Chapter 1

For my entry in the Born to Run Challenge, I give you a slice of life story in two parts. The inspiration comes from the Springsteen lines: “Wendy, let me in,” and “Kids were huddled on the beach in the mist,” both from the title track on the Born to Run album.

These lines are woven into a cross between a few characters from Peter Pan, a government conspiracy theory, and a B-grade zombie movie. Sprinkled over all that is some mildly steamy sapphic love. Don’t take it too seriously.

Part I: Wendy Let Me In

All of this has happened before, and it will all happen again. But this time, it happened in Asbury Park, a beachfront city on the New Jersey shore.

Wendy Darling plodded through the alley. She used the shortcut often. It shaved about seven minutes off the walk from the restaurant where she worked to the little apartment she shared with Peter. Except tonight. Tonight, the place was lit up with the flashing lights of cop cars and paramedics.

Wendy turned before she got too close to the pulsing wall of blue and red. She cut around a garage and hopped a fence. Wendy’s apron snagged on the top of the chain link and she stood hopping on one foot until she freed it.

“Damn it,” muttered Wendy, looking at the corner of her apron where it had hung up. There was a hole now, just above the hem. “Work’s gonna charge me for that. I just know it,” she groused.

An upstairs light came on at the house next door and Wendy froze. When it went off again, Wendy hustled through the yard to the front sidewalk. She crossed the street and continued her trudge home.

A siren wailed and the roar of an accelerating diesel rattled in the distance. Blue and red still flashed unabated.

The three wooden steps of the one and a half story bungalow groaned and creaked as Wendy ascended. She stood on the dark front porch digging in the pocket of her apron. She pulled out the roll of bills, her tips for the night. Transferring the cash to her other hand, Wendy returned to digging in her apron pocket.

“Damn it,” she muttered, for the second time that night as she came up empty.

Wendy lifted the mat in front of the door. Nothing underneath.

She shrugged and tried the door handle next. It didn’t budge.

Finally, Wendy rapped on the door. “Peter!” she hollered. “Peter, I’ve lost my key.”

“Fuck,” Wendy swore as she climbed the trellis around back to land face down, bent at the waist, halfway onto the roof of the back porch. Hands flailing, she searched for a better purchase. Finding none, Wendy bent her right knee and pushed up hard with her right leg.

Wendy’s apron, now caught by the gutter in the same place it had snagged the fence earlier, let out a rip.

A tumbling glint of golden light caught Wendy’s eye and a diminutive metallic clang followed. Wendy looked down just in time to see her house key bounce on the concrete of the rear walkway. “Fuck!” she cursed a second time.

Wendy pushed herself the rest of the way up onto the roof of the back porch and walked gingerly to the attic window. Muttering a brief prayer under her breath, Wendy curled her fingers under the sill.

Wendy turned her head skyward. “Thank you,” she muttered, and stooped to step inside, one leg after the other.

Wendy shut the window behind her.

After clomping down the attic steps, Wendy hung her tattered apron on the hook just inside the back door. She reached into the apron’s pocket and pulled out the wad of bills. Money in hand, Wendy crossed into the kitchen, making a beeline to the cabinet beside the fridge. She pulled out the jar labeled cookies.

Wendy dug around for the roll of bills already inside the jar. She looked at the roll from the jar. And then the roll in her hand.

“The fuck,” muttered Wendy as she unrolled the bills from the jar, laid them flat, and compared it to what was in her hand. She counted both stacks and frowned.

“Goddamn it,” she mumbled, her face getting redder. “Peter!”

Wendy marched from the kitchen, through the dining room, to the front room. Peter sat sprawled in a ratty old club chair, guitar in hand and headphones over his ears. On the side table to his left was a spoon, a syringe, a lighter, and a length of rubber tubing. His shirtsleeve was rolled up on one side.

“Goddamn it, Peter!” she exclaimed, the second time that night.

Peter looked up, pulled the headphones away from one ear, and offered a glazed-eyed smile. “Babe,” he said.

“Fuck off,” said Wendy, and spun on her heel to march off to the bathroom. After twisting the tap to turn on the shower, Wendy sat down on the toilet and cried.

“Wendy, let me in,” she heard whispered.

“Fuck off, Peter,” she grumbled, as she wiped under her eyes.

Wendy stood up, stripped out of her work clothes and stuck her hand into the stream of water to check the temperature. After another wipe at her eyes, she stepped in.

“Wendy, let me in,” she heard again.

“It’s not funny, Peter, you asshole.”

“It’s not Peter,” whispered the voice.

“Tink?” exclaimed Wendy.

“This is insane,” muttered Wendy. “I’m insane. I’m going fucking insane.”

“You’re not insane, Wendy.”

“Tink? It’s really you?”

“Where the fuck have you been?” Wendy stood in the shower, staring up at the ceiling. “God, we were kids. I loved you, Tink. And then you left me. And now you’re telling me you’re back? I thought you fucking died!”

“I did die,” whispered the voice.

“I’m insane,” mumbled Wendy, hanging her head in the stream of water coming from the shower head. “That’s it. I’ve finally lost it. I’ve gone bat shit.”

“Fairies can come back to life, Wendy,” said the voice. “But you have to believe.”

“Sounds like a crock of shit,” huffed Wendy.

“Do you believe, Wendy?”

“Do I believe I’ve finally snapped? Do I believe I’m so done with this fairy tale life?” Wendy made air quotes with her fingers as she said the words, fairy tale.

“Will you say you believe?”

Wendy sighed. “I don’t know what I believe, Tink.”

“Where are you? You’re in my head? I knew it! I am insane.”

“All you have to do is say you believe, Wendy.”

“Believe in me,” whispered the voice.

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” grumbled Wendy. “I believe.”

“Hello, lover,” said Tink, standing naked under the shower head, right in front of Wendy. A tribal tattoo adorned her right arm, twisting from shoulder to wrist, and matching barbells ran through the crinkled pink of her nipples. The gold of the piercings matched the yellow blonde of Tink’s pixie-cut hair. Both were sparkling.

“Jesus!” exclaimed Wendy, crossing her arms over her chest, while crossing her legs at the same time. “How’d you get in here?”

“You left your key on the walk out back,” said Tink. “Was that not for me?”

“The k-k-key?” Wendy stammered. “What? No. It fell out of my…”

Wendy let her words trail off as Tink touched the tip of her finger to the center of Wendy’s chin.

“Do you want me to go?” asked Tink.

“Do I…? No,” said Wendy, uncrossing her arms from her chest and relaxing her posture to stand straight again.

“Good,” said Tink. “I don’t want to go. We have work to do.”

“How long’s it been?” asked Wendy.

Tink said nothing, she just shrugged and puckered her lips. Tink dragged her fingertip down Wendy’s chin and placed a peck in the spot where it had been.

“Tink…” said Wendy.

“Is this not what you want?” asked Tink. “Is this not what you dream of every time you come home from a double shift at work only to find Peter stoned out of his mind?”

“I… I don’t know.”

Tink moved her mouth to hover just below Wendy’s ear. “Wendy, let me in,” she whispered, then switched to running her tongue over the skin of Wendy’s neck.

“We were just kids,” complained Wendy, as she shuddered.

“You weren’t,” said Tink. “You were a mother. A mother to that lazy, no good bunch of boys. Still are, judging from what I saw in the front room.”

“And I’ve missed you,” said Tink. “Turn around.”

“Turn around,” repeated Tink. “I’m going to wash your hair.”

Wendy snickered. “I’m a big girl, I can wash my own hair.”

“I know you can,” said Tink, bending to reach for the shampoo. “Let me do it anyway. You deserve to have somebody take care of you for a change.”

“Oh, Tink,” sighed Wendy.

Tink upended the bottle and squirted shampoo into her open palm. She began to lather Wendy’s hair.

Tink chuckled as she massaged Wendy’s scalp. “You may have mentioned that.”

“I’ve missed you so much.”

“Let me take care of you.”

“Tink…” mumbled Wendy, as Tink worked her fingertips through the bubbly foam over Wendy’s head. “Feels good.”

Tink closed the gap between herself and Wendy. “It certainly does,” said Tink.

“Mmm,” moaned Wendy.

“Lean your head back and rinse, okay?”

Wendy took a shuffling step backward, pressing harder into Tink’s body.

“It’s okay,” said Tink, snaking her left arm around Wendy’s waist. “I’ve got you.”

“Tink?” said Wendy, as she leaned back under the stream of water from overhead.

“When did you get so ripped?” Wendy ran her fingers over her hair one more time and turned around to stare at Tink’s chest. She laid her right hand over Tink’s left arm. Starting at the shoulder, Wendy trailed her fingers over the rippling muscles.

“You noticed.” Tink turned her head to the side, avoiding Wendy’s stare. “Been working out.”

“I’d say,” said Wendy. “I like it. And your nipples.”

Tink smirked and moved her gaze back to Wendy’s eyes. “You like that too?”

Wendy nodded. “Never thought of you with piercings, but yeah, I like it.”

“We’ve grown up, Wendy,” said Tink.

“We have.” Wendy moved both hands to cup Tink’s shoulders. She stepped back and scanned the blonde woman from head to toe.

“And I’ve gotten your boobs all soapy with rinsing my hair,” said Wendy.

Tink just shrugged and moved her hands up to tug at the suds with her flattened palms. Little by little, she coaxed away the soapy bubbles until clear water ran over her skin.

“Tink?” said Wendy. “Let me help you?”

Tink nodded, and Wendy lifted her own hand to rest over Tink’s. Together they swept away the remaining remnants of shampoo.

“Wendy,” whispered Tink.

“We’re not kids anymore.”

Wendy shook her head.

“I’ve always loved you, Wendy,” said Tink. “Now I’d like to show you how much.”

Wendy stared into Tink’s eyes. She began to nod.

Tink reached out for Wendy’s hand and took Wendy’s fingers in her own. She held Wendy’s hand, stroking Wendy’s fingers with her thumb as the water cascaded over them.

“Tink…” whispered Wendy.

Wendy used her free hand to wrap around behind Tink’s neck and pulled her the rest of the way in. The water flowed over and between them as they locked their lips together.

“Tink,” mumbled Wendy.

“I’ve got you, baby,” said Tink, wrapping both arms around Wendy’s waist and pulling her in tight.

Wendy stood with both hands draped over Tink’s shoulders with fingers clasping around the back of Tink’s neck. “Still a little shampoo,” said Wendy.

“Where?” said Tink, stepping back slightly and tucking her chin to look downward.

“There,” said Wendy, moving a finger to rest at the top of Tink’s left breast.

Wendy dragged her fingertip downward, little by little, as the water streaming from the shower head parted to flow around.

“Oh,” said Tink, smirking. “There.”

Wendy nodded as she dragged her finger lower.

“And some over here,” said Tink, turning to glance down at her right breast.

“Mm-hmm,” said Wendy, dipping her head.

“Oh,” mumbled Tink. “Yes. Right there.”

Wendy moved in to place a kiss on the spot where she had started with her finger. And as she dragged her finger steadily downward, Wendy followed with her mouth.

“Are they standing up all the time?” asked Wendy, touching her finger to the tip of Tink’s left nipple.

“Since the piercings?” asked Wendy.

Tink shook her head. “Since you called my name,” said Tink. “Since you decided you needed me again.”

“Oh, Tink. How could I have ever forgotten you?”

“Let me make sure you remember,” said Tink, moving her hands behind Wendy’s head and guiding her in.

Wendy touched down to kiss a patch of skin just above the diminutive pink of Tink’s areola.

Tink combed the fingers of her right hand through Wendy’s hair, gathering the wet strands into clumps and brushing them over Wendy’s shoulder.

Wendy pushed her tongue forward until it peeked out between her lips. She cupped Tink’s breast in her hand. With her mouth stretching into a grin, Wendy lifted with her hand, while thrusting out with her tongue.