Invited Guests

Feigning his review of the ledgers for the Shelter, Ethan watched Brit paint. Just as he enjoyed watching filmed sunrises, one frame at a time, he took great pleasure in watching his wife coax images to life through her art. Though Brit’s media had always been crayon in the past, she regularly amazed friends and strangers alike in her ability to create realism from crayon. Of course, Ethan knew the magical abilities of motion, sound and occasionally scents were due to the special ink given to Brit by Lorne; however, he also knew that Lorne had proclaimed there must be an ability to use it. Ethan was unsure what exactly was in the ink. Lorne’s response was that the ink was “comprised of the material of dreams,” which Ethan felt was an insufficient response. Regardless, the ink did not seem to affect Brit and Ethan enjoyed the results from it. He enjoyed paging through her coloring books to reminisce as well as to see what caught his wife’s eye within the city.

Ethan tapped a pencil in the ledger noticing that Brit continued to wear her box of crayons in a thigh holster. Though talented in crayon, Ethan felt that Brit should expand her abilities and attain new skills. Since she had shown aptitude for art, he purchased her an easel and assorted paints. Along with the delivery came a nervous art student in need of tuition who provided a few basic lessons for Brit. Ethan was pleasantly surprised that Brit chose to learn about oil paints over watercolors. After all, watercolors, like many things in the mortal world, were not made to last and oil endures.

The art student had shared basic techniques and now Brit applied them. Ethan watched her hand outline the portrait from their Christmas card onto the canvas in pencil before moving onto ink. He had stopped working to muse on her attention to highlight and light. Brit seemed to have a natural ability to define halftones and shadows, and then finally reflections. The inked canvas looked realistic and true. Once she progressed to the imprimatura layer to the umber underlayer, he could see Brit’s focus increasing. With a glimpse into her mind, he saw uncertainty but she clearly used her instinct and raw talent to make sound choices.

Brit was in the process of placing colorful dabs of paint on her palette to create the dead underlayer. Ethan tilted his head curiously as he knew from the art student’s directives that these colors would make the image look as if its objects were lit by moonlight alone. With a shrug, he went back to observing his wife paint, and found the lines of her back and curve of her sides as enjoyable to observe as was the painting she was making. If painting was Brit’s hobby, observing her had become Ethan’s hobby. Running his fingers on the arm of his chair, Ethan watched her while thinking of the texture of her skin and listened to a ballad that was rumored to have been written by Henry VIII, and still held favor throughout the years. In the midst of his musing, Ethan’s tranquility was disrupted by the sounds of soft moaning beyond the door of their resting place.

Ethan glanced with no little irritation toward the door. The sounds of obvious pleasure now mingled with light rhythmic bumping and gained Brit’s attention. She giggled to Ethan and said, “Maybe there are beloveds dating.” Ethan arched an eyebrow thinking of the list of guests they current had at the Shelter and counted two that might be ‘beloveds.’ The sounds grew louder, and Ethan rolled back his chair standing. Sounds of his boots made heavy thuds when he walked to the door. Checking his pistols attached to his thighs, Ethan opened the door walking toward the sounds which were louder in the hallway.

He turned to his left toward the hospital and noticed a human boy and girl grinding against each other on the wall of his office. “May I help you?” came Ethan’s low measured voice. The couple scrambled to rearrange their clothing. Both dressed in frayed, black and red checkered clothing. Both looked as if they could use a meal and seemed slightly unkept. Blinking, they shook their heads. “Are you new guests of the Shelter?” asked Ethan. Again, more headshakes. “Then you are trespassing,” Ethan said quite pointedly. “And further more, you are disturbing my evening with your…canoodling.” The couple stammered fast apologies and bolted before he could offer them food and a place to stay. Ethan watched them run down the steps. Turning toward his office, he encountered Brit. “It was merely a couple who seemed to be…engaged in activities of canoodling.” Ethan looked to Brit incredulous that he actually used the word.

Brit giggled, “We have guests who are beloveds?”

He chuckled and said, “They are not guests.” He grinned at her widened eyes, “They are…”

“LOVERS?” Brit’s eyes sparkled over thinking of new love right in their Shelter! “We should ensure they are guests. Then they would have a safe place to date.”

Ethan crossed his arms placing a finger to his own lips, “Brit, unregistered guests are called trespassers, and there is a hotel for those only seeking places to date. No one should be in our Shelter just for a place to be with their beloved. To be sure, beloveds are welcome here if they meet the criteria of other guests.” Brit nodded slowly, and he realized that she had followed him from the safety of his office. “Baby, do not follow me when I seek to check on potential turmoil. Stay where you are safe.” She started to reply and he hushed her by giving her a soft kiss indicating that the matter was not for discussion. He directed her back to her canvas.

Not more than three nights later, Ethan was again at his desk enjoying both his wife’s form as she painted while soft music played in the background. With snow blanketing the city, Ethan felt that Christmas was coming to the city. He read over an invitation to a holiday event that had been delivered and thought that Brit would enjoy such an event. Then he heard a girl’s voice, “I cut myself so I can feel alive.” The voice came from outside of the room. Brit put down her brush and stared beyond him to the wall behind his desk.

A young man’s voice responded, “You are too beautiful to scar the canvas of your body. You can cut me though, if it makes you feel alive.” Ethan rolled his eyes, but caught sight of Brit. She was enthralled overhearing such declarations between the unseen couple.

A sound of kisses exchanged was heard mingling with light moans. The girl responded, “But you are afraid of blades.” More kisses followed and Brit walked to where Ethan sat and slid into his lap. She grinned at him as if witnessing love itself. The girl said, “I would only cut you if I could find a way to do it using only wool and cotton.” Brit pressed her hands to her mouth processing.

The boy moaned into a kiss and replied, “Whatever makes you smile. You are so pretty when you smile. You make my tummy fill with butterflies each time.” Ethan rubbed his own temples not believing that he was hearing such things. Brit pressed her forehead against Ethan’s delighting that others in the city found love. Sensing Brit’s thoughts, Ethan tilted his head curiously toward hers.

Several seconds passed as wet kisses were exchanged outside of the room. Brit pressed her lips lightly against Ethan’s. The girl outside confessed, “You make me feel valued. No one else ever did, you know. Until I met you, I didn’t exist. Before I met you, my soul was a ghost without a home.”

Ethan placed his hand on Brit’s back returning her soft kiss while the boy on the other side of the wall told the girl, “I am so lucky I found you. It makes me wonder why I was even getting up each morning before we met. You complete me like nothing else ever could, and without you, I would wither and die, so please don’t hurt my heart. I will bleed to death if you do.” Brit looked up with real concern at the statement and Ethan blinked at the melodrama.

The girl said, “But you would still have your heart and you have mine. I gave it to you. If you left, I would have nothing left. I would be alone with my Rice Krispies each day. Just…” The girl’s voice caught before she whispered, “Snap Krackle Cry every day for the rest of my life.” Ethan’s fingers twitched on his pistol and Brit softly lisped, “Aww.”

More sounds of wet, sloppy kisses followed. The boy then said, “At least, you would still have a life to spend. I’d just sit in a dark corner and wait until the darkness is no more.” Kisses and shuffling followed and the boy moaned, “It cannot happen. Even though my chest is open and you have my heart, I am still yours.” Ethan slid Brit off of his lap and walked toward the door again as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Brushing back his hair, Ethan opened the door as the boy said, “You always must return, because only the one who broke you can fix you.”

Brit pattered across the floor and hugged Ethan. She lisped, “Please be sure they have a place to sleep…and food. There is too little love in the city.” Ethan’s fingers itched on the handle of his pistol. Touching her face, he marveled at her prettiness. Brit’s mossy green eyes were wide and sincere, and she was concerned about the couple so in love.

Ethan returned to his desk for the ledger. This time, he positioned himself so the couple could not run as easily. He got their names and registered them in his book before marching them like they were two errant teenagers to the kitchen and told them to eat some soup. The couple walked ahead silently and seemed bewildered they were being given food and a room by the man who accused them of trespassing a few days before. Both ate the soup silently between apprehensive glances toward Ethan.

Brit joined them in the kitchen and chattered amicably for a short time. Brief introductions and the couple seemed to relax. Sensing the sunrise near, Ethan excused him and Brit. The couple watched them both go upstairs. After thinking that Ethan and Brit were out of hearing range, the girl said to the boy, “Dude. Before she showed up, all I could think was Hansel and Gretel. You feel me? Hansel and Gretel.” The boy nodded with wide eyes.

Brit looked up at Ethan asking, “Hansel and Gretel?”

Ethan smirked at her naivety and was pleased that she could hear at such a distance. He kissed her hair and walked her to their resting place. Though the couple was roughly the same age as his wife, he said, “Young people today are tragically apprehensive.” Grinning at her look of confusion, he opened the door.