Propinquity of the Green Castle

Julia had insisted on the picnic. Mario had no say in the matter. The grounds were well-groomed, lush and green. She spread a red cloth with a pattern of small black flowers, opened the picnic basket and removed from it a dark wine bottle and a small but laden charcuterie board. Her lavender garments contrasted with it and the surrounding greens. The happiness of life depends upon little things like this. Mario ate a wedge of cheese that had started sweating in the sunshine. Then he started sweating. It was warm, but not unseasonably. Julia uncorked the wine bottle and poured him a glass. He sipped it, his lips convulsing to a pucker.

“It’s a Zinfandel,” she said.

Mario nodded, moving his mouth to resolve the acute astringency. His head swirled. The green castle in the distance looked toylike and harmless. He wondered what was going on there. He smoothed his black cloak with the flats of his hands and thumbed his thick black eyebrows. He should have dressed more suitably. He glanced at the castle. Very little is needed to make a happy life, he thought. Each day provides its own sweetness, its own reward. But sometimes you have to urge things along, juice the pace. He abruptly stood up.

“What’s the matter?” she asked.

“Do you want to fly a kite?”

She reared her head. “A what?”

“A kite, a kite.”

“Did you bring a kite?”

“Take my hand,” he said.

Julia hesitated, but when he insisted she took his hand. He gripped it tightly and began to jog around the grounds, pulling her along, her shoes thudding over the sod. She looked confused, but didn’t resist. They picked up speed.

“When I say jump, jump high!” Mario shouted.

“I can’t jump that high!” she cried.

“Believe me, you can!”

They continued running briskly around the grounds. Mario ran with his face forward, teeth bared in a wine-tinged smile, cloak flapping. Julia looked stunned, undone, her eyes saucer-like.

After a few minutes of running — she pink-cheeked and panting, he sweating profusely — Mario shouted, “Jump!”

Her feet lifted off the ground and fluttered under her as though made of crepe paper. Then they floated up, legs angling to the sky. Mario held her hand firmly as she floated above him but fixed his gaze on the green castle. What did he perceive there? What was it? Teeth clenched, chin raised, he started running toward the castle, still holding Julia’s hand, her body fluttering above him — a languid, lavender flutter.

It’s likely that an onlooker from the castle would have witnessed something altogether different.