Billboard Sky

As he read the lyrics and followed the links around, he ended up on the directory site where Foreigner riffs had been added to the music-note section of urgo.org, and he was surprised to find that over 3 thousand Trample songs included pieces from Foreigner. Including some he had in his music collection key-file. It appeared their music had influenced a lot of other people besides Elizabeth, and as Mitch scanned the song titles he felt a sense of stunned as the next song's chorus rang through the room in its basic-music lightness, but with a feeling so full and heavy in the words and irony.

But that was yesterday
I had the world in my hands
But it's not the end of my world
It's just a slight change of plans
That was yesterday
But today life goes on
No more hiding in yesterday
'Cause yesterday's gone
Ooh...

The flat surface run of his invisible keyboard felt electrified as he typed his gmail confession to her. How he'd fallen in love with her long before the first game of cribbage. How he'd successfully broken into the website to give her a birthday greeting for Bill's one hundreth birthday, which was coming up in just two months. For some reason he also confessed his emptiness towards his mother, his confusion over her leaving the family, and his fears that having kids of his own may one day lead his own life down that same path. He wrote of how logic pushed him to figure out what could be hacked, how it could be opened up to him, how being inside a website's core area helped him to feel more in control of himself. What made a website function helped him feel more able to review his own methods of functioning.

His fingers moved at a dancer's pace and rythym, his mind was so connected to his fingers that there didn't seem to be any body parts between them. He enjoyed this aspect of cyberspace, when he connected at that level. When he felt as easy to figure out as a machine. When even his sense of touch and feel was understandable and even beautiful in the way it connected mind to fingers and heart to mind. He could feel inside the box, he could love inside the box, and he could feel and love outside the box, and sometimes the two combined for a most powerful emotion that combined every aspect of his being and the being of the box itself.

His computer suddenly, for no reason, shut off. Looking outside, he noticed the entire block in his area had shut down. No lights at all.

He followed the cord from the minigen and saw that it was not taken off the adapter from last month's recharge. He'd bought the pint sized computer generator for the occsional power outages and surges that were part of the revamping of a system to wireless, but he'd forgotten to put it back on the computer's plug. It sat, fully charged, but disconnected and unable to save anything.

And his confession to her, pages and pages long, may or may not be retrievable. The lights outside came on all at once, and then his system began to reload, but staring at the monitor's emptiness as he listened to the crackles and static of life going back into it, he knew that evey word of what he typed most likely was gone.

But having thought it, having put it into tangible form, having letters and words designate it as more than just a thought or feeling but as something real that could have effect, he knew there wasn't much of a choice when he found that it was erased. He began to type it all out again.

Chapter Thirteen; jkl;

Elizabeth gazed out the store window as the cars passed by in late Sunday slowness. An ambulance went by, lights flashing and siren sounding, but it also went at a somewhat casual pace. The store shelves were orderly and coffee was still filtering through, into a fresh pot. With all her duties done and still hours of her shift left, she looked around the counter area for anything to organize. Spotting a stack of old magazines, she clicked the computer to the non-sold section and began typing in each title and quantity for each pile.

The door opened slowly and two men walked in disturbingly slow. The hairs went up on the back of her neck before she even had a chance to turn around to greet them inside. As her eyes met the first man's eyes, she knew this was to be no ordinary night at the store. He held the small, shiny object in front of his body, watching her reaction to it. "Stop," she said, but he wouldn't stop.

"I'm not kidding, stop, this is illegal and I want no part of it," she said loudly to the second man, but he appeared to be taking survelience of the store for other women to phone-film. "This is not allowed in this store, we have a sign," Elizabeth warned them again. As she took in a deep breath, and having no other choice at this point, she took out a small pen-shaped utensil and aimed it at the phone in the first man's hand. "Shit!" he screamed in an almost feminine voice as the phone went flying from his hand, the electrical charge sending sparks flying everywhere.

"I warned you," Elizabeth said flatly.

"You didn't have to ruin my phone!" the man yelled as he bent down to pick up his smouldering tiny machine.

"You didn't have to continue filming me when I said to stop," Elizabeth said, twice as flatly as she'd said she'd warned him. "I know what you use those for and I want no part of it," she added.

"Cunt," the second man said as he took out another film-phone and pointed it at her. She reached inside to grab her potent pen, but he quickly put his phone away and both men headed towards the door to leave.

Bill walked in as the two men brushed by him whispering directly at him "damn nigger," to which Bill replied "dang, haven't heard that in a good decade."

Elizabeth started to cry. "Bill, I'm so, so sorry. I apologize for them calling you that."

Bill leaned over the counter and took her chin in his hand. "Don't apologize for them, have pity on them. That kind of thing went out with gas operated cars. Society exhausted racism long ago, those boys just don't know how to keep up with the times and styles. Besides, I am sure they have no idea, but they hurt themselves by using that term such as they did when the word itself is nothing more than sounds, letters, and mouth opening and tongue swirls. They can let all that verbally out, but the hate of it stays within them, it can't reproduce itself, it eventually only destroys the harborer."

Elizabeth stood still and wondered what it must have been like growing up during the times that Bill had, when racism was more prevalent, when computers weren't even around as they were now. It must have been so hard to understand the mind aspect of things back then.

As Elizabeth arrived home, her email folder blinked with a number 4 on it. The first three emails were from friends, two from online, one from her town. The last email was from him; the man she played cribbage with each morning. The man she'd gotten to know so much and yet so little about. Her heart raced. She clicked him open, but all the email said was "jkl;".

"JKLsemi-colon?" she messaged him.

"I'm sorry. I had typed something out twice to you, but decided not to send it. Instead, I thought you should know my right hand upon this keyboard. It's the clearest thought I could think at the time. JKL; is like playing a happy batch of notes on a piano. It's the rising of ideas, and I guess of feelings."

Elizabeth pondered his words for a minute. "Are you high?" she asked.

"Yep, I am, and it's been a while, so I'm really feeling it here," he replied.

"LOL" Elizabeth replied.

"So, I am going to try again at some point to write and actually send you what I wrote today, twice," Mitch typed.

"Ok. Whenever you want to tell me anything, I promise I won't think you are weird or anything," Elizabeth replied.

"Oh, you will, you will, I'm sure of it. But, I think you should know this more than anything else I almost wrote to you today. I am going to grant you a wish. I have been working on and succeeded in getting something set up for something you wanted but could not get to happen. I'll be telling you only an hour before it happens, though. I'll message you at work."

Mitch almost wished he hadn't said anything, but part of him knew it was safe to tell Elizabeth these things.

"!!!" Elizabeth typed out, in a larger font than the rest of her previous words.

"I've always wondered how I would feel if I said something that caused you to use a gigantic font for three exclamation marks. This is amazing."

"HAHAHA!" Elizabeth typed. "Now you can't leave me all curious like this. What is going on? Tell me now!"

"I can't, it will put it at risk."

"Please, please, please!" Elizabeth begged.

"Really, I can't. But, it's only a short time frame from now, that I promise you. And you will be very happy and maybe stunned, but mostly you will just be as amazed as I am about things. Ok, you might also be sort of freaked out. But hopefully in a good way. I only hope you'll keep it our secret."

Elizabeth's mind sounded to her inside her ears like her computer in scan disc.

Elizabeth took a pen from her computer desk drawer along with a pink index card and jotted down "jkl;" in smooth black ink and smiled. The thick paper of the index card drew the liquid in, and Elizabeth could see as it dried. Somehow, watching the ink dry reminded her of brownie mix on her mother's ear.

Her mind, vulnerable for a moment, caught up in her own fears, tossed her into a memory she'd long forgotten or selected not to remember. Something she'd pushed aside.

Elizabeth's mother stood in the kitchen near the stove, her face made up heavily with thick ivory base and powder, lashes so overcoated with mascara they had no curl and just jutted out like stiff twigs from a wet tree branch. A low hum from egg beaters as her mother mixed some brownie batter pulsed into Elizabeth's ears and heart as her mother looked at her with apprehension. "What?" said her mother in greeting, above the grinding of the metal electric spin into the metal bowl.

Elizabeth had just come home from school, walking the same route she had every day. Walking with the same eyes taking in the world around her. It was her perception and curiousity that caused her to notice her father's car. It was his presidential election sticker, VOTE FOR CHANGE, on the bumper. Her father never voted. It was his driver's side window, half way down, which meant he'd been smoking on his drive to this house he was parked at. He'd quit smoking a year ago. It was the smell of his cologne that she could smell in the air faintly as she walked past his car and towards the stranger's house. It was the front door that had a rectangular window, where she could see past the thin veil of a white, sheer curtain. It was her father on the couch, sitting down, a woman's head with long, black hair kneeling in front of him. It was her father's hands on that woman's shoulders. It was the end. It was the middle. It was the beginning.

Her mother asked again, "What?"

But Elizabeth couldn't figure out what to say, if to say it, how to draw herself out, or how to draw herself into this picture. Of their life. Their life, that somehow never included her, and now, perhaps, she realized, never included themselves, either. Perhaps it was their distance that created her own from them. It's confusing to feel a part of two people who don't even feel a part of each other.

Her mother seemed to be reading her thoughts through her face. "I just saw Dad," Elizabeth said, and then she tried to explain but only said "and," as her mother lifted the beaters and began to yell at her, shaking the beaters at Elizabeth, to stop her from continuing to speak, the brownie batter spun off the egg beaters and covered her mother's face in scratches of dark, thick brownie mud. Her mother ripped the cord from the electrical socket and threw the electric-beater into the sink, then the full bowl of brownie mix into the sink, and pushed Elizabeth aside to go clean herself up. "Shut up," was all her mother said as she stormed by.

Later that night, at dinner, Elizabeth was sitting to the right of her mother and noticed the dried brown glob on her mother's ear lobe. The brownie mix splatter that hadn't been washed away was in the shape of a sperm. Elizabeth felt dirty as she glanced over at her father, who never seemed to look back at her.

Chapter Fourteen; Events

The island was saturated by a rainstorm that seemed to be going around in circles. It would rain, then it would pause, rain some more, stop briefly, then rain again. Ed could see the storm over the ocean pull back over the land and retreat again. He wondered when the jet stream would push it out for good.

Throughout life he felt this same way. When would the storms just pass? When would the rain end? Should he himself just move out of the path of the cold dampness? If he were on the mainland, he could drive south, or north, east or west. But being on an island made it impossible to get away from the dark clouds, the thunder, the hostility of it all. He felt that way when he was younger and incapable of getting out of the way.

He'd kept himself somewhat dry on the island, but he did so by remaining in solitude, inside his small hut, his legs aching to go for a walk, his stomach hungry for anything but the wilted greens he ate for the past two days while the storm raged on.

He picked up a rock he'd found earlier in the week on the shore near a large, dead fish. Nestled in a small batch of rocks he'd collected over the months, it stood out in both color and shape. A perfect triangle, white with black speckles. It reminded him of her. Laying on his back, resting his head against the makeshift pillow of dried grasses and brushery, he ran his thumb and index finger along the smooth edges of the triangle rock and felt safe enough to think of her even though he'd promised himself he would never think of her again. Even though he knew the risks he took with remembering.

He was seventeen at the time, walking down the hallway at school at the end of the day. He'd spent the last hour in the library, reading from a book that wasn't allowed to be taken out of the school. He was the only student there, and the librarian looked almost frustrated with his desire to remain in the room with her. Most had already left the building, but a few rooms he passed by had a student or two talking to teachers, but the hallways were especially quiet. His sneakers made an irritating, cheap noise with every step he took. He almost wished more people were around him to drown out the sound of his own footsteps.

As he slowly walked by a storage room door, he heard footsteps inside that sounded like echoes of his own shoes. Pausing to put his ear against the door, he wasn't expecting what happened next. The door suddenly opened, whacking his ear slightly as he moved away, and an arm grabbed him and pulled him inside. He didn't even have time to yell as the door shut behind him.

A strong sense of darkness took over his eyes at first, but then from underneath the door, the lighting from the hallway outlined the figure standing before him. He knew it was a female, the faint odor of vanilla perfume tingled his nose and other senses he was doing his best to keep at bay. He could hear muffled music, coming from somewhere very softly in the closet. His eyes took in the white tshirt she wore, a large, black triangle on the front, with the anarchy symbol inside it in dangerous font and sharp white. Nervously, he looked into her eyes, right after his eyes took note that she was not wearing a bra.

Her eyes were a pale, light, color that looked eerie in the setting of this small enclosure. Her lips were in a calm, relaxed persistence and her hands took his hands and wrapped them around her waist. She then lifted small, thin headphones off her head and placed them upon his head and ears. His right ear, still hurting from the door whack, made him wince as she placed the piece over it so he could hear what she wanted him to hear. A song began playing from decades ago. He didn't recognize it, but he didn't care. It was beautiful.

I would climb any mountain
Sail across a stormy sea
If that's what it takes me, baby
To show how much you mean to me

And I guess it's just the woman in you
That brings out the man in me
(Oooooh) I know I can't help myself
(Oooooh) You're all in the world to me

It feels like the first time
Feels like the very first time
It feels like the first time
It feels like the very first time

As her body swayed gently in his hands in the closet dance, he wondered if this was life's way of giving him hope for the future. He'd never danced before, but did not miss a beat or step on her feet, and the feel of it was almost instinctual. Her head leaned against his chest, his heart beating in both confusion and joy into her ear. He could feel her hands and fingertips as they went up his back, and he wasn't sure about the passion he was feeling, which almost felt corrupt. She didn't seem to share his sense of hesitation as she brought her lips to his and kissed him, first on the chin, then on the lips, and then into his mouth with her soft, candycane peppermint tasting tongue.

I have waited a lifetime
Spent my time so foolishly
But now that I've found you
Together we'll make history

(Oooooh) And I know it must be the woman in you
(Oooooh) That brings out the man in me
(Aaaaah) I know I can't help myself
(Aaaaah) You're all my eyes can see

And it feels like the first time, like it never I did before (ooh-ooh ooh-ooh oooh)
Feels like the first time, like we've opened up the door
Feels like the first time, like it never will again, never again

Ed hoped the movements of his sneakers weren't making the same sounds they did in the hallway. He wished the headphones were on her ears to hide his insecurities, although he then remembered that her sneakers were making the same exact sound. He held her a little firmer. Her body responded by getting closer to him, as her hands went to his cheeks and she planted a dozen kisses on his lips, nose and chin.

It feels like the first time, it feels like the first time
It feels like the very first time, very, very, it feels
It feels like the first time, oh it feels like the first time
It feels like the very first time

Open up the door, won't you open up the door? Yeah

Feels like the first time
And it feels like the very first time
And it feels like the first time
It feels like the very first time
And it feels like the first time
It feels like the very first time
Oh it feels, it feels like the first time
Yeah it feels like the first time
It feels like the very first time

He wondered who the band was singing into his ears, but he never got a chance to ask her that day. As the song ended, she took the headphones off his ears, opened up the closet door, kissed him once more on the cheek and walked out, shutting the door behind her as she left. Ed stood in the darkness quietly for a few minutes, leaning against the wall slightly, to help hold himself up.

The week that followed, Ed searched for the anarchy-girl in the yearbooks the library kept on a shelf near the windows that faced the track field. His father refused to purchase yearbooks, citing them as a waste of money and attempts to rob people of their desires to move on in life. One time, when his father was tremendously drunk, he claimed yearbooks were responsible for the outbreak of conjunctivitis that left his eyes permanently damaged with a redness in the corners near the tearducts and his vision slightly blurred. "When I signed my name on all of those yearbooks," his father stammered, "my hands and fingers were touching every god damn hand in that school. Hands that were infected." Ed thought to mention his father's blurred vision might be because of his constant drinking, and the redness near his tearducts a result of being heartless and drying out his ducts in the process. But, Ed had said nothing. He thought a lot of things he never said.

But with her, with anarchy-girl, he wanted to say things. He wanted to hear her say something, anything, too.

Ed walked by the same storage closet at the same exact time he had the day his closet dance had taken place, for the next week, but the closet was quiet and no music could be heard when he pressed his ear to the door. No cheap shoes shuffled, no vanilla perfume or grabbing of the arm took place. But Ed didn't mind, in some ways, because his heart was alive. Just being near the closet door made him feel safe, made him feel content, made him maintain hope.

It was the following week, exactly 11 days after his first meeting with anarchy-girl, that he walked up to the storage closet and heard the rubber squeaks and faint music playing. He put both his hands upon the door, pressed his ear against it, and then he heard a single knock coming from the inside. Backing away from the door, in case it suddenly opened again, he pondered what he should do. His hand made up his mind for him, and returned the knock with a 'boom boom' two-knock sound softly against the door in reply. Three knocks followed. He replied with five knocks.

The door opened and she smiled at him. "What happened to four?" she asked.

"Hi," Ed said with a nervous confidence and calm confusion and desire. His heart was going back and forth from being happy and scared.

Her hand reached out and pulled him inside.

She said "Wait..." and was clicking through some songs on her music player. "Okay, here, shhhhh..."

Ed felt her place the headset on his ears, his eyes were closed and his entire body was tingling with the soft and cotton-like feeling of a warm towel after a cold shower. He let himself be in this moment so fully, he wondered if perhaps he could force himself to never leave it, to never let it leave him, this feeling with her. No sound came through the earpiece. Then, her laughter filled his ears and she said, "Oh, crap, I forgot to press play, there you go..."

He heard the tiny metal click of her pressing the play button and then he heard words that he himself could have written.

I find myself in a strange situation, and I don�t know how
What seemed to be an infatuation, is so different now
I can�t get by if we�re not together, ooh can�t you see
Girl I want you now and forever, close to me

I�m longing for the time, I�m longing for the day
Hoping that you will promise to be mine, and never go away

I don�t want to live without you, I don�t want to live without you
I could never live without you, live without your love

I ask myself, but there�s no explanation for the way I feel
I know I�ve reached the right destination, and I know it�s real

I�m longing for the time, I�m longing for the day
When I�ll be giving you this heart of mine, believe me when I say

I don�t want to live without you, I don�t want to live without you
I could never live without you, live without your love

No I don�t want to live without you, I don�t want to live without you
I could never live without you, live without your love

Now I don�t want to live without you, I don�t want to live without you
I could never be without you, live be your love

I don�t want to live without you, live without your love

(Live without your love) live without your love
(Live without your love) you see, I�m lost without your love
(Live without your love) ooh oh
(Live without your love) without your love...

Ed couldn't help it, he began to cry as they danced slowly to this song. She kissed his tears, which only made him cry more and worry that she was taking in all his pain. He didn't want her to take in any of the bullshit he'd been through, as if the tears carried with them each shitty incident he'd ever lived through. He didn't want any of this to be about that, or to be effected by it, but he knew it was, at least in this moment and he hated his father so much right then. Then, slowly, he felt a different emotion overtake the hate. Like a butterfly landing on his hand, love started at his fingertips as he took her face into his hands and kissed her. He didn't want her to save him, he didn't want to save her, he just wanted them to be. He didn't want anything in the past to matter, and he realized as she kissed him that it didn't have to... not to him or her. Inside this closet, he could let it go. Perhaps.

But it would only be safe like this inside this storage place. Out there, in his world, at his home, in his room as he lay on his bed that night thinking about her so strongly and deeply she was almost in the room with him, he realized that he could never, ever bring her to meet his parents. If he did, his father would do something or say something that would destroy all of it. Just as Ed had felt his father had done with him throughout the years of disfunction. Ed felt the destruction could be repaired now, if he just focussed on the things she made him feel about himself and, even, the world.

He had to go about things logically, not take any risks that could potentially ruin the fix of self. His firm conclusion was that his father could not ever know of the relationship, and his mother, a casuality in this war to fight for personal victory and a reclaiming of belief that life could be good, could not know, either.

Before she'd left the closet, he'd asked anarchy-girl to meet him at the park that weekend. She'd agreed. They made a pact to meet at one in the afternoon near the sunflower patch that bordered the HoverShoe Ramps.

Chapter Fifteen; IM

Mitch awoke from an afternoon nap to the loud tap-sound he'd established for his instant messenger. It sounded like a cross between a chainsaw and plastic dominos falling on top of each other. He'd created it himself using a few sound files he'd come across while surfing an audio folder he'd hacked into that belonged to a movie producer.

Looking at his his monitor, her nickname lit up in white font against a black background, his heart just went from the slow 'just woke up' pattern to the steady pulse of life.

BethEliza: you there?

Mitch typed 'yes' quickly before sitting down upon his computer chair. Once he was comfortable, he waited for her to type something else, but she wasn't responding.

Miticihi: I'm here. Are you here? Where'd you go?

He waited a few moments, and then saw her finally start to type out whatever it was she was needing him there for.

BethEliza: I wanted to talk to you about our talk the other night about meeting one day. Over the past few months, things have been great with you, OTIN*. I keep thinking that if we meet, the feelings and attraction are going to lead us to one of us moving to be closer to the other one. Do you think that, too?

Miticihi: There's something between us, sure. I think it's probable that this is leading to something. I think if we met in person that it would probably turn out that way. Probably me moving to your area. You already have a job that is OL*. My job is OTIN and can be done from anywhere.

BethEliza: I need to tell you something. I just want to talk to you about something. I need to change my name on this IM first, though. brb.

Mitch waited for a few moments. He could see she was typing something out after she changed her nickname for herself on the instant messenger. He wasn't sure what to expect and had no idea what any of this could be about.

ebb: Ok. I've been meaning to change my name to ebb for about a week, just kept forgetting every time.

Miticihi: Nice. Why ebb?

ebb: like a tide, the flow of the ocean, ebb and flow. I don't know, lately I've just been feeling sorta drawn to the ocean of life, the way things come back to you when you think they are lost at sea or something. I think I just spent too much time thinking this week... lol.

Miticihi: you must have. So what's on your mind?

ebb: When I was younger, I caught my dad cheating on my mom.

Miticihi: Me, too, except it was my mom cheating on my dad. Hold on, I'm changing my name, too, brb. Keep typing.

ebb: ok. So, I just wanted to talk to you about it. How it made me feel. My confusion with it. I figured it out this week. Because I was thinking about you and me.

flow: you and me? I don't cheat. I've read up on the different lifestyles and relationships out there. I like the old fashioned one on one. How about you?

ebb: lol, nice name. We're a good pair.

flow: ty*

ebb: yw*... well, I guess I should start by saying that the day I caught some woman giving my father oral sex, I tried to tell my mother but she wouldn't let me.

flow: that happens. Sometimes people just don't want to know.

ebb: and all these years, I think what bothered me was that my mother was a miserable woman. My dad, well, I'm just going to say this bluntly, is that ok?

flow: blunt is good.

ebb: my dad wasn't a miserable guy. He was a guy who thought and said a lot of stuff, but he didn't really do much. Well, he did work hard. He supported us his whole life. But he was a happy man outside of his marriage to my mother. He took me to parks and zoos. He took me camping a few times. Usually he was the one that went to school stuff, like plays or open house. My mother usually was just in too bad of a mood to do much.

flow: do you think she was miserable because she knew your dad was cheating?

ebb: no. She was miserable before that. Something was just wrong with her. I don't know what, but she was just sad or mad, almost all the time. When my dad was with that woman, when I saw him there on her couch...

flow: wait a minute, when you say you caught your dad cheating, you mean you literally caught him right in the act? I thought you meant you found out about it somehow, like I did with my mom. You literally walked in on him getting it on with the other woman?

ebb: yes.

flow: oh man. I'm sorry. That sux.

ebb: literally.

flow: I don't know if I should lol, were you making a joke about catching your dad getting oral?

ebb: lol, yeh.

flow: ok. ; ) lol

ebb: so here was my dilema at that time. I see my dad with this other woman. Not only does he look happy...

flow: no guy looks unhappy when that's going on.

ebb: lol, sure enough, but the woman, she was happy, too. Although, I only saw the back of her head. But, she was touching my dad's legs. And I didn't stay long enough to see much at all, but the short glimpse I got was enough to know that my dad was happy and was with a woman who was happy to be with him.

flow: and you felt guilty because your mom was not?

ebb: something like that. I also felt like I wanted to have a relationship in my life someday that was more like my dad and this woman's than the one that was between my dad and my mom.

flow: are you trying to tell me you want to give me oral?

Mitch immediately wished he hadn't typed that. He was trying to lighten up the conversation as she had been, but the small pause between her typing a reply made him concerned he had hurt her feelings with his overly-sexual callousness.

ebb: LOL!

flow: whew.

ebb: ?

flow: I thought I offended you.

ebb: no, not at all. I don't think we've ever talked about any of this. I've never done that with a guy, but I'd do that with you.

flow: holy shit.

ebb. :)

flow: Ok, now I can say for sure that we need to meet and I should probably start looking for places in your area.

ebb: Maybe we should take this a little slower?

flow: nah.

ebb: yeh... nah. :)

flow: ok. You and me, this is it. I've got a surprise for you, too. Coming up in a few weeks. I think you're going to like it.

ebb: you're coming to visit me?

flow: not then, no. Although now I would like to be there by your side for the surprise. But, it would be too complicated to do everything like a visit and the surprise all at once. After the surprise, I'll visit you after it. In fact, the best time for me to move would be then. So, keep an eye on cheap apartments in that area for me.

ebb: you could just move in with me.

flow: that would be a little too fast. Let me get there, let's go out and do some things. Then we'll look into a cool, new place to get together.

ebb: ok.

flow: ok.

ebb: Mitch

flow: yeh?

ebb: My heart is pounding.

flow: mine, too.

ebb: I can't believe all this is happening.

flow: me, too.

ebb: I'm happy about it. I'm ready.

flow: I'm ready, too. I've never been so sure about anything like I am with you.

ebb: no doubts?

flow: none.

ebb: me either.

flow: it almost feels like we're supposed to be nervous here, but neither of us is.

ebb: yeh, I wonder why?

flow: maybe because we're both just ready. Maybe because we both just know?

ebb: could be.

flow: Can I tell you something?

ebb: uh oh.

flow: no, nothing bad. I just want to tell you something now about me and how I felt when my mother left my dad.

ebb: ok.

flow: I didn't tell you about this before when I told you a little about everything that happened, when we were talking about life stories and all a few weeks ago, but on the day my mother left, I put a picture of my brother and I inside her suitcase. About a week later, I get the picture back, mailed directly to me. She'd written on the back of it "goodbye." No return addy.

ebb: Mitch, that just sux.

flow: Actually, it didn't suck. It pretty much was so final I just let her go. From my mind, from my heart. As my mom, she was making it clear, she had no plans to return. So, I never went through any of the wondering if she'd one day show up at the door stuff. My dad made out ok. So did my mother, I guess. We never heard from her again.

ebb: ever wonder where she is?

flow: not really. Not to the extent I could have wondered.

ebb: maybe our mothers both just had something wrong with them.

flow: seems like something was just making both of them incapable of being happy.

ebb: yeh. Well, we're happy. So whatever was wrong with them isn't wrong with us.

flow: yeh. If you ever are unhappy, you let me know. I'll be there for you.

ebb: sbty.*

]]> *OTIN- Over The INternet.

*OL- OffLine

*ty- thank you

*yw- you're welcome

*sbty- same back to you

Chapter Sixteen; Hover Shoe Ramp, 12:34 p.m.

Ed had gotten there early. Standing by the hovershoe ramps, he listened to the quiet struggles of air and magnetic pulses from beneath the feet of the teenagers that wore all white clothes with the black hovershoes. Even their hair was dyed white, giving them all the appearance of floating albinos. Ed wondered about these kinds of fads, and then wondered why he never himself felt compelled to follow any of the trends out there. Was it him that was strange, or them? Was anybody strange at all, for following or not following? He looked on as one guy did a mid air full body arch, arms outreached in some personal call of victory, and landed softly on... nothing. An invisible force that kept him safe, as he hovershoed towards a ramp and did a climb upwards into the air, feet over head and dangled down again into the field of challenged gravity. Behind him, a white haired girl followed, doing a hovershoe shuffle, twisting her feet back and forth in rythym, like an applause to all that he was doing in front of her. But their eyes never met, he was looking forward, she had her eyes closed and seemed to be following him with just her own sense of him. Ed was glad to see, when they finished their little hovershoe show, that they faced each other and smiled broadly at each other. For some reason, it gave Ed relief.

And she appeared, at first blending in so well she was almost missed, wearing all white herself, but her hair, black with faded red tipped ends and wearing no hovershoes or shoes at all. Barefoot. Ed watched her lips move to something she was hearing on her ever-present earpiece to her ear. No sound, she seemed to be lip synching, but when she got very close, he could hear her whisper words to the song playing. He gently lifted the earpiece from her ear and placed it on his own, she pressed a button on her player that started the song over and then she mouthed the song perfectly to him, as if she were singing it, as he heard it for the first time.

Not a lot of time to think today
It's almost over now
Didn't need it anyway
Guess I knew somehow

I feel love around me
And the feeling grows
As your love surrounds me
How was I to know
That straight out of nowhere
You'd come to me

Out of the blue
Into my heart
You came to me
Out of the blue
Into my heart

Never know what life can bring your way
You never learn
Over night, from day to day
Where our love's concerned

It was so hard to hold on
But I never let go
For so long, so hard to take
How was I to know
That right out of nowhere
You'd come to me

Out of the blue
Into my heart
You came to me
Out of the blue
Straight to my heart
Ooh girl it was you
You came out of the blue
Into my heart
You came to me
Out of the blue
Straight to my heart

You came to me
Out of the blue, into my heart
Out of the blue
Straight to my heart
Ooh girl it was you
You came out of the blue
Into my heart
Out of the blue
Straight to my heart

You came to me
Out of the blue
And into my heart
Out of the blue
Straight to my heart

Ed took her fingertips to his lips and kissed them. She stared into his eyes and placed her fingers on his cheek and then pressed her hand to his face. His hand came up to her hand, and she turned her hand around to meet his and they entwined their fingers together and held on so tightly as a hovershoer went by them so fast they felt a gust of air and energy.

They walked towards the sunflowers and watched as butterflies and bees swirled around them, heading for the same patch of large, yellow flowers. The heads of the flowers had lettering and symblos created inside the seeded-center of them, as teenagers often would pull out some of the seeds to spell out things, usually the initials of their own name along with that of the person they were dating, or sometimes the hovershoe symbol which looked like a sideways horseshoe with a horizontal lightening bolt crossing through it. Anarchy Girl started taking off seeds from a flower and Ed watched and tried to figure out what she was trying to create inside the middle of the flower. He said some guesses, which she just smiled at him and shook her head no. "A heart?" "The sun?" "An egg?" When she was done, the anarchy symbol. Ed laughed and she said to him "You do one now, I want to see what's on your mind."

Ed thought a minute as his fingers touched the seeds. Then he started pulling. "A kite?" she asked. He smiled at her and shook his head no. "A tree?" and then she was silent as the word, not the picture, appeared in the missing seeds he'd taken from the sunflower: YOU

"Come with me," she said, her voice strangely full of unspoken promises and mischieviousness that both frightened and lured Ed to hold her hand she held out to him and follow her lead, deeper into the sunflower patch.

As they walked further in, the surroundings of leaves on thick stalks grew heavier, the soft, large petals brushing Ed's arm and, occasionally, his neck. The sunflowers, this far in, were tallest, and shadows from the large circles of seeds and yellow petals above them grew more and more overwhelming.

And then they were there, in the center.

She layed herself down on the soft, warm earth, underneath the dozens and dozens of sunflowers surrounding them. He knelt down beside her, and she put onto him the headphones and said "Stand back up, and just listen," and so Ed did.

She took his right foot, pulled up her shirt, and took off his shoe and sock, which she put arm's length away, between two sunflower stalks the size of Ed's wrist. Taking his bare foot, she placed it upon her breast. "Can you feel my heart?" she asked.

Ed nodded.

"Ok, press play," she said, and music filled his ears as her left hand held his foot to her heart, and her right hand moved towards her white, loose, elastic-waisted pants, a gentle pull down and uplifted bottom, she revealed to him a sensual patch of soft, dark hairs, almost in the shape of a heart, and her fingertips were slowly moving around in a back and forth motion.

Ed could feel her heart beating faster, from the bottom of his foot, the tips of his toes resonating each beat, and the feelings went up his ankles, up his thighs, and got beyond warm, beyond blood rushing.

Her lips were open, and she was watching Ed at times, and at other times closing her eyes and, with raised eyebrows, seemed to be reaching places inside herself that Ed was sure were peaceful. It sure looked like it was peaceful, until she opened her mouth wider and her heart almost seemed to slow down, stop and then pound with such fierceness that Ed worried she was going to die right there in front of him.

Her knees came up, Ed knelt down, and not knowing what to do or say, kissed her on the lips. She grabbed at him hungrily, and started to pull at his clothes. "I'm not sure what to do," Ed said, as he took off the headphones and placed them down beside her, while helping her with his shirt and pants.

"I'll show you," she said.

Ed let her show him. And it was during a moment, just moments later, as the hum of bees above them became a harmony of pollination, and as the sunlight moved slightly past two large sunflower heads and danced upon Anarchy Girl's eyes, and as Ed felt himself digging and seeding, growing and coming into life, lifting and rising as high as sunflowers go, feeling the warmth of the sun in shady spots, being saturated with her rain, seeds inside himself falling to the ground to replant, replenish, rebirth... he let out a long, sad cry of clarity and strength, replenished, filled up completely and at the same time absolutely absolved, and very exhausted.

Chapter Seventeen; Enter

Elizabeth found her work shoes under the couch, a sock in one from last night, the other sock missing. Her hand reached under the couch and felt the cotton, and was pulling the sock out from under the couch as the phone rang.

Standing up, with the sock in her hand, she answered the phone with a gasp of air from moving so fast. "Hello," she said, in almost one syllable.

"Elizabeth?"

"Yes?"

"It's Mitch."

Elizabeth felt her heart rev.

"Elizabeth," Mitch said, cleared his throat, and continued, "are you working tonight?"

"I am, but only half my shift, it's so good to hear your voice, you sound like I thought you would sound, too," she said, and sat down on the couch, the sock in her hand draping over her knee.

"I was going to i.m. you to let you know I would be calling, but then I, well, I just wanted to call, I had to make sure you did something tonight," Mitch said and Elizabeth could hear the sounds of keyboard keys being tapped with his fingers.

"Ok, tell me what to do," Elizabeth said.

"I'm pretty sure you go outside each night, to see the billboard sky," Mitch stated.

"Most nights, yes. Tonight, though, well... it's a long story. See, it's my friend's birthday, he turns a hundred years old today. I'd written to see, well, this is all probably going to sound crazy to you, but I tried to get this customer who is my friend a billboard birthday greeting, and, well, it didn't work out. I made him a scrapbook of computer images from the past 100 years instead. It came out great. He'll love it. So, tonight, his family is having a birthday party for him, not far from work, and my coworker is coming into work early so I can attend the last hour of the party."

"What time will that be?"

"The party? It starts at six, but I'll only be there for the last hour of it, around eight until nine."

"That's perfect. Do me a favor. When you leave at nine, take him outside with you, and watch the sky."

Elizabeth quickly brought her hand up to her mouth in disbelief, and the sock gently pelted her in the cheek. She began to laugh, and Mitch, hearing her laughing, said "I gotta go, see you in a few days."

"Mitch, wait," Elizabeth said anxiously, but the connection was cut.

Elizabeth layed herself back onto the couch, and was rubbing her forehead with the sock, smiling, but with her eyebrows in a concerned stance, looking at the ceiling and knowing something both wonderful and serious was going to happen.

In many ways, it already had.

Chapter Eighteen; Tide

Ed stood at the shore, barefoot and stoic. When Anarchy Girl had left this world suddenly, days after moments in the sunflower patch, the only memory left inside of him, the hardest one of all to remember, Ed realized it was her leaving this life that had most effected him.

It was not the loss of childhood, it was not his father's tirades, it was not dead frogs and it was not the bruises on his arms and legs throughout his life that had ripped from him the will to connect, to live, to love. It was knowing that hope was possible, that life was his to build and construct, and for some reason he'd thought that hope was literally Anarchy Girl herself.

But it was more than that. It was not in the touch of her hands on his foot, it was not in the feel of himself with her and within her, it was not just her heart beating stronger, it was not just the bees humming, it was not just sunflower seeds pulled out to spell YOU. None of it was about the moments.

All of it depended on him. How he gave in. How he gave up. What he was willing to do to feel the hope again. Because the world is full of people, places and things, but the connections, and how connected to each thing, each person, each thought and feeling, has little to do with these things, and everything to do with himself. Everything to do with opening up the one connection to self, receptive to the connections possible, that's all it takes. His father could no more shut it off than Anarchy Girl could open it up, it was just Ed, only himself, he realized, only he with the ability to shut or open himself to the world around him.

His feet touched the ocean waters in long steps forward.

Chapter Nineteen; One Hundred Years

Elizabeth stood outside with Bill, a few feet from the parking lot lights, gazing up at the sky together in wonder.

"I like the scrapbook you made for me, my great grandchildren still can't understand how I managed without things they have lived with for their whole lives," Bill said, as he lit a cigar.

"I'm so glad you liked it," Elizabeth said softly, her eyes fixated on the area the billboard sky lights lit up this time of night. Her heart and mind knowing what to expect, but also wondering how it would be possible. If it were to be possible, if it were to be at all.

A puff of gray smoke blew into the air surrounding them. "I wouldn't mind another century of living," Bill said as he felt Elizabeth's hand rub his back as she said to him, "Bill, oh, he did it, the billboard, look!"

Chapter Twenty; Ocean

Ed floated on his back in the ocean, looking up at the sky for the lights of hope and connection. Would a new company address show up tonight, someplace with hopes and dreams of more business through a billboard in the sky? Ed thought about all the hours of work that had to go into each payment for lights and letters on the backdrop of moon and stars. What lives were led behind each hour worked, who were the people behind the dreams and hope? With so many people having so many ideas, it was somewhat astounding that sometimes they all connected to achieve the same thing. Sometimes hundreds of people. Sometimes thousands. Sometimes, just a few, two or three.

And sometimes just one.

Ed turned around to swim a bit further out, just a little closer to the distant shorelines he could not see, where the hopes and dreams of many worked hard to bring to Ed, without even knowing they were, hope again within the neon glow of shining words upon an eternity of sky.

And as Ed swam, on the ocean surface, a calm mirror for a moment, reflecting something to him that looked and felt different than all the other times, Ed rolled back over onto his back to float, and then found himself instead letting his legs fall beneath him as he moved his hands slowly in the water to keep himself buoyant, there in the sky on a billboard technology had created with the hopes, dreams and hard work of so many over so many years, lit up words that brought Ed home.

HAPPY 100TH BILL