Delphi - Chapter Two

Chapter 2
Lightning
The restaurant Sous les Etoiles was designed with one goal in mind - to reproduce the outdoors but without all the discomforts and distractions of the natural world. Diners marveled at the real, live oak tree growing in the center of the main room. They delighted in looking up through the glass ceiling and seeing the real, live clouds and stars. The tables were even lit with real, live fire-tipped candles. It was as if the restaurant-goers were on a midnight picnic in a beautiful clearing. Of course, the floor was carpet, the temperature and humidity were fully controlled, the air was filtered to imitate an ideal breathing environment, string lights trailed throughout the room to enhance visibility and further accentuate the star-themed experience, and the real, live insects were unnoticeably absent.
          At 7:00PM, Gwen and Arthur walked through the restaurant's doors. The lobby was filled with hungry humans hoping for a table.
          "I didn't think it would be this busy on a Wednesday," Gwen said. "Did you get a reservation?"
          "I didn't think we would need one," Arthur replied. "Don't worry. I'll handle this."
          Gwen watched Arthur take a ten dollar bill out of his wallet and fold it in half twice. He then placed it squarely into the palm of his hand, hiding it from sight. Gwen said, "You're kidding, right? That doesn't actually work in real life."
          "It does when you're Monsieur Suave. Watch and learn," Arthur said.
          The couple approached the hostess' stand. A young woman with dark, braided hair stood behind the booth. She was wearing the restaurant's formal black and whites but forgot to put on her happy face this evening. Without looking up, she said, "Welcome to Sous les Etoiles. Do you have a reservation?" Without waiting for an answer she continued, "I'm afraid we're fully booked tonight. If you don't have a reservation, we won't be able to seat you."
          "Reservation for two," Arthur said. "It's under the name Crumpet."
          The hostess checked her reservation sheet. "Ah, yes, here you are. Right on time. Janet will seat you."
          Another woman with braided hair and formal attire, presumably Janet, invited them to follow her to their seat. As she did so, Arthur placed the ten dollar bill back into his wallet.
          Gwen looked at him. "Monsieur Suave, huh? You're such a dork," she said, restraining a grin.
          "Excuse me?" Janet asked.
          "Oh, not you. I was talking to him," Gwen replied, a bit of red filling her cheeks.
          "Uh-huh. Well, here's your seat. Your waiter will arrive shortly."
          Gwen took her seat. Arthur remained standing. "I think I'm going to visit the restroom before the waiter arrives. I'll be right back." He left the table and walked in the direction they had come.
          Gwen looked around. Her eyes stopped when they reached the living oak. She reached into her handbag and pulled out a pencil and small sketch pad. She flipped to an unblemished page and looked back at the tree. Her eyes and mind observed the curves of the branches in relation to the trunk. Her emotions and heart took in the age lines and the wrinkles. She felt the tree's presence and size and embraced its form and depth. She began to sketch.
          The pencil flowed across the paper. As graphite met fiber, life was born. Gwen lost herself in the sound the pencil made as it gently scraped into existence an extension of Gwen's being. Her consciousness blended with the paper. Her existence hyper-focused into the relationships between the tree she had taken in and the shapes she was using to represent the living sculpture.
          Arthur returned from his trip, took his seat, and watched Gwen work. He knew the trance she was in and didn't dare break it. It was one of the things he loved most about her. Her passion for art rivaled his own for coffee. The waiter arrived. Arthur sent him away. It wasn't until Gwen's pencil stopped moving that he spoke to her.
          "You back yet?" Arthur asked.
          Gwen looked up at him, blushing slightly. She hadn't noticed his arrival. "I suppose I got a little swept away. I saw the tree and, well, look." She showed him the drawing and studied his reaction.
          Arthur took the sketch. His pupils dilated in response to the attractive sight they now took in. It was lightly shaded and delicately drawn, as if she had seen the tree within the tree and selected only the lines that contributed to its true form. "Wow," Arthur said. "It's beautiful."
          Gwen looked up through the glass ceiling. "Tonight is beautiful. You were right about the weather. The sky looks amazing." She brought her head down and looked at him, just as he was turning his head to the ceiling. When his eyes returned to hers, she said, "Now how about we order some food?"
          "All right. I'm sure the waiter will come back at some point." Arthur gave back the sketch book and picked up a menu.
          The waiter returned. Gwen ordered the rack of lamb with mint sauce. Arthur requested the braised wild boar. The waiter left and the couple partook of the bread and seasoned oil appetizer.
          "Since we're celebrating, how about some wine?" Arthur asked.
          "All right," said Gwen. She picked up the wine menu just as Arthur was reaching for it. She looked at it and nodded her head, mimicking a complete understanding of the choices. In an authoritative tone she said, "To best complement both our meals, I recommend the pinot noir. It's red, so it will match the color of the meat, and since 'noir' is French for 'black' it will fit both the starry night, the tablecloth, and the restaurant's French name. It's also a very good year. Not too young, not too old. Yes, definitely the pinot. I happen to be an expert on such matters, so I'll not hear another word on it." She closed the menu, folded her hands together and looked at Arthur.
          Arthur laughed. "How can I refute such sound logic and seasoned experience? A pinot noir it is." He caught the waiter's attention but Gwen ordered wine. Arthur's gaze remained on her and he beamed without saying a word.
          "What is it?" Gwen asked.
          "Hmm?"
          "You're staring at me."
          "Oh. Sorry. You look really nice tonight."
          Gwen raised an eyebrow. "Meaning I don't look nice other nights?"
          Arthur rolled his eyes. "I'm not even going to justify that with a response."
          "Fine. Don't play," Gwen said, pouting dramatically. Her green eyes met his blue and she stared into them. Her lips returned to their normal shape as she took in his dress shirt, sport coat, and underlying form. She had come to know that body well over the years and appreciated the attention he paid to maintaining a fit physique. "Thanks for the compliment. You don't look bad yourself."
          Two waiters approached the table. One was holding the bottle of wine while the other held three glasses. One of the glasses was set on the table. Arthur took a deep, slow breath as the waiter poured the red wine into the two remaining glasses. The first went to Arthur, who licked his lips nervously. The waiter placed the second glass in front of Gwen and removed his hand from the stem, displaying what was hidden beneath his gloved fingers.
          A diamond ring was revealed. The princess cut stone was accented on both sides by detailed butterflies with deep purple amethyst wings. The stones were all held in place by the platinum band. The band was not tied to the glass. Rather, the seamless, delicate stem stood as a placeholder for the finger which would hopefully replace it. The solid band encircled the glass, hiding in transparency the secret behind how it had been placed.
          Gwen touched it with her finger, causing it to rise slightly and clink against the glass. "What's this? Is that a..." She took in a breath and put her hand to her mouth. She looked at Arthur, her eyes already beginning to glisten.
          Arthur swallowed hard and recited the speech he had memorized. "It's a question, Gwen. And a promise. Be my wife and I promise to put the same care, thought, and effort into our marriage as was put into the creation of this glass." Arthur got out of his chair, took Gwen's hands, and bent down on one knee in front of her. "Gwen Amytis Gaia, will you marry me?"
          "Yes, yes! Of course I will, but..." She looked at the glass, then looked at Arthur. Looked back to the glass, then back to Arthur. With watery eyes and a quavering voice, she said, "I don't know how to take off the ring."
          Arthur laughed and stood up. He emptied her wine into the third glass the waiter brought, then handed the empty glass to Gwen. "You have to break it. It's permanent, involves a bit of risk, and is something you have to commit to."
          Gwen took the glass and without hesitation snapped the small stem in two. Arthur removed the ring and placed it on her finger. A waiter took a picture. The other servers and occupants of nearby tables surprised the two with sudden applause. Arthur looked over and shyly smiled, nodding slightly in acknowledgement of their gesture.
          "I'm getting married!" Gwen announced to the onlookers, showing them her hand with the ring on it. This announcement earned her a round of applause and even caught the attention of a few diners who were further away. Gwen threw her arms around Arthur, who resisted only slightly, and pulled him in for a kiss. This won the engaged couple another bout of clapping and even a hoot from the entertained crowd. Gwen and Arthur pulled apart and smiled at each other with a fool's grin before embracing once more. A camera flashed as they kissed one more time.
          The excitement died down and their dinner arrived. It was tasteless, through no fault of the food, seasoning, or the chefs. Strong emotions have a way of turning even the best food bland. Arthur and Gwen didn't care and continued to eat. They later recalled enjoying a fantastic meal, perfectly cooked. After-dinner coffee was offered and numbly accepted.
          "I love you, Arthur."
          "I love you too, Gwen."
          Gwen looked at the ring for the hundredth time that evening. "The ring is perfect. How did you get it onto the glass?"
          "Gillian made it. She also said she would give us free lessons for six months, as a wedding present. We just need to pay for the materials."
          "Free glass blowing? We are absolutely going to take her up on that."
          "I thought you'd be excited. I was actually going to make the wine glass myself, but you would have killed me if you found out I was taking glass blowing and didn't invite you along."
          "You're damned right I would have." Gwen took a sip of her coffee. Arthur took a sip of his. An expression of eureka flashed across Gwen's face. "The bathroom! That's when you got the glass."
          Arthur laughed. "Yeah. It's been hiding in my car for weeks. I've just been waiting for the perfect time. When you suggested we celebrate, it felt right."
          The couple continued to sip coffee together.
          "Let's get out of here," Gwen said. "Tomorrow is going to be a crazy day. There are so many people to tell and so much planning to do. Everyone is going to have a say on what we do next, especially my family. But not tonight. Tonight, I just want you. Everyone else can wait until morning.
          "All right." Arthur said. "Let's go."
          They paid their bill and left the restaurant. Upon their departure they were gifted complimentary digital pictures of the engagement. The pictures were sent to an email address of their choosing, assuming they consented to join the mailing list. They did. They also received a congratulatory card and large commemorative coin with an oak tree on one side. Engraved on the other side was the current year and the restaurant's name.
          Outside the restaurant, the clear weather had taken a sudden change. Large, tall clouds floated across the sky as the engaged dyad drove toward Arthur's house. A heavy wind swept the cumulonimbus clouds along until the stars were entirely hidden from sight. In the driveway of Arthur's single-family home, the couple used the overcast sky and resulting darkness to hide their displays of affection.
          Their lips met and their tongues danced. Arthur fumbled with the door. A percussion of rain played across the rooftop. The young pair played across the living room. First on the sofa, then on the floor. A flash of lightning revealed a flash of skin as they made their way to the bedroom. Clothes were scattered throughout the house. The storm grew. Roaring wind and rain dwarfed their sounds of pleasure. Had the lights been on and their attention not otherwise occupied, they would have noticed the power go out. Were they not so entwined in body and mind, they may have even felt their hair rise as the positive step leader rose to close the gap with the negative force flowing down from the clouds. As if in synchronicity with their act, an explosion shook the house.
          "Did you feel that?" Gwen asked.
          "There are so many ways I could answer that," Arthur replied.
          "That energy. That heat. This tingling like my skin is alive and about to catch on fire. But in a good way. I have to paint. Right now."
          Gwen left the bed and grabbed a nearby robe. She flicked the light switch on and off but the house remained dark. She moved out of the bedroom and felt her way to the kitchen. She opened and closed the kitchen drawers until she had located the objects she was looking for; a few candles and a lighter. She lit the candles. With light in hand, she made her way to the living room. There, she found the remnants of art supplies left over from the few times she had tried to improve Arthur's ability with a paintbrush. She had hoped the muses would fill his heart with inspiration and he would cover the canvas with color. It hadn't happened, of course. Whereas this always bothered her before, she now felt an immense sense of gratitude for the untouched brushes and acrylic paint. Gwen pulled out an unused canvas and prepared a palette.
          In the bedroom, Arthur still lay upon the bed, staring at the ceiling. He had felt it, too. His mind filled with pictures and words. A floor plan, a menu, a name. He would open a coffee shop. A location, a business plan, everything was so clear. It was as if he could smell the coffee now and see the caffeine-craving customers walking through the door. They weren't just looking for coffee, they were looking for a place to relax and enjoy each other's company. He had to make this image a reality and he had to start right now. Arthur got up, got dressed, and went into the living room. He sat at the computer desk, picked up a pen and pulled out some printer paper. In the candlelight, he started to write.
          As Arthur and Gwen brought into existence their bursting creations of pen and brush, a new form of life fought for survival elsewhere in the house. The fire started small, in the attic. At first, it was only concerned with solidifying its position. It dug in its roots and held onto life and body. When it felt stable, it reached outward. Tendrils of heat licked the air, seeking sustenance to support further growth. The small space and dry wood provided. The little flame grew. The attic soon became too small a space, too confining. The flame again stretched out and grasped at its surroundings. It touched paper-backed fiberglass insulation and was welcomed into the walls. The bones of the structure cracked as the fire slipped into its joints and fed upon its tender marrow. The hunger was insatiable and with every morsel the fire consumed, it craved more. Uninhibited, it grew.
          A smoke alarm went off in the bedroom. Arthur and Gwen didn't hear it. A smoke alarm went off in the hallway. Arthur and Gwen ignored it. The alarm in the living room beeped insistently. Gwen kept her eyes on the painting and walked to the alarm. She stood up on a chair and pushed the silence button on the safety device. Then she returned to her work. Smoke slowly filled the living room and the couple breathed it in.
          Arthur had trouble seeing his work. There was something in the way. Fog? Smoke? He stopped writing and looked around. He could barely see through the dense cloud. Some flickering lights and a strangely pleasant heat. Although he did not feel the urgency the situation called for, he knew how he was supposed to act. He played the part.
          "Gwen!" Arthur said. "Gwen, where are you?"
          "I'm here. I can't see you." Gwen said.
          "Go to the backdoor. I'll meet you outside."
          Arthur picked up his notes and went for the backdoor. It was already open. In the backyard, he saw Gwen. She was under the gondola, out of the rain, and wearing one of his robes. A half-painted canvas was propped against the seat next to her. It was tinged black with smoke and wet with paint and rain water. Gwen watched Arthur approach. Though she felt no fear or sense of loss, she knew her lines and the part she must play. She flung her arms around him.
          "Arthur! Are you ok?"
          "I'm fine. I'm so glad you're all right. What happened?"
          "I have no idea. I was painting and then I couldn't see. Oh, Arthur, your house."
          "The important thing is we're ok." Arthur said, pulling her closer.
          The two watched from the gondola as the fire overtook the roof and burned through the room they were in just moments before. The rain did nothing to quell the raging flames. Sirens could be heard in the distance. Neighbors stood on porches and watched the house burn.
          When a burst of fire blew out the back window, Arthur and Gwen abandoned their position. The neighbor across the street called out and welcomed them over. They brought the painting and notes with them.
          "Thanks, Paul," Arthur said.
          "Nothing to it. I'm just glad you're all right. That lightning was intense."
          "What lighting?" Arthur asked.
          "You're kidding, right? The lighting that hit your roof, of course. You had to have felt it. Heck, I could feel it over here. Heard it, too, even through all this rain. Sounded like an explosion."
          "I heard the storm. I just didn't know we'd been hit." Arthur replied. "Could we borrow your phone? We haven't even called the fire department yet."
          "They're already on their way. I called them as soon as I saw the roof on fire. Ya know, it's amazing the rain isn't putting this out. Always thought it would."
          "Yeah. I know what you mean."
          Gwen coughed.
          "Oh, right. Gwen, this is Paul. Paul, Gwen. She's my..." Arthur went quiet and looked to Gwen, unsure.
          "I'm his fianc," Gwen said, offering her hand. "We haven't told anyone else yet. You're the first."
          Paul took her hand and shook it. "Well, hot dog! Oh, eh, probably a poor choice of words, on account of your house burning down and all. You didn't have a dog, did you Arthur?"
          "No," Arthur said. "No pets."
          "Well, that's a relief." An ambulance and two fire trucks pulled up near the house. The firemen got to work.
          "I think we're going to head over to the ambulance. I think we're all right but better safe than sorry. Thanks again, Paul," Arthur said.
          "Anytime. And, congratulations. On the engagement, I mean, not the house burning down. It was real nice meeting you Gwen." He waved goodbye and watched them head to the blinking lights.
          Arthur and Gwen approached the ambulance. The driver got out and spoke to them.
          "Sir, ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to stand back and let us work," said the EMT.
          "We were in the house when it caught on fire," Arthur said. "I think we may have breathed in some of the smoke."
          "Was anyone else in the house?"
          "No, just us."
          "All right. Come over here and we'll take a look at you."
          Arthur and Gwen went to the back of the ambulance. The EMTs asked them questions, took their vitals, listened to their breathing, and checked in their nose and throat.
          "I'd like to get you both on oxygen and take you to the ER," The technician said. "You took in quite a bit of smoke. You should be coughing up a storm, but you're not, and that's concerning."
          "Are you sure that's necessary? I feel like I'm breathing just fine," Arthur said.
          "That's part of the problem. You shouldn't be feeling fine. Your lungs are under a lot of stress right now and they aren't expelling the particulates you breathed in. Now, I can't make you go, but I also can't promise you'll be fine if you don't."
          "C'mon Arthur. Like you said - better safe than sorry," Gwen said.
          "All right, "Arthur said. "Let's go."
          Arthur and Gwen climbed into the back of the ambulance. As soon as they were seated and setup with oxygen, Arthur closed his eyes. His head was still racing with the pictures and ideas that had assaulted him earlier. He let them in once again and felt them overwhelm his mind. Like a thousand tiny bricks, each new image built upon the last. Together, they formed a future he couldn't wait to begin.
          "What's that?" The technician asked, pointing to Gwen's painting.
          Gwen lowered her oxygen mask. "A painting," Gwen said. "It's what I was working on when the house caught fire. I left my purse but took the painting. Funny, huh?"
          "Maybe, but I've worked quite a few house fires. In my experience, people are rarely thinking when their house is burning down. Still, they tend to focus on the things that are important to them. Pets and children are the most common, of course, but I've also seen violins, pictures, books, laptops. Heck, a guy once came out with second degree burns and a case of beer. Crazy, right? So what about this painting? Does it mean something to you?"
          Gwen looked at the painting for the first time since leaving the house. "Yeah. I suppose it does," she said.
          Gwen studied the painting. It was odd. Sufficient practice and good technique taught her to paint in layers. The entire canvas should have been covered in color with a vague outline of what the final piece was going to be. But it wasn't. The bottom half of the painting was completely white. The top half was completely finished. Highlights, shading, details, everything - it was all done. She had never painted that way before. It defied everything she had been taught about art.
          A creature of light was positioned near the middle of the painting. Half of its body was cut off by the split. She stared at the top half of the dart-like winged beast and wondered how she could have painted half a shape. She looked at its eyes; its solid white eyes that stood out in bright contrast to the dark night sky. A chill ran up Gwen's spine. The creature was going to look at her, she knew it. They were all going to look at her. Every one of the white-eyed predators. They were going to look at her and then they would break free of their flat confinement. She was sure of it.
          Gwen tried to look away. She had to, before they turned their gaze upon her. If they penetrated her mind with their luminescent looks, she would go insane. She would start screaming and never stop until her vocal cords were split and nothing could be heard but a raspy squeak. Better to gouge out her own eyes than face that fate.
          It wouldn't be enough. It wouldn't stop their escape. She couldn't let them escape. The painting must be destroyed. She had to stab it, rip it, tear it to shreds. She would light the pieces on fire and throw the ashes into the deepest part of the ocean, crushing them into oblivion.
          The ambulance. They would never let her get away with it. It had to crash. It couldn't wait, the painting had to die. But, oh, if only she could move. If only she could tear her eyes from the canvas. She tried, she strained, she pulled, she lifted. It was useless. Her hands were made of iron and her eyes of lead. She was paralyzed. She knew what was going to happen and couldn't do anything about it but watch in horror.
          The paint melted down the canvas. It wasn't a random bleeding of color but instead moved with purpose and design. The blue beam of light in middle of the page beat like a heart and flowed to meet the lightning rising to destroy it. The living beasts dodged the dangerous sparks as electricity consumed the column. Where they flew, the paint spread. The first of the creatures reached the edge. Gwen waited for it to jump off and attack the world, but it didn't. It stopped. As if on que, a chain reaction overtook the painting. In one great ripple, the lightning ceased its arc, the beam of light stopped its pulsing, and the creatures froze in place. It was over. The painting was solid and complete, and the nightmare had ended. Gwen looked upon the scene and felt no fear. The painting was undeniably, unbearably, beautiful and she loved it.
          "Your mask," said the EMT.
          Gwen looked up. "What?"
          "Your oxygen mask. I need you to keep it on."
          "Oh, right." Gwen put her mask back up and looked to the painting once more. Before her eyes was a canvas, half-filled with color. No movement, no fear, no sense of beauty. She stared at the white and remembered what it held. The loss of the completed work broke her heart. She promised herself it wouldn't stay empty. She could see the picture in her mind and knew she had the skill to bring it to life. She couldn't wait to complete it.
          A short time later, the EMT announced, "We're here."
          Inside the hospital, more questions were asked. Vitals were taken again, and blood was drawn. Arthur was brought to radiation for a chest x-ray. While he was gone, the doctor spoke with Gwen privately.
          When Arthur returned to the room, Gwen was sitting in the chair. She was twirling the engagement ring on her finger and staring at the far wall.
          "Gwen?" Arthur asked. "You ok?"
          Gwen looked up. "Oh, I'm fine. It's just, well, the doctor had some news."
          Arthur sat down on the chair next to her and held her hands. "What is it? Is everything all right?"
          Gwen wiped a tear from her eye. "Oh, it's nothing like that. We're not dying or anything."
          Arthur brought his hand up and wiped a tear from her cheek. "Then what is it?"
          "He said we need to get married sooner rather than later."
          Another tear trailed down her cheek, but now she was smiling. Arthur said, "What are you talking about? Why?"
          "Because," Gwen said. She looked to the door. "I don't want to walk down the aisle, while I'm showing." She looked back at Arthur.
          "Showing? What do you mean?"
          Gwen took Arthur's hand and placed it on her belly. Arthur looked at his hand and then looked at her face. He said, "You're pregnant."
          She responded, "I'm pregnant."