by K Larsen
“What’s going on up there?” she asks, face hanging out the truck window.
“That’s the Calley Bridge. Kids are jumping.”
“How do you know?” She pulls her head back in the cab and pins me with a perplexed look.
“Greene was my first foster home,” I tell her.
Charlotte regards me for a moment in silence while holding her hair out of her face, leaving only the radio making any noise. She rests her hand on my thigh, sending a little zing of electricity jolting up my leg.
“We should skip this town then. Screw Greene!” she shouts out the window. A couple of the kids look over their shoulders at her with confused expressions. A laugh threatens to explode out of me.
I jerk the wheel and pull off the road after we pass the bridge and into the small dirt lot. I know from experience that the water will be cool and refreshing with the scorching temperature. Neither of us have had a shower since we left. But mostly, I think Charlotte deserves to have this moment without my ugly past casting a shadow over it. I throw the truck in park and leap out. Rounding the hood fast, I pop Charlotte’s door open and give her my hand.
“Come on. Let’s do this.” A ripple of excitement rolls through me. She eyes me suspiciously, but obliges letting me help her out of the truck. I walk her to the bridge and peer over the edge.
“They jump from here?” she asks, staring down at the kids splashing in the water, a pinched look on her face.
I nod. “Yup. You ready?” I hop over the rail onto the edge of the bridge.
“Nope. We don’t have to. I don’t have my suit on. It’s not safe.”
“Live a little, City,” I say, eyebrows up, teasing.
Without much thought, I leap. A shrill wail leaves my mouth as I drop. My stomach rushes up into my throat. I clamp my legs together and cross my arms over my chest and then I’m in. Submerged in cool, clear water. My elbow knicks something as I sink a little more, before kicking and stroking my way up to the surface. My head breaks through and I gulp air. That was by far the most exhilarating moment of my life. In that free fall nothing mattered. My head was clear. I can’t make out what Charlotte, up on the bridge is hollering at me, but it doesn’t matter. I swim to the river bank and crawl up onto the grassy shore.
I watch as she teeters on the rail of the bridge, uncertain in her capability to leap, so I yell up at her to jump. She is so much stronger than she gives herself credit for. She just needs someone to bolster that part of her soul to realize it, and if there is one thing I am able to provide her, it’s that. With a terrified expression, she leaps from the bridge. Charlotte does things to my insides that no one else has done before. I stop breathing when she looks at me—my lungs discombobulated from their function. Her smile makes me want to hide her away for all time to be only mine. The feeling in my chest is overwhelming when I say or do something that makes her laugh. To think, I caused that joy is an immeasurable feat. I shouldn’t want these things though. I have nothing to offer her. Nothing in my future either that will be worth what Charlotte should have. No stability. No family. No great life plan or dream to follow. I offer only burdens to carry and she’s too grand for all that. For the little time I’m able to steal her away from the world, I vow to relish the feeling of home with her, the light and kindness she emits. I vow to polish that damn aura that halos around her.
“You’re bleeding.” The voice startles me. The golden-skinned girl of my dreams is watching my arm with concern plastered all over her face. I look to my elbow. Blood, a tiny rivulet of it, crimson and viscous rolls down my forearm.
“Yup,” I say.
Charlotte’s eyes roam over my wet clothes, from my chest to my ankles. I tug at my tee shirt to loosen it as much as possible. Charlotte’s tank has become a second skin—clinging to her breasts and belly and I find myself unable to tear my eyes from her. Kids shout, and the sound of water splashing fills the air but I can’t see any of it. Only her.
Her lips turn up, stretching her mouth into a toothy grin.
“One more time?” she asks.
I stand and wrap my arms around her as she fits her head beneath my chin. She fits me better than my worn leather jacket. I hold on to her as if she’s going to dissolve any moment now. As if my demons will appear and choke the life right out of us.
“You’re so badass.”
18
Charlotte
I watch the water racing from the mountains. I think about how it weaves around map-dot towns, beneath bridges, rushing over stones and cutting through forests, until it lands at the feet of Dallas, who’s standing on the rocky shore, looking out at the place where the water meets land.
“Freedom!” he yells into the trees, before turning to face me and laughing. I like the sound of it. It comes from deep down. He begins to race up the trail that’s been trampled into existence back to the bridge.
I grab his hand as we round the last corner of the trail before we reach the top. Hand in hand we step up onto the edge of the bridge. I bite my bottom lip in anticipation knowing the free fall will make my stomach plummet and my lungs seize.
A trickle of red from his arm leaks down to where our palms are joined, staining my hands red. Melding us together.
“Ready?” he asks.
I nod.
We leap off the bridge, attached by fingers, smiles and hearts in sync, and plummet toward the dark water below, screaming freedom.
When I break the surface of the water Dallas is already wading toward the tree line. His clothes cling to his body in a way that leaves nothing to the imagination and it sets my skin on fire. I approach slowly, partly because walking in water filled Converses is hard, and partly because I don’t want to break the spell of the moment. Dallas twists the fabric of his shirt, wringing out the water. The hint of flesh that shows has me wanting to squeeze my thighs together. He winks. Winks. I suck my bottom lip between my teeth. I can’t breathe when he looks at me like he wants to eat me.
“I’m starved,” he says, while pulling me against him again. My flesh is like a wildfire, scorching and spreading with no signs of slowing as his hands rub up and down my back. I want more. But I don’t know how to say it out loud just yet. His belly rumbles audibly, making me giggle.
“Let’s eat then,” I say.
“I know a place. Come on, City, let’s get some grub.”
As we roll into the little downtown area, Dallas goes stiff. His demeanor switching from carefree to on guard almost instantly. Down on one corner, young boys congregate. They slap hands, trash talk and pretend to be more important than they are. Out in a side street, older boys skateboard. And behind them is an aluminum tube with a giant neon sign that reads Diner 24/7. Dallas pulls into the lot and parks. The chimney stack on the restaurant next door belches a thin thread of smoke into the scorching air. From the bed of the truck, Dallas tosses me a towel and I do the best I can to dry off before we head inside.
When we walk in, a bell rings above the door.
“Just a sec!” someone shouts out from the belly of the kitchen. I look around, taking mental pictures of the place because it is super old school and I like it.
“Dallas? Is that really you?”
Dallas grins and she wraps her arms around him after wiping her hands off on her apron. She smacks her gum and squeezes his biceps as she holds him at arm’s length to inspect him. “Damn, you’ve still got it.”
Got what? I tug on his wrist but he is too busy talking to the young thing with three studs up each ear lobe to pay much attention to me. I don’t even wear makeup unless I’m in femme fatale mode. Which is never. Let’s face it, I’ve never been anything more than invisible. They’re talking but the words are garbled as she keeps pawing at Dallas and I can’t focus on them. It’s like he’s forgotten I’m even here.
“And who’s this?” she asks, peeking around him to me.
“Charlotte, but people call me Lotte,” I answer. She extends her hand to me and I shake it like it were a dead fish.
“Sit where ya want, I’ll grab you some waters.”
“Thanks, Tabby,” Dallas says, staring at her.
“You got it, babe.” She smooths her hair as she smiles at him. My insides liquefy as Tabby saunters away with a sway in her hips that tells me she has not failed to notice Dallas’s hotness. They know each other. Maybe they’ve dated. And why should that matter to me? Still, I watch her with a shard of envy pricking at my heart, wishing I’d been born with those sorts of curves, that easy ability to smile and chat and be amusing. My skin prickles.
“She seems nice,” I say, the words vociferous, as I slide into an empty booth.
“What?” His voice rises in frustration. “She’s an old… ” My stomach pitches. Both of us automatically assume our battle stances, shields up, arguments ready. “Friend,” he finishes.
My thoughts flit around, homing in on random sounds. My breathing. Dallas’s breathing. The way Tabby keeps smacking her gum.
“Friend?” I ask.
Dallas scrubs a hand over his face and sighs. “What do you want me to call it?”
I throw my hands in the air. “Whatever it was. Girlfriend, booty call? I don’t know, but not a friend.”
Dallas slams his hands on the table, making me jump. His eyes blazing. “We fucked, City. Is that what you want to hear?”
My mouth opens and closes, grasping at words but not producing any, leaving me looking like a fish out of water.
Tabby appears to deliver our waters. I glare a hole through Dallas’s head while she makes chitchat. When she leaves, Dallas opens his mouth but snaps it closed again. His hand creeps toward mine on the table. I slide my hand to my lap—out of reach.
“I didn’t know she worked here.”
I continue shooting laser beams from my eyes, and keep my jaw clamped shut.
“And I’m sorry for snapping at you.” He leans forward over the table. “Lotte, I’m sorry I stopped. I should have kept driving.”
Insecurity pummels me at the use of Lotte from him. He never calls me that. It’s not special. It means nothing. My insides deflate.
“Do you guys keep in touch?” The words tumble from my mouth like a jealous school girl, which, let’s face it, I am.
He shakes his head vigorously. “No. Never. It’s been years.”
Tabby appears again, interrupting us. “Sorry kids, had to get Joey situated out back. Know what you want to eat?” Tabby asks.
“Who’s Joey?” I blurt out.
Tabby glances at the floor and shuffles her feet. “My son.”
“What?” Dallas asks.
“It’s no big deal, couple years after you left, Brian Jessen—that dick—knocked me up and left me with li’l J.”
“Brian Jessen?” Dallas asks with an air of astonishment.
“Told ya I was going places,” Tabby lets out a self-deprecating laugh. “Now, kitchen’s gonna get busy soon so what are ya having?”
“Tuna melt and fries,” I tell her.
“Burger, medium, fries,” Dallas orders, still looking shocked.
Tabby leans in to him and swats his face. “Wipe that look of your face. I still got goals,” she says, before disappearing into the kitchen.
“You look freaked out.”
“I am,” he says.
“Why?”
“Brian Jessen is from one of the richest families in town and I’m sure you’ve guessed that Tabby isn’t. He never gave her the time of day. In fact he was downright assholey to her. To us all.”
I shrug. “People change.”
“Maybe,” he says, unconvinced.
I put my hand back up on the table. “I’m sorry I got jealous.”
“I’m sorry I snapped at you.” He reaches across the table and twines his fingers with mine and this time I let him.
“I deserved it. I’ve… you know that I don’t have any experience, I guess what I mean is that this is—”
Dallas cuts me off. “—new to you.” I nod at him.
“I know. And Charlotte—” there it is, that balm to my soul, the sound of my name on his lips. “I don’t have experience with this either,” he admits.
My face contorts into a pinched mess.
“I mean with girlfriends. Relationships. Communicating and shit,” he clarifies.
I pull my lips inward to stifle the laugh that threatens to erupt.
“There is no girl who has her hooks in me like you do, City. Not a single old flame holds a candle to you.”
The sentiment is moving, and literally everything I want to hear, but my inner snark rears its head and I can’t hold it back. “What about guys?” I say, deadpan.
Dallas’s eyes bulge and his lips twist into an unnatural position as my stifled laugh bursts forth.
“I’m kidding,” I say, between breaths.
Dallas snorts and leans back in the booth. “I was really worried I’d have to spell it out for you that I’m definitely not into dudes, nicely.”
“Was that our first fight?” I rake my fingers through my damp hair before securing it in a knot on top of my head.
Dallas gives me a mischievous smirk. Tabby brings our food but Dallas doesn’t tear his eyes from mine. “You know what they say about fights, right?”
Tabby wrinkles her nose at us and walks away.
“Enlighten me,” I say.
Dallas’s tongue darts out wetting his lips. “You have to make out.”
I burst out laughing again. “I think you mean make up.”
Dallas’s shoulders shake but he manages to choke his laugh back. “I think my option sounded better.”
When we’ve finished eating Tabby drops the bill on the table and makes eyes at Dallas.
“Just bring it to the register when you’re ready, sugar,” she says. I roll my eyes and bite my tongue, but Dallas only chuckles.
Looking at the bill Dallas says, “How much do you have on you?”
I reach in my pocket and pull out a damp five dollar bill.
“How much is it?” I ask.
“Um, how do you feel about pulling a D and D?”
“Huh?” I look at the wet fiver on the table and the ten dollar bill in Dallas’s hand. “Do we need more? I can run to the truck,” I offer.
Dallas’s face lights up with mischief.
“Naw, we don’t need more. We need to live a little.”
He leaves my five dollar bill on the table and shoves his ten into his pocket while standing. Reaching out, he offers me his hand.
“Dallas, what are you doing?” He tugs, pulling me up.
“Live a little, City,” he says. He ushers me, hands on my shoulders from behind, quickly to the front door.
“The register’s—”
“Charlotte,” he cuts me off as we pass through the door, the bell ringing. I look over my shoulder at him. “Run.”
He laughs and sprints for the truck. “We didn’t pay!” I call out.
He glances over his shoulder at me and yells back, “You’ve got about thirty seconds, City.”
I look behind me and see a red-faced, plump, balding man hustling toward the door. I’ve never stolen anything, never broken a law like that. I follow rules. I do good deeds. My brain weighs all the options before Dallas’s goofy smile and frantic hand gestures make my mind up for me. Squealing I chase Dallas to the truck. A rush of adrenaline poisons my blood. He’s already got it fired up and in reverse by the time I jump in. The red-faced man hollers obscenities at us as he approaches the truck. Dallas stomps on the gas, tires squeal as we peel out of the parking lot.
“Why didn’t we just pay?” I ask, breathless. The red-faced man waves a dish rag at us in the rear view.
Dallas shrugs. “More fun this way. I left Tabby a tip. She did all the work anyway.”
“Dallas!” I swallow down the remorse I feel. Everyone breaks a rule once in a while, right?
He clamps his hand on my thigh, gives it a squeeze and grins at me before turning the radio up to deafening volumes
.
“Freedom!” he shouts out the open window, and I can’t help but feel a little giddy at his blatant disregard for the rules in life. I stick my hand out the window and let the air pressure of the passing wind move my hand with the current, up and down.
19
Charlotte
We’re driving down some wooded back road, singing every word to every song on the mix tape when the truck sputters unnaturally and rolls to a stop. Dallas curses under his breath as he throws open his door and pops the hood to inspect. He slams the hood down and crawls back into the driver’s seat before tapping on the plastic gauge cover.
“We’re out of gas. The gauge is off.”
“What do we do?” I ask.
“How close does the next town look on the map?”
I wrinkle my nose. “Like a long walk.”
Dallas slaps the steering wheel. “Shit. We’ll have to wait for someone to pass and see if they’ll drop us at a gas station.”
I frown. “And what? Walk back?”
“’Tis the way of the road Charlotte.”
We made peanut butter and jellies for lunch. There wasn’t another soul on the road. I’ve begged Dallas to just start walking with me because it feels like we’ll be endlessly stuck here. For a while Dallas reads one of my books while I write in my journal.
Dear D,
In our silence I wonder if perhaps I was made to fit with Dallas. If our souls have known each other before; in another life. There is no awkwardness in our moments, just two content people enjoying a quiet afternoon. Will it be like this a year from now? Will I be in trouble and forbidden to see Dallas ever again when I get home? Every step of our friendship, of our relationship makes me feel like my brain is growing, my thoughts expanding. No one has ever challenged me the way Dallas does. He is outside my proverbial box, yet we fit together. I don’t dream of Holden often anymore. I don’t harp on the what-ifs. He forces me to live in the moment. That’s not even an accurate description, he makes me be present, gives me the room I need to take in a new adventure and feel it, analyze it, marinate in it and embrace it in my own way. I’m still reeling that we skipped out on the bill at the diner. I’m not that person—yet with Dallas it feels fun and exciting. Like we’re rebels on the run. And really, we didn’t hurt anyone. It was a harmless stunt. Dallas has a tangible energy that permeates every pore on my body, filling it up, making it mean something. Giving me a sense of purpose that I didn’t realize was missing.