fields of sunflowers (2/3)
anonymous
June 20 2009, 07:39:47 UTC
Fields of Sunflowers - part two
They fold themselves onto the ground and look up. Alfred observes that the sunflowers are bowing their heads. He looks at Ivan and smiles. "They recognize you."
Ivan thinks that they do recognize the sun, but it is not to Ivan they are bowing.
After a while, Alfred lies down, his hands tucked behind his head as he gazes up at the flowers and beyond. Ivan rests his back against a flower stalk. "Tell me something, Alfred."
Alfred turns to him, and after a moment, Ivan realizes Alfred and his expectant smile are waiting for a question.
"Ah," Ivan says. "Tell me anything." He offers Alfred a smile of his own. "The fields of sunflowers-let this be the place where we may speak, one to the other, without restraint, without fear, as intimately as two souls may."
Ivan means it, but when he hears the words from his own mouth, he thinks they do not convey the feeling inside him. He thinks they sound foolish, fanciful.
Alfred does not laugh, though. He smiles; of course he does. Alfred smiles and says, "All right," and sits up, folding himself cross-legged. Placing his hands behind him, he lets them take his weight as he looks up again. There is a faraway look on his face, but it is not dreamy-it is focused. As he begins to speak, Ivan understands that Alfred is determined to bring the far away to him. He speaks of himself: of liberty and justice, of indivisibility. He speaks of the world: of peace, commerce, and honest friendship with all nations.
As Alfred tells Ivan his hopes and his dreams and his fears, Ivan finds the ease with which Alfred opens himself with his own words astonishing. It is not, as others have said, naiveté. It is passion. It is beautiful and infectious: sitting in the sunflower field, Ivan soaks in the gorgeous infection of America's idealism.
"I want to be-" Alfred breaks off now. His brow is furrowed and at first Ivan thinks it is determination, but when Alfred begins to chew his lip, Ivan sees the frustration. Ivan finds himself leaning forward in fascinated anticipation of what Alfred wants to be. "Not a knight. I mean, knights are good-but chivalry is too old-fashioned. I want to be modern."
Ivan thinks with Alfred. He thinks of the grandest stories he knows, so often dark, terrible in their beauty. He does not want that for Alfred. He thinks of stories he has heard from other times, other places, and although the myths he is thinking of are not modern, he thinks the concept is what Alfred is stretching for now. "Heroic?" he suggests.
"Yes!" Alfred's smile is luminous. "I'm not going to be the knight in shining armor. I'm going to be the hero!" He turns to Ivan, turns that luminescence on Ivan, smiling at him. The radiance is palpable. Ivan wonders what it tastes like. He does not wish to spoil the purity of this moment to find out.
As Ivan looks, Alfred's smile comes closer and closer; so close Ivan can no longer see it, although he can see Alfred's eyes, which are open; so close Ivan can feel the smile against his mouth. He parts in his lips and drinks in the heat, the radiance. It does not burn him, Alfred's smile; it warms him down to the marrow of his bones.
"Do you always kiss with your eyes open?" Ivan asks with a smile when they part.
Alfred's mouth quirks into a grin. "I don't know."
They fold themselves onto the ground and look up. Alfred observes that the sunflowers are bowing their heads. He looks at Ivan and smiles. "They recognize you."
Ivan thinks that they do recognize the sun, but it is not to Ivan they are bowing.
After a while, Alfred lies down, his hands tucked behind his head as he gazes up at the flowers and beyond. Ivan rests his back against a flower stalk. "Tell me something, Alfred."
Alfred turns to him, and after a moment, Ivan realizes Alfred and his expectant smile are waiting for a question.
"Ah," Ivan says. "Tell me anything." He offers Alfred a smile of his own. "The fields of sunflowers-let this be the place where we may speak, one to the other, without restraint, without fear, as intimately as two souls may."
Ivan means it, but when he hears the words from his own mouth, he thinks they do not convey the feeling inside him. He thinks they sound foolish, fanciful.
Alfred does not laugh, though. He smiles; of course he does. Alfred smiles and says, "All right," and sits up, folding himself cross-legged. Placing his hands behind him, he lets them take his weight as he looks up again. There is a faraway look on his face, but it is not dreamy-it is focused. As he begins to speak, Ivan understands that Alfred is determined to bring the far away to him. He speaks of himself: of liberty and justice, of indivisibility. He speaks of the world: of peace, commerce, and honest friendship with all nations.
As Alfred tells Ivan his hopes and his dreams and his fears, Ivan finds the ease with which Alfred opens himself with his own words astonishing. It is not, as others have said, naiveté. It is passion. It is beautiful and infectious: sitting in the sunflower field, Ivan soaks in the gorgeous infection of America's idealism.
"I want to be-" Alfred breaks off now. His brow is furrowed and at first Ivan thinks it is determination, but when Alfred begins to chew his lip, Ivan sees the frustration. Ivan finds himself leaning forward in fascinated anticipation of what Alfred wants to be. "Not a knight. I mean, knights are good-but chivalry is too old-fashioned. I want to be modern."
Ivan thinks with Alfred. He thinks of the grandest stories he knows, so often dark, terrible in their beauty. He does not want that for Alfred. He thinks of stories he has heard from other times, other places, and although the myths he is thinking of are not modern, he thinks the concept is what Alfred is stretching for now. "Heroic?" he suggests.
"Yes!" Alfred's smile is luminous. "I'm not going to be the knight in shining armor. I'm going to be the hero!" He turns to Ivan, turns that luminescence on Ivan, smiling at him. The radiance is palpable. Ivan wonders what it tastes like. He does not wish to spoil the purity of this moment to find out.
As Ivan looks, Alfred's smile comes closer and closer; so close Ivan can no longer see it, although he can see Alfred's eyes, which are open; so close Ivan can feel the smile against his mouth. He parts in his lips and drinks in the heat, the radiance. It does not burn him, Alfred's smile; it warms him down to the marrow of his bones.
"Do you always kiss with your eyes open?" Ivan asks with a smile when they part.
Alfred's mouth quirks into a grin. "I don't know."
tbc...
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