Of lilac hue

[Checks And Balances]

Zach was sprawled on the white sheets of the Michaelson's large bed. His clothes were the ones from the night before and his hair was scruffy, his glasses resting precariously on the edge of the bed. He looked like any man who'd had a rough night out.

Apart from the fact that his skin, from head to toe, was a delicate lilac color.

[Zachary Michaelson]

Sweat made the sheets damp as the chemical worker picked up his face from their tangle, almost forgetting he'd spent half the night at Goddard's but for sore places where he'd been poked and prodded. The shirt he'd worn under his coat was rumpled and stained faintly green.

"Christ." He sat up, rubbing his temples of a headache, and prepared to get up to change clothes. As he stumbled from the bed, he happened to pass Colette's vanity mirror.

Moments later, a high-pitched, utterly terrified shriek echoed off the bedroom walls.

[Colette Michaelson]

Colette, who'd been just about to creep into the room to fetch some heels, banged open the door, stuffing her fingers into her ears. She caught sight of her husband. And stopped. And stared. Her face was incredulous. "Cherie?" She took a step towards him and reached out to touch his arm.

[Zachary Michaelson]

"I'm...I..." He couldn't seem to make words for the confusion sheer terror had thrown him into. He jerked away from her grasp, eyes wide, and looked at his arm as though he couldn't believe what he was seeing. "Goddard said I was fine, fine," he repeated incredulously, the words tearing from his throat in odd gasps.

[Colette Michaelson]

"You are pourple." Colette said, stupidly. "Did the doctor give you, ah, something?" Her face was still wide eyed with shock. "Ah, do you feel okay?"

[Zachary Michaelson]

"I know what I am!" This last ended in a wail that was almost as loud as the scream had been. "He didn't give me anything! God, oh, Lord, a chorbn...I'm, I'm that color, God, oh..." He was hyperventilating by now in quick breaths, eyes glazing over.

[Colette Michaelson]

Colette panicked. She blinked, and tried to get closer to her husband- "Zachary, you- eet is only a color, you- Zach can you hear me?" Her eyes were wide. "Zach please, come on, lie down- do you want, ah water? Cherie? Please?"

[Zachary Michaelson]

Gibbering in Yiddish greeted her efforts as he backed away from her further, and he slid down as he hit the wall, looking to her as though he'd never seen her before. "Not the probes," he moaned in sudden English, shaking his head.

[Colette Michaelson]

Colette knelt down in front of her husband, shaking slightly. She spoke in as steady a voice as she could. "Zach, please, I do not understand, you-" She looked at him again, and tentatively tried to reach to put an arm on his shoulder.

[Zachary Michaelson]

Zach's gaze darted to and fro, then looked to her hand as though she intended to do something horrid. He shrank back, whimpering, "I'll give you all the great-grandchildren you want, just please, no more of the pants, please, please?" Tears welled in his eyes and he looked at Colette pathetically.

[Colette Michaelson]

"Zach- Zachary." Colette tried, tears starting to come into her eyes too. "Cherie- please-" She looked behind her, and after a second shouted behind her. "Grandmere! Please come quickly now- there is something wrong with Zachary-" she turned back worriedly to her husband.

[Zachary Michaelson]

Her husband didn't seem to notice her calling for his grandmother as more Yiddish poured from his mouth and he shook from head to toe. A muddle of what sounded like names came from among the tangle, one of which was a prominent "Gillian, Lord, please..."

[Colette Michaelson]

Colette's face turned white at that particular name, but she did not give up. "I don't understand, Zach..." she repeated, uselessly, turning back again to see if her Grandmother in law was coming. "Please Zach, I..."

[Zachary Michaelson]

"Don't leave." Sobs were sticking in his throat. "I don't know what I'd do. I'm trying, I really am, but there were valleys and rivers of that color and then they landed and told me you---You can't leave!" Zach's shoulders shook and he buried his face in his hands, openly crying.

[Colette Michaelson]

Colette stared at her husband for a few seconds more, then decided to try a different approach. She grasped his shoulder firmly. "Zachary." she said, as sternly as she could. "Stop this now, yes?"

[Zachary Michaelson]

The crying only continued and grew worse. "Gai avek, gai feifen ahfen yam," he whispered, shuddering at her touch. "You aren't her, you aren't, leave me alone..."

[Colette Michaelson]

Colette froze, her face stony for a second. And then, another approach. Her hand caressed his shoulder as the other moved to stroke his face. "Cherie..." She spoke softly, in a deep voice, and tried to turn his face up towards hers.

[Zachary Michaelson]

Zach's eyes were marbles as he stared at her stupidly, tears still running down his cheeks. A fresh shudder ran through him and he froze. "Not her," he repeated, breath hitching.

[Miriam Michaelson]

"Gutenhimmel, Chaleria, you would think your hairbrush were missing, the way you're shouting," Gran muttered, cursing vibrantly in Yiddish as she caught her breath at the top of the steps. "What do you want from me?"

[Colette Michaelson]

"Please-" Colette was looked at her husband's glassy eyes. That tactic had never failed before. "Grandmere- he's- I don't know- please, come in." She moved away from her husband slightly.

[Miriam Michaelson]

The old woman shuffled unhappily inside, glaring daggers at Colette. "If this is another one of his ritch in kop experiments-gone-wrong, I swear I will never forgive you for letting me burn supper." Her huddled little form peeked at her grandson from around his wife. Seeing the issue at hand, she slowly turned her cottony head toward the French woman. "You are a stupid girl."

[Zachary Michaelson]

Zach's head snapped up at hearing the new, nagging accent. He peered past the obstruction of his wife and to the old woman. Then, he huddled into himself and emitted a quavering moan.

[Colette Michaelson]

"He has been like this the whole morning." She said in hushed tone, letting the accustomed insult slide over her. "It isn't me, he- I don't know, I don't understand."

[Miriam Michaelson]

"Zachariah," Gran intoned impatiently, setting her hands on her hips as she stepped up to her young relation and yelled something at him in Yiddish including many "I told you so's" and "Divorce her already's". "Now, tell me what you've done this time?"

[Zachary Michaelson]

Zach blinked slowly, once, twice, three times, at his full given name. He backed himself further into the wall, gulping and emitting fresh tears. Slowly, in Yiddish, he gave out a long, rambling reply, the words 'plant' and 'goo' somewhere factoring in among a tale of aliens and purple and doom.

[Colette Michaelson]

"What's he saying?" Colette demanded of her grandmother-in-law. "Please, do you know what he is doing? Or why he is purple?"

[Miriam Michaelson]

"Oh, for Heaven's sake," Gran shrieked at Colette, in a frenzy, "Crawl back under whatever rock you came out from!"

She went over to him and hugged his middle, petting his head dotingly. "There there, child. There's nothing to be afraid of. Gran's here to take care of you now. Didn't she tell you about that nasty plant?"

[Zachary Michaelson]

Zachary hiccupped, gulped a few more times, and sank into his grandmother's embrace, croaking out another plea to God in the process and another soft, "Gilly..."

[Miriam Michaelson]

"You need me to get her for you, bubbulach?" Gran asked, hugging him more tightly and indulging herself in smug little grin aimed at the whore on the other side of the room. "I can phone her right now."

[Colette Michaelson]

Colette ignored her grandmother's requests and went to squat on the side of Zach that Granny was not. "Cherie?" She said softly, reaching for his hand. "Shall I get you some breakfast?"

[Zachary Michaelson]

"Gillian, I, no, no." The crying had at least come to a halt, but the grandmama's boy still seemed shaken as he looked between them.

[Colette Michaelson]

Colette swung a sharp slap to her husband's face. That name had mentioned quite enough times.

[Miriam Michaelson]

Granny slapped her hand.

[Zachary Michaelson]

The sharp sting was enough to bring him mostly to his senses. His lilac face felt stiff and the inside of his mouth tasted of, for some reason, rotten strawberries. "The hell?" he managed hoarsely, after a few more blinks. "Gran, the hell? Are you and Colette--Christ, can I sleep in peace for just one night without you two at each other? You two, sometimes, gebrenteh tsores!"

[Miriam Michaelson]

"What the hell do you think you're doing, touching my grandson that way?" She fumed, keeping her firm hold on Zach, "You ungrateful..." and from her mouth burst the most colorful and offensive Yiddish phrases Miriam could think of. "Zachary? Are you all right, my sweet boy? You were asking for Gillian."

[Colette Michaelson]

Colette's face was stony. She looked her husband in the eye. "Zach? You 'ave mentioned your ex-wife about twenty times in the last minute." She turned to Granny. "He is my husband."

[Zachary Michaelson]

With his grandmother's every word, Zach received a whiff of eau de old. "I'm fine, Gran," he told her, subtly trying to pull away just a bit. Then he looked at Colette, eyes narrowed and eyebrow raised. "I didn't know you two going at each other like animals had anything to do with my ex-wife...The hell am I doing on the floor?" Then he remembered the kiss and blanched, hoping he hadn't said anything while he was dreaming.

[Miriam Michaelson]

She let him go, reluctantly as she could make it look, and stood back up again. "That doesn't give you any right to go bruising him, you harlot!" she yelled, "Zachary, you're still a bit feverish. Are you sure you don't need anything? A nosh, a glass of wine, Gillian?"

[Colette Michaelson]

Colette fumed. "He is MY husband and we are MARRIED and she is MARRIED and 'e does not LOVE 'er any more!" She shouted back. "You stinky old HAG."

[Zachary Michaelson]

Her grandson flushed under the lilac, the forming bruise standing out against his cheek. "No," he told the old bat quickly, swallowing, wincing at his wife's scream as he raised his own voice above it. "Breakfast, maybe, some wine, that's all." He caught sight of his arm and yanked his head up toward the ceiling. "And an excuse to tell Withers. I will not walk into work looking like this. Dammit, Goddard, I'm anything but fine," he muttered, wiping some sweat from his forehead. Then, a little more sharply, "Colette."

[Miriam Michaelson]

Noting the slip-up with a nod, Gran looked cooly at Colette. "Sure he isn't," she cooed, "I'm going downstairs to scrape the burnt food out of my pans and pray the lord is merciful and will strike down your wife sooner rather than later."

[Colette Michaelson]

Colette turned back to her husband and raised an eyebrow. "You kept calling out to 'er. Gilly."

[Zachary Michaelson]

Zach murmured something off-color of his own in Yiddish and questioned the carpet, "What did I do to get this family, Lord?" He counted to ten mentally, then looked up at his stunningly-beautiful-wife-he-would-now-need-to-suck-up-to-plenty. "Honey, darling, I swear Gilly means nothing to me. Could you...could you find it in the goodness of your heart to call the plant and tell them I won't be making it in until we get this straightened out? And, er, find me something with long sleeves and some socks?" Bare lavender toes were sticking out. An afterthought of, "And some gloves?"

[Colette Michaelson]

Colette shook her head slowly. "You talked about her like- like, I don't know. You have to tell me about her. Now. And why we are living in the same town."

[Zachary Michaelson]

Her husband squirmed. "There's not much to it, dear. We got married before the war, divorced afterwards. We've been friends awhile, but that's all." He shrugged and looked past his toes to the carpet. "It was where Simpson recommeded me after I told him I needed a raise. I topped my wages off at the last plant." He looked up at her. "You know that. I moved here mostly to make you happy."

[Colette Michaelson]

"You said her name so many times." Colette folded her arms. "And not me at all."

[Zachary Michaelson]

He groaned. So this was how it was going to be, was it? "Honey, I don't know why I'd be talking about her and not you." He tried to stand up but his knees felt much like what he'd swallowed last night. Sinking back down, he tried, "It doesn't take much to see you're prettier."

But you kissed the other one, his rational mind whispered, chuckling. He could feel himself starting to sweat again, and was thankful for the fever. "Darling, don't be angry. Please?"

[Colette Michaelson]

Colette looked calculatingly at her husband. "I'll ring the plant." she said, eventually. "You have no idea why you're, well..."

[Zachary Michaelson]

"Why I'm what?" Then Zach saw his feet again and grimaced. "No. The last thing I remember was going to Goddard's and staying well past two a.m. Came in here and collapsed." He shrugged. "The only thing I can think of that's any different is swallowing that crap at the party last night."

[Colette Michaelson]

"Oui." Colette said, earnestly, before leaning into her purple husband, shaking slightly. "I was so scared..."

[Zachary Michaelson]

Her husband closed his eyes and sighed, absently reaching up to stroke her hair as he leaned back into her. "It's all right, darling, this'll all get worked through. And please ring Goddard, too, he might need to run more tests to make sure I'm not--growing extra arms out of my stomach or little feelers or something." With his free hand he rubbed his stomach to make sure there wasn't the start of little fingers poking through the skin.

[Colette Michaelson]

Colette nestled into her husband. "I will call." she said, a little muffledly. "That color doesn't suit you."

[Zachary Michaelson]

He enjoyed her warmth for a second considering he was cold all over. "Do you mind doing it soon, darling?" he asked the top of her head. "I should probably go back to bed."

[Colette Michaelson]

Colette drew back. "You are purple." She said, clearly. "I will go and phone." She walked across the room, then hung back in the doorway. "Er, has your grandmere ever killed anyone?"

[Zachary Michaelson]

Zach used the wall as leverage to ease himself up and made his way to the bed, putting the God Awful Glasses on the bedside table. He looked at his wife for a long second. "No," he said finally, slowly, then gave her a small, secretive smile. "Not that she'd confess to, anyway." He was taking his own small revenge for his cheek smarting, having in the interim put two and two together as to why he was woken up so suddenly.

Then, he yawned as he laid himself out across the bed. "Thank you, honey."

[Colette Michaelson]

Colette pressed her lips together and gripped the doorframe for a second or two before venturing downstairs to use the phone.

[Zachary Michaelson]

With the last of his proper waking thought, Zach wondered abstractedly why the inside of his mouth tasted of mouldy lime. He barely had time to make a face against it as he fell back asleep.

[Colette Michaelson]

About two hours later, when the Frenchwoman had had time to do her make up, avoid Granny and worry about her husband some, she crept back into her room and looked at her purple husband before carefully turning away the mirror and sitting down on the edge of the bed.

[Zachary Michaelson]

Her pale bluish-red husband stirred slightly, eyes opening into sleepy slits. "How long've I been asleep?" he asked, sounding as though his mouth was stuffed with cotton.

[Colette Michaelson]

"Only a couple of hours." Colette said softly. "I rang the plant." She looked at his face worriedly. "You feel any better?"

[Zachary Michaelson]

Zach exhaled and shut his eyes again. "If I still look like I did two hours ago, not much, no." He reopened them and peered at his wife after listening for a beat. "It's quiet. That must mean Gran's worn herself out until at least dinner."

[Colette Michaelson]

"Right. Don't look at your arms." Colette smiled at her husband weakly. "I, ah, did not see your grandmere. I do not know what she is doing."

[Zachary Michaelson]

"Preparing her next two hour monologue about why we shouldn't have married as she cooks, I'm guessing," Zach sighed, rolling his eyes as he folded his arms behind his head. A pause, and his tone became concerned. "Is something wrong, dear?"

[Colette Michaelson]

Colette shifted closer to her husband. "I think this town is a bad thing for us. The explosion, you being... well. Her."

[Zachary Michaelson]

That third made Zach's eyebrows go up. "She has a name," he rebuked Colette lightly, then scooted further up the pillows he had lumped behind his head. "We'll get to the bottom of what happened at the plant, not to worry. And I'll go back to being normal...I think." He prayed. "Give it a chance. We haven't been here for very long. All right?" He gave her a comforting smile.

[Colette Michaelson]

"One you didn't tell me until yesterday, and then you cried it out when you were upset." Colette raised an eyebrow to her husband. "Why didn't you just...tell me about 'er? Or something."

[Zachary Michaelson]

Whenever he sensed an argument coming, his heartbeat would throb uncomfortably behind his right eye, as it was doing now. He frowned. "Because we've been divorced for years. We're both remarried. I had no idea this was where she moved to after we went our separate ways. I was as surprised to find out about her being here as you were. Please, Colette, don't." A trace of pleading bled into the last few words. Then, fainter, "I don't remember saying anything earlier."

[Colette Michaelson]

"I can't just leave it." Colette looked at her husband sternly. "This is us." She took a deep breath. "When you were saying things and you didn't seem awake and... well, you were saying her name." She looked at Zach with her eyes big. "I was frightened."

[Zachary Michaelson]

Zach squeezed his eyes closed. Well, there's no arguing with that, is there?

"I'm sorry." He let out a breath. "I didn't mean to scare you. I wasn't thinking straight, that's all. I promise you that if I was really awake, I wouldn't have kept saying Gi--her name."

[Colette Michaelson]

"That isn't the point." Colette said, moving still closer to her bepurpled husband. "You did say her name." She paused. "You, uh, were you feeling sick?"

[Zachary Michaelson]

When a drowning man is thrown a life raft...

"Of sorts," her spouse admitted, not meeting her eyes. "Had a bit of a fever and probably imagined half of whatever I said when I was half-awake. Used to sleepwalk sometimes as a kid, and you know I talk in my sleep sometimes."

[Colette Michaelson]

"A fever?" Colette looked concerned. "What did the doctor say? It didn't look like a fever, you were pushing me away from you and..." She looked at her husband fiercly. "Zachary, tell me the truth."

[Zachary Michaelson]

"He said I looked fine, from what he could see. Obviously, that's changed," Zach muttered sarcastically, then finally looked at his wife. The life raft was quickly going up the creek and he had no paddle. His tone grew quieter. "Remember I told you toward the end of the war I was in the army hospital?"

[Colette Michaelson]

Colette nodded. "Yes."

[Zachary Michaelson]

"I'd say it was about a week before I was discharged that we, my platoon and I, were sent to look into some German hijinks a few miles from where we were camped. On the way there, it became very bright, and then, really dark. I found out later they knew we were coming and had a few little things planned--luckily, some shlimazel on their side set the land mines off a little too early. Lucky us." A small smile.

"I was out for a week. And oy, Lord, the dreams I had! Most of them to do with, er, the color that I am right now. Goes almost without saying that I..don't like looking at--blue-red too much."

[Colette Michaelson]

Colette's eyes went wide. "You mean pourpre?" She looked at him disbelievingly. "And that is why I could not have those shoes, no?" She stared at him and then stood up angrily. "Is there anything else you aren't telling me? Do you have a baby in Timbuctu? Merde." Her eyes flashed. "And I suppose your Grandmere and this Gillian know all about it? No?" His ex-wife's name was, of course, said with enough loathing to sink a ship. "Zachary I am your wife!"

[Zachary Michaelson]

By now the throbbing was a steady, dull ache. He flinched visibly at the mention of the color and his wife's accusations, setting his jaw.

"Colette, you act as though I've been hiding seven wives in some God-forsaken country from you!" he snapped, sitting up. "For crissake, things like that aren't something you start a date off with, or a honeymoon, or, my God, a dinner conversation! 'Well, yes, I do have a problem with a color, for starters, I go half out of my head with terror! Now, would you like to meet my grandmother? Lovely woman.'" He snorted. "You're overreacting. Genug iz genug, farshtaist? Stop it. I don't feel like arguing with you about this."

[Colette Michaelson]

Colette all but stamped her foot. "I am not overreacting Zachary!" Colette hissed. "J'ai quitté ma famille et mon pays por vous! The least you could do is tell me you are afraid of pourpre! I don't care eef you do not feel like talking about eet!"

[Zachary Michaelson]

Another flinch at the verboten word, and Zachary leveled her his best filthy look without the aid of the God-Awful Glasses. "May I remind you that you wanted to come to America with me. You said, and I quote, 'My sisters are harlots and I live in a hole.'" This with complimentary and passing French accent. "For God's sake, zei nit kain vyzoso, zol zein shtil!"

[Colette Michaelson]

Colette gestured angrily with her hands. "And then you speak a language I do not understand! And I wanted to come to America with someone who was my husband and wasn't going to lie to me." She scowled. "That is not the point. Why didn't you just tell me?"

[Zachary Michaelson]

"Because it's a goddamn embarrassment, that's why not!" He threw up his hands in frustrated surrender. "Oy gevalt, Colette, are you happy now? I admitted it. Your perfect American husband isn't so damn perfect. Zol zein, enough, I don't want to keep talking about this."

[Colette Michaelson]

"Zachary I know you are not perfect." Colette said drily, giving her husband a long stare. "But I am your wife. I live through your Grandmere for you, you think I could not take this? Zachary I married you I am not going to just" she threw her hands in the air. "Just something."

[Zachary Michaelson]

"You're taking it well, all things considered," Zach told her just as dryly, if not moreso. "Had nothing to do with you. I didn't want to say it. I don't want people to think I'm meshugeh. Especially not you." He grew quieter and less dry as he spoke, looking to the bedsheets.

[Colette Michaelson]

Colette raised an eyebrow. "What does that mean? And it does have to do with me, zut alors, eef you have told me I wouldn't be so..." She shrugged. "I would not 'ave 'ad to call your Grandmere."

[Zachary Michaelson]

"You wouldn't have been frightened," Zach told her bluntly, "and it means I'd have rather not had you see me like, like that." He gestured in the air himself. "Gran understands because I came home like that and there was no hiding it then. Same for, er, my ex-wife. I didn't do it to keep things from you." He shook his head. "All we're doing is talking in circles now."

[Colette Michaelson]

"That is because you are being stupid!" Colette said, flaring up again. "Why do you have to have all these secrets! If you just told me things we wouldn't 'ave to talk about them like this! Stupid damn American!"

[Zachary Michaelson]

Her husband snarled in reply, affronted, "This is why I didn't say anything, you God-forgotten shikseh. Knew you would start some self-pitying kvetching! Shlog zich kop in vant, and leave me the hell in peace!"

[Colette Michaelson]

Colette snarled. "Fine, you stupid purple man!" She stalked to the door. "You sound just like you Grandmere!" And walked out, slamming the door behind her.

((out)).

[Zachary Michaelson]

Zach shouted something highly uncomplimentary about Colette's ancestry after her through the next flinch, rising up as though he had half a mind to follow. Instead, he rubbed his aching temples and contented himself by muttering further Yiddish abuse about her as he lay back down. Damn woman.

((out))