by Linko, Gina
I let out a sigh. I knew what it was like to want to ignore something. Pretend it wasn’t real.
“I’m sorry, Emery.” Gia finally met my gaze.
I hugged her.
“How did you find me?” We walked over toward her backpack, grabbed it, and she hooked her arm through mine. I led her to the square, and we sat on the concrete bench from the first day I’d been here.
“Your pink notebook.”
My mind flashed back to that notebook, sitting atop a pile of similar notebooks in my closet. “I wrote what in there?”
“You wrote—”
“Esperanza.”
“It took a few days before I could get over to your place without anybody knowing. But I took a chance. Drove up here. Prayed I could find you. Been hanging around here all day, hoping to catch a break.”
“Does Dad know? Did you tell anybody or—”
“No. Of course not. Because I do believe you, Emery. Now. And I guess I always did. It’s just, your father …” Gia’s face darkened. “They are questioning people. Me. There were these men with badges and ridiculously stern faces and CIA haircuts. It’s all totally creepy.”
I considered this, feeling terror grip my belly—terror that I might be found out, that I might have to leave Esperanza before I was ready. “How’d you get into my room?”
“Your garage code.”
“And you don’t think Dad found that notebook first? Saw the word Esperanza?”
“I think even if they saw it, it might not mean anything. It just stuck out to me, though. And then I Googled it.”
“They questioned people?”
“Yeah, it’s kinda crazy. Loretta, everyone. They questioned me in your dad’s office. It all felt very Law and Order.”
“Oh, Gia, I’m sorry.”
“No, stop it. I didn’t rat you out. I didn’t even have any information then.”
I knew I had to ask about my father. I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to think about him. “I didn’t want to hurt Dad, Gia. Is he okay, or—”
“He’s mad.” Gia pursed her lips.
“What else? What aren’t you telling me?”
“The guys. Your dad. They scared me, Emery. I think that this whole thing is bigger than you or I think it is.”
I thought about this for a moment. Gia grabbed my hand, gave it a squeeze. As we sat in the snow-covered square of Esperanza Beach, the sounds of traffic and distant laughter ringing through the air, my father and his threats seemed far away, unreal. But I knew that this was a false sense of security.
“Let’s get something to eat,” I said. “And you are going to just love the place I’m staying.”
“Four stars?” Gia asked.
“Something like that.”
Gia tiptoed around Dala Cabin and shed her coat, her shoes, throwing them wherever. She flopped on the bed. “It’s just when you said you wanted choices, I hadn’t quite pictured that you would choose this.”
“I know you’d probably go for more of the room service, facials, and massage territory. But my boy in the loops, he told me to come here. Showed me to this place.”
Gia sat up then, her eyes on me.
I unwrapped the “pasties” we had bought from Heaven at Betsy’s, and I got out a couple of cans of Coke, some plates and napkins, setting everything on the table. I kept my eyes from Gia’s. I was nervous. Because here it was again. Did she really believe me?
“Tell me all of it, Emery.”
“You don’t want to know.”
“Emery, I do.”
“I don’t know, Gia,” I said, considering. Was she going to run back and tell Dad? I didn’t think so. But …
“Please? I’ll spit-shake, just like when we were little. I’m so sorry, Emery.” She spit into her palm all businesslike, just the way we used to, then reached her hand out to me.
I considered for a long moment, still unsure. But I spit into my palm, shook her hand. “That’s really kind of disgusting.”
“Yeah,” she laughed.
I wiped my hand on my jeans. “Gia, it’s all so weird. It’s like I was being called here.”
“A quest. Very Lord of the Rings. Go on.”
I nodded. There was an edge, a sliver of doubt in me, wondering if I could or should trust Gia. She came and sat with me at the table, and we both took a big bite of our pasties. Gia raised her eyebrows. “This is good!”
“It is!” I said. “Like a handheld chicken potpie.”
“All it needs is a stick.”
“Not this again,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Not every food would be improved should it be on a stick.”
“We agree to disagree. Portability. Yumminess.”
“Cheesecake on a stick. Lasagna on a stick.”
“Exactly.” We laughed then, and I took another bite of my pasty. We talked for a while, about home, about Chaney, school. And I decided to trust her. We sat in the dim afternoon light of my cabin, and I told her about my boy, about the key, about the church, about it all. Everything except Ash. I told myself I kept him a secret because he wasn’t that big a piece of the puzzle, that he was no big deal. But truthfully, even as I was talking, I wondered if I was just keeping it, keeping him close, well, because I didn’t want to put words to Ash, to us. Like this connection between us was too important, too fragile to dissect in a conversation. And I couldn’t bear the idea of losing any of the hope that seemed wrapped up between Ash and me.
“Well, you’ve certainly done it,” Gia said, wiping her mouth and taking a swig of her Coke.
“What’s that?”
“You’ve made your own choices, Emery. You’re here.”
“You think I’m crazy.”
“No, just brave. Braver than I could ever be. I’m proud of you.”
I flushed a little. “Gia, that’s not true.”
“I wish I could help you. I mean, what do you think you’re going to find? Do you think your boy is out there right now, needing you, or—”
“I don’t know.” My voice sounded flat, worried. “I really hope he’s okay.”
“Come on,” Gia said, pulling me off the chair. “We gotta get you a phone.”
“A phone? Why?”
“ ’Cause I have to leave, like, soon, get back home, and I’m gonna be a mental case if I have to think about you living up here in this cabin and I can’t get in touch with you and vice versa. I mean, what if I have a boyfriend emergency?” Gia smirked, and I knew that she was just making light of the situation. She was worried about leaving me, my loops, my life being on the line.
“Okay.” Because I could think of no way to make Gia feel better about this. My life was on the line.
At Hansen’s General, we ran into Rob from the library, who gave me a shy hello. Gia introduced herself and pretended to grab his butt as he walked away. I rolled my eyes and quickly headed toward the cell phones I had seen the other day. Gia picked out this yellow utilitarian-looking cell phone that looked like it could survive deep-sea diving and a trip through a volcano. “It’s disposable, ya know. One of those kind of ready-to-go, three-hundred-minute deals.”
“Whatever you say, boss.”
“But it has texting included,” she said, flipping over the box. “ ’Cause God knows I gotta text you.”
I took out my money to pay at the register, but Gia wouldn’t hear of it. And on the way out of the store, she shoved a wad of bills from her wallet into my coat pocket. “I know you’re not using cards, you don’t want a trail. You gotta take my money. I withdrew a bunch, knowing I was coming here. I don’t know how else to help.”
“Gia, really, I have enough—”
“Live the high life out here in Esperanza. Buy yourself two pasties instead of one. A pair of designer snowshoes.”
Gia’s VW traversed the snowy road toward the cabin better than I thought it would. “Thanks for coming here, Gia,” I said, my voice sounding more serious than I’d intended.
“Emery, of course. Don’t say a
nother word about it.”
“I don’t want to sound all dramatic or—”
“Don’t. ’Cause it just sounds like you’re saying goodbye to me. Don’t do it. You’re going to be fine somehow. Okay?”
“I will,” I told her, because she needed to hear it. She looked so fragile then, her pale skin against her dark lashes, so young, compared to the weathered reflection I saw in the mirror lately. And I knew instantly that I had to do this for Gia. She needed me to do this. “Gia, I really think this is all going to turn out okay. I just need some time to—”
“Really?” She brightened. “You think you might figure all this out, come back and—”
“Yeah,” I lied. “Come back home with some proof, something, get the doctors to see my point.”
“Yeah?” Gia squealed. “You’ll be home in no time!” And I envied her there in that moment, that she could still talk herself into this, still lie to herself, still hope in this way.
It felt good to keep her from the worst of it.
As we pulled in near the cabin, my shoulders tensed. Ash was sitting by the fire pit, like he was waiting for us, for me.
Gia slowed the car, and I could feel her eyes on my face. “Spill it, Emery. You know this guy. Your ears are red.”
“Oops. I think I left out a little something.” Ash stood up then, tipping his hat toward us.
“Yes, a very handsome cowboy something.”
Gia popped open her car door, and I followed quickly. “Exciting!” she squealed.
“Hi,” I said to Ash, feeling guilty somehow.
“Hi.”
“I’m Gia,” she offered, shaking Ash’s hand.
I bristled, knowing the conversation that I would have to have later with Gia, wishing I didn’t have to explain Ash to her, not wanting to have to justify any of it.
I unlocked the cabin door as Ash introduced himself to Gia. We stepped inside. I was aware that my ears were burning with embarrassment over how transparent I must look to Gia. Ash didn’t meet my eyes. He was holding something close to his chest, something wriggling inside his coat.
“I just … I brought you something.” He was embarrassed. Surely he hadn’t counted on Gia’s presence. He produced a snowy white kitten, with one black paw and a black spot over her right eye and ear.
“She was a barn cat, the runt of the litter. I just thought … For you.”
I was momentarily caught off guard. He brought me a cat. My eyes flitted to Gia, who was trying desperately to quell her giddiness. She reached over and petted the cat.
“Th-thank you,” I stammered as I grabbed the fluffball from Ash. I scratched the kitten behind her ears. “Hello!” I said. And I pushed my nose toward hers. I greeted her and snuggled her. She was no bigger than a teacup, tiny pink nose, wide green eyes. I caught a glimpse of Ash then. He smiled, beamed really, two scarlet patches high on his cheekbones, and there seemed a lightness to him that wasn’t always there.
“She’s gorgeous,” Gia said, looking from Ash to me. “And wouldn’t you know? I just have to get going. I’m sorry to rush off,” she singsonged, looking from me to Ash.
“Gia, no, you can’t.”
“I have to. My parents will freak soon. I cut school, and I gotta get home before it’s too late.”
“Really?” I said.
Gia gave me a wink. “Really. Plus, I don’t want to give the CIA any reason to come after me.” Gia shot me a look, and I knew she was referring to Dad, his cronies.
“I’ve got the phone,” I told her. I handed the cat to Ash. “I’m just going to walk Gia out.”
Ash nodded, scratching the fluffball behind the ears.
Gia grabbed her backpack and a Coke from the fridge. On the porch steps, I closed the door behind us. “Gia, I was going to tell you about Ash, but it’s a long story and it’s nothing—”
Gia surprised me by hugging me tightly. “I’m so sorry about not believing you. And you don’t have to explain everything to me. You don’t have to explain why you might have befriended a hottie who likes to bring you kittens. No explanation needed.”
“It’s not like that,” I said. I didn’t know what it was like.
“You’re safe here, though, if I go? He’s okay?” Gia gestured toward the cabin. She stopped for a moment on the stoop, considering.
“Yes,” I said. “And thanks for not giving me the third degree, for not—”
“Emery, I trust you.”
“You do? Thanks, but he’s not, we’re not … It’s nothing.”
Gia just gave me a look, winking. “I’ll be texting you later for the details.”
I rolled my eyes. “Gia, thank you for coming. I really needed you.”
“Whatever. I don’t think you did. I think you’ve got it all under control.” Gia blew me a kiss then and started toward her car. “But, Emery?” She turned back to me.
“Yeah?”
“I know you’re totally focused on the loops, the mystery. And I know you’ll get it all figured out. But remember what you told me in the hospital, what you told me you wanted?”
“What?” I couldn’t remember. “A decent meal?”
“To live.”
Even in the distance, I could see the sadness in Gia’s eyes. She knew that I had meant that I wanted to live … before it all caught up to me. Before I died.
“Thank you,” I said to Ash as I came back in and threw my coat on a chair. Maybe it was Gia’s goodbye, or maybe it was just seeing this little kitten, this gesture of kindness. But I was feeling all kinds of sentimental, blinking tears from my eyes.
“No, no problem,” he stammered. I pretended not to notice when his cheeks flushed, and I noticed he had started a fire. I reminded myself not to fall in love with him.
Ash went out to the clearing and brought in a cardboard box, which contained some kitten food, a water bowl, a scrap of burlap, which I immediately knew I would replace with one of my fluffier bath towels.
Ash took off his coat and hat, hung them on the hook behind the door. He sat on the floor cross-legged. I sat down across from him, and the kitten immediately went to Ash, purring and snuggling up to his chest. Ash produced a little red satin toy mouse, which he dangled in front of the kitten.
Ash tossed the mouse and the kitten went crazy, clawing at it, biting it, flicking it in the air with her paws. I picked up the mouse and threw it in the air. The kitten jumped and caught it, stuck her proud nose high, and pranced back to Ash, leaving the mouse in his lap. We played with the kitten for a long while, the fire crackling behind me. We cooed and fawned over how cute the kitten was. All the while, I stole glances at Ash, unsure why this cowboy would do this for me, this kindness.
“You have to name her,” I told Ash.
“No,” he said. He held the toy mouse by the tail and jiggled it for the kitten, then shoved it up his shirtsleeve. The kitten knew exactly where it was, clawing at his wrist.
Ash chuckled and let the cat try to wrestle it out of his sleeve. The firelight danced in Ash’s eyes, and I found myself drawn over and over to the gracefulness of his hands. They were large and roughened from work, but they moved with such grace, an artist’s hands.
“Come here, No Name,” I said, clicking my tongue. The kitten had gotten the mouse loose and was giving it quite the business. The kitten ignored me, and Ash as well, batting the mouse under the table, around the kitchen, toward the fireplace.
“Cheap entertainment,” Ash said. “Emery, you have to name her. I’m sure you had a name in mind when you were a kid.”
“No. You name her.”
To my surprise, Ash took one look at the kitten and said, “Eyepatch.”
I wrinkled my nose.
“Too weird,” he said. “Socks?”
“No, too cutesy.”
“How about Dala?” Ash asked.
“Dala?” I considered this.
“So, after you leave, you can have her to remember this place.”
My thoughts quickly turned dark. �
��I may not be able to keep her and—”
“She can always go back to the barn, Emery,” Ash said, eyeing me.
How could I explain that certainly this tiny kitten would outlive me? That my loops, this mystery, my odd, lonely existence, were surely coming to some sort of conclusion? Hadn’t the older version of my father practically spelled it out for me? Wasn’t that why I was here? To solve this last mystery? Live a little before this all finished me?
I knew this, deep down. But this kitten, brand-new and full of excitement, brought it home to me in a way that I hadn’t expected.
I pushed away these morbid thoughts; they were not helpful. “Dala,” I said, scratching the kitten under her chin. She flopped down in front of me flat on her back, paws raised in the air. “Oh, please may I pet your belly?”
“So Gia is a friend from home?”
“Yeah, a good friend.” I cleared my throat and felt empowered by Gia’s visit. “Tell me about Next Hill,” I said, trying to sound casual. I stole a glance over at Ash.
He scratched the stubble on his chin, and if we were playing poker, I would bet that this was his nervous tell. “I actually have to go,” he said, getting up from the floor.
“You do?”
“I do.” He grabbed his coat and hat. I thanked him again, and he left us then. Dala and me.
This was going to be harder than I thought. I filled Dala’s dish with water. She swirled between my feet the whole way into the kitchen, rubbing up against my ankles.
But Dala got agitated then, as I bent down to fill a bowl with the food Ash had left for her. She meowed loudly, and clawed at my feet, my ankles.
“Shh,” I told her, and I set her in front of her food, but Dala wouldn’t have it. She meowed more loudly now and jumped up at me, clawing at my jeans, desperately trying to get me to pick her up.
So I did, and it was then that the buzzing swelled behind my eyes. My eyelids fluttered.
I quickly sat in the kitchen chair. I tried to push back the swell, but it was too big, too forceful. The cat nuzzled her face into the crook of my elbow, hiding. “You knew,” I said. Then my body stiffened.