Whenever I'm With You

by Lydia Sharp

  My mother deserved all of it and more, after she broke up our family. How do I convey the pain that was roiling in my gut that day with mere words? “I was really mad at my mom. She started all this … stuff. With her and Tom, and the divorce, and sending me away.”

  Kai nods. “So what happened?”

  Basically? I couldn’t handle it. “The strongest thing I remember from the whole ordeal was feeling helpless and out of control. Like the world was spinning too fast and about to collide with the sun. It didn’t really hit me that we were moving from that close to the equator to this close to the Arctic Circle until we checked into the airport with one-way tickets, and Mom didn’t have a ticket at all.” And I’d been holding back my feelings for too long. It wasn’t just the affair and everything it led to. It was years and years of knowing my parents would split eventually and not knowing how to prevent it—or if I even should. I kept trying to hold something back that was too big for my hands, and it slipped out of my grasp. Leaving my mother behind at the airport was the final push that broke me. A flood burst through the dam I’d built.

  “I’d been trained for most of my life on how to express the right emotion at the right time, on cue, which worked when the scenario was planned. But I’ve never been good at improv. I failed that workshop, repeatedly. I need a script or I lose focus. And that’s what happened that day. It was all unscripted, unexpected. But once I started, I couldn’t stop. It had a life of its own and I couldn’t control it. To be honest, though, I didn’t want to stop. I wanted her to hear every word of it and more. How shallow she is. How everyone sees through her bullshit. How fake all her friends are, that they only like her for her money and fame, and how she deserves friends like that. How ugly she is inside, and selfish. How much I hated her, and I couldn’t stand to even look at her sometimes. Because she isn’t the mother I used to know.”

  The one I used to love, admire, and look up to. The one I was proud to share the same blood with and say, “See that pretty lady on the TV? That’s my mami.”

  “I told her that was it,” I say to Kai now. “I never want to see or hear from her again. I’m done.”

  Kai watches me for a minute, waiting for me to go on. When I don’t, he says, “Wow. You told her all that and just … left?”

  “Yeah …” Why does it sound like I committed third-degree murder when he says it? “She hasn’t called me since. That’s how I want it. Better if we just go our separate ways, don’t you think?”

  “Sure, if that’s what you really want.”

  “It is,” I say a little too forcefully, and it sounds like I’m trying to justify something I know is wrong. But I’m not the one who’s wrong here. I’m not.

  “Okay.” He mimics my tone, then smiles. “I believe you. I mean, that’s harsh, but I believe you think it’s best. I don’t know your mom like you do. But …” He pauses.

  “But what?”

  “Well”—he scratches the back of his neck—“you know, what if your mom wasn’t being totally selfish by sending you here? Have you ever thought it might be to protect you?”

  I’ve heard that before, from Dad of all people, the only other person besides me who knows who Mom really is beneath the Hollywood facade. Kai’s suggestion puts me on the defensive. I’m tired of people arguing with me about how I should feel, no matter how good their intentions. “That’s what she claimed it was,” I say. “But think about it. I wasn’t really under fire, was I? No. She was. And still is. This is going to take a while to blow over.” We’ll reassess the situation in a year, she said. Reassess. Like this is just a marketing experiment and we’ll crunch some numbers over coffee. “Keeping her innocent victims out of the public eye could only make her look better. People weren’t going to attack me or my dad, except maybe to ask us our side of the story. And she knew I would have told the truth. None of this was for my benefit.” It couldn’t have been. I’m the one who the world has been made to think doesn’t exist anymore, while she climbs back onto her pedestal.

  “You did benefit some, though, didn’t you?” He grins. “If you hadn’t moved here, we’d never have met.”

  I smile at that. “True.”

  A wolf howl pierces the night, loud and sharp, and we both flinch. It continues for a few more seconds before it recedes and I can breathe again.

  “That sounded … close.”

  “It was,” Kai admits, then quickly adds, “but you’re safe in here.” He strokes his thumb back and forth over my hand and tells me a story about wolves that his dad used to tell him, something I can tell is completely fictional and meant to quell a child’s fear of a wild animal, but it makes me feel better anyway. I listen to the soft rumble of his voice and watch the fire get smaller and smaller, my eyelids getting heavier and heavier. He adds a couple more logs to the fire without interrupting his story.

  When he’s finished, he locks his midnight-sun gaze onto mine and says, “Do you mind if I lie next to you? You know, so we can keep each other warm.”

  “Yeah, no. I don’t mind.” My voice sounds small and uncertain, but I’m sure I want him in this bed with me. We almost died today, and we’re not out of danger yet. I need him close. I need to feel his breathing and his warm skin and his heart pumping and know he’s still alive.

  He crawls over me and then under the blankets, and we settle against each other. Everything inside me ignites, acutely aware there are only two layers of thermal underwear between us, mine and his.

  “Thank you,” he whispers. “Thank you for trusting me with your secrets, and letting me trust you with mine yesterday. Thank you for sticking with me, even when we disagree. Thank you for just … being you.”

  I mumble something in response, not paying attention to my own words. I can feel every hard plane of his body against every soft curve of mine. My heart goes into overdrive, threatening to crack my ribs with every pulse. I’ve imagined being in this position with him so many times … being this close … alone. Now that it’s a reality, I’m not sure what to expect. Our kiss is slow and tentative at first, then suddenly urgent, like this is our last night alone instead of our first—but in the back of my head I’m trying to figure out what to do with my limbs. We’re tangled and smashed against each other in a bed that barely fits the both of us. It’s awkward and exhilarating at the same time.

  I don’t think I’m going to get any more sleep tonight. He’s not just keeping me warm. He’s set me on fire.

  We don’t stop kissing until sunlight filters bright through the crystalline windowpane, the wood burner has gone dark, and we hear Jack and Vicki making breakfast. There’s a river not too far from here, and they already went out to fish. Now they’re cooking. Together. And not snapping at each other. It’s weird, but also better than hearing them argue.

  Reluctantly, I get out of bed and get dressed. My clothes are starting to stink a little, so I keep Kai’s thermal underwear on underneath, even though it’s too big. I twist my hair up into a bun the way my mother showed me when I was little.

  “Like this?” I’d asked, watching myself in the mirror. “Sí, mi niña bonita!” Mom exclaimed. Yes, my pretty girl! Then she took my hand and twirled me in place like I was on display at a fashion show.

  I smile at the memory. When was the last time I smiled about something related to Mom? Stretching my lips reminds me that they’re swollen and sore from kissing, and I wonder if Kai feels as alive as I do right now. Even thinking of Mom can’t bring me down. That’s the power of Kai’s touch.

  When we enter the main room, Vicki is plating cooked fish fillets while Jack sits at the table.

  “Good morning, sleepyheads,” Vicki says. “You’re just in time for breakfast.”

  It seems like everyone’s mood has lifted today.

  “Thanks.” I sit and she hands me a plate, but I eat my first bite too fast and burn my tongue.

  Jack smirks. “You look a little flushed there, Kai. You feeling all right?”

  Kai flicks a not-so-subtle gl
ance at me, and my whole head bursts into flame—cheeks, ears, everything. Then he says, “Never felt better,” and goes to check on Hunter.

  Jack and Vicki exchange a knowing look, and Jack snickers.

  “Whatever you two are thinking,” I say, “you’re wrong. Nothing happened.”

  “Then why do you look more like a tomato and less like a cinnamon bun the more you try to deny it?” Jack retorts.

  I decided to ignore all the offensive aspects of his comment. “It’s hot in here. Good job on the fire, you’re roasting me.”

  “Not so hot in here, I bet, compared to the scalding heat in the other room.”

  Now Vicki’s giggling. When she realizes I don’t find it funny at all, she gives Jack a scolding face, but he just grins even wider.

  I finish eating as fast as I can, burning my tongue a second time, then join Kai in the other room. Hunter is awake but sweaty and pale. “What happened?” I say.

  “Fever.” Kai shows me the digital thermometer—a hundred and two—before cleaning it with an alcohol wipe and putting it back in the first aid kit on the bed.

  “The hypothermia weakened my immune system,” Hunter says, his voice scratchy. He sniffles. “This is probably just a cold. I’ll take some ibuprofen and it’ll be fine.” He reaches for the first aid kit, but Kai gets him the pills instead.

  “We’re not going anywhere until this fever is gone and you’re back to one hundred percent,” Kai says. “You’re a med student. You know how important it is to rest.”

  Hunter doesn’t argue, just swallows the pills and then rolls over so he’s facing the wall.

  “Do you want anything to eat?” I say. “Vicki made fish. There’s plenty.”

  Hunter shakes his head and we leave the room, closing the door behind us. As soon as Vicki sees our faces, she knows something’s wrong. “Oh no, what happened? He was fine last night …”

  “He’s got a fever,” Kai says. “But you and Jack can still head out. It’s okay.”

  Vicki chews at her bottom lip. “I—I’d rather stay. I wouldn’t feel right, leaving him like this.”

  “Don’t worry, Vicks, I’ll find a doctor,” Jack says. “No hospitals out here, but there has to be someone in town who can come up and check him out. I’ll be back in two days, tops. Maybe sooner. Okay?”

  Vicki nods and goes into Hunter’s room.

  “Thank you, Jack,” I say. “For everything.”

  “I’m just doing this for the new plane,” he says through a grin.

  His default-mode sarcasm doesn’t annoy me this time. “You’re not a very good liar.”

  “Never claimed to be, princess.”

  I smirk. “And I never said it was a bad thing.”

  Jack straps Kai’s rucksack onto his back. It’s considerably lighter than it was when I had to carry it, holding only what he’ll need for about a day’s travel on foot, leaving the rest of the supplies for us here, but he lets out a grunt like he just lifted the moon onto his shoulders.

  I hand him my credit card. “Use this to pay for whatever you need. Anything. Okay?”

  He nods and pockets the card.

  “Be careful,” Vicki says.

  He stares at her for a moment, as if contemplating whether he should voice a thought, then says, “Before I go, I … wanted you to know. I thought we … we had somethin’ good. I’m sorry I ruined it. Real sorry. And I’m not saying that so you’ll take me back, because I know you won’t ever take me back.” Swallow. Nod. “I just … wanted to make sure you knew.” He walks out and closes the door, leaving her frozen in shock.

  “Vicki?” I lay a hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

  “He apologized.” Vicki turns to face me and Kai, brows drawn together. “I thought I’d never hear those words from him.” After a moment, she takes in a deep breath, grabs the rifle, and opens the door. “I need to get some air.”

  “Not with a loaded weapon, you’re not.” Kai takes the rifle out of her hand.

  “Fine.” She grabs the fishing rod instead and storms out the door.

  “She really shouldn’t be alone right now,” Kai says. He grabs the hatchet. “I might as well get some work done while I’m out there. Yell for me if you need anything or if … anything changes with Hunter.”

  “I will. I’ll stay right by him.” Satisfied, he leaves, and I start eating the last fish fillet. The one that was meant for Hunter. No sense letting it go to waste. The fish Vicki made is no less than divine, even better than what I’ve had at hoity-toity restaurants in LA, and I feel like I should leave a big tip for her again. If I could. Kai was onto something there when he mentioned she should be working as a chef. But no matter how good the meat is, I miss having fruits and vegetables. Fresh ones, not the dried trail mix I found tucked away in Kai’s pack. Mami wouldn’t believe it if I told her, after all those times I complained about the all-natural diet she had me on—

  Mami? I haven’t called Mom that since I was twelve. It started as a spur-of-the-moment way of getting her attention, calling her “Mom” like the heritage she’d given me didn’t matter—because it felt like I didn’t matter to her. And that was confirmed when she didn’t react at all. I very pointedly called Dad Papi during one of those rare dinners that we actually ate together, and turned to her right after and said “Mom.” Dad looked stunned. Mom looked bored. So I just kept calling her Mom, and she just kept not caring. No matter what I do or say, it doesn’t matter to her. I’ve known this for years, so why does it still hurt so much?

  The reminder sours my stomach, and I push my plate away. Appetite, gone.

  I’ve been sitting by the wood burner in Hunter’s room for so long that it needs another log. Kai and Vicki still aren’t back. Okay. How hard can this be? I pick up one of the split logs from the pile in the corner. A splintered edge pokes my finger and I immediately drop the whole thing, not so gracefully, onto my foot. And let out a scream worthy of a horror flick.

  I hobble over to my chair, holding my stabbed finger in my mouth, and Hunter mumbles something behind me.

  “Sorry! I didn’t mean to wake you up. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah … I actually feel a little better now. Just thirsty. Can you get me some water?”

  “Be right back.” I go to the “kitchen” and pour him a glass of water from our stash, noticing it needs to be refilled with snow to melt. A quick glance out the front window—Kai and Vicki are out of sight. I’ll have to get some myself later, then. But first, Hunter. When I return to his room, he’s trying to push himself up, but his arms aren’t quite working.

  “Take it easy,” I say.

  He tries again, and I do my best to help him, but it’s like trying to lift a boulder with a feather. Finally, he manages to sit up and lean against the wall, letting his legs fall over the long side of the bed. His socked feet poke out from under the edge of the fleece blanket.

  I hand him the cup. He takes a few tentative sips. Sighs. Closes his eyes.

  “Now I’m cold again.” He rubs a hand down over his face, tugs the blanket up to his chest. “Can you … ?” He gestures at the fire.

  “I’m not sure how.”

  “Use both hands to pick up the log,” he says, his voice starting to sound less hoarse and more Hunter-like. “They’re heavier than they look.”

  My toe found out that much already. I lift the offending log with both hands this time, one on each end. “Now what? Is there a trick to this?”

  “Hold one end and put the other right next to the bed of hot coals. Then—gently—nudge the top end toward the fire. No matter how it lands, it’ll catch if you do it like that. Right across the middle. Just don’t try to toss it in hard, or the hot ashes will flare out at you.”

  “But won’t I burn myself?”

  “Not if you go slow.”

  “Okay …” I do as he said. My skin feels like it’s melting, but it doesn’t burn. It’s just a steady heat, no worse than sunbathing on the beach. As soon as I release the log fr
om my grip, though, I yank my hands back. The flames get hungry. Greedy. The log crackles and pops, and moisture hisses out of it.

  It worked! I pull the chair up beside his bed and sit.

  “Where is everyone?” Hunter says.

  “Outside.” Where I’m starting to learn how to survive, but one burning log does not a fire mage make. I tell him what they’re all doing, and how Jack went off in search of a doctor in the town, and he takes it all in with his usual calm. I used to think Hunter might understand my antipathy toward being a survivalist, back when I thought he was a shut-in, but he’s just as adept at those kinds of skills as Kai is. Even Kai mentioned last night that Hunter was a natural at them and they used to have fun together. Which reminds me …

  “Can I ask you something? Are you up to it?”

  “Depends on the question,” he says before taking another sip of water.

  Fair enough. “Kai said you used to go out with him and your dad all the time, and that you had fun. So why did you stop? Just because you don’t like shooting animals?”

  “No, it’s … not that simple.”

  I didn’t think it was, but he remains tight-lipped about explaining the complexities. He feels like a brother to me, but he doesn’t wear his heart on his sleeve when I’m around, like Kai does. “Kai told me what happened to your dad, too,” I say. “And I’m not sure how you actually feel about this trip anymore. You pushed him to keep going when he wanted to stop. Why?”

  He sighs, leaning his head back. “Every day since we got the news, I’ve had this hope, kind of like Kai’s, even though I know it’s not logical … That’s why I never told anyone about it. I’ve had this hope that one day I’ll wake up, go downstairs, like any normal day, but it won’t be a normal day, because Dad will be there, and then”—his voice catches—“then we can try again. Start over. But if I see where he died, my hope won’t survive that. It’d be like him dying all over again, right in front of me.”

  The weight he dropped hits me square in the chest. He and Kai aren’t so different. “Oh, Hunter. I’m sorry.”