Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VII and its characters belong to Square Enix and many others. Sadly, I'm not one of them.
Revised and edited January 7, 2007.
-----------------------------------
Metathesiophobia or, Moving Forward
By Lady Calliope
Part Three: Chirophobia
-----------------------------------
My radio isn't broken—it's barely a month old—but I needed an excuse to watch his hands work, to get lost in their grace.
------
Tiny white spots have slowly inched their way up his fingernails. I tell him it's calcium deprivation, but he still refuses the supplements. Secretly I'm glad: I don't want him to be perfect.
------
Every week he tied a fresh gardenia above the head of the crib. He said it was to dispel the smell of engine grease that lingered in her room after he put her to bed. But I knew better—after all, gardenias mean joy and loveliness. She was a wonder to him, precious and wide-eyed: a destination. When his face hovered over her, her tiny hands sought out his fingers as if by instinct.
He gave both of us so much more than flowers could say.
Back then everything was still so new: we were all beginners. Like my child, we were learning each day, learning how to live in an unknown and open world.
------
I'm nearly thrown on my ass, but a sure and callused hand on my lower back steadies me. Calmly smoking his cigarette, he navigates the airship through the turbulence with an ease I envy. Only later do I realize he hasn't withdrawn his touch, not until we land and the others join us on the bridge.
Suddenly I feel cold and heavy, like a stone.