VINCENT, I DON'T THINK WE'RE IN VERONA ANYMORE

A Fractured Fairytale by Lee Kirkland

(This story originally appeared in the fanzine Old Souls, whichwas published by MacWombat Press.)

"'...See how she leans her cheek upon her hand!

O, that I were a glove upon that hand,

That I might touch that cheek!'"

Hypnotized by Vincent's voice, Catherine completely missed her cueuntil he glanced up from the open book in his lap and cleared histhroat. "Oh! I mean, 'Ah me!'"

She couldn't miss the affectionate amusement in his eyes as hewent on. "'She speaks! O, speak again, bright angel!...'"

Catherine couldn't imagine a better way of spending this balmyspring evening than on her balcony with Vincent, reading aloud. Shelistened closely, not only because his reading was, as always,enchanting, but because she didn't want to miss her next lines. Shewas drawing breath to speak when the lights flickered and wentout.

All of them. Everywhere. The city was plunged into blackness.

"Vincent?" She put out her hand, expecting to find him reaching tomeet her, but found no one there. Panic flared. "Vincent?" Shescrambled to her feet, only faintly aware that the blackness was notso total now, that an unseen source of light was beginning to glowdimly. Where was Vincent? She called again. "O, Vincent, Vincent,wherefore art thou, Vincent?" No sooner had the words left her lipsthan she clapped a frantic hand over her mouth. Whatever possessedher to paraphrase Shakespeare that way? From somewhere beneath her,she heard Vincent answer.

"Here I am! I am here! There is no need for you to fear!"

Catherine bent far over the balcony's rail, hardly noticing thatthe smooth cement surface had been transformed into cold, hardwrought iron. "'How cam'st thou hither? Tell me, and wherefore?'" Theodd phrasing was involuntary; she couldn't seem to help it.

"I want down, do you hear? I want down, is that clear?" he said tono one in particular. He glanced up at her. "It seems our plans haverun amok. I greatly fear that I am stuck!"

"Stuck? Howso?" By leaning precariously over the rail, she couldsee him only a few feet below her. He appeared to be tangled in anovergrown tree limb.

"Howso? I don't know!" he grumbled, tugging at the short cape hewore in place of his usual heavy cloak. It came free with a snap ofbroken twigs and Vincent had to grab at the branch to save himselffrom falling. Recovering his balance, he scrambled toward thebalcony.

Catherine stepped back to give him room, and in doing so, nearlytripped over the floor length gown she wore. Startled, she surveyedherself. Last time she looked, she'd been wearing blue jeans,sneakers, and a soft blue sweater, but there was no sign of them now.Instead, she was laced into an elaborate, high-waisted dress of richred velvet, heavily embroidered with pearls. The decolletage waslow-cut and tight, making her bosom swell above it. On her feet weredelicate satin slippers, totally unsuitable for daily wear, and onher head was perched a dainty cap. She reached up to adjust it. Thiswas some fantasy!

Just then, Vincent made it over the wall and spent a busy fewmoments brushing twigs and bits of leaves from his clothes. Catherinewatched in fascination. Finally he looked up. "I do not know justwhere we are, but I think we've travelled very far."

At the moment, Catherine didn't care where they were; she was toobusy admiring Vincent's tights. "Thou hast a shapely bottom," sheheard herself observe. "And thy legs..." She took a deep breath."'Fain would I dwell on form,'" she murmured, still admiring.

Discomfited, Vincent hid behind a tall stone abutment, tuggingfutilely on the hem of his short tunic. "Catherine, please!" hechided. "We're in a mess! Ignore my knees and don't digress. I mustconfess, I like your dress," he added as an afterthought.

"'How cam'st we hither? Tell me, and wherefore?'" Catherinepleaded. "'My balcony is high, and hard to climb...'"

"I know it is," Vincent said churlishly. "But we're not there.Methinks that we're not anywhere!"

It was unlike him to be so pessimistic. She decided to ignore it."'By what direction found'st thou out this place?'"

"You were with me, book in hand. Suddenly, we're in Wonderland!"He waved an all-encompassing arm at the vast array of flowering treesand shrubs that surrounded them. The colors were vivid even in thepale wash of moonlight.

Voices below made Catherine shrink back from the railing, joiningVincent behind the abutment. She shushed him when he tried toprotest. "'If they do see thee, they will murder thee,'" she arguedin a fierce whisper.

"Someone spoke about 'night's cloak,'" he reminded her.

"To hide you from their eyes?" she guessed, remembering thequote.

He nodded somberly. "I wish I had the cloak that's mine," headded. "This one isn't very fine." He was trying, without muchsuccess, to hide his legs with the cape.

The voices in the garden -- if it was a garden -- were gone now,and Catherine moved back toward the railing. Beyond the ornamentaltrees and shrubs she could see a high stone wall.

"'Stony limits cannot hold love out,'" she murmured softly.Vincent had never climbed that wall, but he had made the long,hazardous journey to her balcony many times -- surely that counted?The limits placed on him by the life she chose to lead could notbanish his love for her. All wonderment at the strangeness of theirsurroundings vanished; she turned to look at him, her heart brimmingwith the love he would never let her express.

This time, though, his eyes met hers calmly, taking the love andreturning it tenfold. "Catherine." Even his voice caressed her.

"'Dost thou love me?'" she heard herself say, and cringed inside.She never asked him that before, never wanted to pressure him, ormake him feel obligated... But she was supposed to say something elsenow, wasn't she? Something about knowing that he did love her, butthat he shouldn't swear...

It didn't matter, because he answered immediately, using thatqueer, unVincent-like patter that reminded her of Dr. Seuss. "Fromthe start you've had my heart."

Hearing him declare his love, even in so uncharacteristic afashion, was intensely satisfying. Catherine had no idea what madeher take a step back.

He reached out, his gesture begging her not to go. She tookanother pace away from him. "Catherine! Please don't go! You leave mefeeling full of woe!"

Startled, she peered at him. "'What satisfaction canst thou havetonight?'" She couldn't believe she was saying it; she knew perfectlywell what sort of satisfaction she'd like to give him, if he'd onlygive her the chance.

But he was plunging on, not waiting for her to gather herscattered wits. "I know what; I'll tell you how. Give me your love'sfaithful vow."

She could sense the slow smile spreading across her face; when shespoke, the words were Shakespeare's, but they came directly from herheart. "'I gave thee mine before thou didst request it. And yet Iwould it were to give again...'"

He looked startled, as if he hadn't expected her to say that. "Idon't understand. Don't take it away. Those are the words I want youto say."

"'But to be frank, and give it thee again... My bounty is asboundless as the sea, my love as deep. The more I give to thee, themore I have, for both are infinite.'" Involuntarily she took yetanother step backward. Amazingly, Vincent seemed unable to see her inthe shadows that cloaked her.

He looked around, as if wondering where she had gone. "I know thisdream; it can't be real. Yet it's so sweet, this thing I feel...", hemurmured to himself.

"Believe it, Vincent," she said. Whatever it was (WilliamShakespeare, perhaps?) guiding her feet and putting words into hermouth nudged her out into the moonlight again. "'And all my fortunesat thy foot I'll lay, and follow thee, my love, throughout theworld.'" Abruptly, her guiding force released her. She couldn't thinkwhat to say next, couldn't think at all as Vincent came closer.

"Catherine," he said simply, without adding anything inane to makeit rhyme; a small inner voice wondered if he'd been nudged along,too, and was now also freed. His hand came up slowly, cupping hercheek, stroking softly downward. Her eyes closed, savoring thesensuous touch of his fingers against her face. She could sense himbending nearer; instinctively she tilted her face to just the rightangle, felt his lips caress hers...

And suddenly, instead of the nightingale singing in thepomegranate tree, she heard the sound of distant voices, the rush oftraffic, the faint bleat of a car horn. Her eyes flew open. She wason her own balcony, wearing her own comfortable clothes, feet proppedup on a wrought iron table and an open volume of Shakespeare in herlap. Her finger still marked her place: 'O Romeo, Romeo...'

Heart pounding, she turned her head. Vincent still sat in theother chair, his own book open in his hands. His expression wasdistant but refocused quickly when he sensed her watching him.

"Catherine?" His tone was gentle, solicitous, but his eyes seemedsomehow wary.

She rubbed her temple. "Vincent, did you...?" Her voice trailedaway. It must have happened. She couldn't have dreamed it, she waswide-awake. Wasn't she?

Vincent would know. He was there, too... wasn't he? Wearing thoseincredibly sexy tights and talking in ridiculous schoolboy rhyme. Hehad kissed her... or had it all been an elaborate fantasy?

THE END