like, do you think, to pretend we were…no, not pretend." He tapped a pensive finger Page 28
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on the table. "What if we let down our defenses, all those social walls we create to fence in acceptable behavior and fence out anything else, and found the children in ourselves again? That sense of wondrous, unselfconscious adventure, when games were fun and yet utterly serious, the fate of the universe hanging on our shoulders until Mother called us home to dinner."
He had her undivided attention. She knew he had Josh's as well, though Josh was keeping his attention on the window, his hostile eyes focused on glass instead of his friend. "That time when we openly embraced our need for someone to love us, care about us, believe that we were essentially good people, worthy of being loved," Marcus said. "The time of our lives where, if we were privileged enough, we were equally capable of spending a day as heroes or watching butterflies. Think how it would be if we could do it, in our very adult bodies, recapture that which we did not appreciate then. The savoring of quiet moments that first time you did anything, that intense joy and faith in life, in who you are and what you could be to others. Think what it could mean to everything else in your life. You can recreate that in a place like this."
Marcus leaned forward, eyed Lauren as if he were a god about to impart one of the deeper mysteries of the universe. "A game, as you well know, can be a serious thing with a serious intent."
Her brow furrowed, her mind considering the layers of meaning, but he wasn't done spinning out all the fabric to it.
"When you were young, nobody played the game if they didn't want to play. And when you played, you trusted your playmates because they were, after all, your comrades-in-arms, those who would help you save your universe. So," he shifted, leaning back against the sectional sofa and stretching out his well-defined arms on either side of him. His dark hair brushed his bare shoulders and his jewel green eyes met Lauren's. "Would you care to play High Card Wins?"
Josh rose, moving away from Lauren's touch, and taking his wine glass with him. "I can't believe you're pulling this shit," he muttered, draining it in two angry gulps.
"Are you afraid of a game, Josh?" Marcus asked.
"Yes, goddamnit," Josh slammed the glass down and the fragile stem of the expensive crystal broke against the etched glass of Lisette's side table, spilling the last swallow of red liquid across its surface. "It's fucking games that… Hell," he pointed a finger at Lauren, "That's probably what brought her running here. If people played a few less fucking games, maybe it wouldn't be such a screwed-up world. Maybe people could just love each other and not frigging wonder if it was all some goddamned cruel trick. They wouldn't begin to believe that when they die, rather than an afterlife, it will be one single moment of getting the big cosmic joke, that nothing meant shit, ever, and then bam! You're fucking dust."
Lauren registered the tears in his eyes a stunned moment before he spun away from them both, the habitual male defense to keep uncontained emotions screened from view. Her attention snapped to Marcus.
The art dealer's expression was filled with pain. She recognized what it was, because a physician was trained to mask that type of pain.
He was trying to heal Josh, without any roadmap of how to do it. There rarely was one. A physician was given a certain amount of knowledge to get started in the right direction, but when it came down to it, there were too many factors that could contribute to an illness. Sometimes the physician just had to follow intuition, hoping to ask the right question, get the response that would reveal the cure. Though Marcus had flinched, as she had, at the violence of Josh's reaction, there was no shock in his pained Page 29
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Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
on the table. "What if we let down our defenses, all those social walls we create to fence in acceptable behavior and fence out anything else, and found the children in ourselves again? That sense of wondrous, unselfconscious adventure, when games were fun and yet utterly serious, the fate of the universe hanging on our shoulders until Mother called us home to dinner."
He had her undivided attention. She knew he had Josh's as well, though Josh was keeping his attention on the window, his hostile eyes focused on glass instead of his friend. "That time when we openly embraced our need for someone to love us, care about us, believe that we were essentially good people, worthy of being loved," Marcus said. "The time of our lives where, if we were privileged enough, we were equally capable of spending a day as heroes or watching butterflies. Think how it would be if we could do it, in our very adult bodies, recapture that which we did not appreciate then. The savoring of quiet moments that first time you did anything, that intense joy and faith in life, in who you are and what you could be to others. Think what it could mean to everything else in your life. You can recreate that in a place like this."
Marcus leaned forward, eyed Lauren as if he were a god about to impart one of the deeper mysteries of the universe. "A game, as you well know, can be a serious thing with a serious intent."
Her brow furrowed, her mind considering the layers of meaning, but he wasn't done spinning out all the fabric to it.
"When you were young, nobody played the game if they didn't want to play. And when you played, you trusted your playmates because they were, after all, your comrades-in-arms, those who would help you save your universe. So," he shifted, leaning back against the sectional sofa and stretching out his well-defined arms on either side of him. His dark hair brushed his bare shoulders and his jewel green eyes met Lauren's. "Would you care to play High Card Wins?"
Josh rose, moving away from Lauren's touch, and taking his wine glass with him. "I can't believe you're pulling this shit," he muttered, draining it in two angry gulps.
"Are you afraid of a game, Josh?" Marcus asked.
"Yes, goddamnit," Josh slammed the glass down and the fragile stem of the expensive crystal broke against the etched glass of Lisette's side table, spilling the last swallow of red liquid across its surface. "It's fucking games that… Hell," he pointed a finger at Lauren, "That's probably what brought her running here. If people played a few less fucking games, maybe it wouldn't be such a screwed-up world. Maybe people could just love each other and not frigging wonder if it was all some goddamned cruel trick. They wouldn't begin to believe that when they die, rather than an afterlife, it will be one single moment of getting the big cosmic joke, that nothing meant shit, ever, and then bam! You're fucking dust."
Lauren registered the tears in his eyes a stunned moment before he spun away from them both, the habitual male defense to keep uncontained emotions screened from view. Her attention snapped to Marcus.
The art dealer's expression was filled with pain. She recognized what it was, because a physician was trained to mask that type of pain.
He was trying to heal Josh, without any roadmap of how to do it. There rarely was one. A physician was given a certain amount of knowledge to get started in the right direction, but when it came down to it, there were too many factors that could contribute to an illness. Sometimes the physician just had to follow intuition, hoping to ask the right question, get the response that would reveal the cure. Though Marcus had flinched, as she had, at the violence of Josh's reaction, there was no shock in his pained Page 29
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