Clear Blue

by Elamimax

Fear No More

Break, O waves, and blanket the sand

Your caresses are gentle and soothe us to sleep

And our children are safe in your capable hands

Your love will embrace when we rest in the deep

I had a dream of a woman, with short brown hair, walking through twisting streets. Like the lines on a pearl-white nautilus shell, the cobblestone paths wound, around and around, to a single point where it all collapsed into light and noise. 

In my dream, she danced as paper lanterns floated through the air. She laughed as she spilled whipped cream on her clothes and licked caramel off her fingers. There were children looking to trade the shiniest sea shells that glittered like diamonds in the fires of the evening, and blessings and dances were given in return. 

I dreamed of a woman who walked to the end of the pier and dove, under the light of the moon, her dress clinging to her like a second skin, carving through the water, a knife in the deep blue dark. 

“It isn’t,” I said, “about want.” I squeezed my eyes shut. “There are things that have to be done. It’s what’s best to keep people safe.” Aria’s hands didn’t leave mine. She just squeezed softly with one while she draped a blanket over me with the other. 

“If you do not feel safe,” she said, “then I will be by your side until you do.” It was pretty clear she wasn’t understanding me, and how could she? If she thought I was a woman, then of course she’d think I was the one who felt unsafe around men, instead of the other way around. And there was no way for me to explain this without sounding crazy. 

What was I supposed to tell her? “I had a stroke and now I’m hallucinating a painting”? I got the distinct feeling telling someone they were a figment of my possibly-dying imagination was the kind of thing I couldn’t imagine going over well. “Do— do you believe in past lives?” I asked. This was going to be cheesy but I had to say something. 

Aria rubbed her chin for a moment, then looked me square in the eye. “No,” she said. “But if you do, I see no issue with that. I’m not sure how that relates?”

“In… In a previous life,” I said, “I was a man. I shouldn’t be a woman in this one.”

“Why not?” She asked. “Are there rules to changing who you are from life to life? I would imagine that that is sort of the point.” She seemed curious, in a polite kind of way. She sat back to engage in what she probably thought was irrelevant but interesting theological debate. 

“Well, it’s disingenuous,” I said. “If I’m really a man on the inside, then my outside should reflect that. Then people know what to expect when they look at me, and can decide for themselves if I’m safe to be around, so they’ll know I’m not a threat to them.”

“Are you a threat to people?” she asked. Weirdly, there was no suspicion in her eyes. She just regarded me like someone listening to a child’s story about how they jumped this high, no lie. 

“I, no, of course not,” I said. “I mean, I don’t think so. I try to make sure everyone feels safe around me. I know how men can be around women, and the last thing I want to do is contribute to a culture like that.” 

“Hm,” she said. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m afraid, but if you think you have to be a man so people perceive you as a threat that you have just admitted that you’re not, then perhaps you’ve either spent too little or, I suspect, too much time thinking about this.” She stood up and dusted off her dress. “Are you comfortable wearing a dress, for now, or would you prefer some pants? I have some overalls somewhere, I’m sure of it.”

I froze. The question, her matter-of-factness, her whole attitude, stunned me. I had never worn a dress before. 

Well.

That wasn’t true.

I hadn’t worn a dress since the incident. 

Being naked was obviously not an option, but I also didn’t want to be a bother. This was clearly not a place she spent a lot of time in, and making her look around for clothing just because I was too squeamish and insecure to wear a dress for once was selfish to the point of parody. “I can take the dress,” I said, my voice even more quiet. It was barely a whisper. The woman’s voice that came out of my throat wasn’t me. I didn’t understand how it ever could be. It was lovely to listen to, though. Clearing my throat, I tried again. “I’d like to wear the dress.” Aria smiled. 

“Of course,” she said, and handed it to me. “I can give you a minute to get dressed, if you like.” It was a strange offer. She had seen me stark naked the entire time, so it wasn’t like there was anything left to the imagination. On the other hand, I really did appreciate the consideration. 

The piece of clothing in my hands was so light it felt like it could float away, like a piece of deep blue ocean stitched together out of thin air. Aria had also left me some underthings before she’d left the room. They weren’t like anything I’d ever seen before. I had half expected some kind of medieval diaper-binder combo, or, failing that, a weirdly modern-looking bra and panties. 

This was neither of those. The underwear was closer to present-day workout clothing, made out of a stretchy fabric, oddly smooth to the touch. Stretchy silk sportswear? Was that a thing? Why was it here? I didn’t worry too much about it and put them on quickly. Aria and I were roughly similar builds, so there were no issues there. 

The issue was the dress. It would probably look good on me. I didn’t want to imagine how good it would look on me. Why was thinking of feeling it sway and spin around me fill me with dread? With a pain that started in my chest and rose into my throat, blocking my breath and my thoughts. 

My vision was starting to go again. The room filled with water, taking my breath away, sweeping me away to oblivion, drowning me in my own terror. Cold and dark crept in until Aria, who must have heard me falling to the ground clutching the piece of clothing, rushed back into the room and wrapped her arms around me. I couldn’t hear her words. Like I was submerged. 

I cried something. Words. Apologies. Aria didn’t seem to care. She wasn’t running away like I begged her to, only gently cooing and rubbing my back. At one point, she tried to take the dress out of my hands, but in my panic I only pulled it closer to my chest, and she didn’t try again after that. 

In time, breathing came back. Air was air again. The world gained some light again. Color seeped in at the edges. It wasn’t particularly good, but the wave of white noise that had come over me seemed to be dissipating. As she helped me up, she calmly slipped my legs into the dress and pulled it up. It was strange, like it was part of the process of helping me sit back into the seat, but by the time I was upright the wide straps were pulled up onto my shoulders, like they’d always belonged there. 

“I’m sorry,” I said one last time.

“I can’t say I understand,” Aria said as she helped me to my feet, “but you were in distress. You seem like the type to do the same for me if you found me in a similar state. Now, for the final piece: you have to eat. However long it’s been, it’s been too long. Besides, the sun will be setting soon, which means it’s time for dinner anyway.”

She took my hand and pulled me to what I guessed was the front door. The street behind it was a gently sloping cobblestone street. The town itself wasn’t huge, but that was by modern standards. There were probably still a hundred people living here, if not more. 

The sky was bright, orange and a deep purple both painted the otherwise blue sky as evening slowly draped itself across the white buildings. The stones, polished flat by years of use, warmed my bare feet as we descended the street.

The closer we got to the edge of the sea — where I’d seen that market earlier — the more I saw people exiting their homes. They all said words of greeting to Aria, who happily returned them. There were little streets between the buildings, and occasionally I saw children dart between them, staring for a moment before disappearing again. 

“Where are we going,” I asked, “and why are people staring?” I was acutely aware of the fact that she was still holding my hand. The evening breeze played with her hair.

“I don’t come to town as often as I like,” Aria said. “And I think they’re curious who you are. Most new people come here by way of the Marina.” 

“This is an island, then?” Despite having had the time, I hadn’t actually asked about where I was yet. Besides, it was likely I was going to be here for a while. Maybe I was in a coma, hallucinating vividly, in which case I might as well get comfortable. 

“It is,” Aria said. “Though not a small one. There are several other townships on Kosaos, but Azuro is the largest. What do you eat?”

“I’m sorry?” I asked as she pulled me around the corner. The street ended in a large square by the waterside. There was a large fountain in the center, around which were dozens of small tables, most of which were occupied with happily chatting people. Flags and flowers had been hung from strings that connected the fountain to the nearby buildings. The sea breeze carried the smell of freshly cooked food from the fire by the waterside all the way to me. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I started salivating. 

“What do you like to eat?” she asked as she turned to me and took my other hand. I blushed like a schoolgirl. She looked like a vision, and a vision that looked ready to dance with me at that. 

“Uh…” I said, “a bit of everything?”

“Then we’ll get you a bit of everything,” she said, and pulled me towards what was some kind of buffet for the locals. Maybe there was an event going on? Children ran back and forth playing the kinds of games that only required a stick, some imagination, and for Mom to occasionally kiss it better when they eventually tripped. 

Making her way to the banquet — there was a bit of a queue — Aria occasionally stopped to greet people. Maybe she traveled a lot? Or she studied or worked elsewhere? Everyone seemed happy to see her, though. 

The food smelled amazing. There seemed to be pork and fish, as well as a whole assortment of fruits, vegetables and weirdly-shaped seafood that I was sure probably tasted pretty good, considering how much garlic was involved. 

Aria grabbed us both a bowl as she said hi to the cooks shoveling new food onto the tables as fast as people could take it, then ripped off a piece of bread the size of a grapefruit and handed it to me. Despite my deep-seated desire to shove the entire thing in my mouth at once, guilt and panic started to rise in my throat again.

“I can’t pay you back,” I said, “I don’t have any money!”

“What,” she asked with genuine curiosity, “is money?”