The Sunflower

Three years he had waited for this, three long, agonizing years like fire melting ice. Every moment-late nights worked till his fingers shook and his vision blurred, spare seconds snuck between meals and the calls of his wife, hours spent groveling and whimpering at the base of this machine that had turned him slave to its paralyzing demands-had come to this, the invention of the age. How worthwhile the wait had been.

He stepped back to view the finished whole. Vicious tremors jerked his muscles; ecstatic nausea sparked like electricity in his stomach. Surely beauty had never graced a more deserving creature, with its sides like ethereal moonlight and front window like silken water. Jodie, he had named her, after his wife-that way, he figured, he was always with her, in one way or another. She had been his obsession, his life, his everything, from the moment the plans had touched his desk...

But he didn't want to think about that. As far as he was concerned, Jodie was his, and he was hers, regardless of who had drawn the blueprints up. He was the inventor of the glorious machine before him to anyone who asked.

And now it was time to put her to the test. He staggered like a drunken man to the controls, slapping buttons and swiping at levers. He was prepared to be there a few days, a few weeks maybe, depending on how it went...oh the things he would learn...the things he would see...

“Henry?” A voice accompanied the knock at the door. “Henry, are you down there?”

Blast! Why'd she have to interrupt now? Henry straightened, irritation stiffening his chest like starch. Maybe if he was quiet and held still, she'd go away.

The doorknob shook. “Henry, I know you're down there. Don't try to hide from me.”

She had him and they both knew it. “Just a minute,” he called, scrambling for the last of his things.

“Don't you 'one minute' me, mister! You've been down there all night, come up this instance!”
Jodie's tongue lashed him as easily behind the door as it did face to face.

“Hang on!” He lunged for his desk, smearing papers across its surface. Just one more piece and he could leave. One more thing...

“I've been hanging on for three years! I've had it with you always being gone and never letting me in here. It's like we're not even married, never eating or speaking together-”

He tuned her out. The subject, the subject, where was the subject?

“-you're an embarrassment, you know that? What am I supposed to say when people ask how you've been doing, why you never come out anymore? Do you even care that it hurts our image? That it hurts me? Why, I have a mind to-”

There it was, on the windowsill. He forgot he had left it there, to get some sun before the journey. His excitement flared. The journey. How long he had waited for it. Lives would change tonight. The world would bend to his whim and fancy. This hour, his immortality began.

“Henry, are you listening to me? Open this door or so help me I'll knock it down! Don't think I won't, I know where you keep the sledgehammer-”

Affectionately he fingered its fiery mane. He had always been fond of the sunflower, always admired the way its head bobbed and dipped with the sun. It knew where its focus lay. It knew where to set its brilliant gaze. He rubbed up its furry stem once more, letting velvet blazes trickle through his fingers, then crossed the room and set it on the target. It was a fitting first installment in what was no doubt the first of many voyages to come.

The door cracked like splitting bone. He heard Jodie grunt; she had been serious about the sledgehammer then. No matter. He was ready to leave.

“Don't you think-”

Crash!

“-for one second-”

Bang!

“-you're getting away from me this time, Henry Tournes!”

Boom!

The door came down and Jodie with it. She was breathtaking in her fury-anger flushing her cheeks and throwing her blonde hair about-and for a moment, Henry nearly remembered why he'd married her. Then he saw Jodie-the other one-and the feeling washed away. He leapt for the front seat, pulling the glass down, strapping himself in-

“Henry!” Jodie screeched, running at the machine. “Henry, stop it right now-”

He was about to change the face of science and all she cared about was the small talk at parties. She would never understand, would never see his projects for what they were. Rage, hot and loose, rushed his veins. Wildly it clawed at his throat, breaking skin like thread, spurting blood like fire. His vision blurred; reason had never so fully left him. Just wait till he returned, wait till he got back, toting tales of the abstract and unseen. He'd show them. He'd show them all.

Jodie pounded on the glass. “Henry! Henry!”

He narrowed his eyes and pushed the button. Light flashed; he was gone.

All that remained was the sunflower.