Zoe Thanatos(12)

“Where would you like to go?” There was only one way to know why their paths had crossed, and for what purpose.

Zoe steepled her fingers conspiratorially in front of her chest. “It’s just after five in the morning in Paris,” she whispered.

“Paris, France?” He had been once previously and found he didn’t have a taste for it, but didn’t have the heart to decline her request.

“I hate airplanes,” she confessed, as if the explanation was all that was necessary. Perhaps whatever logic was behind the statement made more sense to her in her mind than it did out loud.

Like all of his actions that day he had no clue what the repercussions of that particular one would be. He never ‘popped’ in and out of places, as she so eloquently put it, and didn’t know what kind of effect it would have on her. She blacked out the first time, most likely due to the particular circumstances of the event. She was perfectly fine when they went to the vineyard; it seemed to lift her spirits.

“Take my hand,” he instructed. He reached out with his left hand. She hesitated for a moment; finally, she placed her right hand in his.

He found a small grove of potted trees that were just tall enough to obscure them from any direct line of sight. There were only a few people walking about minding their own business and paying no attention to them. Certain that no other eyes were on them, he held her hand tighter and looked down into her expectant gaze.

“Don’t let go,” he whispered.

For the second time that evening the streets of downtown Ventura disappeared around them, replaced with the much older and grander architecture of Paris. Morning light had yet to break through the sky and the lights from the streets were still glowing around them. Zoe’s eyes grew large, her pupils dilating to compensate for the dim sky and hiding the beautiful brown. She drank in the sight around them in awe, keeping her breath as though expelling it would make the world around her disappear.

“How do you do that?” she whispered in wonder.

The soft glow of the lights reflected in her eyes created a confetti of gold that sparkled as she took in their surroundings. It was evident in her face that she was instantly enchanted with the city. He wondered if she had ever been anywhere. Maybe that island far off the coast of California was her only foray into the world outside her own? Her hand tightened considerably in his, holding on as though to keep her from floating away. Her hand was much smaller than his and he adjusted it to compensate, stretching his palm and fingers to keep her safe on the ground.

Though still beautiful, she did not have the face of the girl who sadly watched the ocean pass around her, or who stood peacefully still before taking a running leap off a cliff. Hers was not the face of a girl who wanted to end her life. He hadn’t saved her by jumping after her, but perhaps he was the catalyst for something far greater for her. In that moment with Paris reflected in her eyes and her hand stowed securely in his own, he felt like it was his responsibility to keep her safe, to make her happy. If his help was what would bring any measure of happiness to her life then he would do it gladly.

“Seriously,” she started, breaking his concentration. “How are you able to do this?”

“I can’t really explain it,” he shrugged. His eyes were stuck on hers, not caring for the beauty around them so much as the interpretation of it on her lovely face. “The easiest explanation is that I’m not beholden to the rules of this place like you are. The world is very different where I come from.”

“And where is that exactly?” she whispered. He could see that he had her full attention, and maybe a bit of her trust. He understood that she was asking for answers to questions he never had to answer before, but in that space with her he felt as though he could give her what she wanted.

“I’ll tell you,” he promised. She looked hopefully up at him, the color of the sky changing behind her as the morning light started to trickle in. “But not yet. Name another place.”

She took one last glance around her, taking in as much as she could manage in so little time. “Everywhere.”





He took her anywhere she asked: outside the gates of Buckingham Palace in London; beneath a stone post and lintel of Stonehenge; the middle of the Brooklyn Bridge in New York; the Vatican in Italy. He kept her hand in his as they made their way around the western hemisphere, eventually making their way to the harbor in Sydney and the city streets of Athens beneath the ancient ruins of the Acropolis. It was in Greece when he noticed their travels were having an adverse affect on her. She nearly stumbled to the ground of the agora and it was only the grip of his hand that kept her on both feet.