thegeekgene (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thegeekgene) wrote2009-05-08 01:39 pm
thegeekgene) wrote2009-05-08 01:39 pm
Entry tags:
Ray Galilei and the Moment of Revelation
Title: Ray Galilei and the Moment of Revelation
Series: Ray
Rating: PG to PG-13, for mild language.
Word Count: 1267
Summary: On a rooftop, Ray reconnects with an old friend and meets someone new.
Notes: Creative writing class, spring 2009, I had to create a character and write about him.
Ray had been on the roof for half an hour, sitting on the edge, beating his heels slowly against the side as he watched the street below. Being a Wednesday, and past rush hour, there wasn't much foot traffic, so he noticed immediately when a mass of dark dreadlocks appeared, one he knew well, moving with the same certainty he remembered from college. On the sidewalk, heavy boots landed in front of each other as though daring the pavement to protest. There was man walking beside her, half a step behind. Ray remembered walking with her, past a construction site that was now the campus chapel, watching the shadow movements of her hair on the pavement. They had been wearing their winter coats, open in front to the early spring air.
“How long?” he had asked, and she'd looked at her watch.
“Half an hour,” she'd said and he remembers thinking they were cutting it closer. But then she had said, “It's time enough” and he had found himself agreeing.
“Yes. Time enough.”
He found he couldn’t remember what they had been moving towards and if half an hour had indeed been time enough. But he remembered walking with her, and he was seized suddenly with the desire to do it again.
“Annette!” he called down, and she stopped on the sidewalk, not puzzled, exactly, but her attention grabbed. She looked up and up and into him and their eyes met. There was a moment of acknowledgement as she remembered him, too. The man also stopped and glanced up at her cue. They went back a few steps, finding the fire escape attached to the side of the building Ray was occupying. The owners helpfully left it down, and they ascended. In the minutes it took them to appear, Ray pondered the wisdom of what he had done. Was she still the friend he remembered? Would she receive him with the same enthusiasm? And what of her companion? Who was he?
And then she was there, hauling herself over the edge, followed more gracefully by a young who, Ray noted, was his height, roughly, with long hair tied back with a ribbon. A ribbon? Ray considered.
“Ray Galilei,” said Annette. “Holy shit. I thought that was you.”
She came over and hugged him, her chin barely able to hook over his shoulder, just as had once been usual. Just like they had never been apart. He felt a faint tug in his chest, and blinked.
“Annette,” he said. “Annette Wilde. What the hell're you doing here? I though you lived – where was it?”
“Inuvik,” she said. “It's near the Arctic sea. Inaccessible at present, except by air, so I'm crashing with him. Ray Galilei, meet Alex Livanov. Livanov, I went to college with this guy.”
“Charmed.” Alex Livanov was smirking. Ray looked back at him and nodded.
“Likewise.”
Annette stepped back and looked between them. She had her thought face on, dark and hard, and Ray was unnerved. He looked again to Livanov, who was watching her with cautious eyes. She came to a decision, quick as a flash, and smiled at Ray, all crooked teeth and just a little too wide, just like always.
“Well, what're you up to, Ray? Still haunting rooftops in the night, I see.”
“It's not night, yet.” The protest was close to pathetic in its mildness. “And I'm working. On things. Like aways.”
“Still living with your parents?”
“My parents are dead.”
She nodded as though he'd said something profound. Livanov's eyebrows arched.
“Sucks, that,” he said.
Ray shrugged. “I've still got the house,” he said, as if it were an answer.
“And the airship?” said Annette, and smiled at his cringe. “Still non-functional, then?”
“Nonexistent,” he said. “I gutted it for parts. Built an air cannon.”
“Air cannon?” Annette and Livanov spoke as one, glee and surprised envy mixing between them so Ray couldn’t tell which came from where. Things got twisted in his head, sometimes. It was a problem.
It was then that Annette's phone rang. Or vibrated, rather, as the first sign Ray had of it was a sudden start and the jerk of a hand to her hip pocket. She muttered an apology and turned away as she answered, saying, “Mark? What's going on?” She took a few steps away and was immediately deep in conversation, leaving Ray and Livanov alone together as surely as if she were, once again, a million miles away.
“Air cannon?” Livanov said, again.
Ray shrugged. “It seemed like the thing to do.”
“Airship?” he asked, and stepped closer. Ray was suddenly uncomfortable.
“Airships are awesome,” he said.
“No argument here.”
With that, Livanov launched into a description of his ill-fated attempts to build a car that ran on steam. Alex Livanov, Ray discovered, was a mechanic. He wasn't expecting that. He wondered if Annette collected inventors.
“Huh,” he said, when Livanov had finished.
And then they talked. By the time Annette had resurfaced, some ten minutes had gone by in an instant and they might as well have been the only people on the planet.
“Hey, Livanov,” she said, with purpose. “I need you.” And then, to Ray, “Sorry, Ray, but – ” back to Livanov, “ – looks like they need us back. Can't leave em' alone for a minute.” She turned to Ray. “It's work. My nonprofit has an office here and crises only spring up when I'm in town. But it's good to see you.”
She stepped forward and hugged him, again.
“You, too.” As he said it, Ray realized it was true. It was good to see Annette. Really good. Amazingly good. He had missed her. And, all at once, the thought of letting go of her, again, of going back to his empty house (with his steam and his metal and neat rows of tools and his high rooftop from which he can see, but never touch, the whole world) was utterly repellent to him. He didn't want to do it; he couldn't do it. Unless. . .
“Hey,” he said. “You should come. You should come and see the house, again. The cannon. And everything.” His eyes had closed, somewhere along the way. When he opened them the air made them strangely cold. He looked at Livanov. “You can come, too. If you want.”
Annette looked at him and gave him a sideways smile, like she knew exactly what he was all about, even though that didn’t make any sense because she hadn’t seen him in years and not even Ray knew that.
“Sure,” she said. “Sounds good. Livanov, you in?”
Livanov shrugged and met Ray's gaze. His eyes were brown, and bright, and they had strange edges. “I got nothing on,” he said. “When?”
They left him, shortly after, Annette climbing and Livanov sliding over the side and down the metal stairs. He thought they had agreed to come by on Sunday, and that Annette had said she still knew where his house was, but he wasn’t quite sure. All he could really recall was the twist of her mouth and the edge to his eyes and the way it felt to hug her, again, and on the way home, he kept thinking and thinking about that and about that day back in college, when they had walked past the shattered earth with their winter coats open, and he tried to remember what it was they could possibly have had time enough for, when there was never enough time for anything.
And then he thought, Wow, because he never realized that he was so lonely.
Series: Ray
Rating: PG to PG-13, for mild language.
Word Count: 1267
Summary: On a rooftop, Ray reconnects with an old friend and meets someone new.
Notes: Creative writing class, spring 2009, I had to create a character and write about him.
Ray had been on the roof for half an hour, sitting on the edge, beating his heels slowly against the side as he watched the street below. Being a Wednesday, and past rush hour, there wasn't much foot traffic, so he noticed immediately when a mass of dark dreadlocks appeared, one he knew well, moving with the same certainty he remembered from college. On the sidewalk, heavy boots landed in front of each other as though daring the pavement to protest. There was man walking beside her, half a step behind. Ray remembered walking with her, past a construction site that was now the campus chapel, watching the shadow movements of her hair on the pavement. They had been wearing their winter coats, open in front to the early spring air.
“How long?” he had asked, and she'd looked at her watch.
“Half an hour,” she'd said and he remembers thinking they were cutting it closer. But then she had said, “It's time enough” and he had found himself agreeing.
“Yes. Time enough.”
He found he couldn’t remember what they had been moving towards and if half an hour had indeed been time enough. But he remembered walking with her, and he was seized suddenly with the desire to do it again.
“Annette!” he called down, and she stopped on the sidewalk, not puzzled, exactly, but her attention grabbed. She looked up and up and into him and their eyes met. There was a moment of acknowledgement as she remembered him, too. The man also stopped and glanced up at her cue. They went back a few steps, finding the fire escape attached to the side of the building Ray was occupying. The owners helpfully left it down, and they ascended. In the minutes it took them to appear, Ray pondered the wisdom of what he had done. Was she still the friend he remembered? Would she receive him with the same enthusiasm? And what of her companion? Who was he?
And then she was there, hauling herself over the edge, followed more gracefully by a young who, Ray noted, was his height, roughly, with long hair tied back with a ribbon. A ribbon? Ray considered.
“Ray Galilei,” said Annette. “Holy shit. I thought that was you.”
She came over and hugged him, her chin barely able to hook over his shoulder, just as had once been usual. Just like they had never been apart. He felt a faint tug in his chest, and blinked.
“Annette,” he said. “Annette Wilde. What the hell're you doing here? I though you lived – where was it?”
“Inuvik,” she said. “It's near the Arctic sea. Inaccessible at present, except by air, so I'm crashing with him. Ray Galilei, meet Alex Livanov. Livanov, I went to college with this guy.”
“Charmed.” Alex Livanov was smirking. Ray looked back at him and nodded.
“Likewise.”
Annette stepped back and looked between them. She had her thought face on, dark and hard, and Ray was unnerved. He looked again to Livanov, who was watching her with cautious eyes. She came to a decision, quick as a flash, and smiled at Ray, all crooked teeth and just a little too wide, just like always.
“Well, what're you up to, Ray? Still haunting rooftops in the night, I see.”
“It's not night, yet.” The protest was close to pathetic in its mildness. “And I'm working. On things. Like aways.”
“Still living with your parents?”
“My parents are dead.”
She nodded as though he'd said something profound. Livanov's eyebrows arched.
“Sucks, that,” he said.
Ray shrugged. “I've still got the house,” he said, as if it were an answer.
“And the airship?” said Annette, and smiled at his cringe. “Still non-functional, then?”
“Nonexistent,” he said. “I gutted it for parts. Built an air cannon.”
“Air cannon?” Annette and Livanov spoke as one, glee and surprised envy mixing between them so Ray couldn’t tell which came from where. Things got twisted in his head, sometimes. It was a problem.
It was then that Annette's phone rang. Or vibrated, rather, as the first sign Ray had of it was a sudden start and the jerk of a hand to her hip pocket. She muttered an apology and turned away as she answered, saying, “Mark? What's going on?” She took a few steps away and was immediately deep in conversation, leaving Ray and Livanov alone together as surely as if she were, once again, a million miles away.
“Air cannon?” Livanov said, again.
Ray shrugged. “It seemed like the thing to do.”
“Airship?” he asked, and stepped closer. Ray was suddenly uncomfortable.
“Airships are awesome,” he said.
“No argument here.”
With that, Livanov launched into a description of his ill-fated attempts to build a car that ran on steam. Alex Livanov, Ray discovered, was a mechanic. He wasn't expecting that. He wondered if Annette collected inventors.
“Huh,” he said, when Livanov had finished.
And then they talked. By the time Annette had resurfaced, some ten minutes had gone by in an instant and they might as well have been the only people on the planet.
“Hey, Livanov,” she said, with purpose. “I need you.” And then, to Ray, “Sorry, Ray, but – ” back to Livanov, “ – looks like they need us back. Can't leave em' alone for a minute.” She turned to Ray. “It's work. My nonprofit has an office here and crises only spring up when I'm in town. But it's good to see you.”
She stepped forward and hugged him, again.
“You, too.” As he said it, Ray realized it was true. It was good to see Annette. Really good. Amazingly good. He had missed her. And, all at once, the thought of letting go of her, again, of going back to his empty house (with his steam and his metal and neat rows of tools and his high rooftop from which he can see, but never touch, the whole world) was utterly repellent to him. He didn't want to do it; he couldn't do it. Unless. . .
“Hey,” he said. “You should come. You should come and see the house, again. The cannon. And everything.” His eyes had closed, somewhere along the way. When he opened them the air made them strangely cold. He looked at Livanov. “You can come, too. If you want.”
Annette looked at him and gave him a sideways smile, like she knew exactly what he was all about, even though that didn’t make any sense because she hadn’t seen him in years and not even Ray knew that.
“Sure,” she said. “Sounds good. Livanov, you in?”
Livanov shrugged and met Ray's gaze. His eyes were brown, and bright, and they had strange edges. “I got nothing on,” he said. “When?”
They left him, shortly after, Annette climbing and Livanov sliding over the side and down the metal stairs. He thought they had agreed to come by on Sunday, and that Annette had said she still knew where his house was, but he wasn’t quite sure. All he could really recall was the twist of her mouth and the edge to his eyes and the way it felt to hug her, again, and on the way home, he kept thinking and thinking about that and about that day back in college, when they had walked past the shattered earth with their winter coats open, and he tried to remember what it was they could possibly have had time enough for, when there was never enough time for anything.
And then he thought, Wow, because he never realized that he was so lonely.