Gary Braver - Elixir

The view was splendid-the frozen lake, fringed with high dark pines, and in the distance the mountain range with a bank of brooding clouds. A deer was at the lake's edge where the ice made a window.

As he watched the animal drink, it occurred to him how sharply focused the scene was. Everything stood out in stereoscopic clarity. It was shocking because his glasses were dangling from his neck. "My God!" he whispered.

Every day since ninth grade he had worn glasses. Twenty-eight years of nearsightedness that grew worse with age. Not only was the lake in perfect clarity, but the mountain range, too-as if he were peering through binoculars. He turned around and the attic interior was sharp even in the dim light. It was almost magical. He slipped his glasses on, and everything turned blurry.

His muscles hummed to move, so he bounded downstairs. Wendy was fixing a toaster oven, and Adam sat in his car seat babbling. Chris slipped on his pullover and said that he wanted to get some air. Wendy had no immediate chores for him, so he left.

The temperature was 28 degrees, but he felt hot. With his watch cap pulled low he broke into a stiff run. For four miles his legs pistoned him powerfully to the main road. He stopped barely winded and humming to run more. It was astounding. Like old Jimbo running around the open pen.

Jimbo. The name popped up as soon as he went for it.

That was another thing: His mind felt acute and strong. No holes or shadows.

He ran back to the cottage. While Wendy was preparing dinner, he went out back and chopped more wood. After several minutes she came out with a cup of coffee. "You doing your Paul Bunyan impression?"

"Mountain air. Nothing like it," he chuckled. He took the coffee, thinking that it was Wendy's first gesture of reconciliation since they had arrived a month ago. He wondered how long before she finally forgave him, if ever.

"How much more do you plan to do?"

"Another half hour, why?"

"Just didn't want to see you wear yourself out." A small firelight flickered in her eyes. Something he hadn't seen for weeks. She smiled. "I was hoping you'd save a little for me."

"Tell me you don't mean moving a bureau."

"No, but take a shower first." She took his hand and they went into the house.

Chris showered, and when he came out Wendy was naked in bed and under the covers. A fire was burning in the bedroom fireplace.

Chris lay beside her. "It's been so long. Is it still done the same way?"

"Let's see if we can remember."

They did.

When it was over, they lay still and listened to the fire cracking in the hearth. In a few minutes, Chris brushed his lips against hers. "I love you, Wendy."

"Thanks," she said.

"Thanks?"

"I love you, too."

For a second he thought he would cry, having resigned himself to living their lives at prickly odds, their love hardening to anger and hurt. But he didn't cry. Instead, he kissed her mouth and slipped down to her breasts. He then kissed a long slow line down her body until he was nestled between her thighs, moving his mouth over her pubis until she was arching herself against his face and groaning deeply again. He slid up and entered her again, feeling another full surge of passion.

"What's gotten into you?" But she closed her eyes and groaned in pleasure, not really expecting an answer.

Fires of spring, Chris thought and slipped his hands under her, raising her bottom until he was deeply engaged and moving in slow deliberate cadence again. Wendy closed her arms around him and they moved in unison until they came together for the second time.

Chris rolled onto his back. For long slow minutes they lay embraced, the only sound being their own breathing and the fire. They dozed off for a few minutes until a log cracked.

Wendy yawned and stretched, her warm breasts falling against his chest, one leg innocently entwining his. Chris felt himself stir again, and before he knew it he was fully erect under the blanket.

"That was nice," she whispered.

"Was?" and he pulled her onto him.

"You've got to be kidding." She reached down and felt him. "I don't believe it. You get a battery implant or something?"

Chris grinned. "Love-starved."

"It's only been a three weeks."

"Three weeks, four days, and two hours," he said. "But who counts?"

"Thank God it wasn't three months."

Had Adam not wakened, Chris would have gone a third round.

He didn't like the idea of Wendy going alone. But after six weeks cooped up in the cottage she jumped at the opportunity to get away. Jenny had called to say their IDs were ready, and Wendy would pick them up in person in Detroit.

Because Jenny and Ted were under FBI surveillance, they couldn't travel. And Wendy looked less like her media photos than Chris did his. At the Detroit bus terminal she would retrieve the material from a locker put there by a trusted employee of Ted's. They had worked out the plans in detail. Nonetheless, Chris was worried. It was the first time they would be apart.

On a Wednesday morning, with Adam in his car seat, Chris dropped Wendy off at the station in Lake Placid.

"I hope you guys will be all right," she said. She held Chris's hand tightly and cuddled the baby.

Chris kissed her. "We'll be fine," he said. "We've got so much wood to chop, you'll be back before we know it."

Wendy gave Adam a dozen kisses. "I'll call from Detroit." She brushed back the hair from Chris's forehead and studied his face. "You look good, by the way. Your skin is nice and smooth, and your eyes are clear. Must be all that exercise."

Chris gave her a lecherous grin. "Just what you give me lying down, pussycat."

She chuckled lightly. "That's another reason I'm going-just to recover."

Chris watched her go into the station. He waited in the car while she purchased her ticket. Already, he was missing her.

As the bus filled up, he glanced in the mirror. She was right: He did look better, although Wendy hadn't picked up half of what he saw. The crowfeet tracks around his eyes had begun to fade. Incipient liver spots on the back of his right hand had disappeared. His hair was thicker. And it wasn't all the wood-chopping-his body had hardened into that of an athlete ten years his junior. His deltoids bulged and his forearms looked like small hams-nothing wielding an axe would do. In fact, the changes were almost frightening. Like some kind of Twilight Zone experience-looking into a mirror with a yesteryear reflection staring back.

Even more remarkable were the interior changes. He felt more agile, stronger, and, yes, more sexual. In a word, younger. And, most important, he could swear that his mind was sharper-that his recall and memory had improved. He'd even bet that his IQ was higher. His only wish was that he could share it with Wendy. But the time was not yet right. When they settled down someplace safe in their new identities.

The long bus rolled out of its bay onto the street. Wendy was at a window waving at them. Chris waved back and uttered a silent prayer. God, send her safely back to me.

Later that day Wendy called to say she had made it safely to Detroit and would meet him Friday night at the station.

The two days passed and Chris took care of Adam and did more chores.

He also took his second shot. It still puzzled him that two ampules appeared to be missing. His only explanation was that he had miscounted that night at Darby.

"'Frere Jacques, Frere Jacques, dormez vous? Dormez vous…?'"

Jenny changed Abigail's diaper while she sang to the music box. The silver metal plinkings filled the air like bubbles.

"That's French, and someday I'll teach you, but for now we'll do it in English. 'Brother John, Brother John…" She held a foot in each hand and danced them in the air as she sang and her daughter wiggled and giggled. "'Ding, ding, dong.' Can you say that, 'Ding, ding, dong?'"