Brain Storm

"Oh yeah...yeah, now that you mention it, I do...gosh, that thing was beautiful, wasn't it? Wonder if I still have it..."

"Oh, Hanny, it always looked so much better on you anyway."

"Aw, mother, stop."

"Well, it's true. What made you ask?"

"Huh?"

"What I was thinking. What made you ask what I was thinking about?"

"Oh...o-oh! Right. Well, I...uh...I guess I was just in a kinda...I dunno, pensive mood, for...some reason or other, Mom. Y'know, we talk a lot, but we don't always open up about what's on our minds, like some mothers and daughters do. I guess I was...just curious."

"Huh. Interesting. Well, cookie bear, we can certainly be more expressive if you'd like."

"I think I'd like that, Mom. Well, I'd probably better get going now."

"Right. Well, keep having fun, kid. We'll see ya next time we see ya."

"Thanks, Mom. Talk to ya again in...oh, three hours or so."

"Love ya, sweetie cakes! Buh-bye!"

Click. Wow, thought Hannah. Fascinating. She clearly could not hear her mother's thoughts over the phone. She could seem to read the minds of others in close proximity, and just to a certain distance. Apparently, her newly acquired power was only useful when face to face. Earlier in the presence of all the guests and employees downstairs, it'd seemed far too much. Now back in her room by herself, having talked to her Mom had settled her down and cheered her up. Delea Finnegan had that effect with her sweet manner and even sweeter pet names (despite her own clinical depression). Hannah thought she could better assess her situation now. She seemed to be saddled with this clairvoyant gift, courtesy of that shooting meteor, whether she liked it or not. She figured she might as well try to make the best of it. She was just about to check the clock when she heard the door click.

Gasp. Mara's back! Here it came. The manifestation of what she really wanted. Hannah straightened up, faced the door and smiled.

"...Hannah-Hannah-bo-Bannah," Mara chanted, prancing inside. "Banana-fana-fo-Fannah, fee-fy-mo-Mannah..."

Seeing Hannah waiting for her, she finished with a flamboyant pose, gesturing with her hands.

"...Hannah! *God, her smile sweeps me off my jogging feet.*"

Hannah beamed, her big grin spreading ear to ear.

"*'Course, her teeth could be a little straighter...*"

Her smile shrank back just a hair.

"*...But I don't care. She's beautiful, she's sweet, and she's mine. And what does it matter whether her teeth are straight? We aren't!*"

Hannah was about to agree, until she remembered again. Gosh, this was going to take some getting used to.

"So...how was your walk-slash-jog?"

"Oh! So invigorating. Girl, I feel like I could take on the world today."

"Wow. Well, how about some lunch first? I could order up room service."

"*Room service?* Room service?" There was that stereo duality again, Mara saying exactly what she thought. "Sweetheart, there are dozens of restaurants around here we've never tried, and some of 'em are only in Fisherman's Bay! Room service's all fine and good, but we can eat in bed with the TV anytime."

That was a good point.

"That is a good point. A'right, why don't we do this. Why don't you go take a shower, and I'll look up some of the places around here, dig up some Yelps, and see what happens."

"*I suppose a shower and a change of clothes can't hurt.* Sounds like a plan. Just hop in if you wanna get wet and soapy with me."

Tempting as that sounded—and it really did—Hannah had a little work to do. Right now she was glad Mara couldn't read her mind, because truthfully, she'd misled her a bit. She wasn't so concerned with reviews. But if Mara wanted to eat out, and Hannah correctly understood the parameters of her power, she thought she'd better look for a restaurant where they could sit with some distance from fellow diners. She wanted to focus only on Mara and her thoughts alone. An unnerving thought of her own settled upon her.

Oh, God...am I gonna have to do this every time we go out to eat? Or go out anywhere? Is this mind reading thing gonna last forever? I didn't have the opportunity to include a time clause in my wish. Oh, I'm not sure I like the looks of this.

"*I think I might rub one out in the shower.*"

Hannah's brows leapt. She reflexively whipped her head up and gaped at Mara. Luckily, her back was turned, taking off her clothes.

"*Hee hee...I'll think about Hannah giving me a handjob again, like last night. God, that was awesome. I don't think she realizes how much I love her hands, how sexy they are. I wonder if I have a hand fetish. Should I tell Hannah about it? She might think it's weird.*"

"Honey?" Mara turned to address her. "I might be a while in the shower; I think I got a little sandier outside than I thought."

Hannah had to keep herself from laughing. Oh, you horny little fibber! But she couldn't be miffed at Mara for tossing up this veneer to shield her dirty secret. Hannah believed honesty was sometimes the best policy, not always. She felt there were bad lies, and then more prudent lies. The lie Mara'd just told her—at least she presumed it was after hearing her thoughts—could be argued as prudent, the truth lacking discretion. She didn't expect Mara to just come right out and announce, "Babe, I'm gonna go orgasm!" But she could euphemize and say something like, "Babe, I'm gonna go have a little private happy time while I'm washing up."

She kept watching. Mara probably knew, because she spread her legs, bent over and picked up her clothes, giving Hannah a pleasant view of her bubbly tushie and her fuzzy wuzzy.

"*Here's a little treat for ya. Like that, Han?*"

Yup. She was deliberately teasing her. Hannah nodded, answering her mental query. Mara slung her clothes in an out-of-the-way spot and slipped into the bathroom. A moment later, Hannah heard the water start running. She smirked, wishing Mara a happy climax, and opened her laptop to do some research.

She glanced down at her hands. She looked up in the direction of the bathroom, then examined her petite, delicate lady paws. She'd never thought much about them before, but hearing Mara think what she'd just thought made Hannah appreciate them a little more. She studied their tops and palms alternatingly, and began to see Mara's point.

Hm...they are kinda sexy.

She gave them each a little kiss, and returned them to their task on the keyboard.

*****

Be Careful...You Might Just Get It

Sunday, August 28th, 2016, afternoon-evening

A bit later, Mara emerged from the shower. She was stumbling a bit, but the grin on her face was unmissable. Hannah announced that she was taking them to Sea Shells, a seafood restaurant famed for fusing its crustaceous dishes with mouth-watering pasta. The lunch was amazing, even if the level of seclusion wasn't. A few fellow diners' thoughts—especially as they passed by Mara and Hannah's booth—were more distracting than others. When Mara asked her if something was wrong, Hannah had to pause to decide how to answer. While she believed there were times lying was more appropriate than others, she wasn't crazy about it. And yet, a quick apology followed by "My mind was somewhere else" remained a fine deal simpler than the truth. There was certainly enough time on the drive back home to launch in. But she also didn't want to hurt Mara's feelings. If Hannah explained that Mara shared so little with her she had to turn to the cosmic unknown, she'd risk making Mara feel bad.

She could certainly read her girlfriend's mind as well, as she'd only wanted all along. But as far as Mara's thoughts went, Hannah was a bit surprised, and frankly sort of...underwhelmed. She'd been with Mara four years, and while it didn't change the way Hannah felt about her, it seemed Mara actually didn't ponder in such profundity as Hannah might've thought. Hannah considered her own thoughts worldly and sophisticated, and supposed it just made sense that Mara's were as well. Driving with her in the car, she caught snippets such as, "*Gosh, it's pretty out here. I wonder what I'm gonna have for lunch? Hope it's good. I like ice cream. Oughta get some for dessert, if not at this place then somewhere else. Hannah's so sweet and cute, I love her so much. I'm having a great time. I'm really glad I took us here this weekend. Gonna miss it when we have to go home. Aw, what a cute dog in that car! Oooh, hot young ladies in bathing suits at 2:00. Nice. I really lucked out, though. I got the best hot young lady of all.*"

This last comment made Hannah's day, as it did each time Mara'd told her before. She got neither tired of hearing Mara say (or think) this, or of reciprocating. She tenderly clasped Mara's hand and told her she loved her. Perhaps it was less than necessary, she realized, to badger Mara about what was on her mind, or to wish upon the star for it. She couldn't reasonably force access into the girl's thoughts, and then be disappointed when they turned out not as anticipated. Hannah's thoughts tended to fall more along the philosophical: what's life about, what does it all mean, what makes us who we are, how strong are our feelings, why do we laugh, cry, fall in love, live and die. Perhaps Mara just didn't think in such terms, and that was all there was to it. It didn't mean she was less intelligent, or mentally simpler than Hannah. It probably meant she was just more carefree and happy-go-lucky. She didn't suffer from clinical depression, after all. Hannah guessed it made sense her day-to-day thoughts were sunny and merry, if bluntly shallow.

But she shouldn't assess to produce a negative outcome, even if her depression made her pessimistic sometimes. She could be an optimist when called for too. The upside to her condition was the ability, for example, to enjoy dreary or cloudy weather, cold and darkness, which most others did not. She liked being positive about certain things, even those which put her in a minority. Hannah'd never considered herself gorgeous, smoking hot or very sexy. She'd never been chased by boys in school (which in retrospect, as a lesbian, turned out to be a good thing). Mara, by contrast, would by many be considered the "hot(ter)" one in the relationship. She had her pursuers in school, and dated boys as a teen until realizing her nature. She enjoyed her own looks, and dressed and took care of herself like she meant it. She boasted milky skin, chestnut hair, and even looked like the grown-up child movie star with whom she shared her name. She truly was the light of Hannah's life. Hannah couldn't imagine a world without her.

Another Mara trait was lots of different styles of clothes. Her closet was almost twice the size of Hannah's, and the extra space was put beyond total use. She wore women's clothes, men's clothes, past fashions, present fashions, continental, domestic, imported...if it came in Mara's size, she considered it. And she refused to be deterred should any naysayer tell her a garment was "not her color," or did "not flatter her." Those decisions were hers. She worked as a junior executive at MD&M Enterprises, and made more than enough money to support herself in her medium-sized apartment, where Hannah now stayed so often she might as well have been living there.

After a disproportionate amount of time cohabitating with her Mom, Hannah began spending more and more time at Mara's until she'd practically moved in. They were, for all intents and purposes, up-shacked. Shared leftover funds went for fun expenses: extra apparel, miscellaneous purchases, dates and vacations. Sometimes she donated clothes if they didn't fit her body or taste anymore. But for the most part, right there in her massive closet they stayed. Hannah had her own sense of style, but was a bit more partial to accessories. If she really wanted an "earful" of mental Mara matter, she could take her to the mall and let her have a field day.

After lunch at Sea Shells, they worked it off with a couple games of bowling at Fisherman's Lanes, then headed back to the hotel for one more swim, one more shower, and finally got packed to check out. They had until Monday morning to leave, but did not have the day off. So they departed Sunday evening before it was very late, and enjoyed the drive home.

Hannah was a little relieved to find that those early nerve-wracking moments in the hotel were not representative of the complete mind-reading experience. Like they two, the majority of fellow vacationers had their minds off work and worries, focused on R & R. She even heard a couple young gentlemen look at them and think to the effect of, "Damn, she's hot!" She didn't know if they were referring to her or Mara, and while she couldn't court a guy even if she wanted to, their flattering thoughts nonetheless gave Hannah's self-esteem a little boost. And while she could do nothing about it, she felt sorry for the woman running the BQI gift shop. Thankfully—conditionally or otherwise—she heard no one else plotting to dismember their significant others.

Mara's thoughts didn't change much during the remaining activities or the ride back, but Hannah didn't expect them to. Admittedly, she felt a little sheepish for fussing at Mara to share her thoughts up until now. She was starting to finally realize that when she asked what was on Mara's mind, and her girlfriend just smiled, "Nuttin', honey," she actually kind of meant it. And now that Hannah could discern this, it was fine. What kept her a bit unnerved was not knowing if she'd be gifted or afflicted with this "power" indefinitely. A week? A month, a year, the rest of her life? She wasn't sure if she could get used to it.

Both were feeling nature start to call halfway home, so Hannah decided to make a stop. Her mother Delea lived closer to Fisherman's, and Hannah thought it would be nice to pay a visit. If she knew her Mom, she'd want to know every last detail of the trip, from packing their bags to...well, packing them again. And she could appreciate that. It was easy to sympathize with Delea because her marriage with Hannah's father hadn't worked out. It was slightly less easy when she called Hannah upwards of two to three times per day, often just to "touch base." Much as Hannah wanted to say, "Mother, we're still on the same base; as a matter of fact, the next pitch hasn't even been thrown yet..." she didn't. She just took a breath and moved the conversation forward. She got off on the next exit.

"*Why's she taking this exit? This one's not ours.* Where're we going?" Mara wanted to know.

"Oh, I think we could stop and say a quick hi to my Mom."

Mara paused. "*Your mother?* ...Oh."

Well, yes, my mother. Something objectionable about that?

And calling three or more times a day didn't mean Delea always got an answer. Sometimes Hannah let it go to voicemail, or just turned the phone off. She could get away with this by saying the battery ran out. The downside to that option was turning it back on and seeing the notifications, which produced guilt for not taking the calls. Delea was skilled at inducing guilt, but this didn't mean she enjoyed it. She'd tried to cut the proverbial apron strings when Hannah grew up and moved out, but her scissors needed sharpening. Hannah loved her Mom too, and maybe one day, if she had a child of her own, she'd get a handle on the whole clingy parental nature.

She couldn't deny a bit of uneasiness, however, about being able (and not being able not) to read her Mom's mind. It was nice knowing she could escape the power when on the phone. And she may've only been clairvoyant for eighteen hours so far, but were there a way to turn it off, she thought she'd have found it by now. She parked, exited the car with Mara and took her hand.

"Sweetheart, do me a little favor," Hannah requested. "You know I've been a little, uh...out of it today. So if I act weird with my Mom at all...please just don't read a lot into it."

Mara agreed. Hannah gave her paw a squeeze of gratitude, let go, located the house key and opened the door. The first thing she heard with her ears was the TV. The first she heard with her mind was—

"*Someone here?...That's gotta be either Hannah or Jim.* Yes?" Delea called.

"Hi, Mom!" Hannah announced. We didn't happen to see Uncle Jim, but if we do, we'll say hi.

"*Oh, snickerdoodle! What a nice surprise!* Oh, snickerdoodle! What a nice surprise!"

Gosh, that duality sounded weird, especially coming from her own mother. But Hannah supposed she'd better get used to it.

"Yeah, it's us, me and Mar."

Her mother hesitated.

"...Oh. *I hope they're not planning to spend the night.*"

...Really?...Well, they weren't, but... "Yeah, uh, no worries, Mom, we're not planning to spend the night or anything..." Hannah called as they passed by the living room. "We just wanted to drop in and see ya. But first we really both gotta hit the can. Long drive and all."

Once through with this obligation, they returned to join Delea in front of the TV, and told her all about the trip. She was happy they'd enjoyed themselves, Hannah noted. Yet...for some reason, she detected a startling pattern. It seemed...every time Hannah mentioned Mara's name, her Mom's thoughts became...less amiable, somehow. This was unsettling, and something Hannah'd never have expected of her. She'd never had any visible problem with Mara before. Had she been expertly concealing it all this time?

"So what're you watching, Mrs. Finnegan?" Mara asked her.

"Oh, just a Goldbergs rerun. *Nothing you girls'd probably be too interested in, Hannah's friend. There aren't any lesbians in it.*"

"Hannah's friend"? Um, she has a name, you know, mother. And she's my girlfriend, not just my friend. And, believe it or not, there don't have to be lesbians in something for us to watch it. There was a number of disconcerting things Delea'd just thought. But oh well, she hadn't said them out loud...Hannah tried to think of a way to get her points across without unveiling her power.

"Oh yeah? Well, Mom, I don't think Mara and I've seen the Goldbergs before. We might find it interesting."

"*Speak for yourself,*" thought Mara. "*I have. 'S kind of a kid's show.*"

Hannah forced herself not to turn Mara's way in surprise. Did she really just think that? That didn't seem very much like her at all.

"Well, you girls are welcome to keep watching. *I'm sorry, but I don't think I get the LoGo channel.*"

Again with this gay business? Now where had that one come from? It was becoming increasingly tough to pretend she didn't know what her mother—and girlfriend—were thinking. Perhaps this visit wasn't such a good idea. Hannah didn't want to stir the pot, as it were, but she had to know if she were somehow interpreting things the wrong way. She didn't think she could bear to have her Mom and girlfriend hate or even dislike each other.

"And...and-and Mara, you don't really have to call her Mrs. Finnegan. I'm sure Mom'd be just fine with you calling her Delea."

"*Yeah, I think I'll stick with Mrs. Finnegan,*" thought Mara.

"*Mrs. Finnegan'll be just fine, thanks, honey,*" Delea thought simultaneously.

This was getting scary. But Hannah was not about to accept the prospect that she'd two mortal enemies on her hands. She tried again.

"Hey, y-you know, Mom, Mar and I really like coming over to see you. It's much better than talking on the phone."