "It's nice. It'd be a great spot for a wedding."
Sarah had leaned down, put her hands on her knees. She worked out in her home gym every other day, but she rarely really ran. She looked up at Chuck without taking her hands from her knees. "Have you ever thought about it, Chuck, about getting married, other than Jill?"
"No, only with her. As I told you, I was looking at engagement rings when everything went sour."
"Sour. Ha! So, no close calls since then?"
"No, not even a whiff of a smidge of a close call. I've not dated anyone seriously since Stanford. I've never gone out with anyone more than once since Stanford. What about you? Did you and Bryce…?"
"Oh, God, no. Never. He regarded the word as profanity, not that I ever used it around him. But I was around a few times when others made that mistake. My parents didn't provide much of a positive advertisement for marriage, what little I can remember of them married. And Dad treated it as a mistake from then on. I always sort of felt like I was a mistake created by a mistake. I'm not sure Dad wanted kids. Mom did."
Sarah stood. Chuck was still bent over, panting. She decided to use her opportunity. "I do too. I want kids someday, but I worry that I won't be a good parent. Bad examples and all…"
Chuck stood, his hand splayed out on his chest, still breathing hard. "Don't worry, Sarah. You will be a good mom. I'm sure of that. But you're going to have a hard time having a child if your moratorium on dating stays in effect. Unless you're planning a Touchless Conception — and that seems like a rather rare event, speaking of deities." He chuckled.
Sarah did not know what to say. Chuck's phrase reminded her of Harvard: All-Look-No-Touch Walker. He knew nothing about that, of course.
But it unsettled her enough for her to let the subject drop.
Sarah had recovered on the walk back to the Garden gate, regained her earlier gaiety. They chatted amiably and aimlessly as they walked. They left the Garden and walked back toward the High. Robert showed up with the car before they got there, and they jumped in.
"Late lunch, Ms. Walker?"
"Yes, please, Robert. Fox Bros BBQ."
"Don't forget the Frito Pie!"
"We won't," Sarah promised, watching as Chuck mouthed the words Frito Pie.
"It sounds like a creation of Morgan's," Chuck whispered.
"I'm going to have to meet this Morgan," Sarah said.
"Ok, but only if you've had all your shots."
"Is he that bad?"
Chuck shook his head. "Not anymore. But ask my sister about Morg's high school days; she'll tell you stories that'll raise your hair"
Sarah was not sure she could open wide enough to take a bite. Chuck was watching her like she was about to risk her life.
In her two hands was a Fox Bros. 'Burger': chopped Brisket, topped with bacon, tomato, red onion, pickles, melted pimento cheese, and jalapeño mayo, all stacked on a beautiful but overworked, buttered and toasted brioche bun. She had her Frito Pie beside the burger plate, and she had already sampled it. Delicious.
She opened wide.
Chuck burst out with laughter. "You're like one of those snakes that can unhinge its jaw so it can swallow gigantic prey."
She closed her mouth and glared at Chuck. "Don't make me tell everyone that you run like a girl."
He gave her a look of mock-panic. "I got to Sourwood Terrace before you, Ms. Walker."
"Only with a head start, and I had made up the ground by the time we got there."
"Yeah, well, eat that and you'll never make up ground again; you'll just sink. Melted pimento cheese?"
Sarah opened up again and took a bite, pimento cheese and mayo running over her fingers like orangey lava..
"Oh, oh, Chuck, Chuck…so amazingly good…"
He closed his eyes, grinning. "That's what she said."
Sarah offered a muffled laugh even though her mouth was full. She did not care. "Was not!"
"Don't talk with your mouth full," Chuck instructed.
Sarah nodded, her eyes flashing. "Now, that's what she said."
A piece of Red Velvet Cake had been ordered to share, although neither Chuck nor Sarah could manage more than one bite.
Chuck's sandwich, The Texacutioner, had finished him. Sarah had somehow managed to eat her entire 'Burger'. And her Frito Pie — and most of Chuck's.
Chuck watched it all in disbelief, like an audience of one at a Guinness Book of World Records event.
He looked at Sarah earnestly as she wiped her mouth. "This has been great, Sarah. Great. I'll remember this day, all of it. Thank you."
"It's not over yet, Chuck." She put down the napkin and looked at her phone, the time. "But we should go back to StoneHurst and rest, freshen up, and then — one more place!"
Later, after dark, the evening cooling after the sinking of the sun, they stood on the street outside Eddie's Attic.
"What is it?" Chuck asked. He was doing his best not to stare at Sarah.
She had shown up at the car wearing a midnight blue silk dress. It reached her knees, revealing those ankles he saw — and tried not to see — every day when she got in and out of the Bentley. He had been able to keep his focus on Robert in the car, but Chuck got out ahead of Sarah, and so turned in time to see her feet, in blue heels, touch the street in tandem. Her black jacket, open, revealed her dress. Her hair was down, loose, and wavy, and her smile was as generous and warm as it had been all day.
Chuck had meant it. He would not forget the day — or the evening. He might never have another day to equal it.
Sarah turned from a glance up a small flight of stairs. "It's a listening room. Tonight, Aaron Lee Tasjan is playing. I listened to him on YouTube, to songs off his album, Karma For Cheap. I liked him and thought you might too."
Chuck knew Tasjan's name — but he could not think of a song. Sarah reached out for his hand and he followed her up the concrete flight of stairs to the door. He tried to keep up, as much as anything to keep himself from following Sarah's legs up the stairs. Inside the door was another longer, steeper, wooden staircase, the steps worn from years of climbers.
Sarah handed her phone to the man at the ticket counter and a moment later, they were inside. Tasjan, dressed like he had visited a Goodwill in an attempt to imitate Elton John, was just beginning. They walked through the tables to an empty one, reserved for them, next to the stage.
Tasjan was wonderful, funny, soulful, and melodic. Chuck loved the show. As it continued, Sarah sipped her beer and slowly her chair moved closer to Chuck's, inch by inch.
Tasjan finished the show with Little Movies. The song, a beautiful, swung, Beatles-esque melody, began, and Sarah leaned her head softly on Chuck's shoulder.
Watch the day unfold in little movies
With silver tears that sparkle from my eyes
I catch myself and turn to toughen up
But it hurts too much to try
Watching my reflection in the window
In the afternoon gold beaming sun
One more scene fades out in black and white
Still another has begun
But you don't know I have seen the ending
Still I can not look away
Don't you know all of this pretending
Is just a little movie that we play
Chuck glanced down at Sarah. Her hand was on his leg, her fingers tapping in time with Tasjan. Chuck saw tears on Sarah's smiling cheeks.
A/N: Chapter Twenty begins the Thanksgiving arc.