Convergent

And so the Insect meets the Bird

WARNING: The bottom paragraph on page 6 is part of a sex scene. Be aware if you are sensitive to these subjects. If you choose to read it, tantric is slow.

Tobias

The morning's golden light bled through the window and landed onto us, warming us in the process. When it fell over Tris, it fell in a way that made it appear as if she has a halo. Beautiful. The back of my fingers steadily went down her cheek. She did not stir as sleep held her down and serenity replaced the oxygen in the room, making time move slower. The last time I woke like this must've been about 6 years now, a memory as haunting and alluring as it is wistful and youthly. But, the past is the past, and if there's one thing I'm good at, it's escaping the past's icy claws. So, not eager to travel back in time, I push the memory off into an endless abyss and return my focus to Tris. How many a night have I stayed up wishing for something like this? And now, like a kid receiving exactly what they wanted on Christmas, my wish has been granted. Not even Wendy could fulfill it. Yet, whenever something this good hops into the road that is my life, it very soon vanishes into another, leaving me a lone traveler. Wendy's quote rushed back to me like two long lost friends meeting for the first time in ages. "You're a murder and murders don't deserve love." It seemed too true to ignore. I was living proof her theory was authentic. After murdering so many, love has absconded me more times than there are numbers fit to describe it. Tris has abandoned me once; who was to say she wouldn't again? Before I can contribute more to that thought, my alarm screeches like a bird with a sore throat, eliciting Tris to nearly jump out of her own body in surprise.

"What? What is that?" she mumbles, still half asleep, eyes only partly open. I sigh. "My alarm. Gotta get Jason ready for his final day of school, or as he prefers to call it, the day before he gets released from prison," I replied. She laughed and got up, eyes on an adventure seeking her apparel. She found her underwear and dress easily enough, yet her bra must've grown legs and walked away in the night as it was nowhere in sight. I aided her in searching for it, but to no avail. It had simply disappeared into the Bermuda Triangle. "Doesn't matter, I'll just wear my shirt, whiiiiiiiiich I don't have," she realizes, emphasizing "which". She ambles to my closet, opens it, and puts on the first shirt she finds. I cock my head and suppress laughter. It's too big for her and she looks hilarious. "Pants, however, are going to be a bigger challenge," she acknowledges. Unable to contain it anymore, I laugh, kiss the top of her head, and walk downstairs wishing Tris good luck in her quest as I do. "Don't need it," she yells back.

Jason is sitting at the kitchen table by the time I arrive, fully dressed. He grins from ear to ear, knowing full well that on the last day of school, breakfast is entirely up to him. Last year, breakfast was a burger containing a strawberry donut with sprinkles, hashbrowns, and maple syrup. This made me want to gag, yet somehow, Jason was able to stomach it down. Unbelievable. I spoil him way too much. Today, the customer requested waffles with syrup and butter, pizza, and pretzels. The pretzels we had, the pizza I had to order. Midway during breakfast, Tris sauntered downstairs wearing my plaid green and red shirt with the bottom part of her two piece dress as pants. The two clothes looked more out of place than an elephant at a mouse farm. "Morning," she greets, smiling. Once her eyes catch sight of Jason's breakfast, she laughs. Jason merely grins that award winning smile at her. She heads towards the kitchen and retrieves a Coke from the fridge, then searches the cabinets for a cup to contain the drink. Laughter erupts from the kitchen. "Oh my God, this is adorable!" she exclaims. I look toward the cup she's holding. In kindergarten, for Father's Day, the kids made a "World's Best Dad" mug. Obviously, the cups were previously manufactured. The students just drew pictures and wrote stuff on a piece of paper that the teachers glued on the mug since the children could not be trusted with the cups yet. Jason's childhood drawings designed the mug and his chicken scratch writing that took up a whole side read "World's Best Dad". I explained the scenario to Tris and her response was more laughter. "This is so cute!" She pulls out her phone and takes a picture of not one, but all sides. Great. Jason finds the whole situation as hilarious as she does. "I had to take that mug to and from work every day for almost a year, enduring the jokes made at my expense all the while from some," I admit. Tris laughs like someone is tickling her rib cages. "Aw, I bet they even shot you looks of sympathy. They probably thought, 'Oh, look at that poor loser. Tut, tut, tut, such a waste of manhood.' See this is why men get vasectomies," Jason claims. More laughter, from whom is impossible to tell now. "You know what a vasectomy is?" I ask. He shrugs. "No, I just heard that from Tyler," Jason admits. "He's my best friend," he explains to Tris. She pulls out another cup. "Oh, this is cool! It's so Christmas like." "That's Dad's old cup. He used to drink out of it at Christmas, but now it's dustier than the Sahara," Jason announces. "Isn't the Sahara sandy?" Tris questions. "Same thing," says Jason. Tris fills the unutilized cup with ice and Coke. "I hope you don't mind, but I'll be having a liquid breakfast this morning," she states, sitting down across from Jason. Her phone starts to ring, a Mrs. Figueroa apparently calling. Isn't that Tris's boss? I hand her the phone and she thanks me, mouth overflowing with Coke. She presses answer.