The Broken Girl and The Clever Boy - White

                “Hi. I don’t believe we’ve met. My name is Tom, and I’m madly in love with you.”

                The message flashed across the blank White of the screen.

                Six years. Six years that flew in a heartbeat. She wished on every wishing star and four leaf clover to be noticed. And if she had to be honest with herself, she loved him for the last two of those six years. He was funny, charming, clever, and incredibly pretty. Unsure about making such an irrational confession, she chose to watch and to dream. Every day she would make her social media rounds hoping he’d posted a joke or funny story about gaming. Some days she was rewarded with the slightly crooked smile of an avatar while chatting with friends. Some days her heart would gallop when she got a Guild log-in notification.

                So here she sat facing a computer screen that made her cover her mouth with her hand. Unable to breathe and on the verge of tears, she sat dumfounded. The harsh White backdrop contrasted sharply against the black letters. There it was. Everything she ever wanted.

                And she had no idea what to do next.

                FIFTEEN SECONDS AGO…………

                This time he would hit send. He swore it. He’d seen her struggle each time she was told she was fat or ugly or dumb. He’d watched the façade of self-esteem break behind the scenes. She was plenty strong on the surface and had nearly everyone fooled. But he knew for years about the fragileness that she kept from the world. He’d seen it in heartbreaking posts she was convinced no one saw.

                It devastated him.

                He had no idea how she felt about him, but he knew she deserved better.

                She deserved to know how he felt.

                He took a deep breath and stared at the blank White typing field.

                And once again Tom started to type. “Hi. I don’t believe we’ve met………”

The Broken Girl and The Clever Boy - Red

 

 

 

 

 

            Every day the Clever Boy, with his tiny mechanical feet, shuffled down the same cobblestone path. And every day the Clever Boy saw the same sights and turned the same turns and whistled the same song. And the Clever Boy was happy.

            Until one day something was different.

            The Clever Boy, whistling the same song, shuffling his tiny mechanical feet suddenly stopped. He saw a box. This was new. He approached it with caution. He saw an ordinary brown packing box full of gears and pieces. Next to this box was a sign: I CAN’T FIGURE HER OUT. MUST BE BROKEN - FREE.

            The Clever Boy turned his square head this way and that wondering why in the world anyone would discard such beautiful, shiny pieces. He gathered the box into his jointed copper arms and returned to shuffling his tiny mechanical feet, turning the same turns, and whistling the same song until he reached his home.

            Once the Clever Boy was home, he began to unpack the many shiny pieces. He laid them out gently and lovingly. It seemed as if everything was in order, so he decided he would reassemble the Broken Girl.

            Every day after his walk the Clever Boy would work on his Girl. The work was slow, but he was patient. And after a time, the Broken Girl no longer looked broken. However, it seemed as if a piece was missing after all. Luckily, the Clever Boy knew exactly what to do.

            He pinched the corner of his chest plate and pulled it open, exposing all the whirring cogs and gears. He reached in his chest and pulled out his Red metallic heart. He knew it would only hurt for a second, so he took a big mechanical breath and broke off a piece of it. He quickly put his heart back and closed the latch. He drove his tiny mechanical hand into the Broken Girl’s chest. He pulled back his hand and clutched it close to his chest. Then waited.

            A sputter.

            A clunk.

            A wheeze.

            And suddenly she wasn’t so broken anymore.

            So every day the Clever Boy, with his tiny mechanical feet, shuffled down the same cobblestone path. And every day the Clever Boy saw the same sights and turned the same turns and whistled the same song. And the Clever Boy was very, very happy because his Girl was holding his tiny mechanical hand.

 

The Broken Girl and The Clever Boy - Black

 

 

         I’m not sure how long I’d been there. Ten minutes? Thirty? It seemed like an eternity passed since The Maestro had closed the door. My elbows and wrists were bound in front of me. I’d been given instruction to remain on my knees with my elbows propped on the side table. I’m sure at a casual glance I looked like I was praying. And maybe I was just a bit.

            When I heard the click of the door, my heart raced. I remained perfectly still. Looking towards the door would have been wasteful since I was blindfolded.

            Everything was perfectly Black.

            “You look perfect, girl. Well done. Your instructions are this: You may only answer Me with the word ‘no’. Is this understood?”   

            “No,” I replied without hesitation.

            I could hear the smile in His voice. “Very good, clever little girl.” The richness of his voice touched deep in my chest. The compliment made my heart grow.

            I listened as His feet crossed the room. I heard the hiss from a can of some carbonated beverage. “Would you like a drink?” The Maestro asked.

            The thought of the cool liquid was enticing. “No,” I countered.

            “Is there anyone else you’d rather have here?”

            “No.” It was the truest answer I’d given since He opened the door.

            I could hear Him as He crossed the room to reach me. He stood behind me and drew a line down my spine with the handle of the crop. Despite being surrounded by the Black, I could tell just how close He was to me. His presence always lit me like a bonfire. Just knowing He was close to me was enough to set every part of my body tingling.

            He leaned in behind me and breathed into my ear, “Do you love me?”

            I panicked. “No.” It was a lie. And He knew it.

            CRACK.

            It happened so quickly. The fire spread across my backside, and I flinched from the unexpected punishment. I clenched my teeth and steadied my breath.

            “Do you love me?” He repeated.

            “No,” I replied.

            CRACK

            This time the whimper was out before I could catch it. The Black had somehow gotten darker. I did not move from my knees or take my elbows from the side table.

            “Think on this, girl. I will ask again: do you love me?”

            I hesitated, unsure of what I had done wrong. “No.”

            CRACK CRACK

            Both cheeks were on fire as I felt the lick from each of His strikes. I could feel the panic rising in my chest as I struggled to understand my failure. Despite closed eyes and a heavy mask, I could feel the tears press their way from the corners of my eyes and make their way down my cheeks.

            “Do you love me?” He pressed.

            My voice was a mixture of a choke and whisper. “Yes.” I confessed. My tears were burning my cheeks as surely as the crop burned my backside.

            “Louder.”

            I took a deep breath. “Yes.”

            He plunged His hand deep into my hair and pulled downward, turning my face toward the sky. “Again.”

            “YES.” I said, the honesty of the statement crushing me and filling me at the same time.

            He pulled the blindfold from my eyes. What was pitch before was replaced with glaring light. I blinked several times while my eyes tried to adjust to the sudden shift. “Here is your lesson, girl. Your honesty means more to me than your obedience. You are to never lie about your feelings.”

            He released my wrists and elbows from their bindings and allowed me to rest on my heels. “Does a girl understand why this is important?” He asked as He sat on the edge of the bed.

            “I understand Maestro,” I answered as I turned to place my head in his lap.

            “That’s my good doll,” He soothed while toying with my hair. “Now when you are collected, you shall receive your reward.”

            And my soul smiled.

 

The Broken Girl and The Clever Boy - Blue

            She heard it long before she ever saw it. Jack, she whispered.

            She ran her fingers through her mussed hair in order to tame it a bit. When she turned around on her best friend’s front porch, she spied the 1968 Camaro rumbling down the street. Even in the yellow street lights, she could make out the rich, electric blue of the paint job. As many times as she had seen it, she never got over how breathtakingly beautiful that car was. As Jack put the car in park, he gave the gas pedal a good tap. The rumble of that motor matched the feeling in her gut. Powerful. Exciting.

            She took a step off the porch and headed toward the car. “Jaaaaa-aaaack!” she yelled in a sing-song voice. “What are you doing here?”

            The passenger side window was already rolled down. Jack leaned across the car and replied, “Heidi said you might need a ride home. How ya feeling, Rhi?”

            Rhiannon casually tossed her hair over her shoulder and leaned forward, resting her forearms on the door. “I’m just fine. Two or three glasses of wine aren’t enough to do me in,” she teased.

            “But what about the two or three mixed drinks after the two or three glasses of wine?”

            “Fine. Busted. I suppose I’ll have to thank Heidi tomorrow.” She waved to her friend and climbed into The Blue. The seats were soft and conditioned, just like she knew they would be. Jack always kept The Blue immaculate. “So Heidi called you to be my White Knight come to the rescue?” she said. The booze had allowed just a hint of southern drawl to come through in her voice.

            “Something like that,” Jack offered in response. He did a quick glance at his passenger. It was the height of summer, so Rhiannon had on a soft and frilly sundress. The gauzy material was hiked up just a bit more than it would normally fall, and he didn’t fail to notice how smooth her thigh was. Keeping his hands occupied, he shifted the car into drive and headed down the street.

            Rhiannon closed her eyes and rested her head on the seat. She turned her head to the left and opened her eyes. “You’re pretty, you know that?” she teased.

            “I’ve been told once or twice,” he replied with a laugh in his voice.

            “I’ve thought about you for a while now, Jack.” Rhiannon drew her fingers across the bench seat and onto Jack’s leg. “Quite a while now,” she repeated.

            “What about your husband? What would he think about this?”

            “Oh, that boy is at home and asleep already. Probably sacked out on the couch watching action movies.” Her hand continued to draw lines over Jack’s thigh. “But you…You’re the one come to take me home.”

            Jack felt an uneasy tension in his groin as the combination of Rhiannon’s drawl and light touch made it difficult to concentrate. “Well, he’s certainly missing out,” he said, wishing the five minute drive would be over.

            “You don’t have to take me home straight away, do you?” Rhiannon said with a small pout.

            “I think it best, Rhi. I’m meant to see you home safely.”

            Rhiannon gave his crotch a good rub. “Then until you drop me off at my door, this is what you get. Between you and the car, you get a girl all worked up just to shut her down. I can’t be the only left wanting.”

            Jack clenched his teeth and turned the corner. “I believe this is your house, m’lady,” he said, resting the transmission in park.

            “Fine. You’ll be back. Miss me while I’m gone,” she teased as she climbed out of The Blue. She strolled up the front walk and didn’t even bother to look back.

            Jack laughed and shook his head. “Goddammit woman. You’ll be the death of me yet.” He opened the garage door and pulled into the drive, eager to tuck his wife into bed.