The Way We Were : A second chance romance (Take Me Home Series Book 2)

by SJ Cavaletti

  The RV tour guide went by the beds. “You’ll notice this isn’t standard bunk bed height. There’s more room on both the bottom and top bunks for maneuverability.”

  Simone asked, “How so? I see that on the bottom but the top?”

  The guide stepped up the ladder and popped open a hatch, shifting the roof upward and giving much for headspace.

  “Brill,” Simone said. “Very cool.”

  The rental man gave us the keys. “So, you’ve had all your tutorials, but the numbers are all in the glove compartment if you need help. Have fun.”

  When he closed the door behind him, I couldn’t help but squeal. “Come here, girl.” I reeled Simone in with my hands. “Gimme a hug.”

  She came over, wide arms and pulled me in. Looking at my face again, she said, “You like?”

  “Uh, yeah. You hooked us up! This feels like a palace. It’s perfect. Really. In every way.”

  There was plenty of room to shift around, not at all like the cramped motorhomes I’d traveled in when I was a kid. I eyed the bunk bed in the back end of the vehicle.

  “But the space means no bedrooms. You sure you’re okay with no privacy for a week? And a top bunk?” I asked.

  “Isn’t that what Uyu is about? Sharing and experiencing other people?”

  “Guess so. Just so you know, I’m okay with you rocking that top bunk. In case you find some fine ass steampunk boy out there on the Plain.”

  “Ha. I’m good. I mean,” she tossed the idea around. “Maybe.”

  We made our way to the passenger and driver’s seats and after a fiddly and nerve-wracking departure from the rental parking lot, the Sat Nav told us we were only one hour and forty-five minutes from the Uyu coordinates.

  Uyu wasn’t an actual city in normal times. I had looked up satellite photos before coming this time, and many times before. When Uyu wasn’t there, it was literally like the face of some uninhabited Star Wars planet. Just white-gray dust and cracked earth for as far as the eye can see.

  But when the festival arrived? It was art installations of magnificent proportions for miles. And drone pictures of Uyu at night? Vegas for hippies.

  “So,” Simone said, after a twenty-minute bout of silence as she grew comfortable with the beast of a motorhome, “The guy that runs Vertical Soul camp…”

  “RollerBunny?”

  Simone shook her head, as if trying to rid herself of the giggle that was permanently attached to his name. Instead, she addressed the issue. “Just, before I say the rest, do you think he’s like, Bunny because he’s some sex maniac? I mean, what man calls himself Bunny?”

  “I don’t know. I think it’s cute.”

  “Yeah. It’s cute but I can’t stop thinking about sex when I say it.”

  “That’s because you’re dirty.”

  “Maybe I am. You seriously aren’t thinking about sex when you hear his name?”

  “Nope.” I looked at Simone and her scrunched forehead. “What does this RollerBunny look like?”

  “Like Tyrone. A guy I had a crush on in seventh grade.”

  “Sounds unrequited.”

  “Shush.”

  The road opened up ahead of us and for the first time in a long time, I had the thrill of the unknown. Because even though we had planned, well Simone had planned, everything to a tee, there was still so much mystery in the week ahead.

  “I was going to say,” Simone brought me back to reality, “RollerBunny arranged supplies for us but he said that initially, we might feel there isn’t enough food. But that people just don’t eat that much and there are always camps we could go to if we want something special. Apparently they do a lot of barbecues and are big meat eaters at Vertical Soul.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Sounds like constipation.”

  I laughed. Simone, the queen of salads and roughage.

  Suddenly Deja vu smacked me in the face. Simone at the wheel. Talking me through the details she’d prepared. It made me think of El again.

  El had always prepared our trips.

  We had taken so many trips together. The Andes, Kilimanjaro, whitewater rafting. El had always been fun, but had a way of making me feel safe. Like getting behind police tape or something. Danger, but because they roped it off, nothing could go wrong anymore. Or at least it felt that way.

  I shook El from my head the best I could. The anxiety of the airplane was gone now, and I didn’t want it back.

  My thoughts drifted back to RollerBunny. “Sim? Are you going to give yourself a name? Like a code name or Plain name or whatever?”

  “A Gypsy name? No. I wasn’t. But just for fun, let’s pass the time and make some up?”

  I settled on Pass me the Jones and Simone, Catwalk. She was sexy, but also one who could bring two sides of any two worlds together. A bridge. And mine? An homage to the girl I once was.

  We pulled up to Vertical Soul camp. A man with a beard and a high vis vest, who moved about as if in charge, spotted us as we rolled in. He waved his arms, directing us to park in a spot next to a large marquee.

  “Does that guy look like Tyrone?” I asked.

  “It’s RollerBunny alright.” She knew him from photos online. We both did. Apparently this guy was an Uyu icon.

  “I dare you to use your new name,” I said “Come on, Catwalk. Strut your stuff. Make the most of Uyu.”

  “Will you use yours?” She asked, not really concentrating on me so much as making sure she had all the brakes and controls off so the motorhome wasn’t dead when we came back to turn it on.

  For a moment, ‘Pass Me the Jones’ sounded like a great way to see if this Uyu place really was as open-minded as it claimed to be. But… nah. “Mine is too long.”

  She pulled the key out of the ignition and looked at me. “I heard people are very patient here.”

  We got out of the motorhome and RollerBunny came over to greet us. “Hey! Welcome to Uyu!” He threw his arms out to the sides like a ringmaster. “Guessing you’re Simone? And Liz?”

  Maybe he looked us up online, too.

  “How you feeling? Long trip from Florida? You come in one go?”

  “Yeah,” Simone said. “I got us first class so we could sleep but,” she looked at me and lifted a brow, “Someone was really excited.”

  RollerBunny looked at me. “Nervous were you?”

  “A little.”

  “Yeah. Well, congrats. You threw yourself in the deep end.”

  I didn’t know if he meant I was brave or in over my head.

  “Did you come from far?” I asked him.

  “Indiana.”

  “Indiana? I’ve never met anyone from there before.”

  “It’s flat.”

  When that’s the best thing people say about their home, that’s all they have to say.

  “So, let me just run you through a couple things and then I’ll leave you to sort yourself out,” he said “Most people, once here, don’t like to run on time but we kind of need to because we’re a service-oriented camp. So breakfast is at ten, lunch at two and supper at six. We have a menu that we put up every day. We ask for nothing but if you want to do dish duty someday, I’m sure one of our regular volunteers would love the company. Personally, I love my dish duty chats.”

  “How many people are officially part of Vertical Soul?”

  “It’s a huge camp by Uyu standards. Most people camp with ten, maybe twenty people. We have fifty.”

  “Wow,” I said, looking around, wondering what all these other people sought. Wondering again what I sought.

  He continued, “Not all with us for the same reason.”

  Before I could ask what he meant he added, “Folks have been eyeing up your art car like nobody’s business. Did you design it?”

  I looked around, excited, now knowing it was here. Art cars were the only vehicles allowed on the Plain. When I learned the area of Uyu was roughly forty-nine square miles I knew Simone and I wouldn’t be able to experience as much without a one. So, I se
t to work designing the chariot. It was expensive to manufacture and transport so I’d applied for an Uyu art grant and cleared the idea with the Department of Art Cars.

  “I did design it,” I replied. “I hope it works.”

  “Well, I had to clear it through the Uyu DOAC. So I’ve driven it. Works like a charm.”

  “I owe you. Thanks so much for that.”

  “Not how Uyu works. There’s no debt here.” RollerBunny smiled. “Plus, getting a chance to move that bad bitch around and roll up in here like Alexander the Great was a gift. Felt like king of the world on that thing.”

  “Well, how about a hug then?” Simone asked. She went over to RB and planted a huge one around his neck.

  “Damn girl. You go giving those things out and you’ll have people waving palms leaves and feeding you grapes just to get another one.”

  Simone and I chuckled.

  “Thanks so much for everything you’ve done,” I said. “We’re seriously grateful.”

  He put his hands together in a prayer position and bent his head.

  “So, I got to see this thing before I can concentrate on anything else. Where is it?” I asked.

  “Come on,” RollerBunny gestured to follow him, “Behind a couple RVs over there.”

  Turning the corner of the second RV, I couldn’t have been more impressed by the Trevi fountain. Or the Parthenon. Okay. Maybe the Parthenon, but there was my chariot. Just as I had hoped it would look. I had seen photos. As it was being built, the engineer and designer I had employed in Reno sent me updates along the way. But they could have never prepared me for just how glorious it would be in the flesh.

  The art car was a like a Roman chariot for races. The “car” was a platform on wheels, like a parade float. On the platform was a rounded Roman carriage, behind which a singular driver would sit on a stool-like seat that lowered to platform level and lifted with a hydraulic system to be at standing height. Fake reins attached to the steering wheel and stretched out onto two merry-go-round horses transformed into Pegasus. Each Pegasus big enough for four extra passengers, two on each horse. More if someone light wanted to venture on a wing. The platform itself disguised as a cloud, and if it all worked, the whole thing would light up like the moon by night.

  “It’s beautiful, And huge,” I said.

  “Drives like a boat,” RB added.

  The three of us took it all in and I moved myself around the vehicle, inspecting the amazing craftsmanship.

  “Cool concept,” RollerBunny said, admiring it as much as I was.

  “Thanks. I’m really lucky we got one of the art car grants from the Uyu Foundation.”

  He shook his head and scratched his chin. “Surprised you got a grant. To be honest, those horses are dangerous.”

  “There’s a platform underneath.”

  “Well. Just saying. Drive sober.”

  I was as taken aback by his wise words as I was happy to hear them. RollerBunny looked out for people. Sure, he was chief of a wild tribe of people intending to be hedonists, but even anarchists have leaders. He wanted us to have fun but to exit this place in one piece. He wanted us fed and watered and to feel at home.

  It was saying a lot that in this very unusual environment, and within only twenty minutes, I did.

  8

  Liz

  Six Years Ago

  Miami General

  * * *

  It had been a year. One full year together and still when I glimpsed El walking through the department in his blue scrubs, my hairs stood on end. Every damn day we had a run in, I’d want to tear off those thin, polyester pants with my teeth and give his tool a service. A tiny bit of forbidden adds spice to a relationship.

  He spoke to a nurse on duty while I tinkered with endoscopy equipment. His manly shoulders took a small stretch back as he spoke and pointed to something on a clipboard in his hand. Then he stood tall again, and he moved his neck from side to side to loosen up after what may have been a tough case. Being superman was hard work.

  His edible skin called to me from the nape of his neck. His thick dark hair flopped perfectly over his even more perfect forehead and thick eyebrows that screamed of a real man in a metrosexual world. My eyes wandered down his thin scrubs. That wimpy fabric and a wisp of cotton the only thing between me and that juicy dick of his.

  He caught me staring, gave me his crooked smile, the one he used when he flirted or knew something was up. He appeared to say thanks to the nurse, tucked the patient’s clipboard under his arm and walked toward me. He came close, but not close enough to touch. Just close enough for me to feel heat creep into my personal space.

  Working together and remaining professional was torture. The good kind.

  “Just the person I wanted to see,” he said.

  “Oh? And what can I possibly do for you, doc? Defib not working?”

  “We need to have lunch.”

  Since that very first lunch a year ago, it wasn’t common for us to be on the same shifts and even less common for us to have lunch together. He must have worked hard to orchestrate that first one. It didn’t seem like my man usually ate while at the hospital. But that was fine because since that first date, we hadn’t missed a night together.

  “Cool. Haven’t done that with you for months now.” I wondered, “Why do we need to have lunch. You okay?”

  He took two fingers and brushed them along my arm. Briefly, as not to get caught, the whole moment must have taken only a second but I would feel his touch there hours later. Until we met for lunch and the lingering sensation turned into a kiss. Because screw hospital politics. And screw being polite. We were in love and we could do what we wanted on our own time.

  “All is good. Just got an email in today. Something I’m excited about and you will be, too. Deadline involved.”

  “You got me on the edge of my seat.”

  “Good.”

  I leaned in and asked, quietly, “Does the deadline involve treating this ache in my pussy before it becomes dangerous to my health?”

  He licked his lips and flared his nostrils but pulled back, resisting. “A pro bono case? I do love charity.”

  We sat down around noon with a Cobb salad for me and a pasta salad for him.

  “I have to say,” I opened my cardboard box, “I’m intrigued by this lunch meeting.”

  “Intrigued?”

  “Yeah. I don’t think in this entire year together you’ve ever said we ‘needed to talk’. It’s sort of given, isn’t it? That we talk?”

  If it hadn’t been for his loving eyes and tender kiss in the cafeteria, I might have been nervous. Truth be told, I had been nervous. “We need to talk” isn’t usually the start of a positive interaction.

  His lips raised in that sideways way. His boyish grin teased me. “Sorry. I was excited. It sort of blurted out.”

  “Excited about what?”

  He put down his fork and rubbed his hands together. “Well. I’ve been thinking about you. And your notebook of projects. And I just thought it was time you stopped being a technician and start being an inventor.”

  He grabbed my hand from across the table. “The one you were destined to be.”

  “Ooo-kay. Yeah. I mean, I want to stop fixing and start creating, too, but a girl’s got to pay the rent. And it kind of seems like all the jobs going in that area are for people even more experienced than I am. Also, I could do a research job but, I don’t know. Working for a pharmaceutical company just feels like selling out. I don’t like how they’ve got their mitts in the healthcare system. You taught me enough. Don’t want to dance with the devil. And that’s where most innovation jobs are.”

  “Yeah. I get that.” He pat a free pen from some drug company in his pocket. “The man has tagged every single one of us. But times are changing.”

  His eyebrows were sky high, eyes wide open with delight.

  “Tell me, El. How are times changing?” I asked, taking his hand in mine and playing with his fingers.

  “
Well, there’s a new sheriff in town,” he said, looking at me squarely. Making me feel like a boss. “And she isn’t like the old regime. She wants to make a difference. To invent something to help people who’ve been marginalized. She wants to make the system work for everyone with medical advancements the world has never seen. And on top of her intelligence, grit and altruism,” He leaned onto the table, moving his face closer. He whispered, “She also has great breasts.”

  I flicked his head playfully, like a Mom giving a light scolding smack to a child. He scrunched his face.

  “What? You do have great breasts. Sue me. I’m a boob man.”

  I rolled my eyes. But his compliment, stupid as it was, still made me melt. I took up my fork again and poked around for the bacon bits. Me, always eating the good part first.

  “Well, I hope you value those other qualities just as much,” I said, taking a bite.

  “More. I value them more.”

  He sat back in his chair and put his hands on his head. “That’s why I applied for a grant. On your behalf. It wasn’t easy pretending to be a woman. You know, manly as I am.”

  I covered my mouth full of lettuce. “What? A grant?” I swallowed. “Time to speak plain English, babe.”

  “Remember me picking your brain about your mouth strips for detecting kidney disease?”

  “Yeeeah?”

  I remembered El asking me about that and many other ideas I’d had. But I had thought nothing of it because El was always asking about my ideas. He was the most attentive man, no person, I’d ever been with.

  “Well, I used it to fill out a grant form. And I got it. We got it. Well, you got it.”

  “El…” I shook my head in disbelief.

  What was happening?

  “I hope you’re not annoyed. But if you accept it, we won’t be working here together anymore.”