by C. S. Starr
“You don’t know anything about me,” Bull said bluntly, sitting down on the grass with his burger. “Because you don’t do your research.”
“Bull, enough,” Lucy said firmly, sitting between them. “Chill. We’ll leave in the morning?
Bull nodded. “I’ve got enough gas jugs to get us home on the back of my truck.”
“Tal, you’ll come back with us, and then we’ll figure out how to get you back to West?” Lucy looked at him apprehensively and wished they had some time to talk, even though she wasn’t sure what she’d say. Being sandwiched between the only two boys she’d ever kissed was surreal. Sorting through her feelings would take time.
“You really want to come back to Campbell?” Bull swivelled his body and cocked his head at Tal. “I thought you’d want to get back to your people. You’ve got a cousin, right?”
“I do,” Tal said, making an effort to sound sincere. “But I would like to finish what we started last week and hammer out our trade agreement. He glanced at Lucy. “We haven’t exactly been in a situation to talk about it.”
“I don’t know why she’s talking to you about anything at all,” Bull muttered, taking a big bite of his burger. “Clearly you’re just a patsy—”
“Jesus, Bull, he came up to offer to help us get Cole back, and he got the shit beat out of him just like I did. If he still wants to help, after all this, I’m happy to take him up on it.” Lucy gave Bull her most terrifying look. “It’s my arrangement to make.”
“Well, I hope you’re right about him,” Bull leaned in and looked at her. “Because if you’re not, he’s going to be very sorry.” He narrowed his eyes at Tal. “You, and everyone you love—”
“Bull, take a fucking walk,” Lucy hissed.
She knew exactly what his problem was, but it wasn’t something she wanted to discuss. Almost ten years had passed since she’d ended things with him, and for him to get touchy about it with the assumptions he was making didn’t surprise her. It pissed her off though, because he’d said time and time again that he was fine, even happy with the way things were.
What was interesting though, was that after only six hours, Bull was seeing clearly what, for Lucy, was still foggy.
Her old friend took his plate and stomped off, leaving Tal and Lucy sitting on the grass, dinner on their laps.
“He’s…he was worried about me,” she said apologetically. “It’s nothing personal.”
“He’s big enough to kill me. I was worried about me,” Tal laughed nervously. “It’s fine. He doesn’t like me. He doesn’t have to.”
Lucy’s mind flashed back to their earlier conversation in the tent. “It’s better if he does. It…it takes him a while to trust people. He said Connor was strange when he called him to tell him about Juan. Too sympathetic. He doesn’t trust him. If the situation was reversed, I would have been furious if that had happened to the people I sent in peacefully. That’s what’s got him bothered.”
“It wasn’t your fault though.”
“Connor doesn’t know that. Not for sure.” Lucy shook her head. “It’s just a personality conflict.”
“I do want you…I mean, I want to work with you. Like we talked about.” Tal’s face went flush. “It’s still important.”
“It is. And getting Cole back, it’s the most important thing,” she felt her eyes well up. “I need to know he’s okay.”
“I’ll help, however I can.”
Lucy nodded, thinking back on the night before; how she’d felt with him when they were close. “About last night—”
“We were stoned. It’s fine,” Tal replied, without a hint of emotion in his voice.
“Right,” Lucy mumbled, although it wasn’t what she was planning to say at all. “Of course.”
“I’m going to take a walk,” Tal muttered, flashing Lucy a superficial smile. “I guess I’ll see you later.”
***
Tal ambled to the lake past a bunch of kids, who all looked thoroughly fucked and exhausted, and pulled off his shoes and socks. The cool water felt nice on his feet, and being alone was something he never took for granted. It would be nice to be home, he told himself. Nice to have his own things, and his own house. Showering regularly would be a treat. To have what he needed at his disposal.
He wasn’t sure about anything anymore.
“What if I didn’t go back?” he asked himself out loud. “Where would I go?”
The answer wasn’t obvious. There was the possibility of a new adventure on the horizon, but there wasn’t anywhere he knew he’d be safe, or that would ultimately be more satisfying than the life he had where things were easy, and he was able to have everything he wanted.
“It’s tempting, isn’t it,” Lucy said, sitting down beside him. “To just go and see where you end up.”
He glanced over at her and decided she was as down as he was, which made him feel better. “I’m not sure I’d ever be content.”
“I know I’d never be,” she sighed. “But it’s a nice thought.”
“We never went fishing,” Tal said, as something jumped in the distance. “I think I would have enjoyed that.”
Lucy skipped a rock across the lake, the ripples crossing the fish’s path. “Maybe we should run away together sometime. Go fishing. Pretend we’re those college kids from our trip.”
“I think people would worry.”
“Let them worry,” Lucy said, with a shrug and a grin. “We can just say we got kidnapped again.”
“You can punch me in the face for effect. It’s probably my turn for a black eye,” Tal smiled over at her now-yellowing bruise. “You’re really resilient.”
“I try.”
“Bull is in love with you.”
“He’s not…I’m going to continue to choose to ignore that, just like I’ve been doing for the past ten years.” She reached down and tugged her shoes off. “It’s that obvious, huh?”
“Yeah,” Tal said, chuckling as he pulled his jeans up to his knees and stretched his legs out in front of him, splashing in the shallow water. “Can I look at your books when we’re back in Campbell?”
“It’s not like anyone would ever take me to task on my spending. Why?”
“I want to see how you make your accounting work, if you have kids that need welfare. What percentage of people actually collect. Do you have a plan for maternity leave?”
“Seventy per cent of your last year’s earnings, for up to a year,” Lucy smiled over at him. “We haven’t had large scale applicants yet, but I think we will in the next few years, now that people actually seem to want to have kids. Our reserve can handle a lot though, and I think we can probably increase taxes a couple of points without people getting too upset.”
Tal thought about that in comparison with West. “What’s your unemployment rate?”
“Thirteen and up, under five per cent. Some don’t work full-time, but since it’s a percentage, it all works out.”
Tal turned so he was facing her. “What about long-term disability?”
“It’s a very small program. We provide some financial support, but most is in the form of food and medical vouchers, which we get at a bulk discount from some of the big producers, so it cuts down on costs.”
“What about people who don’t work?”
Lucy shrugged, her eyes gleaming. “They have to have a pretty fucking good reason or we cut them off.”
“How do you pay administrators like yourself? A salary or a percentage?”
She leaned in. “Salary.”
Tal looked at her thoughtfully. “And that’s okay?”
She nodded. “Yeah. It’s not like we all have a lot of shit we need to buy. I’ve got a house.”
“That’s true.”
“I’ll show you my books, Tal Bauman,” Lucy said, flirtatiously. “But I want to see yours too.”
Tal blinked at her, taken aback by the unexpected way she was looking at him. “I didn’t realize you were….”
“Kidding,” sh
e chuckled, her expression changing. “I love talking numbers because mine are so good. I so rarely get to show them off.”
“I feel like that’s crying out for a joke about your assets,” Tal raised an eyebrow. “Just because you started it.”
Lucy’s face turned serious and Tal wondered if he’d said the wrong thing. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m being an idiot.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m not being realistic. It’s not realistic, what’s happening here.” She nodded between them, her forehead creased with concern. “It’s probably a form of rebellion against my life, which speaks to far deeper issues. I think I like that you’re so wonderfully ordinary, and that you had a nice family, and—”
“Okay,” he said, leaning back away from her to give himself a little space, as he tried to understand what she was getting at, while desperate to avoid her rejection, if only for a little longer. “What happens in the Midwest—”
“Stays in the Midwest. Right.” Lucy nodded, taking a deep breath. “We’ll work together, and we’ll make things better together. For everyone.”
“Except us,” Tal muttered, exhaling a breath he’d been holding. “Are we really going to drive back to Campbell in a pickup truck?”
Lucy grinned and nodded. “I guess so.”
“You’re taking middle. Bull said it’s a stick shift.”
“Great. There’s no irony in that,” she cracked, rising to her feet and moving to add to the space between them. “He wants to stay tonight and leave in the morning.”
“So I guess I’m sleeping in the bush?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lucy chirped, pulling on her shoes. “We’ll all be fine in the tent.”
***
Later that night, after a lengthy war of words over positioning, Lucy found herself curled up between the only two men in her life that had interested her, and she found herself wondering where the hell her head was. Cole was still gone, somewhere out there likely being hurt and tortured, and selfishly, she’d let her emotions take over and allowed herself to be drawn back into an internal debate she’d long put to rest. It had been a long time since she’d quite happily slapped a label on herself, and it had served her well in a lot of ways.
She knew she’d see Zoey in the next couple of days and she blinked back tears as she stared into the darkness, hoping she’d know what to do when she saw her, when they had a few minutes to talk. She liked women. It wasn’t just Zoey. She wasn’t the first. She probably wouldn’t be the last.
No matter how many time she repeated it in her head, tried to convinced herself, she knew there was more to it, and it was overwhelming to imagine all the changes what she was contemplating could bring.
“Why are you crying?” Bull whispered, rolling over towards her. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s just been a rough month, that’s all.” She reached for his face in the dark and brushed his familiar rough cheek and his strong jaw, trying to recall the exact moment when she’d decided it wasn’t for her. “Thanks for coming for me.”
“I need you to come back, and to be you, Goose,” he replied, unusual desperation in his voice. “You’re it. I don’t know how to run things, and no one else does either. Not like you.”
“I’m coming back,” she assured him, stroking his cheek like she had when they were young. “I know I can’t leave the lost boys to their own devices.”
“We need our Wendy-lady,” he said, chuckling low. “Chloe wasn’t happy with me coming here for you. She said it was too romantic.”
“She knows better than that,” Lucy whispered, rolling her eyes. “Can you imagine her here?”
“She would hate this place.”
“Too much fun.” Lucy pulled her hand back, as Bull’s lips brushed her palm, perhaps accidentally. “So, Cole.”
“Cole,” he mumbled, tensing up immediately.
“Tell me?”
She could see the hesitation in his eyes as he determined what to tell her. “Just some new pictures and the same demands. We’ll look at them when we’re back. I didn’t bring them. I wanted to make sure you were okay before we worried about him. He looks like you probably did right after whoever took you was done with you.” His hand reached out to brush her cheek. “He’ll have to be strong.”
“He can be strong sometimes,” Lucy said, though she was unconvinced. “Maybe this will make him strong.”
“Maybe,” Bull whispered doubtfully. “Maybe’ll figure out what he’s made of.”
“Or maybe I really did get the balls in utero,” she said with a sigh.
***
Lucy and Tal stood off in the distance the next morning as Bull said his goodbyes to Red Cloud, each patting the other heartily on the back before Bull climbed into the driver’s seat of his truck and unlocked the passenger door for them.
“Twenty-seven hours back,” he announced. “We’ll stop for a night in Montana.”
“We should make it to Great Falls,” Lucy said with a nod to Tal as she straddled the oversized stick shift awkwardly. “We’ve got friends there. Montana is—”
“Part of Campbell,” Bull interrupted. “Pretty much.”
“Good farms,” Lucy said thoughtfully. “And the sugar beet factory. And Cara and Paul.”
“It’s been a while,” Bull smiled over at her, looking almost sharkish with his pearly white teeth. “I thought of stopping on the way down, but I kept driving because I wanted to make sure you didn’t do anything stupid.”
Tal took in their friendly banter with interest. He still believed, without a shadow of a doubt that Bull was in love with Lucy, but love almost seemed too simplistic when it came to describing their relationship. They finished each other’s sentences. Knew exactly what would make the other laugh. Tal felt like the ultimate third wheel.
“Why are you Goose?” he asked Lucy, when they passed Wichita.
“Because I hate it,” she replied, glancing at Bull with a half grin. “He used to call me Lucy Goose when we were kids.”
“She was always squawking,” he chuckled. “Like she does.”
“Don’t get any ideas,” she glanced at Tal as he smiled at her thoughtfully. “He’s the only one allowed to call me that. Him and his sister.”
The drive to Great Falls was lively. They encountered a roadside house fire, a herd of deer, one of which ended up on the back of the truck by way of Bull’s perfectly executed handgun shot, and a flash rainstorm that forced them to pull over for a half hour until they could see the road. Conversation didn’t lag, however, with Bull and Lucy filling Tal in on many of their adventures together over the years.
“…and I said, who wants to spend the night in an igloo, just to see the lights?”
“I wanted to see the polar bears too!” Lucy shrieked, smacking his arm. “And so did you.”
“It was a long drive.”
“But worth it.”
Bull nodded, beaming at her. “Yeah, it was. Tal, it’s your turn.”
Tal turned his head at his name. He wasn’t prepared to contribute. “What?”
“Tell us some of your stories. You must have some.”
He rested his elbow against the window and stared out thoughtfully, trying to think of something nearly as interesting as the stories they’d shared. “I got stabbed in Mexico about five years ago.” He moved and pulled his shirt up, revealing a jagged scar about an inch above his hip. “It was kind of a mistake. I was pissed off because of this guy, and Leah, my cousin...” he paused, remembering his confession to Lucy, who, if she remembered, didn’t acknowledge the connection. “He was hitting on her obnoxiously, and I’d had a hell of a lot of tequila, so I socked him, and one of his boys stabbed me. I was on my back for almost two months.”
“Where was your boy, Connor?” Bull asked, a smug look on his face.
“He had the guy roughed up pretty bad when he found out,” Tal admitted sheepishly. “It wasn’t my idea. I was happy to let it go.”
“You
must have a better story than that,” Lucy said, raising her eyebrows. “Something happier?”
Tal thought long and hard, and Lucy and Bull waited with anticipation splashed across their faces.
“I live a pretty quiet life,” he said with a shrug. “What about before? Does that count?”
“You haven’t had any fun in the last ten years?” Lucy looked at him with disbelief as she cocked her head at him. “Bullshit. Come on. Think of something.”
“I mean, I’ve had fun, but I didn’t go polar bear hunting or anything. I bike around a lot. I do the money stuff. That’s fun. Last night was fun.”
Bull grumbled incoherently in the driver’s seat.
“It was fun,” Lucy acknowledged with a grin.
“You’re one of those kids whose life was better before,” Bull said thoughtfully, about a half hour later after Lucy fell asleep on his shoulder. “Aren’t you?”
Tal nodded unapologetically. “Oh yeah. Absolutely. Without a doubt.”
“You need to let that shit go,” Bull replied, shaking his head. “It’s never going to be like that again.”
Tal didn’t feel angry at the judgment regarding his upbringing—he felt sympathy for Bull. “Don’t you miss your family?”
“My alcoholic father and my doormat mother? No.” He shook his head gently, careful not to disturb Lucy. “My life is better now than it ever would have been. My little sister’s too. People like us,” he nodded at Lucy. “We didn’t have a chance in hell before.”
“You have a sister?”
He nodded. “Chloe.”
“How old is she?”
“Thirteen. She’s at Lucy’s now, giving Andrew a hard time.” Tal didn’t miss the pride in his voice. “Had a little brother too, but he…he got sick early on. Didn’t make it.”
Tal nodded. “I had a little cousin that got shot the first year.”
“That first year was the hardest,” he commiserated. “Fucking little shits and their chaos.”
“At least you’ve got everything under control now,” Tal admitted. “We’re two shitty movies away from an uprising most of the time.”