The Other Side of Anne (8 page)

After Avery and Anne hauled the paintings into the farmhouse, Avery explained his meeting with Benjamin. “The surveillance car stays, for better or worse.”

Anne was not surprised.
It would have been suspicious if Pegasus, or Benjamin, gave in quickly.

“Let’s go out and
do something,” Avery suggested. “How about bowling? Or skating? Have you done either?”

“I have been to a rink
but declined to skate. Benjamin wanted to try, so we went with Nate and your mother.”

Avery
frowned, his good cheer evaporating.

“Your mother was not that bad,” Anne was compelled to say. And it was true, partially.
Bella Franklin had a softer, warmer touch than Charles and Benjamin. But Bella had loved to confide in Anne, if confiding was the right word with all the cameras and microphones. Bella talked in such a way that made Anne think she did it just so she could continually tell herself: “Look at me! My confidante is Anne Boleyn. Am I not special?”

“Let’s not talk about my mother right now,” Avery said. “Why didn’t you skate
at the rink?”

Anne stifled a snort. She, the queen of England, fumbling and falling over herself? She would be far from the picture of dignity. “I did not care to skate,”
she replied.

“You want to go?
I used to a few times a year. It’s the best exercise. It clears my mind like nothing else.”

“You
went alone?”

Avery’s nose twitched. “Well, no. My wife and I, we went. She’s dead now. Mandy.”

“Your mother told me about your wife.”

“Ah.”

“I will watch you skate. If the rink has arcade games, I may partake in them.”

“
Did Benjamin skate?”

“He did,” Anne said. “He made a spectacle of himself.”
And loved it.
Benjamin and Nate had laughed the whole time. Laughed and skated, and Bella had been right with them. “Come on,” she had urged Anne. “Have some fun.”

Sometimes
Anne wished she could be more like Benjamin and enjoy life more. But he was a man. He had it easier; he was in charge of his own destiny.

**

At the rink, Anne watched as Avery pulled out his inline skates, a sleek red and black pair with four wheels. Better than her bland skates. Avery had rented a pair for Anne despite her insistence that her mind would remain unchanged. About fifteen people glided—or staggered—around the floor. Fifteen people too many for Anne. She would be mortified if she fell.

“Sure you won’t join me?” Avery
said.

“I am sure.”

“Okay. Hey, something’s on your shirt.”

Anne looked down. “
I do not—”

Avery
flicked her on the chin. “Got you. Made you look.”

Anne found herself smiling,
found herself drawn to Avery’s playfulness, to his charming eyes. She really did miss kissing a man. She wanted to kiss Avery, wanted him to kiss her. She hated the thought of suddenly losing control of her fades and disappearing into nothingness without a last kiss from a man. Without a last frolic in bed.

Avery skated off, and he
moved quickly, powerfully, with grace. He showed no signs of rust. He was sexuality personified. Sexiness personified. Powerful thighs, powerful chest. Anne desired to see him naked. To see his manhood. His long and erect manhood. She desired to feel it inside her. Thrusting. Thumping. Hungry.

Anne’s face flushed, and she inspected the arcade games. I
nserted a quarter into a pinball machine. She made her way through several games, sneaking peeks at Avery all the while. The languishing pair of skates haunted her. She could be out there too. She could be laughing with him. She was no longer Anne Boleyn; she was no queen. She was Anne George, commoner, and she would need to adapt if she were to survive and be happy. If she were to be independent.

She would have to let herself go and trust Avery
Franklin. The prospect terrified her.

**

Avery and Anne got a pizza from the rink’s cafe. “How did you meet Mandy?” Anne asked over a gooey slice of pepperoni and bacon.

Avery’s expression darkened
. “We met in high school.”

“Tell me more.”

“She was a cheerleader, a perfect blonde. I was a misfit going through my Goth phase. I told myself I hated the cheerleader types, but inside, I didn’t.” Avery shrugged and inhaled a slice of pizza as if to end the story.

“What else?” Anne prodded.

“I liked her, okay? From the first time I saw Mandy, I fell in love with her. I couldn’t help it. The way she moved, the way she talked. Have you felt that for anyone?”

Anne shook her head.

“Fast forward to when we’re twenty-five. She’s a cop. She’s called to an environmental protest that is getting out of hand. The police chief wants her to arrest protesters. Lo and behold, who does she see but Avery Franklin from high school. She tells me I’m under arrest.”

Anne leaned forward, caught up in
the story, even though she’d heard it from Bella.

“ ‘
Avery Franklin?’ Mandy asked. ‘Oh my gosh. Is that you?’ I was shocked. Mandy knew my name! I stuttered some sort of ‘Yes’ reply, and it turned out she used to have a crush on me too.”

“Wow.”

Avery balled his napkin up. “Enough about Mandy. Let’s skate and have fun. Okay?”

Anne’s earlier desire to trust Avery vanished. She
would fall. Lots. Avery would have to help her up. He would have his arms around her, body against body, muscular chest against breasts. “That is most kind of you to ask, Sir Franklin. But I decline.”

**

THE LUV TOY was an oblong, light-pink vibrator with a purple base. Its colors reminded Anne of Elizabeth’s family tree mural, which remained on the walls outside Pegasus. She wondered if the vibrator would work. The battery had to be at least a year and a half old because that much time had passed since Bella Franklin gifted Anne with the thing.

“This is a vibrator,”
Bella had explained. “Some women prefer their orgasms this way.”

Anne
said nothing. Made no move to take the vibrator. She refused her captors access into any aspect of her sexual life. Bella winked and tucked the toy inside Anne’s nightstand—where it had stayed, untouched, until the trip to Pegasus earlier today.

Anne twisted the vibrator’s base, and THE LUV TOY hummed on. Strong movements, for sure. Not loud, though. Avery would not hear. Good.
Anne turned off the vibrator and her bedroom lights. She got into bed. She pulled down her sweat pants and underwear halfway.

What now? Anne had been
curious about this moment for a year and a half. Now that the time had come, Anne realized how pathetic she was being alone in bed with a plastic, battery-operated sex aid masquerading as a lover. She should be across the hallway in Avery’s bed, even if they did nothing but sleep. Even if there was no touching.

Anne sighed.
Deal with it. Get over it.
She liked these blunt, flippant American sayings. She turned the vibrator on and pressed it against her clit. Tingles wrecked her body, and she jumped.
WHOA!
She pulled the vibrator back and took a moment to recover. She had to tug her underwear up for insulation and lowered the vibrator again.

Wow.
Wow.
She sank into sensations.
Oh goodness.
This was...

Anne trembled
. She writhed.
Oh, Lord.
This felt so damn good, so sinfully good. She would come soon, too soon, and she wanted to come, and at the same time, she did not. She wanted to savor her first vibrator orgasm. Too late. There it was, her orgasm, with precious little build-up. Anne checked the time. Less than a minute. She flopped against the pillows. She would need more time to recover from her orgasm than she had spent getting it. No wonder women loved their vibrators. Easy, quick, no-muss orgasms, and
different
, too.

About five minutes later, Anne kissed the toy. The scent of her juices was faint, but definitely there. “I suppose it is up to you to keep me company, Luv Toy,” she said. “You are not too bad. You will do.”

She brought her new friend down for another whirl.

**

The next two nights, Anne got to know her vibrator friend more intimately. She also had nosebleeds from her right nostril, and at exactly the same time: two thirty-one a.m. Both nosebleeds were so bad she jerked awake with a start. Something was in her throat, choking her. Her gag reflexes kicked in, and she spit out blood that had traveled back into her throat. Both times, the nosebleeds stopped at two thirty-three a.m.

The
y scared Anne. She had never experienced nosebleeds, and she did not tell Avery about them. Keeping her clean-up activities as quiet as possible, she stuffed her tissues far down the small bedroom trash can. She washed her pajamas herself and studied the business card Avery had given her with Benjamin’s number.

“It’s up to you whether to call him
and tell him about the fade delay,” Avery had said.

Anne would never call him. She
loathed him, like she loathed Henry and Charles. She would not telephone Dr. Benjamin Franklin anytime. Period.

On the third night, Anne
dared not sleep. She gazed at the stars on the ceiling and let them comfort her. She and Avery had gone to Wal-Mart two days ago to buy her clothes and other odds and ends. Avery happened to see a package of these stars. “I loved this when I was a kid,” he enthused. “I bet they’re better now. You
have
to try it.”

Anne had liked
Avery’s grin, the light in his eyes. That was all the persuading she needed to agree to the stars.

Anne glanced at the clock. A few more minutes. At two twenty-nine,
she turned the lamp on to its lowest setting and stuffed a tissue into her right nostril. She waited. The time for the bleeding came, and nothing occurred. At two-forty, Anne allowed herself a relieved breath and yanked the tissue out. Maybe she had been ill from her time stream fluctuation, but she was recovered.
Maybe, maybe. Please let it be so.

A knock sounded on the door. “Anne?” came Avery’s voice.

What is this?
Anne crumpled the tissue and slipped it into her wastebasket. She padded to the door and opened it a crack. “Yes?”

“Did it happen?” Avery
asked.

“
I know not what you mean.”

Avery glanced
past Anne’s shoulder. “You didn’t get out of bed earlier. So it didn’t come? That’s good. I’ve been worried.”

“About what?”

Avery sighed. “I’ve heard you get up the past two nights at the same time and go into the bathroom and do a few other things. What’s happened?”

T
he earnestness in Avery’s voice touched Anne. He was trying to help. “Very well,” Anne said. She had to start trusting Avery at some point. She went on to tell him about the nosebleeds.

“Wow,” Avery
said after Anne finished. “You should’ve told me.”

“I did not want to worry you unnecessarily. And you see why. No bleeds tonight.”

“You will be up at two-thirty tomorrow anyway,” Avery said.

“Yes,” Anne had to admit. “You are correct.”

“Does Benjamin have nosebleeds?”

“I do not know. He and
your father were closed-lipped.”

“I can’t imagine how scared you are,”
Avery said softly. “You handle it so well.”

“One could say the same about you.”

Avery’s eyes rounded. “What?”

“
You internalize,” Anne said.
As do I.
“Your mother told me that once, you thought you saw Mandy. After she died.”

Avery
sat on the bed and glanced at Anne. “Several times, actually. Sometimes I still do.”

“Really?
You see Mandy?” Anne sat close to Avery. Not so close their legs touched, but close.

“
She appears to me sometimes.”

“As a ghost?”

“No. She appears in my mind once in a while. She talks to me. She asks questions and tells me things.”

“
But you said you see her,” Anne pointed out.

“
I hear her, I mean.”

Anne wished she could reach out and touch
Avery to comfort him. Squeeze his shoulder. She owed him that much after what he had done to help her. Anne slipped her foot forward a bit. Then a bit more, until her foot brushed Avery’s. “What does Mandy say?”