Taken by Storm

by Angela Morrison

  i don’t know what i’m doing here or how this can help me figure out what to do with my parents’ ashes. The place is bedlam, but i’d agree to sit just about anywhere with Leesie’s fingers wrapped around mine. Do friends hold hands?

  The piano music stops. A big man in his fifties, red-faced and balding, stands up. “Brothers and sisters, can you take your seats.”

  The buzzing trails off. Everyone sits down. They sing a hymn. They all bow their heads. Leesie drops my hand to fold her arms. A woman prays, short and in her own words. Leesie’s soft, “Amen,” mingles with the others.

  A pleasant feeling comes into the room. Surprises me. i don’t feel condemned, sitting with the holies. They call themselves “saints,” but they seem like everyday families, kids and parents and a handful of old ladies. i relax, leaning slightly against Leesie’s shoulder.

  The red-faced guy says some more stuff. Everyone raises his or her right hand and then puts it down. It looks like voting, but no one votes no. Then they sing again. i like listening to Leesie sing. She has a pretty voice, holds the book so i can follow the words. Not that i even consider joining in. During the song, Phil and Leesie’s dad are up front, standing behind the table covered with white cloths, breaking bread into little pieces. A couple of pudgy junior-high-age boys wearing rumpled white shirts and baggy tan Docks stand in front of the table.

  “This is the sacrament,” Leesie whispers when the song is over.

  Phil kneels down in front of the table, reads a prayer, more amens, and then he and his dad give small trays full of the broken bread to the junior high boys and they pass it around. When it gets to us, Leesie breathes, “You don’t take any,” into my ear.

  i wish she’d take my hand again. It’s getting cold, but i don’t shove it into my coat pocket. i let it hang down where she can find it.

  A baby starts to cry. The mother hurries out with it. Then Leesie’s dad kneels and prays, and the boys are at it again, this time with water. i touch Leesie’s hand as i pass the tray to her. Each tiny cup rests in its own hole. Four long rows. Leesie drinks a cup, drops the empty into a hole in the tray. The bottom’s enclosed, holds the used cups out of sight.

  Leesie passes the tray on to her mom, then glances back at me. She closes her eyes, bows her head. i feel her warm fingers winding around my cold ones. i slip both our hands into my coat pocket. Church isn’t all that bad. Leesie glances sideways at me and then bows her head again.

  When the passing is over, Mr. Red Face stands up and tells the guys to go sit in the congregation with their families. Phil and Leesie’s dad take their seats. Stephie slides over so she can sit between them. Leesie’s dad glances at Leesie and me. He must see her hand disappearing into my pocket.

  Red Face tells a story about answering his secretary’s questions about “the Gospel.” He says he knows this church is the only true church on earth and sits down.

  Leesie leans over and whispers, “This is fast-and-testimony meeting. We normally have assigned speakers.”

  “Which one’s the minister?” Red Face doesn’t wear a collar. Two other guys sit next to him at the front, but they don’t dress the part either—just suits and white shirts.

  “Don’t have one.”

  “Why is it ‘fast’?”

  “We fast. Don’t eat. Give the money to the poor.”

  “I ate.”

  She smiles and squeezes my hand. “It’s okay.”

  Three little girls rush the stand. Each one knows the church is true and loves her mom and dad. Two of them giggle. The last one cries. Then Stephie parades dramatically to the front. “I’m thankful for my kitty. And that Leesie’s happy again.”

  She stares right at me. So does everyone else. Leesie goes crimson.

  Let the flaying begin.

  Stephie, pleased with the sensation she caused, finishes her speech and flounces back to her seat.

  Leesie’s dad gets up right away. He speaks about praying for his family and getting answers. His soft voice pulls the congregation’s attention away from us. Her father’s words fill the room, soothing and warm. He says he loves his righteous son and strong daughters. Leesie flicks a tear out of the corner of her eye. Her face stays flushed, but she doesn’t let go of my hand.

  i get emotional, too, missing my dad who loved me, righteous or not.

  Leesie’s mom reaches over and pats Leesie’s shoulder. She smiles at me and winks. She’s not so bad. Carolina’s mom made her go on the pill at fourteen. She could have used a little of Leesie’s mom and some rules. Leesie should give her own a break. i study my knees and wish it wasn’t too late to give my mom a break.

  People are still murmuring their final “amen” when Leesie whispers, “Let’s get out of here.”

  These masochists have two more hours of meetings, but Leesie said we only have to go to this one. She’s cutting the rest with me. She gets stopped on the way out. “I’ll catch up.” i make it out of there and sit in Gram’s car trying to figure out why this church stuff is everything to Leesie.

  When i see her coming, i open my door, stand so i’m halfway in, halfway out. “Hey.”

  She comes around to my side. “Hey.”

  We stand there stuck, until she sighs and drops her lips on mine. i pull her into the car, holding her on my lap, and return the kiss. It feels so right to have her back in my arms.

  “i don’t get it.”

  “Just friends is stupid.”

  “Not this.” i kiss her, and she tastes better than any heaven could. “This i get.” i nod toward the ugly hall they rent. “That. i don’t get that.”

  “I’m going to kill Stephie.”

  “How could any of that help me? i just found out you’re all kind of egocentric about truth.”

  “Didn’t you feel anything at all?”

  “Embarrassment?”

  “How about when my dad spoke? I saw your face.”

  i have to be honest with her. “You’re right. i felt—”

  “That’s the Spirit. I felt it, too. It’s so amazing when it’s strong.”

  “Bereft. My parents loved me like your dad loves you. He spoke, and i felt bereft.”

  Leesie strokes my cheek. “I’m sorry. The word ‘memorial’ kept floating through my head all through the meeting. Does that mean anything to you?”

  “Nope.”

  “You didn’t feel a tiny bit warm?”

  “That wasn’t from you holding my hand?” When i try to follow that up with more heat from my lips, she gets stiff and slides off my lap.

  “What did i do now?”

  She flushes. “When you kiss me like that”—her voice gets small and pained—“I see you with DeeDee.” Her eyes fill up.

  “Freak, Leese. i’m such a creep.”

  “I really want to forgive you, but—”

  “Forget her.”

  “I’m trying.”

  “Come back. i’ll kiss you differently.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Please.”

  “I think it’s going to take some time.”

  i hold my hand out to her. “Whatever you say.” Just don’t ditch me.

  She places her hand in mine. “And we’re going to need some new rules.”

  i swallow hard and whisper, “No pressure this time. i promise.”

  She squeezes. “Thanks. That means a lot to me.”

  “It means a lot to me.” i weave my fingers through hers. “Just let me know if you change your mind.”

  She closes her eyes, thinking. “I’ve got one. No skin. No hands on my back or stomach or legs.”

  “Arms?”

  “That’s okay.”

  “Neck?”

  “Maybe, but you can never take your shirt off in my presence again.”

  “You can, though. i’m cool with that.” i rub her legal arm, trying to get her to smile.

  She doesn’t. i can tell she’s thinking about DeeDee again. Her eyes grow serious. “We have to ban making out, too.” />
  “What?” She loves making out. She breathes for making out.

  “If we start making out all the time like we used to, all the rules in the world won’t stand a chance.”

  “Jeez, babe. What are we going to do?”

  “Talk. Study. Go out. Clean up Gram’s garden. We can start as soon as the snow melts. That will keep us busy.”

  i don’t bring up diving, but i mentally add it to the list. “Can i even kiss you?”

  “I don’t know—try it again.”

  i lean over and kiss her softly, with all the tenderness, shame, and hope i can muster.

  “Yeah.” She sighs. “That works.” She sits up and shakes her hair back. “Goodnight kiss only. On my porch. Not in here.” A smile creeps up on her face. “But it can last as long as we want.”

  “Is this outlawed?” i lean over and suck on the corner of her plump lower lip.

  “No way.” She’s breathless. “That you can do—anytime.”

  So i do it again.

  chapter 37

  EVER AFTER?

  LEESIE’S MOST PRIVATE CHAPBOOK

  POEM #42, NOT Easy

  One visit to church fails

  to convert.

  One kiss does not erase

  her.

  One promise does not dissolve

  my doubts.

  But one hand, warm,

  holding mine, makes

  none of it matter—

  deedee, diving, the unchancy distress

  when his lips caress mine—

  even my dreams of BYU—

  until I let go

  of his hand.

  LEESIE HUNT / CHATSPOT LOG / 01/09 12:09 A.M.

  MICHAEL’S DIVE LOG—#8

  i open the link Leesie sent. Reef Memorial is amazingly perfect. i can’t believe she found this for me. Maybe she does have magic powers. This is so right. This company stirs a diver’s ashes into a special concrete mixture and molds it into a sphere or an obelisk or a number of different reef-shaped formations. Then they haul it out to a spot just outside of the marine sanctuary and let it sink in about thirty feet of water. i can buy a monument that will be a permanent artificial reef made out of my parents. They’ll be part of the ocean. No worms. Coral. Fish. It’s all so cool.

  i click through pictures of the different shapes Reef Memorial can make. i go for the biggest and baddest—a narrow reef that mimics a coral finger. It’s thirty feet long, with tubes for eels and a big ledge at the bottom where a friendly nurse shark might want to hang out.

  As part of the underwater funeral, Reef Memorial attaches a buoy and gives the mourners a GPS tracking chart so the bereaved can dive their loved ones anytime. In a few decades, my parents will be covered in coral growth, a home for fish. i can see it sitting on the ocean floor, covered with algae and flowing fans, yellow and purple juvie fish. All of it not far from the condo. i could take my kids diving there. i think about Leesie, our kids. i’m never letting her get away again.

  i fill in Reef Memorial’s online reply form. It asks for a date. i flip through the calendar Leesie marked for me when we started going out. MLK day? Too soon. Spring break? Too far off. Presidents’ Day weekend? Too short, but we’ll make it work. A solid, whole feeling that this is right comes over me. My face gets hot and my throat aches, but i feel something new. Beyond misery. Strong. Maybe i can be strong for them. Take them home, forever.

  chapter 38

  BON VOYAGE

  LEESIE HUNT / CHATSPOT LOG / 02/12 11:37 P.M.

  chapter 39

  TRUST

  MICHAEL’S DIVE LOG—VOLUME #8

  i wanted to stay at the condo, but crazy Stan has it in the resort’s rental program. It’s like a hotel room now. Presidents’ Day weekend. Of course it’s booked. The guests check out Sunday, so we could have stayed in it for one night, but Leesie didn’t think that would be cool. Maybe she’s right. Just the airport freaked me. My parents were everywhere. Trapped in the mirrored ceiling over the escalator going down to baggage claim and the smoky doors that dumped us out into the honk and spit of Miami traffic. It was dark driving down, so i just got flashes of the miles of mangrove swamps we passed, but that was enough to set Isadore off.

  We checked into the main hotel too whipped to care about anything by the time we got to the rooms. Leesie’s sharing with Gram. i get to bunk with her dad. He snores—sounds kind of like his pigs.

  i’m up before the sun. Didn’t really sleep. Slip out onto the balcony and breathe the salt air. At least we’ve got an ocean view. The sunrise should be nice.

  i hear the sliding door on the balcony next to us open, bare feet tiptoeing, her breath.

  i climb over my room’s balcony railing, around the privacy screen, and onto Leesie’s balcony like i used to sneak into Mandy’s room to surprise her. That’s how i found out she’d hooked up with a new guy at the resort’s dive shop.

  “You’re good at that,” Leesie’s whisper greets me.

  i don’t share why.

  i hug her close and kiss her good morning. She answers my kiss in a way she hasn’t for a long time. Maybe we’ve outrun the shadows.

  i pick her up, sweep her right off her feet like a bride, and carry her over to a chaise lounge. Gently settle her on it. She scoots over to make room for me. One knee bends over the side of the chaise so her right foot can rest on the floor.

  She catches my hand and pulls me down beside her. Her lips settle on my neck.

  My arms slip around her. “Good morning,” i whisper into her hair.

  “Do I have gross breath?”

  i kiss her again. “You taste amazing.”

  “I feel amazing.” She takes a deep breath of my Caribbean air. “I love you.”

  That’s the first time she’s said it since we got back together. i don’t reply. She knows why. i will love her. When she lets me. i will.

  She dozes on my shoulder waiting for the sun to rise. i watch her sleep. She is precious like that. Long eyelashes resting on creamy cheeks. Forehead slack. Her mouth slightly open. i kiss it, and she rouses. “Our chaperones are useless.”

  “You know you can trust me.”

  “Yeah.” She caresses my cheek. “I know.”

  We lounge together as the rosy glow in the east lights up my world. Palm trees, ferns, bright pink bougainvillea, red hibiscus. Shimmering turquoise water everywhere we turn. It comes to me out there on the balcony, like the gradual flush of pink that edges the horizon—in a few hours, i’ll be back in that water again. i’m going diving—with Leesie. It’s going to happen.

  Diving.

  Ocean.

  Salt water all over me.

  Tasting it.

  Sinking in it.

  With her.

  LEESIE’S MOST PRIVATE CHAPBOOK

  POEM #43, WILDLIFE ENCOUNTER

  Pink sky flares orange magenta gold.

  settles down to startling, pure blue

  as deep as the ocean

  the sun reveals.

  We hang over the balcony together.

  He points to docks and black nets

  strung between weathered green pilings

  crisscrossing a lagoon.

  You can see them from here.

  What?

  Keep watching.

  a snubbed snout.

  a round head.

  the elegant curve of a dolphin

  leaping free and perfect

  into the air.

  I leap, too.

  Come down all over

  him. I convince

  him to get me closer.

  He persuades me into going

  in my jams and tee, my hair

  a tangled mass.

  Florida style, babe.

  Elevator make out,

  rushing past empty pool,

  cushy loungers, expectant

  umbrellaed tables,

  along a boardwalk dripping

  with blooms and vines and

  palm fronds.

 
He finds the magic key, jiggles