Chapter 6: Saturday

John was silently pleased with himself, the smug expression hidden by the darkness of the den, Delenn's warm body snuggled so close to his he could feel the tickle of her breath against his neck, the L-shaped beige, suede-like sectional comfortable and large enough to accommodate his tall frame.

He'd moved them into the den ten minutes ago after Delenn managed to eat and keep down a bowl of soup and saltine crackers. It was his mother's recipe, and she guaranteed him it would work. And it did, his wife sated and feeling damn good against his hard body.

This early spring was working out better than John thought, Delenn slowly returning to herself, the ice caps melting, giving way to sunny days ahead.

He'd planned an old-fashioned picnic for them, the spacious grounds and large mossy trees perfect for a romantic getaway, but it began to rain mid-day and hadn't let up, leaving John to alter his plans. So he moved the picnic to the living room floor, complete with scented candles, slow jazz, and a well-worn, much loved afghan blanket his Nana knitted for him when her fingers were still straight and precise, not gnarled from age and arthritis.

While John couldn't give Delenn the outdoor picnic experience he desired, he made do. And he was still making do, movies, especially drive-ins, a foreign notion to Minbaris. Even for humans, drive-ins were a relic of the past, except in some small towns, like his, that sought to preserve pop culture through creative reenactments. So, John had spent many a Saturday night at the drive-in, ignoring movies too old to be of interest to a teenager, lips and hands fastened on his girlfriend, praying she'd finally let him make it to second base.

John looked around, the den was no drive-in, but again, he would make do.

"What is this movie about, John?" Delenn questioned, raising her head from his shoulder, eyes a curious shade of gray, her black robe gaping enough for John to take a thorough, appreciative look, second base hovering over the horizon.

"Umm, well, honey," he murmured, forcing himself to focus on her words and not how good Delenn's nipples would taste in his mouth.

Get your mind out of the gutter, John. You have twenty-four more hours and she'll be all yours. Just keep it together until then.

"When I was a boy, my mom and dad collected what humans once called movies. They were very similar to the vids we have today. Some were funny, scary, dramatic, adventurous, sappy, and just plain stupid. They gave a glimpse into the world back then, the story often reflecting whatever was going on."

Delenn shifted, her hand going to John's thigh, small fingers gently massaging, an unconscious gesture that made those twenty-four hours feel like twenty-four days.

Focus, John. She's just interested in the story. You know how your wife is, her casual touches are signs of love and affection, not neon lights blinking, Take Me Now.

"What's wrong?" she asked, John having not realized he had stopped talking and was just staring at Delenn. Staring at her rosy, kissable lips that she'd just wet with her tongue, causing John to suck in a breath, fighting against the image that just popped into his head. Too late. Shit. There was no way third base was on the table tonight, because what he was envisioning now required the juice of the gods, which gave John a very naughty idea about Sunday night and a very special Easter basket.

"Ah, nothing," John said, picking up and kissing Delenn's roving hand, keeping it in his, stopping the torture before she realized the effect she was having on him. "Mom used to make us watch the movies as a way for us to spend time together as a family. At some garage sale, my dad found a movie from 2008. The data crystal was pretty beat up and dirty, but for a buck, it was a deal. Besides, it made for the oldest, rarest movie in their humble collection."

"Your father discovered a movie that was hundreds of years old?"

"Yeah, it was pretty cool, and once he'd cleaned it up he made us all gather in the den, like we are now," he said, squeezing the captured hand, "and watch."

"What was it called?" Delenn's eyes sparkled with intense interest. God, she was beautiful, so open and full of genuine curiosity.

"Cherry Blossoms."

"Cherry Blossoms," she repeated. "Cherries are red fruits grown on your planet, are they not?"

John nodded. "But the movie wasn't about the fruit but the flower known as cherry blossoms."

"I've never heard of such a flower." She thought a minute, and then added, "I'd never heard of forget-me-nots either but I now count them among my favorite flowers." Delenn removed her hand from John's and placed it back on his thigh, renewing her slow, tortuous caress. And John could now see the erotic twinkle in his wife's deceptively innocent eyes. She knew exactly what she was doing. God help him, Sunday couldn't come soon enough.

"Yeah, well." He cleared his throat and said pointedly, "If you intend on making it to Sunday with your honor still intact, as well as that nice robe of yours, I suggest we keep our hands to ourselves."

Delenn didn't argue. She simply blushed and removed her hand. "Please continue, John, I have no desire to explain to my doctor why my pin'cha level is low."

"You mean . . . ?"

Delenn nodded. "The level increases the longer a woman goes without sexual release. Based on the three week mandate we were given, she'll expect a certain amount." Delenn's face reddened even more. "As it is, she'll likely wonder about the declining difference in my hormone level from my last visit. Which was two days before the . . . ah, hot tub." And, yes, her face was now scarlet.

Yeah, John wouldn't be seeing second base tonight. It was for the best, he convinced himself, the last thing he needed was to have Delenn's doctor glowering at him as if he was nothing more than an oversexed human.

Delenn smiled, and then said, "Tell me more about the movie."

Good. They were back on track.

"My mother loved the movie and used to watch it over and over. Personally, I never could figure out what she saw in the movie. It was boring, if you ask me. But when I unpacked the other day, I found the data crystal wedged in with some of my stuff she'd sent me when I became captain of Babylon 5. I never even bothered to open the box. I guessed I just shoved it in the back of my closet and forgot about it."

"Until you unearthed it during your spring cleaning," Delenn mocked.

"Hey, spring cleaning is a very good tradition. It may not involve prayers, candles, and special foods, but it gets the job done."

"Of course it does, John, and the house is beautiful." Her words held no mockery this time, just a sincere compliment.

He wanted to thank her with a kiss, but he refrained, the fruit forbidden, an apple in the Garden of Eden.

John smiled back instead. "Anyway, I found it Tuesday and decided to watch it again for old time sake. I only intended to watch a few minutes of it, which was all I could ever really stomach, but I found myself inexplicably drawn to it. It was as if I was seeing it through new eyes. As an impatient kid, I couldn't appreciate the depth and meaning of the movie. It was so beyond my experience that I couldn't latch on to the power of the story, the symbolism. When I watched it the other day I felt like it was produced with me in mind."

And it did, the story so close to him as to be frightening. And, no, John normally didn't believe in coincidence or even fate. But since meeting and marrying Delenn, he had revisited his ideas about fate. And fate it had to be, for there was no other reason to explain why that movie would show up now, in his possession when his own fate was irrevocably set in stone.

John began to explain. "The Japanese have a term, "mono no aware," which refers to the fleeting nature of the world. This aesthetic and spiritual concept conveys the slender sadness of the human condition. We desire permanence but everything is constantly changing. Despite our efforts to control things, there is nothing we can cling to or hold on to. It is best to savor the moment of beauty as it passes in the tender loving touch of a lover, in the purr of an adoring and peaceful cat, in the energetic leap of a dancer, in the gentle swaying of trees in the breeze."

Delenn settled back against his shoulder, her long, brown hair twisted into a lovely French braid.

"The impermanence of life is at the core of Cherry Blossoms," he continued, twirling a stray lock of her hair around his index finger, "an exquisite German film directed by Doris Dorrie. A wonderful sequence in the story takes place during the cherry blossom season at the beginning of spring in Japan. Hanami is celebrated for about ten days as families, friends, and visitors gather under trees while their pink and white flowers are in full bloom. The cherry blossom is seen as a symbol of beauty, awakening, and the transience of life. In a haiku, Issa has written:

'In the cherry blossoms' shade
There is no such thing as a stranger.' ''

John looked down at Delenn and asked, "Do you understand so far, honey?"

"I think so."

"I don't want to ruin the movie for you, but I think if I explain it first, it will make a lot more sense to you when we watch it."

"I think that will help, John, please proceed."

"The main characters, Trudi and Rudi have been married for many years and live in a small Bavarian town. She is a dreamer interested in the arts and adventure. He works as a civil servant in the Department of Waste Management. She wanted to become a dancer and move to Japan. He is very much caught up in the regular routines of his life which he follows diligently: taking the train to work and eating a sandwich and an apple for lunch. She desires change, and he fears change. Despite their differences, they have forged a strong marriage and live alone now that their three children are grown."

"Did this Trudi and Rudi remind you of us?" Delenn asked. She took one of the white throw pillows and situated it on John's lap before reclining on it, her head propped on the pillow, eyes looking at him, awaiting his answer.

"I did see a lot of us in them, not a mirror image, of course, but enough to make me think, to ponder my existence, the twenty years I have left."

This was a subject they rarely talked about, the seed he planted when John made that fateful leap into the abyss, only to be reborn, renewed—winter morphing into spring.

When he'd watched Cherry Blossoms for the first time in years, John knew it was a sign to address a very difficult topic, the movie perfect in its symbolism. If Delenn was to see her shadow, look past the ugliness that was winter, and embrace spring in all its forms and imperfections, they could finally begin their life together, appreciating the time they have together, instead of lamenting the time fate didn't see fit to grant them.

Delenn looked away from him but didn't move. "Go on."

"Learning that Rudi only has a short time to live, Trudi convinces him to take a trip to Berlin to visit two of their children. He reluctantly agrees to go but is not excited by the journey. While she struggles to find the right moment to tell her husband about his imminent death, their two children, a son with wife and kids, and a lesbian daughter and her lover, only have a limited amount of time to give to their parents. They make it quite clear that they have little in common across the generations."

John paused, waiting for Delenn to ask him to define lesbian, the word coming out of his mouth without thought. But she said nothing, nor did she question the idea of a generational divide, children not honoring their parents and all that, a clear contradiction to the Minbari ideal.

"Even though we are the same people," Delenn began just when John was about to continue, "the caste system inherently fosters differences, but such differences are no cause for contention if we all understand that dissimilarity doesn't mean unequal or inferior. During the Minbari civil war, we had forgotten that."

Delenn said it so plainly as if it was the simplest thing in the world to do and understand. For her, John knew it was. And that was why he had no trouble finding her a replacement for Lennier. He hadn't set out to acquire Delenn three aides, one from each caste. But when he'd inquired of her uncle, Calleen, John had unknowingly set a snow ball in motion, and it hurdled itself down the hill, building in force and intensity until it crashed into him at the bottom.

By the end of the day, representatives from six members of the Grey Council, offering cousins, daughters, nieces, and sisters, had contacted John. Not wanting to offend, John reluctantly selected one young woman from each caste, hoping that would be a strong enough sign of respect for all three castes.

But he had lost a lot of sleep over Delenn's response. Even if she wasn't suffering from emotional whiplash, she wouldn't take his replacing Lennier lightly. But to his ever-loving surprise, she didn't divorce or kill him. Instead, she'd seemed inordinately pleased with the gesture, the young women slowly tearing down that wall she'd built around herself.

And, no, she didn't fail to notice that John selected only females. In fact, that was his top criteria when he'd spoken with Calleen, who seemed to understand without explanation. "Sometimes," Calleen had said quietly, "young, inexperienced males find it difficult to distinguish between hero worship and love." And maybe that defined Lennier, but John wasn't taking any chances, no more moonie-eyed male acolytes for Delenn.

"My sweet, idealist," John said. He ran a finger from Delenn's temple to the edge of her bonecrest, dipping into one of the grooves and gently stroking. Delenn closed her eyes, and then sighed.

"John," her voice was low, coming out in a soft purr, "have you forgotten what you learned during the Shan'Fal, or are you simply taking the opportunity to pay me back for earlier?"

"What?"

Delenn grasped his wandering hand, pulled it to her mouth, and kissed.

"Oh, yeah, sorry, honey. I wasn't thinking. Okay, then, where was I?" It was a rhetorical question and Delenn waited quietly for him to remember where he'd left off in the story.

Finally, John regained his bearings and began again. "Trudi decides to leave Berlin for a visit to the Baltic Sea, a place she finds romantic and soothing. While they are there, she unexpectedly dies peacefully in her sleep. Rudi returns to their home and is unable to cope with his feelings of loneliness and guilt. For the first time in his life, he realizes that he never really honored Trudi's deepest yearnings. Since her life always pointed to Japan, he decides to visit his youngest son, Karl, who lives and works in Tokyo."

"That's so sad," Delenn said, and John swore he saw the faintest sheen of tears in her eyes, the dim light of the room hooding her features, much the way it did his earlier.

"I read, Delenn, that Dorrie was a spiritually sensitive German film director who had made a remarkable and touching film about impermanence, death, grief, and the healing power of creativity. With a Zen appreciation of small details, the drama was peppered with magical cinematic moments involving water, mountains, dandelions, flies, and cherry blossoms. The story of Rudi's spiritual journey to Japan unfolds slowly, and the audience is able to sense the courage it takes for him to make such a trip in order to commune in a very real way with Trudi. Karl, who has never been close to his father, spends a lot of time at work. He misses his mother and like Rudi regrets that he wasn't more attentive to her."

Delenn laughed. "Beloved, it sounds like you memorized a vid review."

"I did, you couldn't possibly think I sounded like that much of a Religious Caste Minbari without some help."

"Anyway, honey, I'm almost finished. Just listen and maybe I will amaze you even more with my miraculous ability to memorize large quantities of text."

Delenn laughed, but said no more.

"Rudi is delighted to be in Tokyo during Hanami, cherry blossom time. In an interview the filmmaker stated that one has to give love a chance to reveal itself in its greatest pain and strength. That's why the Japanese sit under the cherry blossoms, because they are tremendously beautiful when they are blooming. At the same time, the pain over the fact that this period of blossoming is short-lived is tremendous as well. One has to catch the moment when they are actually blossoming, that's why they have people monitoring the trees. Because, if you miss that particular moment, that's it, for an entire year or possibly forever. In love, one has to keep at it, one has to give it the chance to blossom and, when it does, one has to actually be there to appreciate it. That's what it's all about; that each person, each plant, each animal is granted a moment when it can truly blossom and reveal itself. But what often happens to us, and to Rudi, is that we just keep suppressing it. We never allow our true self and our true beauty to reveal itself, to blossom like the cherry tree does."

When John finished, Delenn sat up, and he could see the tears clearly now, falling onto her pale cheeks, her hand going to his own, before sliding behind his neck, pulling herself to him in a forceful embrace. And then John spoke, words Delenn would speak to him in her future, his past. "Treasure the moments you have; savor them for as long as you can, for they will never come back again."