Film Noir short scene/rude noir awakening after dawn (e.d.noirjmmusechron)

In the night I find it astounding that he can sleep. I lay there for the rest of most of the night apprehensive of the coming day thinking .....and sleep eludes

And find that his slumber is now most inconveniently frustrating as I am now suddenly nagged about things he said ....

and those other disturbing questions.... what has he really been up to these last several months—and more? ....where did he actually go between here before he went to Sweden weeks ago? where did —they—think he was? ....and were they right? And then the other unexpected, most odd, surprise  —how and what does he know about my old diaries....? I threw them away so long ago.... 

then thinking again of what Willem said on the phone recently—what was it again? ....he said.... he knew Jörn for years from working with him on cases—what cases? and that other odd thing Willem told me, how Jörn insisted he be put on the case when he saw my picture. And why did Willem tell me that? 

But how did I have the key, or did he just say that? Safes, locks and keys, codes and hidden doorways, hidden rooms and secret compartments.... when I should sleep keeps me awake .... 

until....

****

I don’t remember falling asleep 

It is some time after dawn and morning arrives. And still caught in a Cold War dream, I am startled awake with a sharp nudge then a shake, and a hot cup of coffee thrust at me before I am even sat up 

Jörn says, 

“here, I made this for you,” and then softens his tone, “it’s how you like it—with honey,” and smiles as if this is just a normal day at the office

I sit up as I notice he is already showered and crisply dressed as I take the cup from him

“I brought you a change of clothes,” he says, “some more suitable things. I asked Ilya to send some of your clothes —I sent a note to her with the Cabaret shipping address when I sent her the key— as I was aware you’ve been pilfering the Cabaret shipments,” he points towards some blurry beyond as I reach for my glasses, still emerging from the depths of morass

“The key....” I say remembering what kept me up all night, “how did you get it?—Jörn, I don’t understand—“

“Duva— I have to go, the SWAT team is five minutes away—it’s showtime,” and turns to leave but then suddenly turns back to me and leans to press his mouth across mine, “remember: no matter what, stay up here and do not leave, yes? —drink the coffee—I’ll text you in a bit....”

And then watch him disappear out the hobbit door

 a fyddai môr-leidr yn dod o hyd i drysor?

ac ydy, mae'n grypt

a fy ngeiriadur yw fy nghaer

dyma'r unig le i guddio sêff

efallai aros i gael ei ddatgloi

beth aeth ar goll y tu mewn

the JM muse chronicles film noir scene continues.... with a slight touch of royal drama

Even as I stare into the blackness of that blank canvas beyond the hide’s window, it seems I see other things. It is a narrow cot. Close pressed alongside him, his fingers woven through mine as— his breathing evens ....in the darkness of the space we share and the heat still between us

It seems I am split between two lives, overlaid as if I have been exactly here with him ....before  

so many times .... 

and it plays with my mind

It seems to even question it now is so long old and merely irrelevant. As too many times I have felt  that sense confirmed

....too many times I have felt that chill with him—especially when we come together, I feel it in his body— and those things he never says, those things he never tells me. I feel it. And often it feels I feel him within me, feel his thoughts, and even know ....I feel him .... even from far away, I feel.... when he is thinking of me

And even after so much time of him away— it is instant as soon as he is near, even when I try to resist ....and even when my mind doesn’t want to trust him.... there is something inside  me that just never doubts. 

Even if I won’t say

But now I do say this instead in the dark, as I lay next to him, having already, to him —exposed all anyway, as I look out at that darkness outside the wall of window into the night,

“Jörn.... on your computer ....” but half lose my nerve and have to stop

A moment goes by where nothing is said. Does he know? ....what I’m about to ask him....?

I turn on my side to look at him, half his face in shadow, lit dimly by the candle.... yet I stare into his face.... as I know it by now so well, every line, every crease, the long bridge of his nose, the outline of his mouth, the slant of his haunting eyes....

I dig my fingers into the silk of his hair to pull it back where it has fallen long across his brow, moving over him slightly to look into his eyes,

“you know, when you told me....when you gave me your password to ....get into those files to —download for you?” I stop there afraid to say more as I stare into his eyes searching 

He just stares back at me. Calm. But his eyes penetrate through me. And still.... gives nothing away

“Well, I saw some things....” I say now. 

It is awhile before I realize I hold my breath. I keep staring into the icy steel, like double edged swords of heat and danger, warmth and ferocity 

And still he doesn’t say anything. He just looks back at me, steady and calm.

“Jörn....!” I nearly gasp from holding my breath with fear, “....you know what I saw....”

After another long moment of just his silence ....with eyes ....that measure me, he makes the slightest move with his head, almost a shrug and says,

“I knew you would see things....” and now when I start by his flippancy he raises one pale brow ....and says more with just his eyes

“When you said they expected you to be ‘more east’ ....” and again I stop myself. And then feel his hand clamp around my wrist like a shackle and watch his eyes grow fierce as he moves to sit up slightly .... “Jörn.... now it seems I think I need to know— I mean— when I asked if it was Moscow— that isn’t what I saw.... but it was definitely ....more east, but slightly more ....adjacent—“ I hold my breath again when I feel his grip tighten but I say, anyway, “is that what you meant?” which comes out in a whisper

“Duva.... listen, there are some things you would have seen which I can see might give you certain cause for suspicion about what I do.... and maybe this is why you were so strange when you first saw me again.... but.... look— I will answer you honestly if you tell me exactly what you want to know because I don’t know what you saw that you are trying to ask me.”

“It was something I found.... something I accidentally clicked on—it was in one of your documents under your company —under JMSmeden.se, Stockholm, Sverige, only— it wasn’t for your platinum work, but it was ....sales of another kind.”

He lets go of my wrist and leans back against the wall and stares out into the night for a long moment. And after another thoughtful pause he looks at me,

“you saw I was selling arms to....” and only infers the rest with a slight imperceptible gesture 

“So it’s true?!” I pull back and stare at him

“I told you I’d answer you honestly so.... look, duva....I told you I wasn’t in Sweden the whole time since I’ve been away—and, no—I wasn’t. I went first somewhere else.... “

“You’re crazy! With everything that is happening, with the virus rampant—you tell me you decide now is a good time to trade in illegal weapons too? Who even has the money for that right now with the recent death tolls !?—whose side are you on?”

“No, I’m not saying that I was just in Syria—Duva, that was an old file you were looking at, that was from —it was a past cover—now going four?—five? years back—at least!”

“A cover....” I say and stop to think.... now remembering all those passports .... 

and so now take a few deep breaths....

well, seems too late —now anyway.... I think, as I take a second to reflect on this.... to decide to not be involved with a spy

A bit too late. Over two years too late. I should know better by now.... and again get that sense of having been in this moment before; déja vu ....and with a chill, see blood on those hides stacked on the floor—and such eyes staring back at me.... 

Yes, I’ve been here before ....I think; I’ve been in this moment with him before ....and yes, I know this feeling too; the danger 

“Does Willem suspect the mole too?” I ask suddenly

“Yes. We know who it is,” Jörn says calmly

“Which is why you want me to stay up here,” I say

“Yes.”

“That wasn’t why I was strange with you,” I say now to him and now look at him. He looks back at me and waits. I say, “I wasn’t ready to trust you again. That’s why.”

After some thought he nods and then asks,

“and now?” but it is something in how he says this; something.... I can taste the spray of the water and feel the lurch of a ship under me just from that glimpse of kryptonite —and with it, that unreasonable sense of knowing ....beyond all doubt —and press my mouth to his, closing my eyes and feel his mouth answer me like a seal of fate; then climb across him to wrap around his hips with a strange fear and need for suddenly remembering what is to come tomorrow ....soon after the dawn

***

it is awhile after when he says, reaching for his phone,

“there’s something I wanted to show you—remember I told you I had another angle for getting the lock-letter code for the safe? I recently found something your sister auctioned off through Christie’s for four grand that once belonged to your mother....” he shows me a picture on his phone

“That’s my mother’s antique secretary! You found it?”

“I bought it,” he shows me more pictures as he says, “you said it had a secret hidden compartment. The people who bought it from your sister said she didn’t have the key— but you did.”

“What are you talking about? The key? I never had it....”

“You didn’t know you had it. It was in a box you tossed into some dumpster where you lived with your first husband in Cedarhurst New York; a box also filled with all your old diaries ....”

the shock of all he says does not fully register as I am somehow more distracted by the photos of the antique secretary as it brings back so many memories .... of my mother 

Then I recognize where the photo was taken,

“This is the penthouse?”

“I had it shipped there —last month. Last week I had the key sent to Ilya and told her where I thought the hidden compartment was —and....she just sent me this before, guess what we found?” he shows me a photo, “....your award for your piano recital with ....the title of the Beethoven piece.”

“The code.”

Personal notes from the Cell inside; shelf notes from the Celf

 

In efforts to search for truth I have found the ability to speak it most clearly through my fiction 

Part of that has to do with how dangerous truth really is

On one hand I could have decided to smile the status quo code, be a cog, and play the American dream game because I knew how, I watched a father do it every day

but one day I consciously chose to walk away because

On the other hand I could recognize the face in the mirror and not despise it and though my pockets are empty I guess it always meant more to know who I am 

I never fit the American dream, I rejected the popular crowd even in school, but then I am reasonably content to go my own way, ok with an allegiance to humanity and the humanities because that is the notion that countries are born from before they decay .... but I can see why it bothered my mother knowing that for me it just never was a choice whether to sell myself for the brass ring 

my stories have always been a part of me, woven in my own drama and all based on a part of me but it’s the allegory I speak in and if I could say it without too much compromise, I would be willing to sell a ticket for it to be heard if addressed to a theatre attuned to the subtlety 

have I just been looking in the wrong direction.... ?

too bad Van Gogh didn’t know he was already successful with empty pockets and a blind society lacking an ear

a muse before dawn (a short quickie) e.d. noir

He says to try to sleep.... 

I have tried a warm shower in the sterile ad hoc stainless steel stall (and as refreshingly cozy as a vertical cow trough)—with the soap from the trunk which afforded more luxury than the narrow shower unit did. It smells of Provence and almost makes me believe I am there with the film it leaves on my skin 

At least clean and human again 

Fixed as I am after looking for distractions in the various trunks on the floor. But they have lost their appeal and instead I stare at the blank canvas that is the hide’s wall of window; right now total black in the darkness

And because I feel like I am in a fishbowl with all the openness and the feeling of exposure, I sit on the floor with just one candle lit beside the cot where I have dragged the last trunk I inspect in order for distraction 

How long before daybreak? 

I keep looking at my phone for the time and in the end decide to use it, as I do, to write my thoughts 

....then at turns.... pace the hide in circles 

....then go to sit down again, huddled on the floor next to the cot and shiver; my hair still damp and my arms pulled out of the sweater sleeves inside the sweater and rock for warmth .... it seems forever I wait 

At some time after two I hear the sound of footsteps treading the stairs and hold my breath watching the hobbit door, pulling my knees up to my chest under the big wool sweater 

.... I don’t know who I expect but I am relieved to discover it is actually Jörn. His presence, a dark silhouette in the round doorway, but I can clearly recognize him by his distinct shoulders and slim hips that taper down to his boots

“Where are you?” he says from the doorway, closing the door and walking towards the candle 

“I’m over here,” I say, waving my hand in front of the candle, “I feel like the light might draw their notice,” and I wave out towards the trees

“No, it’s completely made of black out material, no one can see in. I’ve tested it,” he says coming over to where I am

“So, did you guys work out a plan? Have the feds contacted you?”

He clears his throat and sits down on the cot,

“come here, don’t sit in the floor,” and reaches for me saying, “yes—to answer your question. It.... has taken some convincing but—once I sent them the link to the surveillance footage from the micro cameras I installed on the surface of the fake safe .... they have come around to listening to what I have to say....” he sighs with cautious relief as I move to stand up and now drawing me to him he says, “they will have the house surrounded by o-eight hundred—Smulagan and a SWAT team— they’re asking us to wait as some of their people are still en-route.... I just am uneasy about waiting, but.... the weather being what it is—it’s been sleeting and could go on all night, well into morning,” he shrugs

“Mountain weather,” I say with a shiver and move closer into his body warmth 

“It’s not so different where I come from,” he says into the sweater and moves his hands under the wool and cotton

it has been a long time. It seems a shock to be aware just how long. I have forgotten what this feels like 

but some things come back to you fairly quick. Once reminded 

....I press my mouth against his 

and let it come back to me

The Noir Hide; Electra’s dictionary

And while I wait for Jörn to return, I try to not think of what is actually happening and at first I just sit on the cot staring at the space heater where it sits there.... 

and it is a long time before I feel myself aware of being outside of myself 

of being .... as if .... well.... somewhere —or.... in another sense of time 

....slipping to ....it seems.... repressed memories .... and I think now of Dr. Rothschild as I become conscious of.... the comfort —or—safety .... of being wrapped in the hides 

and it is strange as I really do not like the ....savagery of ....animal skins

it is this alone that draws me to remember something that happened in my psychiatrist’s office when she was trying to regress me to.... remember locked memories, but she had only the purpose to free me from —those things from my childhood and of course what happened when I was older in my college dorm room that night .... it was only for this she had intended to try regression because —I have always had such fears of being able to trust anyone; things like intimacy ....I’ve always erected such walls around me and suffered the backlash of desertion; creating my self fulfilling prophesies of always picking the wrong partners to avoid letting anyone near me and making such disasters of my life 

So she regressed me one day in her office and the last thing I remember of what happened was ....her saying to me “imagine yourself in the most lovely place where you feel safe....” and I really don’t know what happened after that. 

She recorded it.... but never told me what was on the recording 

but I remember how she stared at me after when I —woke up from it.... this was around those first occurrences of those dreams 

I think of this now as I stare at the spot where Jörn has placed the space heater. And maybe it is.... despite my aversions to.... animal skins .... but something jars in my mind as I find this need to search for .... some safe place 

and even as I recall those dreams of the hut and the forge it really is something else I think of. Looking out to the doorway there.... to the sound of the water far in the distance and recalling the little grove ....it was the grove my mind went to; the stunted shrubs and how they looked in the warmth of the sun, that leafy shade of dark green with the warm scent of earth, how the sun lit through to my haven of shade .... on one such summer day .... that strange, strange light that would not set and when night without darkness could not come

It was the way the light of the sun looked .... through the canopy of dark green leaves 

I do think her regressions opened that doorway I had been for so long blindly on the precipice of, searching in the darkness of unconsciousness and thus unleashed my monster giving vent to a tidal wave of emotions I have never been able to name but oddly, it consoled me.... this inexplicable sense of knowing .... the void once held a meaning 

Still, her intentions to heal me in the contemporary manner I guess were just not meant to be 

So this exercise now.... at least works .... to calm me 

remove me

from present fears and nightmares 

I get up now and decide to look at what is in the trunks set around the hide in various spots in a kind of octagonal design that mirrors the circular shape of the treehouse hide.... I find an interesting assortment of camping accessories; dried vegetarian packets of food, oh—tooth brushes, toothpaste, soap .... I take this out and keep looking through ....wool sweaters, some white generic cotton T-shirts, men’s long-Johns.... which can’t be worse then what I’ve been stuck wearing, I’m thinking—and desiring to get out of my Steven Tyler clothes, I shed these as soon as I make this discovery, and without hesitation I’m gladly pulling on the long, waffle textured underwear along with the t-shirt and warm wool sweater —grateful for it as it feels so much softer against my skin then what I’ve been living in.... and with this, a pair of imported woolen hand knitted socks that —all this—feel better than satin damask just now ....

And then make my way to the next trunk.... this one has even more interesting camping gear and take my time going through them.... Swiss Army knife .... flash lights, utility knives .... and things I don’t have any idea what they are .... a gas mask .... then find amongst these ....infrared binoculars—neat—! wow, cool! —it’s like double-O-7 spy equipment, I think ....

and so, well occupied, I sit there on the floor trying to figure out how it works ....So why not try it out? ....on switch .... ? .... a red light goes on.... I get up to look out through the hide’s wall of window and —look into the blurry lenses as I figure out the focus ....

First I just see branches of the web of all the surrounding trees outside .... but nothing exciting that I can see from here.... I guess the birds must be asleep—not even a squirrel in sight. And with the leaves now growing in —even now, despite that it’s long past spring —it is still snowing in the mountains .... but I notice that —I can see, there’s the building—through the branches and.... realize —that must be the barn house ....yes, of course, I realize now and focus better; Jörn said the hide faces our bedroom window there .... and now I try to look .... but.... all I see is the shape of the house and the back deck, and everything it seems still and strangely quiet