White Rabbit Chapter 30

30.

             

Delores was thankful that Whitney was a sound sleeper. But just to be sure, she mixed four Alprazolams into Whitney’s glass of nightly milk. Delores took them for night terrors she suffered since she was young and to counteract the effects of her Adderall. Delores laid in bed her heart racing waiting, waiting, waiting... She never realized how heavily Whitney snored. A jar of peanut butter sat on the nightstand, extra creamy. “What’s that for?” Whitney asked groggily before she fell off a cliff of sleep. “Um, in case I get hungry later.” Delores replied nervously. She heard stories and she wanted to be prepared. The grandfather clock in the hallway struck midnight. Ben was its name. Popular name for clocks. Whitney was dreaming of Bruce and baby Bruces and seeing her father in full uniform. In her dream her father bought her a present and it was Bruce in a box, his head in one package and all his other limbs and pieces in others. She smiled between fits of snoredom until she realized after putting the pieces together there was no penis. Delores stood on the desk at the window and looked out into the front lawn like a housecat. Snow fell again after midnight. Tally another day to the record. Then at last she saw someone. It was him, Alex De Wolfe, in wolf form! At last he came! She wondered what it would be like to be ravaged by a wolf. The peanut butter was a good idea. But alas, no, she realized at second glance, it was a German Shepherd who wasn’t at all interested in her window. It shit by a lamppost and left. She thought of how foolish she was being waiting there for a 147 year-old man to come.  But she was incapable of leaving the window. Her breath fogged the glass pane and she drew fancy hearts.

Ben the grandfather clock went into its hourly procession then chimed one doleful chime ashamedly. Alex wasn’t coming, Delores was sure. She began to fall asleep with her head on the cold window pane. One eye open. She grabbed the jar of peanut butter and began to eat it using two fingers like a spoon. She had showered as soon as she got home and put her hair up on top letting a few loose strands fall seductively about her face. She was wearing only a t-shirt, panties and knee high plaid socks. She didn’t own any sexy lingerie but she needn’t the help. Her tiny nipples were hard and as she continued to eat the peanut butter she grabbed a hooded Boston Bruins sweatshirt. Ben chimed two. Her train departs at 8:30 and she and Whitney were to have breakfast with Lady Goodyear at seven. She thought of going to bed but refused continuing to wait in good faith. She had the utmost trust in Alex De Wolfe, that he would come, and that she needed to be here. If you are in love and let love go, what do you deserve then?

At last! There he stood in the same suit waving to her. His nose sniffing her she could tell. She waved back excitably and suddenly revived. She tore off the sweatshirt and darted out of the room then back in to get the jar of peanut butter in case someone was awake and inquired as to why she was downstairs. She snuck down the hallway to the wooden spiral stairwell and tip-toed as quickly and as lithely as she could, past Ben on the second floor, and down to the first. She had never wished more to be a cottonwood spore or a fly, some weightless thing that had the ability to direct itself surreptitiously or that was directed as though by fate. The old stairs creaked and groaned. On one step she thought of the insanity in what she was doing and paused for a moment but came to the realization that this was an opportunity and she was confident the strange feeling that Alex De Wolfe gave her was real love. Real love that people claim to know but don’t. She had always known him long before the train station and Dunkin’ Donuts and she would always know him. Maybe the things he said about a past life were bullshit but maybe they were true. Sometimes maybes are mountainous. He seemed so adamant and sincere. He seemed like no one she had ever known, completely unlike any of those dreadful men in the chatrooms or the boys from other schools. He didn’t seem like he was a man, or a wolf, but rather an inexplicable life force, a presence that had always been a part of her soul, her being.

She made it to the front room undetected. Slowly she opened the giant door but no one was there. She looked and could see paw prints up the walkway. She smiled. She could feel him. “I love you, Delores.” Alex the invisible said softly. “I figured it best to be invisible in case someone —”

“Delores!” a voice cried out from the darkness. “Whatever are you doing at the front door?” It was Lady Goodyear. She must have been sitting in the dark room but now she walked over to Delores who was speechless, unable at first to answer. “Delores?” she questioned again.

“Oh, um, I thought I heard a cat outside. I just wanted to make sure it was okay.”

Lady Goodyear stood there silently for a moment in a long flowing white nightgown. She looked spooky. She looked outside at the falling snow and around the stoop and up the walk. Nothing in sight. “Dear, I see no cat. But that certainly does not mean that there is none,” she said bizarrely.  “That being said, Delores, you should return to bed at once and worry no more of this cat tonight. I am sure said cat will fend for himself decently enough and is no stranger to Boston winters.”

Delores’ heart sank as Lady Goodyear shut the door like a coffin lid. She had never before paid attention to its dreadful sound. She walked to the stairs without saying anything as though she were walking to the gallows. “Goodnight, ma’am.” she finally said to her executioner glumly, hitting the first step.

“Goodnight, Delores. See you at eight.” Lady Goodyear smiled sweetly.

Delores continued up the steps, defeated. Her factory began handing out pink slips, layoffs, plant closing. “FML!” she said angrily under her breath. She cursed Ben on the second floor as though he were a conspirator in her defeat. In her bedroom Whitney was still snoring across the room and Delores collapsed in her cold bed. She forgot she was carrying the jar of peanut butter and reached over and sat it on the nightstand. She lied there and looked at the ceiling. She began to think of parallel universes and worm holes and all sorts of interesting things. She wondered if in some other world she was existing and suffering consequences for things she does in this life. If that world is, in fact, dependent upon this one or, contrariwise, if this world is dependent upon that one or is it more a matter of codependency. The kind of stuff that blows the mind. Chicken and the egg. Where did the suns and planets truly originate beyond a “big bang” that seemed so stupid using the adjective "big." Couldn’t they have said "immense," "giant" or "enormous?" "Big" seems terribly juvenile and inadequate for a theory on how the universe began. She knew it wasn’t right. Simply, too simplistic. She knew there was a God but was pretty sure He would L His AO at the debacle of religions and the buffoonery of people and wars. Wars for what? Oil? Land? Pride? Wars are dumb. It’s worth dying not to fight. Not to be dumb. Jesus Christ needed a PR rep to be understood. “Love your enemy” never got him anywhere with his peeps or with anyone these days. He needs to come back in the age of Twitter and Facebook so he could friend everyone in the world and make their day with status updates and inspirational tweets. He would be in a relationship with everyone and he wouldn’t hide posts so only so and so could see them. Delores’ mind was racing and just as she was about to fall asleep her legs began to tingle with the curious exhilarating feeling of a tongue making its way from her right knee up her inner thigh and to…pause. Her socks slowly pulled off and warm hands caressed her calves.

Her mouth opened and her back arched and her panties seemingly pulled themselves down eagerly surrendering. No resistance. Her legs did everything they could to cooperate and after they were released from the constriction of her panties they slowly spread wide open. She felt every muscle in unison. She got the tingling sensation of fingers, archers on her rear. And then a face pressed boldly between them led by the charging cavalry of a brave wet tongue. Her hands slammed down and fiercely gripped her bed sheets and she looked over to see Whitney dead asleep, still snoring. She looked down and saw the form of a body rising up between her legs as he continued to lap up what little resistance may have thought to oppose, none by force. Delores’ circuits exploded like fireworks releasing the greatest drug ever produced and given naturally to human beings by God, or by the Big Bang Theory, or Charles Darwin, or who the fuck ever. Delores’ back arched up off the mattress and she bit her bottom lip repeatedly still with a vice grip on those crinkled sheets. “Oh yessssssssssssss!” she moaned. Then she had an epiphany. A clear Joan of Arc vision. And in all seriousness, after quickly eliminating the possibility that this feeling could have been created by chance or evolution, she exclaimed loudly, “There is a GOD! There fucking is a GOD!”

Whitney snored. Bruce got his penis back. It was a carrot.

Hours later after several natural volcanoes erupted in her and after lava flowed from Alex De Wolfe through her pretty blue ocean where an osprey swooped ever so often on the hunt, Delores lied naked on top of him, good as paralyzed. Legs cocked up around him. Her sweaty forehead pressed to his. Her lips numb from biting, kissing; her jaw pleasurably sore from her part in the production; her legs numb; nipples tingling; her V tender and drubbed. Strange new tastes in her mouth, good ones, mixed with the peanut butter from earlier, sweat and all the good fluids. “Every life,” Alex sighed, “you get better.” He was out of breath.

“Is it always like this?” She panted.

“When it’s real.”

“And when it’s not?”

“It’s a sham. Empty. Like a chain letter.”    

            “Please let it be this way forever.”

            “I will love you forever, Delores. I cannot stomach shams nor be duped any longer.” He smiled. “I will cherish the time I have you and never stop looking for you when I don’t.”

            Delores smiled content. Then her ADD kicked in. She reached down between her legs. “I think I am going to have to change my sheets.” They laughed quietly. Whitney sounded like a warthog in heat. Delores’s head raced. “How did you get in?”

            “I snuck in before the old lady shut the door. Though, I believe she is quite suspicious of me and may in fact know that I am here. She wouldn’t know that I am invisible but I am quite sure she knows that I am on the grounds.”

            “On the grounds?” Delores laughed. “How would she know?”

            “Some have an ability to see the supernatural better than others. Like some people can hear music while others are completely tone deaf.” Alex seemed perplexed. “May I stay here with you until morning and ride with you to the station. Invisible, of course?” he asked.

Delores yawned. “Yes!” She smiled beautifully. “But it would be heaven, if morning never came…”

“Time doesn’t stand still, dear.”

“I wish it could,” she yawned. “We have to be up at 6:30.”

Sleep. Alex got hungry an hour later and snuck out of bed for a few minutes. He eyed the jar of peanut butter and turned into the wolf to lick it out of the jar. As the wolf, Alex could not be invisible, but as Alex the invisible, his tongue couldn’t extract all the peanut butter efficiently from the jar. So there he was on all fours in the middle of the bedroom floor, tail wagging happily. Whitney opened her eyes and saw him with his tongue lodged in the jar of Peter Pan. He saw her and froze. She stared for a moment and then closed them. She was obviously having a nightmare. But what a story to tell at breakfast! She opened them again and the wolf was gone as expected, unbeknownst to her, he was comfortably in bed with Delores and the empty jar rolled under her bed.