“The Tropics of Capricorn.” you said, giggling over every second sentence, “It’s a thing!”
“It’s not a thing.” I said.
“Nope, it is definitely a thing.”
His name was Romeo and he stole bed sheets from those who were truly in love to use as a sail, to travel across seas unexplored. He needed the powers of pure affection to bring his ship to the island his Juliet was trapped on. He traveled across the vast oceans of the Tropics of Capricorn, fending off sea monsters that stole his tongue. The fear from these horrible beasts stole his words and they took away his ability to speak. They then blew breaths like storms, and pushed him off course. Suddenly green seas of malachite fizzed into black choppy ocean that held tides of sailor’s bones. And as these waves grew closer and closer, and the skeletons cackled as he couldn’t even say a prayer when his mouth was clamped shut with terror, something remarkable happened. The bed sheets that stored the magic love of people from across the world came together. Each early, hungover morning under flower clouds that let the golden light stream through onto cool skin and warm fingerprints had built up. Each laugh and stare and kiss had sparked a spell so true even the old sailor’s hard done by souls couldn’t penetrate it. The sheets turned into wings that took Romeo straight into the air above these Tropics, as he sailed over the monsters that were so consumed with loss and hatred. They swore up at him, but this powerful love stole their voices too. They sunk back into the emerald sea with eyes bowing to the force of these entangled lives. And as the wings rested Romeo straight into Juliet’s arms she said, “I love you”, and Romeo said “I love you too”. Because she returned his voice to him. Because love overshadows any kind of fear.
“So that’s why you’re stealing all of the bed sheets now?” I said, and you nodded, your eyes shut with your crinkly, wistful smile.
“Well, if you are really taking the sheets at least come closer to warm me up.”
You giggled, rolling into my arms. You rested your head on my chest and I let you dream about your Tropics of Capricorn. You were something, alright. There was no disputing that.
“So did the sea monsters ever speak again? It seems unfair to leave them like that.” I asked.
“No, they just needed to learn how to love again.”
“And then what?”
“And then…” you bit your lip, trying not to fall asleep, “Then they turn into people again.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Do monsters deserve a happily ever after?”
I kissed your head, “Of course they do. Even demons need to be free.”
“Then you can write their ending.”
I thought for a moment. “Then the magic sheets go to-”
“Please don’t ruin my story by not being as pretentiously poetic as possible. This is a fairy tale, you have to sound stupid for it to sound magic.” You mumbled through your sleepy lips.
I chuckled, squeezing you warm fingers in my cold ones. “Then the bed sheets that hold the memories of early mornings in a sleepy hazy of still time and pink lips drifted to the beasts of the seas. They drifted into the ocean, and down into their homes. Two of the greatest scariest monsters -Morticia and Gomez - end up finding the same sheets and since the bottom of the sea. And since the sea can be awfully cold they both end up fighting to the death over it. But before they could make a single scratch they see that the best way to own these covers is to share it. Especially since they both are quite good looking sea creatures. So they end up falling in love under these covers, and under the chirping of jellyfish outside and the seaweed clouds.”
“If that was your way of getting me to share the sheets it won’t work.” You mumbled into fists full of duvets.
I poked at your sides, laughing at your quips and at you throwing yourself away from me. I victoriously pulled the covers back around my neck.
You sighed, but you still held your tired smile. I grabbed your hand and pulled you in under the blankets again, letting the magical powers of loving memories seep between the stitching.
Looking back it’s hard to believe you had just moved in. It’s hard to believe that was the first morning we woke up together in our own house. I’m not sure by how much our Tropics of Capricorn have grown, but I can tell you now that if I close my eyes tight enough I can see the harlequin sea, and the shimmering cloth wings, and the sea monsters dancing together in the distance.
I let you fall asleep, and I watched the sun rise into the sky and fall again. The first day in our house was spent in another land far away, and I think that’s how we spent the rest of our time together, honestly. Painting our front door chartreuse and buying cream curtains that looked like wings. Curtains that we rarely closed.
Sure, we spent the second day fighting over something that we’ve both forgotten, but that doesn’t matter at all. I’m so glad that our little Tropics bloomed under magic sheets.
I haven’t gotten rid of them, you know.
If magic sheets can fly Romeo to his Juliet, they can one day take me to you.
And that was our first day in the house.