Jonny was just signing the receipt when he cared to look back and stop Thom on his tracks.
“Don’t kick it – you’ll break your toe, or worse.”
“I wasn’t going to kick it,” Thom gazed curiously at a medium-sized box on the floor by Jonny’s feet, “What’ve we got?”
“You’ll see,” Jonny thanked the postman and closed the door, “Give me a hand?”
“A hand? I’d rather give you an Ed instead,” Thom smiled crookedly, “I thought of that one a long time ago. You never ask me for a hand, do you?”
“Well, I am not as full of double entendres as you are of bad puns,” Jonny nudged the box with his foot, “So let’s just get to this.”
Colin threw the newspaper on the table when he saw Thom and Jonny entering the room awkwardly, the box cradled in their hands.
“Finally,” he got up, “I wonder if it’ll leave scratches on the veneer. Just put it on the floor for now.”
Ed wandered in from the kitchen, a cup of tea in hand. “Is that the thing, then?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe.
“I am surprised it took just a couple of weeks,” Phil popped up behind him, looking over Ed’s shoulder.
“Yeah, act like you know what is going on,” Thom dismissed them with a wave of his hand. Phil and Ed chuckled.
“Scissors,” Colin looked around the room, “Do we own scissors?”
“There is a knife in the kitchen,” Ed looked back over his shoulder, encountered Phil’s face, “Hey, mate.”
“Hey,” Phil laughed, going back to pick up a knife. He returned in a couple of seconds, handing it over to Colin.
“Shall I get the camera?” Jonny asked, his voice high.
“Sure, put on your Sunday dress, too,” Thom cackled. “I mean no harm,” he raised his hands defensively when he saw Jonny’s impression.
Colin worked his way through the layer of cardboard, then through the bubble wrap. Thom watched closely as a monolithic and irregularly shaped object emerged from plastic.
“Is that a new instrument?” Thom looked at Jonny “Because you should really limit your ambitions to a laptop. All the cool musicians are doing it.”
“It is not an instrument,” Jonny went down on his knees, putting his hand on the object, “It is one of the earliest art forms.”
He turned the thing – which turned out to be a slab of rock – so that Thom could see an ancient handprint on it.
“That’s a cool paperweight,” Ed said, “Is Marks and Spencer selling them now? A prehistoric paperweight – it will save your novel from a tornado. ”
“Come on, Ed, this thing is much better than a paperweight. A doorstop, maybe,” Phil and Ed laughed.
“Laugh or not, it is staying here. I like the idea of having it close while we are working on songs,” Colin said, looking around.
“What do you think, Thom?” Jonny asked.
“Um. I thought Stanley’s work was doing the trick,” Thom gestured around the room.
“Don’t you want something monumental?”
“Is that monumental?”
Everyone stared at the rock. In a couple of beats, Ed started humming Thus Spoke Zarathustra. Phil laughed, Colin and Jonny smiled in spite of themselves. Thom appeared annoyed.
“How is that connected to…this?” he asked, exasperated.
“Well, that rock did inspire the cavemen,” Ed said with a smile.
Thom lingered inside while the others were already making their way to the pub.
“Come on!” Ed yelled, and Thom cursed, looking for his wallet.
“Just go on, I’ll catch up with you,” he said, dropping his coat on the floor and heading quickly into the room.
He didn’t bother to switch on the light, but when he turned, looking around, he saw the outline of the rock. It was settled on the bureau, its reflection partially visible in the mirror behind it. The hall’s light softly cradled its irregular edges. Thom studied the alien object for a long moment before coming close to it and resting his hand on it. It felt cool to the touch.
“You know, they say it is always cold in caves, even during the summer,” Jonny emerged from the dark, approaching from behind. Thom raised his eyes, watching Jonny in the mirror; his hand was still on the rock.
Jonny slowly made his way toward Thom, stopping behind him and laying his hand on the other man’s shoulder. Thom watched Jonny’s lips touch his hair, without feeling it.
“You are probably feeling the same sensation that man felt when he made this,” Jonny whispered in Thom’s ear, brushing it with his lips. “I thought that,” he leaned in, brushing Thom’s cheek with his lips briefly, “would interest you.”
“Imagine a sensational constant that transcends time,” Jonny’s hand slithered from Thom’s waist onto his stomach, “Sure we get a lot of those. Hunger, thirst, fear, lust,” he smiled in the dark, sliding a little closer, “But this is much more personal, isn’t it? This is not just some universal feeling that you happen to experience. This is you, touching the same matter and receiving the same sensation, thousands of years into the future.”
“Of course it is just a little part of you,” Jonny’s hand slid underneath Thom’s button-up shirt, resting momentarily on his stomach, “I don’t think that he was having absolutely the same feelings as you are now.”
Thom closed his eyes, leaning his head against Jonny’s shoulder.
“Consider this your little hook that connects you to others,” Jonny kissed Thom’s neck slowly. “Something to think about when you feel like you are drifting away. When you are that little piece of Europe ‘washed away by the sea,’ so to speak,” Jonny laughed lightly, his hot breath tickling Thom’s ear. Thom sighed.
Thom was staring at the rock again, only now in bright daylight.
“How much did this thing cost, anyway?” he asked.
“I don’t know, Jonny paid for it. Does it matter?” Colin answered from the couch, not bothering to look up from his newspaper.
“Yes. No. I just can’t imagine desecrating some cave, where others could view it, just for our personal pleasure. If that thing is all about humans and…universality, then how come we get to enjoy it in the privacy of our house?”
“Thom,” Colin looked up from his newspaper, “You do know it’s a replica.”
______
I was watching “Mad Men” and the subject of cave men handprints came up. The character in the series described it as prehistoric men reaching into the future. I thought it was nifty and - Voilà!
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