8.12.10
Rumination
"So," Peter said as he pulled his sweaty body up from mine in our bedroom. "What do you think?"
"I think you've got the most talented hands in this hemisphere."
Peter slapped my chest. "I meant about the story Karl read us," he laughed.
"Hey, easy now. I bruise easily."
"Liar. And stop avoiding the question."
I thought for a moment before answering. I didn't know what I should say, but I wasn't going to lie to him either. I hadn't told Peter about my dream yet, and now I was even more reluctant to do so because it would almost certainly make him nervous. Everything I did made him nervous. The golden rule in our relationship was that he got to "go first." He had already suffered the pain of losing his parents while he was in college, and would do everything in his power to make sure that I didn't go and die on him, too.
"I think it's creepy because I can see why the Naughty Professor believes it."
Peter's eyebrows levitated. "Naughty? Do you think Karl has a taste for brautwürst?"
"I get that impression, yeah. I mean, I don't get the impression that he and Morgan are more than colleagues, and if I was straight..."
"Yeah, I'd totally be using her hair for reins. That's pretty funny. Wow. Say, isn't his bedroom next to ours? Think he was, you know... listening?"
"I don't know, but next time we should be louder. Just in case he is."
"Dirty boy." Peter straddled my waist and rested his hands behind him on my thighs. "But seriously, that story. Your strange silver box. That bowl. What if they are all connected somehow? Couldn't the whole thing be dangerous if they actually do find this lock of theirs?"
I sighed. "Yeah, I suppose it could be if anyone else is looking for it too. But I also keep asking myself if they'll even find anything behind this lock other than a pile of rocks. It could be nothing, or it could be something. Hell, it could even be buried treasure. I think it's the mystery that's driving Karl, not what's actually behind door number three."
Peter nodded. "I see your point. But why do I get the feeling that no matter what's behind this lock, you're somehow a part of it? I know that silver disc reacts differently to you. I'm not blind to how you react when it's sitting in your hand."
"That's why I called my grandfather earlier," I said. "I'm hoping he might have some answers. He says hello, by the way. He's glad you're still keeping an eye one me."
"Well, someone's got to reign-in the crazy. Might as well be me."
"If that ring on your finger is any indicator," I said, pulling his hands to my chest, "you've lost your chance to opt-out."
"Oh, poor me." Peter leaned down and kissed me on the lips. Then he jumped off the bed and grabbed his clothes, tossing my board shorts at my head in the process. "Get dressed, tiger. I'm tired of being under house arrest."
I yanked my boardies off my face and pulled them on. "Where did you want to go? I doubt Morgan and Karl will let us out of the castle without an escort."
Peter tossed my tee shirt at me. "Already taken care of. And she promised to bring a bottle of scotch with her."
I pulled the shirt on. "Just one?" I realized it was sticking to my skin and pulled it back off. "Need a fresh shirt over here."
"You're a big boy, you know where the dresser is." Peter grabbed my dirty shirt from me and tossed it in the suitcase. "Or, you could just go shirtless. It's not like it's 60 degrees out, and I do rather enjoy showing off a husband with visible abdominal muscles who also happens to have a brain."
"Just for that, I'm wearing a shirt," I shot back.
There was a knock at the door followed by Morgan's voice. "Oi! You two ready for a bumpy ride 'round the island? We haven't got much daylight left today, you know."
Peter tossed me my flip-flops. "Better get that shirt on, then. Adventure awaits!"
We opened the door just in time to see Morgan pop into Karl's room and tell him we were heading out. As we passed his door, he winked. "Have fun, you three, but be sure to get back before dark."
Peter nudged me. "He totally loves brautwürst," he whispered.
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