The hero and the princess - 11

Dante did not go to the park when the weather was nice. He had enough descriptions of the buildings, and his game wasn't fun anymore. He didn't go to the coffee shop, either, mostly because he still didn't like the taste.

Vanessa had a surgery, and Dante used staying home to be a help as an excuse to never leave the house. He developed a project or a chore when the family went out to movies on the weekend, and never felt well when it was time to do the shopping.

He didn't notice his carpet was stained with spilled desserts; Vanessa and Daphne meticulously scrubbed to get rid of the texture, the smell, but the color just wouldn't come up.

Dante kept her forgotten cardigan under his pillow. Her shoes he left on the porch, and one day they were gone. But the cardigan he kept hidden; it would wander away, if he let it.

The seasons changed and the weather turned cold. Dante enjoyed the cold weather; he never wore his boots, no matter how much it rained. Then change blew in again and the weather turned warm.

And hot.

And cool.

And warm again, in one of those humid autumn days that remind folks they're glad to be rid of summer and can't wait for spring. Dante was running errands for his sister; he was waiting at the bus stop and could hear it up the street. Buses made distinct sounds.

Everyone jumbled together as the bus drew near, and a desperate pair of clacking heels pressed to the front. Shoving commenced and Dante sighed and let himself be bumped around; he wasn't in the mood to fight today. Or make the peace, as far as that went. So he groaned and folded up his cane as the bus drew nearer and the crowd grumbled: "Watch it, lady!"

It's funny, how the tone of a phrase changes its meaning. There wasn't anything more than a jingle of jewelry to alert Dante to the difference between one "Watch it, lady!" and the next.

But it was enough.

With the bus bearing down he pushed, carefully, to the front of the crowd. He took a second for a breath and to remind himself he was blind, and in that second something miraculous happened.

Dante was rewarded with a vision.

There she was, the lady with the clacking heels, one broken in her hand. Her back was to him, but he recognized the lace on her springtime shoulders, the butter cream and licorice tiers of her skirt. She turned to face them, face him, and her eyes were the saddest flavor he'd ever seen. Then she turned to look at the bus, and his vision faded and turned black as he stepped from the curb.  

He heard the screeching of the brakes and the felt hot breath from the radiator and the burning of his skin where it scraped away against the concrete. He felt the woman squirm in his arms; he couldn't see her, didn't know if she was hurt, and so he didn't move.

"Dante?"
"Moonbeam. Are you hurt?"
"You're crushing me."
"I know. But other than that?"
"I think I have a concussion."
"Sorry I stole your sweater. I bet you needed it."
"It's okay; I had others. But you're still crushing me."
"I know. Hold on." He shifted so he cradled her head in his left hand, his other hand free. He could hear the sirens and took a moment to wonder if anyone had stopped traffic.

"Better. People are staring."
"It's alright. You shouldn't move."
"I think you're bleeding on me."
"It's okay. Now close your eyes; this is important. "

Date smoothed his thumbs over her eyebrows, down the bridge of her nose, over her cheeks. He touched her lips with his fingers and caressed the whole of her face before nodding.

"I knew it."
"Knew what?"
"Knew it from the moment I met you."
"What?"
"From the moment you wore wings but not shoes, flipped your honeysuckle hair in my face and took me to jump in puddles."
"Dante… you knew what?"
"That you're beautiful, and I love you."

Maysie Moonbeam fell silent but Dante was absolutely certain of her whereabouts, because he was not letting go. The sirens had arrived and personnel were working to clear the crowd that had gathered.

"You love me?"
"Absolutely. And I always have, Claudette Amelia May. Moonbeam. Always."

Paramedics swarmed in and stabilized Moonbeam's neck in a brace. Dante felt like he was running out of time while Moonbeam tried to convince them that she was fine. She sobbed as they loaded her onto a backboard and brought her to the ambulance; Dante felt like he was being held back, but couldn't be sure. He did know he was losing her, and he was out of time. So he shouted.

"I'm sorry, Moonbeam! I'm sorry for being stupid and ruining dessert. I didn't mean it. I'm really bad at… well… everything! And I'm sorry. Really, I'm really sorry."

Dante didn't remember his feet moving but they must have, because he felt Moonbeam's hand in his. He kissed her fingers; she was trembling, and he shushed her.

"I want to hold these fingers for all the days of my life."

"Deal."

The paramedics, the gathered crowd, and the bus driver cheered.