fields of sunflowers (1/3)
anonymous
June 20 2009, 07:38:18 UTC
Fields of Sunflowers - part one
Alfred's smile is a living thing. Ivan does not know if anyone else makes this distinction between Alfred and his smile, if anyone has looked closely enough at Alfred's smile to see how it is an important part of Alfred and also an existence unto itself, but Ivan has been spending time with Alfred of late, and he has come to know Alfred's smile.
Like Alfred, his smile is brash and brilliant and tenacious. Like Alfred, his smile when it wants something is difficult to resist; more so, even, than Alfred himself. When Alfred asks if Ivan would like to see his country, he smiles. And so Ivan sets off to see America with America, and America's smile comes along, too.
Also like Alfred, his smile knows what it is doing. It is competent but it is not calculating or conniving; it is honest. Open. Alfred's smile is as wide open as the Great Plains, as enormous as the redwoods, as deep as the Grand Canyon, as reliable as Old Faithful, as…as wholesome as the Midwest, America's heartland.
The first time Alfred shows Ivan his heartland, they stand on a small rise overseeing an expanse of wheat field. The amber waves of grain. As Ivan looks at them, the long grasses transmute in his mind, calling up memories of other fields, longer grasses, not waves but steppes; he closes his eyes but it only makes him see them more clearly. Early dawn light washes the grasses paler. There is a rush in his ears, a pounding as powerful as a heartbeat; the hooves of Mongolian horses pulse through his blood, spreading a heavy chill, rattling the very teeth in his head. He clenches his jaw to contain the shaking. A shadow falls between Ivan and the sun, dark, colder than winter, harsher.
He hears his name called. No one called him by his human name then, so the voice must not belong to then-no, it is Alfred's voice. Alfred calling him to now.
Ivan opens his eyes and sees someone who can only be Alfred, backlit by the sun; then Alfred tilts his head and the sun shifts around him and Ivan sees his face clearly, he sees Alfred's smile.
"Come on," Alfred's says with his smiling mouth. "There's something I want to show you."
They walk for a while before Alfred says they're close now. He stops and turns to Ivan. His face is very serious, though Ivan can see the smile resting on his lips, waiting to be called up. "Can I trust you, Ivan?"
Ivan's eyebrows arch. "Of course. We are friends, yes?"
From the look on Alfred's face, Ivan knows there is something Alfred likes in this reply and something he does not. Alfred keeps looking at him and Ivan keeps looking back, and Alfred's smile wins whatever internal argument he has been having.
"Yes," he grins. "Okay! Then I won't blindfold you. Just close your eyes, because this is a surprise."
Ivan does so. As he opens his mouth to ask how he is to find his way with Alfred like this, he feels Alfred's hand curl around his and tug him forward.
"No peeking," Alfred cautions him as they slow at last. "We're almost there." But Ivan does not need to peek to know what the surprise is. Even before Alfred says, "Okay, you can open your eyes now!", Ivan knows from the scent what he will see:
Sunflowers. They are standing in the midst of sunflowers taller than Alfred, taller than himself. A field of sunflowers, their petals colored brilliantly in worship of their sun.
Ivan looks down from the petals to Alfred, to Alfred's smile. "Magnificent," he murmurs.
Alfred beams. "I knew you'd like them!"
Ivan did not mean the flowers. He does not tell Alfred this.
Alfred's smile is a living thing. Ivan does not know if anyone else makes this distinction between Alfred and his smile, if anyone has looked closely enough at Alfred's smile to see how it is an important part of Alfred and also an existence unto itself, but Ivan has been spending time with Alfred of late, and he has come to know Alfred's smile.
Like Alfred, his smile is brash and brilliant and tenacious. Like Alfred, his smile when it wants something is difficult to resist; more so, even, than Alfred himself. When Alfred asks if Ivan would like to see his country, he smiles. And so Ivan sets off to see America with America, and America's smile comes along, too.
Also like Alfred, his smile knows what it is doing. It is competent but it is not calculating or conniving; it is honest. Open. Alfred's smile is as wide open as the Great Plains, as enormous as the redwoods, as deep as the Grand Canyon, as reliable as Old Faithful, as…as wholesome as the Midwest, America's heartland.
The first time Alfred shows Ivan his heartland, they stand on a small rise overseeing an expanse of wheat field. The amber waves of grain. As Ivan looks at them, the long grasses transmute in his mind, calling up memories of other fields, longer grasses, not waves but steppes; he closes his eyes but it only makes him see them more clearly. Early dawn light washes the grasses paler. There is a rush in his ears, a pounding as powerful as a heartbeat; the hooves of Mongolian horses pulse through his blood, spreading a heavy chill, rattling the very teeth in his head. He clenches his jaw to contain the shaking. A shadow falls between Ivan and the sun, dark, colder than winter, harsher.
He hears his name called. No one called him by his human name then, so the voice must not belong to then-no, it is Alfred's voice. Alfred calling him to now.
Ivan opens his eyes and sees someone who can only be Alfred, backlit by the sun; then Alfred tilts his head and the sun shifts around him and Ivan sees his face clearly, he sees Alfred's smile.
"Come on," Alfred's says with his smiling mouth. "There's something I want to show you."
They walk for a while before Alfred says they're close now. He stops and turns to Ivan. His face is very serious, though Ivan can see the smile resting on his lips, waiting to be called up. "Can I trust you, Ivan?"
Ivan's eyebrows arch. "Of course. We are friends, yes?"
From the look on Alfred's face, Ivan knows there is something Alfred likes in this reply and something he does not. Alfred keeps looking at him and Ivan keeps looking back, and Alfred's smile wins whatever internal argument he has been having.
"Yes," he grins. "Okay! Then I won't blindfold you. Just close your eyes, because this is a surprise."
Ivan does so. As he opens his mouth to ask how he is to find his way with Alfred like this, he feels Alfred's hand curl around his and tug him forward.
"No peeking," Alfred cautions him as they slow at last. "We're almost there." But Ivan does not need to peek to know what the surprise is. Even before Alfred says, "Okay, you can open your eyes now!", Ivan knows from the scent what he will see:
Sunflowers. They are standing in the midst of sunflowers taller than Alfred, taller than himself. A field of sunflowers, their petals colored brilliantly in worship of their sun.
Ivan looks down from the petals to Alfred, to Alfred's smile. "Magnificent," he murmurs.
Alfred beams. "I knew you'd like them!"
Ivan did not mean the flowers. He does not tell Alfred this.
tbc...
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