Peace Love Resistance

by Jettie Woodruff

  My dad and is friend stepped in long enough to tell me he was going to ride back with Greg. “I’m going to head back with Greg. You can take the truck. I’ll bring your mom’s Jeep home later.”

  Busting my knuckles with a turn of the socket in my hand, I yelled. “Sonofabitch-fucker. Okay, see you later. Ahh, fuck.”

  “Stop talking like that. Your mom blames me for it.”

  Like that wasn’t the stupidest thing to say. The last time I heard him drop the F-bomb, I was twelve. Looking to my knuckles, I blew on the missing skin and went back for more, ignoring my dad for a rusted bolt that just had to fight me.

  By the time I got it out of there, I was beyond pissed, needing my own safety meeting. I took the table, the sink, a twenty-gallon water supply container, a gray tank, a straggling cast iron skillet, and a little pot made from the same heavy material. Now, if I could just get it all done in a week.

  I drove back over the mountain with one thing on my mind. Well, two. A big fat one and her. That’s what was on my mind when I came to the Y in the road, my mind in a million and one places. Just when I was about to turn left, I saw her walking down the dirt road, frowning with worry.

  Slowing, I instantly knew she was fine. Our eyes met as I stopped, leaning out the window, and as silly as it sounds, her eyes lit up as much as mine. I could feel it. Even though I wasn’t really sure what it meant. I felt that, too. Something I’d never noticed in my life. Nobody had ever looked at me the way Tristan did. Ever.

  As cheesy as it sounded in my head, I said it anyway. “You look like sunshine.”

  Her lips met mine, our smiles touched, and her warm words warmed my lips and my chest at the same time. Literally. “You can’t look like sunshine, but you can feel it. I can feel the way you look at me. It’s like sunshine. Where have you been all day? I missed you.”

  “Hauling some shit for my dad. I missed you, too. Is he awake?” I questioned, my eyes moving to Baby-T.

  Tristan summoned my fingers with a wiggle and a reach, her hand melting into mine. “No, he just ate. He’s out.”

  “What are you doing out here?”

  “Going to pick some apples up from the ground down there. Want to come?”

  My plans to work on the van until around three were squashed by a ray of Tristan and an apple tree. “Of course. Let me go park this truck. I’ll be right back.”

  Tristan’s lips met mine again, this time more than a greeting peck. Her tongue slipped between my lips, her fingers laced in the back of my hair, and a light moan hummed in my mouth. A chill trailed my spine, my entire being longing for her like something I had to have to not just live, but to survive. There was zero doubt in my mind, I would die without her. That’s the strong control we had stirring between us. Explaining it is impossible; especially without sounding like a sissified poet.

  “Jesus, girl,” I halfheartedly complained.

  A laugh from her lips touched mine and she backed away. “Hurry.”

  I did hurry, forgetting all about the shit in the back of the truck, the weed I’d planned on smoking, and the work I still had to do. All for a girl… a ray of sunshine. Tristan was my light at the end of the tunnel and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. This wasn’t something controlled, not by either of us anyway. It just was. We were so unnaturally, natural together. A light summer breeze, a fluffy white cloud, a floating dandelion, or warm rain. Just like that, we just were. Like spring and daisies, we just were. Omnipresent.

  “Omnipresent? What? You’re losing your mind, Ty,” I said aloud, my head shaking from the word I wasn’t even sure where I’d heard it from, why I’d thought about it, or how I knew what it meant. Universal. That’s what we were. Tobias Sheffield didn’t think about clouds and sunshine, but even as corny as it sounded, it was the truth. Tristan wasn’t something you saw with your eyes, she was something you felt. Like sunshine. My sunshine.

  Like a fish on a hook, I parked the truck and jumped on my bike, almost getting away from my mom.

  “Hey, where’re you going?”

  I left her standing with a blank stare and opened palms, my sights focused in one direction. Not hers. “Up the road. I’ll be back later.”

  Three minutes later, I was dumping my bike behind a tree, once again feeling complete. Yup, I was crazy, and I had contracted the most amazing addiction known to man. Only ten times stronger. Even if I didn’t believe in her mystical world, I believed in this. This was undeniably beautiful, and I didn’t care how clichéd it made me. I loved her.

  Tristan and I held hands, walking down a dusty dirt road, shaded by big oak leaves and leaking sunshine. The day couldn’t have been more perfect.

  “Want me to hold him?” I questioned, my hopes high.

  “No, he’s sleeping. You can have him as soon as he wakes up.”

  That was a copout. Tobias would go right back to sleep and she knew it. She just didn’t want to give him up. “Promise?”

  “Yes. I promise. What did you write in your gratitude journal?”

  Not about to tell her I traded them in on a blueprint for a surprise for her, I lied. Sort of. “That I was grateful you and Baby-T.”

  “It’s hard at first. Everyone thinks they don’t have anything to be grateful for, but they do. You’re not in some third world country making stupid little toys so kids over here can get a surprise in the bottom of a fun box just for eating poisonous fast-food.”

  I frowned with a laugh and then a shrug. “You have such a way with words. Most people don’t think like that, T. They just don’t.”

  “And you say that so matter-of-factly. Like it’s perfectly okay. Like humanity doesn’t even exist. It could, Tobias. If people would just stop following the crowd and be the one who cares. You know?”

  I gave her a half-assed smile, trying to understand her compassion and the longing for peace. “Tristan for president.”

  “Right. Let me be in charge of the country for one decade. That’s it. I’d do it like American Idol. Now that would be a reality show. Thousands of candidates. Doesn’t that make more sense? Don’t you think people would vote for the one that said no more war? Let’s take that money and feed people that are hungry.”

  I might not have known much about politics, but I had gone through eleven years of school, plus kindergarten. “Tristan, somebody has to protect us from terrorist. As much as you want to change the world, there still has to be boundaries. Who do you think protects the constitution?”

  “I’m just going to pretend like you didn’t just say that to keep from calling you a stupid fucking sheeple. You know that mass media thing I was telling you about? The one’s who control what you get to see? What if you got to see the mom crying over her dead child, his face blown off because of a meaningless war? What if that was me and Tobias? What if we were in the middle of something we didn’t ask for, something we didn’t want? Would it change your mind then? Huh? If people could see that, I believe war would be eliminated. You don’t get to see that part of it. You only get to see the wounded soldier or the hero who died for our freedom. It’s all a bunch of bullshit Ty, and you know it. It’s not for us. It’s not for that soldier who his wife and kids will never see again. It’s not, Ty. It’s for their power and control. You’re never going to get peace out of war. Ever.”

  Even though it wasn’t something I sat around and thought about, it was something I cared about. Nonetheless, I wasn’t going to let something like that affect me the way it did her. “But you can’t change that, Tristan, and I feel like you’re adding unnecessary turmoil to your life. I mean, it’s okay to want the world to be a better place, but maybe you should focus on other things, too. Tone it down a little.”

  Nonchalantly, she talked to me like she was telling me a story, cool, calm, and collected, her fingers to her face, but the sarcasm was heavily noted. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I should probably just conform like the rest of sleeping. I mean, it’s not like I have to see the dad’s trying to get their family
to safety, stopped by a boarder, possibly even shot. I don’t have to hear the hungry babies or the worried moms. I don’t care if a building collapsed so you could wear that name brand shirt. Why should I? Right, Ty? Maybe I’ll go get some of those fake nails and put some fancy design on them. Maybe an ocean wave. What do you think?”

  “I think I hate war, too, and not because you told me to. It still doesn’t change the fact that we can’t do a damn thing about it. Not you, and not me. That’s the reality of it, T. Whether you want to admit it to yourself or not. And you don’t need anything fake. Ever.”

  Tristan took in a deep breath and let out a long sigh, her eyes looking over the valley and not me. “We can’t help everybody, but everybody can help somebody. It’s just gotten easier for people to not help than to help. What would your friends back in California think if they found out you were working in a soup kitchen, shopping in a thrift store, refusing to eat factory cows or genetically modified food? You know? The whole world is worried about what other people might think of them if they are different. If they are they’re true self. I know you think it’s all hopeless, but it’s not. If I wake up just a few people, I’ll take it. Do you know why? I’ll take it because those people might help a few more, and just like a ripple in pond, a little bit of change can be a world of difference for something or someone.”

  While I wanted to believe that it worked that way, I was still a realest and she was right. People just didn’t care anymore. That part was true. Even if I did think she took it to heart a little more than was healthy, I was glad she stood up for what she believed in. Honestly, she was the only person I knew who did and that saddened me. I validated her feelings and moved past it. “I’m glad you’re you. I wouldn’t want you any other way. These apples are little and not ripe. They’ll be sour.”

  It was never about her. Ever. Tristan stood for one thing and one thing only. Humanity. “It’s early for them. We’ll just take the ones on the ground. They’ll be riper. Another two weeks and this tree could feed five families for an entire year. I can’t wait to make applesauce for Baby-T. Do you like applesauce?”

  I hid a smile on the back of her hand, my lips kissing her soft skin. “I’ll pick them up. You just tell me which ones. I think I do. I used to pick apples with my grandma from this same tree. See that?” I questioned, my finger pointing to a bottom branch, missing the top half. “That branch broke with me on it. Five stiches and a thumb sling half the summer.”

  For whatever reason, that made her extremely happy. “Ty, are you serious? You picked apples here when you were a little boy with your grandma?”

  “Yes. She didn’t live here. She lived in Morgantown, but she came out here a lot after my mom and dad got married and moved here.”

  “They’re from Morgantown? Your parents?”

  I took the mesh bag from Tristan, picking up the small apples that she pointed to and placed them inside. “Yes, my dad was a senior in high-school and my mom just turned sixteen.”

  “Not that one, it’s rotten, leave it for the deer. Your mom got married when she was sixteen?”

  “Yes, thanks to me.”

  “How did you end up on Turkey Ridge?”

  “The farm? I don’t know. My dad got a good deal on it. He came here to do some work on it. I guess the house had been empty for like three years or something. Somebody might have died in it. That’s what I think or something happened. I’m just not sure what. Anyway, my dad got a job doing auto body and the bank gave him a loan. I was born here, so that was almost eighteen years ago.

  Tristan blew out a puff of air, a strange expression coming and going in the blink of an eye. Even after she tried to hide it, I saw it, I felt it. “What happened? Why did they get a divorce?”

  I shrugged one shoulder, bypassing the peculiar look. “She hated the country. That was always her excuse anyway.”

  “Well, I mean Morgantown is a pretty happening place. I suppose if that’s what you’re used to, it would be hard.”

  “It is. I came from Los Angeles. This place sucks compared to that. There isn’t shit to do here.”

  “I’m here. You can do me.”

  My eyebrows shot to the clouds, my hand fumbling with an apple. “I can?”

  Tristan’s shoulders bounced, and she giggled, trying like hell to muffle a gut laugh. “Yes, but not yet.”

  “When?”

  “A few more weeks.”

  “Weeks?”

  “That’s enough. Let’s go hug this tree. I bet it remembers you.”

  I let Tristan take my hand and lead the way, but I wasn’t hugging a tree. “You can’t say do me and hug a tree in the same sentence.”

  Tristan placed a hand over Baby-T’s bottom and giggled again. “Okay, sorry. You stand right here.”

  With one arm, she protected Baby-T and wrapped the other one around the tree. She reached for my hand and pulled me to her side. Her eyes closed, she took a long deep breath, and her cheek touched the bark. “Close your eyes and feel the tree, Tobias,” she ordered with an open eye.

  I did it, but not because I wanted to. My eyes glanced around the empty wilderness just over her head, afraid of wondering eyes. That’s all I needed to end up on Facebook or YouTube. Tobias Sheffield hugging a tree. “You’re so fucking weird.”

  Her hand moved below mine and my free one wrapped around the tree, my fingers folding softly around a tiny ankle. “Were you happy when you came here, T?”

  My eyes watched cottony clouds pass below a bright blue sky, and the dirt road where anyone who rounded the bend could see us. “Yeah, I think so. I mean there was always shit, but who doesn’t go through shit. You know?”

  “Yes, believe me, I do.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Close your eyes.”

  “They are,” I lied with a smile on my face and my eyes on her closed eyes.

  “They are not. I can tell.”

  My eyes rolled and I smiled, loving that she was so tuned into me. Truth was, I was that in tune with her, too. I could feel her eyes were closed and so I closed mine, too. As ridiculous as it was, I let her talk me into hugging a freaking tree. Sure the sky was falling, I coaxed her to tell me more, just a hint of who she was in the past. “What shit, T? Tell me. I want to know.”

  “Normal shit, Ty. The stuff all kids go through. It doesn’t matter who you are or where you come from. All kids have shit. They may have the best parents in the world, but are bullied at school. They might be the most popular kid in school and hate to go home at the end of the day. That’s why you don’t judge people. You have no idea what part of the journey they’re on. We’re all trying to figure it out.”

  Even though I knew I’d probably be opening another can of worms, I said it anyway. “I didn’t think about a journey until I met you, Tristan. I wasn’t trying to figure anything out.”

  The happiness was heard through her words. Her fingers tightened around mine and her thumb brushed the back of my hand. “Exactly, Tobias. If I left here tomorrow and never saw you again, I would hope I made a big enough impact that woke you up, even just a little.”

  “You did. For sure. So your dad died and you were raised by your mom?” I questioned, my inquisitiveness about her more important than whether or not she made me a better person. Of course she did.

  “Not really. Do you follow politics at all?”

  “No, not really. My parents have it on a lot, but I don’t watch it.”

  “Good. Don’t. They both wanted to be journalists, but even in the late eighties, that profession was controlled. Reporters don’t really report what they want. Anyway. They’d made a pact that whoever landed the first job too good to pass up, the other one would follow. It wasn’t a dream job, but it was something. My mom landed a job with a local radio station in some small town. I don’t remember any of that though. That’s just the bits and pieces I’ve gotten from my mom. She doesn’t like to talk about my dad. Never has.”

  “What’d your dad do?”

/>   “He worked for the newspaper for a while, but then he got some traveling job making a lot of money. That’s when they bought a house.”

  “In the small town?”

  The answers she gave me were direct; to the point, yet she was nonetheless only giving me what she had to. Not a lie, but not quite the truth. “Yes. In the middle of nowhere. I was only three when my dad died so I don’t really remember it. Little things, that’s about it.”

  “And then you moved away?”

  “Yes, I guess so. I don’t remember that day, either.”

  “And then your mom got remarried?”

  Tristan snorted with that one, kind of the way I did when I thought about some of the things my own mother had done. “Yes, to a horrible man and her political career.”

  “Why was he horrible?”

  “Is. He’s still a horrible person. He only cares about power and he thinks he can do whatever he wants. It’ll take that man fifty more lifetimes to figure it out. Be quiet, just be still. Will you already?”

  Nope, wasn’t doing it. “Why do you hate him so much?”

  “He’s just not a good man.”

  “Did he hurt you?”

  “Not physically.”

  “How then?”

  “He’s the reason I grew up in a boarding school, he’s the reason my mom is so blind, he’s the reason I’ve been to every shrink in this country and France. Literally,” she admitted, one eye opening and closing. “Shhh. Stop talking.”

  Nope, wasn’t doing it that time either. “Why did you do that, all the counseling?”

  “Clay tried to make me one of them. He thought if I took enough prescription drugs and saw enough of his counselor’s, attend ivy-league schools, and run for class president, I’d get over being awake. Like I’d just go back to sleep like everyone else. Only you can’t, T. You can’t un-wake, and I wouldn’t want to if I could. I’d never want to be as shallow as my mother. Ever. You’re supposed to be feeling the tree. Focus on the connection.”