Chapter 16: Don't Let Your Eyes Betray You

Background

Wilma Rae Downs, a 69 year old mountain recluse, and her long time partner, Simon, have but four hours to escape the tragedy they face. Simon's indispensable artistic masterpiece is in jeopardy of being demolished, too. He must dismantle it, quickly.

It was late in the night when Wilma awoke. The deafening sounds of silent stillness and tomb blackness frightened her. Her inconsistent memory betrayed her, leaving the explanation of why she was not in her own bedroom, unanswered. Except for one tiny slit of light, in which she could clearly see that Simon had not gone to sleep, familiar fear gripped her heart.

She stared into the night.

Of course, it was easy to understand why Simon had not gone to bed since she occupied the mattress. To be honest, little space was available in the small sphere, since Simon's masterpiece took up the better part of the bedroom. Starkly, Wilma realized this was the one and only time she had ever ventured onto to 'his' bed. Never before was she even allowed to penetrate the doorway.

She listened for familiar sounds.

Ever since the fateful day he moved in, he remained virtually inaccessible. An unusually awkward, thick atmosphere hung in the air, making it especially hard for her to breathe. Eyes, filled with utter astonishment, looked around at the indescribable creation.

"How in the world had he accomplished such a prodigious project?" Her vexed mind rambled.

"Simon," she apologized quietly, "I'm real sorry; I took up your bed, tonight. I didn't mean to sleep so long. I hope I didn't inconvenience you, too much."

"Perfect peace." He grunted, as he reached for one corner of the masterfully crafted artistic work.

"She tried to sit up but found it most difficult as a result of the trauma she had suffered at the hands of Jasper. She vaguely remembered him slapping her which she had not been able to do the day before. Her entire frail body ached; pressure in her chest echoed the heaviness of the fluid which had accumulated in her ankles, due to swelling. She readily identified the symptoms as a bad flare-up of bronchitis.

Lying back down, she announced halfheartedly.

"I rather be a-fishing. How about you, Simon?"

He had moved to the other side of the room meticulously tending to the final touches of his creation.

"You never stop, do you? It's all finished and you won't leave it alone." She lectured.

"Must fit." He gleamed as he struggled with it.

Wilma quickly realized that Simon was planning to roll it up and get it outside before the 'State' showed up. She knew perfectly well, he couldn't stand the idea of anything happening to his coveted arduous effort. Beyond that, she had no idea how he planned on executing the self-vested scheme.

"How do you plan to get it out of this house, Simon? I would help you but I'm just not able."

"No trouble."

He might not see it as trouble but Wilma definitely did. It was the source of all of her troubles since she first met him. But, there was no need in arguing about that, now. Living on borrowed time, she fixated on the fact that the 'State' would be there in less than four hours. So implausible to her, was the unpalatable idea that his concerns manifested only as a result of HIS project.

However, knowing that indisputable fact, she had to deal with the immediate dilemma; Simon wanted her OUT of his room, right now.

He continued scatting about meticulously tucking and pulling making certain to put off the vibes of intolerant impatience toward her. She struggled, once more, to get off his bed.

"Simon, I'm so glad you were able to carry your art through to a satisfying state of perfection. That's what it's all about; being able to do something you're proud of that means something to you. I sure hope we get through this mess. So the world can finally see just what a fabulous inventor you are. Your illuminating creation speaks of enormous gifts and talents, you possess."

"And, because I believe in you strongly, along with the god-delivered purpose of your work, I just KNOW beyond a shadow of a doubt, some miracle is going to happen for us, don't you?"

"Present Purpose."

Wilma had no clue what he meant but responded as if she did.

"Whatever you say, Simon whatever you say." She tried straightening her legs out before she could ease herself off the bed.

Simon did not offer to help. He simply kept the committed effort to detach, pull, smooth and roll. She figured; why not let him work until daylight IF that's what he wanted to do. IF it brought him happiness, as it always had, let him perform whatever ritual he needed to do to make sure he had it exactly like he wanted it. She'd resolved herself to the fact; he was not going to accept the tyranny of the situation. She must face the facts, too. She was so cold; her chest burned, head throbbed and legs ached.

"Whatever was going to be was going to be." She muttered under her breath.

After all she gone through in past 24 hours, she could neither physically nor mentally fight the 'State'. They were bigger than she and Simon put together, and possessed all of the power of what would happen to her.

"Anyway," she blurted out "We do have that damned check. It's a big one, too. I bet I could buy a real fancy house down the mountain; maybe one with a big ole art studio just for you, Simon. Would you like that?"

"Art Provides."

Wilma was completely startled by his emphatic tone.

"Yes, it does, my dear precious philosophical friend. The lover of my soul, the one person whose every thought has always been to care for me even when I was unaware of it. I appreciate you, Simon more than you can possibly know. You've always been right here for me. I just realized, the house is not important at all, what is important is that I have you until the end."

"The end." He quipped.

Wilma could only salvage two more hours of sleep before daylight, determined to make it to her room, she paused for one last moment to gaze at Simon.

Simon Says, "People don't change seasons do. Maybe, the season has changed for the both of us."

Author's Notes: No other photo could I have possibly have found that better depicts the situation, Wilma faces. "Thank YOU", DaveChappell for the use of this artistic work.