A scratchpad for photographic and literary ideas

Sunday, 1/20/2013 – Newlyweds

Lying awake, Kira has never felt closer to anyone. She can feel Thom’s breaths perfectly synchronized with her own, his heart beating in time with hers.

This is love. We are one.

Kira is still a little light-headed from their wedding: small, a few friends, Dr.Joyner performing the ceremony. They could have afforded more but they wanted their union to be a quiet, private, reflective time. There would be time for celebration later. Now, was their time.

Thom lays awake beside her. She knows.

He knows that I am awake, too.

Neither wants to move and disturb the other.

Slowly, Kira lifts her hand and reaches across to place a finger lightly on Thom’s chest. As her finger finds his flesh, she feels a tingle as he touches her breast. She slides her finger along his skin and allows her palm and all of her fingers to caress his chest.

As if choreographed, his hand mirrors her movements.

Light touches become more insistent, caresses moving toward massage. Friction warms the skin. As fingers find nipples a single, sharp intake of breath stabs between them like an exclamation point.

Their eyes flutter unfocused as ragged breaths tremble their bodies. Kira feels her wetness and Thom’s erection. She bites her lip and reaches down between their legs.

Her fingers find Thom’s. Together their hands probe for more.

But there is nothing. No hair, no mound, no penis. Nothing but smooth skin – his and hers – separated by a small scar.

They are one.

With only fingertips touching, they  trace the scar, from pelvis to navel to neck to chin, up across lips, nose, between their eyes. Their fingers part at their hairline, Kira’s moving down through her long dark hair, Thom’s sliding over his close cropped stubble.

Pain, like a hot poker, sears the flesh along the scar as they move to face each other. Above their head a red light blinks on and the machine behind it starts beeping.

Instantly, the door to their room is pushed open by tall woman in a white uniform.

Startled, Kira starts to turn, to cover herself. A single scream from Kira/Thom as pain volcanos out of the still moist scar separating them.

“Relax, relax…” The nurse’s words are lost in their agony.

She stabs a large red button on the machine and the pain separating Kira and Thom subsides.

“… relax. It will take some time to get accustomed to being married.” She presses other buttons, numbers on the front of the machine dance.

Kira floats. Thom, her other half, floats along with her. Married, she thinks, yes, we are married. We are one.

The nurse writes something in a chart then places it on the table beside the bed.

“The doctor will be in soon.” She bends, adjusts her glasses and runs her finger lightly over the scar and, as if to herself, she adds, “Good job, very good job.” She looks up to find Kira/Thom’s eyes watching her.

“Would you like to see?”

They nod in unison.

The nurse wheels a large mirror to the bottom of the bed. As she tilts it down, Kira/Thom sees how marriage has changed them.

They are one.

On the left half of the mirror Kira sees Thom, on the right half, herself. When she blinks, he blinks. What she thinks, he thinks.

Because their frames were close in size, their choices had been many. Other couples have had to accept one “dominant” body and integrate components from the other. Kira and Thom were more compatible and could be “wedded” more equally.

They had chosen to halve themselves and conjoin in equal measure. Lefthanded, Thom’s left side was merged to Kira’s right. To maintain motor skills, their brains had been merged in the opposite.

With the exception of genitals, their organs had been merged equally.

In the prior decades, overpopulation and pollution had caused governments to make reproduction by citizens illegal. Marriages like Kira and Thom’s, rather than maintaining the population, reduced it by one.

Kira/Thom looked at itself. As medications pillowed Kira/Thom into sleep they wondered what it might have been like to have chosen their passive sides.

In a room across the hall Thom has never felt closer to anyone. He can feel Kira’s breaths perfectly synchronized with his own, her heart beating in time with his.

This is love.

We are one.

 NOTE: The sketches used in the composited illustration above were taken from the website and are from the book Drawing the Head and Hands by Andrew Loomis.

Posted in Uncategorized.

1 comment

One Reply

  1. cooperthom Jan 20th 2013

    What an imagination you have! And you set me up for a sex story! (smile). Keep it up. You may be the next Asimov.


Leave a Reply

You must be logged in to post a comment.