<USS Meridian> Thinking About You
- From: Jason Ziredac <ziredac@xxxxxxxxx>
- To: ussmeridian@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
- Date: Mon, 8 Dec 2003 01:11:41 -0800 (PST)
Thinking About You
by Lieutenant JG Jason Ziredac
Her quarters were darker than they had ever been, and in not knowing her and
seeing the place, anyone could have guessed. It was just one of those things
that protruded like a sliver from skin, registering pain. She knew what was
happening out there. Up there. If someone had walked into her quarters,
unannounced, they would have found a woman's figure silhouetted, dark, not sure
if she was staring at them or looking away. Staring at them. She stared a lot,
with stars for eyes, searchlights for eyes. But now in the darkness, her eyes
were lighthouses, now able to see in the dark, so to speak. Able to bring her
ship home.
Her eyes glanced at a photograph on a surface before her. A wood surface, an
antique, made in the early twenty-first century. Its stained cherry surface was
fading but upon it wa that frame, holding the man she loved so much. Jason
Ziredac.
She thought about him every single day, the way they used to be when they were
young. The way they still are now. They were one and the same, but she loved to
dwell in the past. That was all that mattered to her. He was all that mattered
to her. Loving Jason as much as she did, there was still his distance. So very
distant was he and so very distant had he always been, except when he needed
something like forgiveness. Then she began to think how all men are like that
and she laughed to herself but stopped. Jason wasn't quite the everyman, but
more, yes, more. Above the everyman, then again, so many men were everymen, so
Jason, in being above an everyman was again becoming an everyman himself, only
because there were so many others above everymen...the paradox just thrilled
her.
Is it possible? Is "true love," as he said, possible? He used to say that a
lot. Jason, that is, spoke of true love so much that you would think he was an
expert on the subject. Thinking about it, she realized that maybe he was an
expert on the subject, then began to think about women and the cumulonimbi that
surround their minds, the tornados that whip their thoughts into an automatic
correctness. Men were always wrong, and that's what she and many other women
thought. But not now. In Jason's case, he's right. He often was, she not
thought. But now, Jason Ziredac transcended the bridge from right to male.
"True love is real."
And that, perhaps, is what kept her alive.
---------------------------------
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