Surviving Love

by K. F. Breene

  “Hey, earth to mopey,” Christie said, nudging her. “Mike was talking to you. And staring. Which is incredibly rude. I didn’t want to embarrass him…”

  “Thanks for sparing my feelings,” Mikey said in a dry tone.

  “What was that?” Sara asked, blinking a few times, wondering exactly where her life had gone wrong. She couldn’t help but think about how things would’ve turned out if Mikey hadn’t left. Would he have steered her away from Phil? Would she have listened if he’d tried?

  “Care to go for a walk?” he asked, his eyes glued to hers.

  “Yeah, sure.” Sara took her last mouthful of mashed potatoes before standing up. Mikey stood up a moment later, and both of them dumped their plates in the trash. The rate at which Mikey ate was a little… daunting.

  Sara gave a big smile as she looped her arm within Mikey’s. They started away from the fire pit. “This feels good.”

  “What’s that?” he asked in a low tone.

  “Just this. Linking arms, taking a walk, chatting. I miss the good ol’ days. We had a lot of fun.”

  “Yes we did.”

  Hearing the strange flatness in his tone, she glanced up. He stared straight ahead with his jaw clenched. His arm was held out rigidly, as if it pained him to act as a cane for the impaired.

  “Oh, sorry,” she muttered, taking her arm away.

  “Why?” Mikey stopped suddenly, staring down at her with a crease in his brow. He reached for her hand and tucked it back in his arm like she’d had it. “This is how we walk.”

  Relief flooding her, she smiled. “Thanks. I just… I can’t help falling into the old ways, you know? It’s weird. It’s like opening a photo album you haven’t seen in a long time and remembering exactly when each picture was taken. How you felt, what you were up to—except, with you, the pictures aren’t orangey and faded. They’re HD in expensive frames.”

  At his continued stare, she blushed into the moonlight and lowered her face. “Sorry. Can’t stop the ol’ gob from rattling on.”

  “What?” he asked softly.

  His index finger gently touched the bottom of her chin, lifting until her face pointed toward him again. His sweet breath ruffled her eyelashes, starting a strange hum deep in her sternum. It was vaguely familiar. Old though, back from when they were kids. She just couldn’t place exactly what it had meant.

  Her mouth started to spew gibberish without her control. “Gob. Mouth. Chattering on. I never shut up, I know. Phil used to tell me that all the time. Drove him crazy how much I talked. And here I go again. Just can’t shut up. I sound…”

  Ridiculous.

  Mikey must’ve thought she was a complete fool. An old fool in a midlife crisis working with a bunch of college kids. Or worse, a deadbeat, like his dad had always said. A poor deadbeat, just barely a step above white trash. Even though Sara’s family was in the same suburb as the Frosts, Sara’s dad was a middle-tier businessman and their house was half the size—Mikey’s dad had been thrilled to get out of that Virginian town and into the wealthier section of Connecticut.

  “Sorry,” she said again, shaking her head and trying to reclaim her hand.

  “Please stop apologizing, Sara. I remember the same things you do. And I miss them just as much. Let’s stop worrying about what people think, and just be us. We always had our own thing going. Now’s no different.”

  She leaned into his warmth and pushed away all the negative thoughts that seemed to accost her whenever she lost even the tiniest bit of faith in herself. Steeling her resolve, and putting her faith in her old friend, she clutched Mikey’s arm tighter and walked with him into the trees, enjoying the feeling of the darkness swallowing them up.

  “Where to?” Sara asked.

  “We can go overlook the valley. The moon’s large, so we should be able to see the river below. It glitters. It’s beautiful.”

  She felt his breath feather across the top of her head and smiled up at him. “So, what have you been up to?”

  She felt the shrug more than saw it. “I went for a stint in the Special Forces. My dad kept pressuring me to fall in line, so I did; just not with his business. I learned about survival there, to some degree, then started learning more. After a while, I sorta became good at it.”

  Sara laughed, patting his arm. “Still modest to a fault, then? Apparently you’re great at it.”

  Their feet crunched as the path turned wilder. Warmth filled her chest, here with her old friend. She leaned into Mikey’s comfortable heat. “So how did you end up here?”

  “I wanted to try and keep my line of work within the survival realm. I asked a few ranches if they’d have a need, and this one and one other said they’d give it a try. I chose here because of the wilderness. It’s close enough that I can take classes into it for hands-on demonstrations. Also, once a season I purposely get lost, and then try to get rescued.”

  Sara stopped, facing him. “You what?”

  She could barely make out his cheeks lifting upward in a smile. “Get lost. You know, forget where home is. I’ve always been good at that.”

  “Oh, you knew where your home was, all right. You just preferred mine because my mom waited on you hand and foot! Don’t think I didn’t know what was going on, Mikey Frost. She stopped getting me things unless I was as polite as you. She still does, too. It’s so irritating.”

  “Lazy.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “I’m lazy? You are the laziest guy I’ve ever met! You used to nearly pee your pants because you didn’t want to get up to use the restroom. You’d go hungry because you didn’t want to go to the kitchen. Are we remembering different people?”

  He laughed and brushed her hair back from her forehead. “You win,” he said. “Your mother was way nicer than mine.”

  “To you, maybe.” Sara looked at his outline for a moment—the large shoulders reducing down into thin hips. The triangle, as Christie called it. “Although I guess that was before all the muscle. Lazy men don’t have all of this.”

  She laid her hand on his bicep and traced the groove of substantial muscle. She squeezed it, though it didn’t have much give, feeling his heat soak into her palm. He watched her silently as she slid her hand up to his hard shoulder. “I mean, Mikey, wow. Where did all this come from? You used to be a butterball.”

  “You forget about the growth spurt.”

  “Oh yeah.” Sara laughed, letting her hand drop back to his forearm. “When you shot up those eight hundred inches that one year? Yeah, you got gangly really quickly.”

  He tucked her hand under his arm and started walking again. “I’m active these days. I’m working outside a lot, and I keep in shape for my expeditions. I need to make sure I can actually survive.”

  “So, you wander around and just wait until you forget which way you came from, or something?”

  “I have someone blindfold me, then drop me in an undisclosed location. I have to hump it out of there and find help as if I was actually in a survival situation.”

  “What if you don’t find help?”

  “I have a GPS device in the sole of my shoe. After four days, if I don’t make contact, they activate the device and come get me.”

  “And what if you lose your shoe? Or can’t make four days?”

  “Then I fail.”

  It took a moment for what he meant to sink in. “Wow. Dangerous.”

  “Survival.”

  “I take it you’ve never died in one of your expeditions…”

  He chuckled. “Nope.”

  They emerged from the tree line onto a ledge with a small patch of wild grass. Fifteen feet from the nearest tree, the sky brushed the dirt, the mountain dropping away into a steep cliff high above the valley floor.

  “Oh, whoa.” Sara pulled back, strangely worried that the whole ledge would fall away if she put any pressure on it. “Did I just stumble into my eventual murder scene? You’re probably going to toss me over the ledge…”

  “Yeah, right. You’d probably drag me wi
th you. It looks scary in the dark, but I’m here all the time. We won’t go to the edge, scaredy-cat.”

  Sara took one step out. “What, do you take girls up here to make out?”

  A cricket started its song off to the right. A glance told her what she suspected. “Oh really? Scabby little Mikey has turned into a lady-killer, huh? Well, you better hope I don’t meet your girlfriends or I’ll give them an earful!”

  He chuckled, lowering her to the ground and then settling beside her. “Not so much. But I didn’t enter into any priesthood, either. I always treat a woman with respect, and this place is a great way to… initiate the beginnings of… a deeper respect.”

  “Get her to drop her pants. Just say it! Get her to give it up. I’m not eleven anymore; you can be honest.”

  “The scenery helps, yeah. But I like this place. It’s quiet. Peaceful.”

  She nodded, looking out at the night. She let her head fall back, letting her gaze trace the blanket of stars above. “It’s breathtaking. All of this. Montana. It blows my mind. It’s everything I always hoped it would be.”

  “Wait until winter. It’ll freeze your mind.”

  “I won’t be hanging around for winter. I leave in late September.”

  He leaned toward her. “Then what?”

  She shrugged, fresh tears springing. She swiped at her face and set her jaw for a moment, willing herself to be strong. “I don’t know. I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

  “I heard about Phil from my mom. Sorry. Must be hard.”

  Words like that were as helpful as an iron belt on a swimmer. She blinked a few times to clear her vision. “How did you hear?”

  “My mom. Everyone was shocked. I think that’s why my mom mentioned it to me.”

  Sara shrugged, trying to dislodge the emotion. This wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have. It’d just make her cry. “I didn’t really recognize you. You’re all tall and broad and everything. No trace of that baby fat anymore.”

  “It wasn’t baby fat—I was a pudgy little kid.” He nudged her shoulder with a chuckle, then settled back onto his elbow, looking out over the ledge peacefully. “I had another growth spurt after I left you. Kind of a late bloomer. I was skinny until I went into the Special Forces. They whipped me up pretty good.”

  “I must look exactly the same. Plus a few dozen wrinkles.”

  “I thought you’d have more laugh lines, actually. You used to laugh all the time. But I guess the breakup…”

  “No, I stopped laughing long before then. Stuff just stopped being funny somewhere along the way. Not sure why.”

  “Are you okay?” he asked so softly she almost didn’t hear him.

  Her body bowed, slumping next to him. Her lower lip trembled as she struggled to keep the pain inside. But it was too late. His soft and caring words yanked open the cavity where the hurt was hiding.

  Tears streamed down her face and sobs racked her body as all the tumultuous emotion poured out. Flooded her.

  A moment later he was there, wrapping her up and hugging her tight, tucking her into his big body. She snaked her arms around his middle, holding on for dear life, wishing he could smooth over the pain. Quell the hurt. Take them back to all those years ago, before they knew he would move away, when they thought they had the rest of their lives to climb the monkey bars and cheat at hopscotch. When they thought the worst hurt they’d ever face was scraping their knees or breaking an arm.

  “It’ll get better. This will heal,” Mikey murmured, resting his cheek on her head as he gently rocked her. “This pain won’t last forever.”

  She nodded, her sobs slowing. “I know. It’s just… I feel so violated. He’d been with another woman for a year, Mikey. A woman that was basically me without the history. Without the drooping face and tired eyes. He took the best part of me, and discarded the worst. Who’s going to want me now? I’m all used up. I’m—”

  “Shhh.” Mike rubbed her back. “You’re talking nonsense. I recognized you right away. Age has sharpened your beauty, not dulled it. You’re a woman now. Men will line up for you. Phil was giving up a Mona Lisa in exchange for a piece of modern art—a masterpiece versus a toilet seat on a canvas covered in feces. Trust me, I went to a modern art museum a while back, and that stuff is weird!”

  Sara couldn’t help but giggle into his chest.

  “So hush, now. Don’t talk like that. You’re in your prime. Life for a woman your age is just starting to get good. You didn’t leave anything behind. Actually, if Phil wasn’t such a knucklehead, he would’ve held on tight and rode the hurricane when your sexy systems blossomed.”

  Sobs turned into body chuckles. “What are you even talking about?”

  Mikey was chuckling, too. “I don’t know. I feel like a kid again. Just that, men get sexual when they’re eighteen, and women get it when they’re in their thirties. You’re going to get all horny soon.”

  “You sound like you’re fifteen!” Sara couldn’t tell if she was laughing or crying at this point, with her body hiccupping into him, wrapped in his arms. She sniffed and backed off, leaving her hands on his chest.

  He put his palm on her cheek, his eyes softening. “What do you need from me? I should’ve been there when it happened. I made myself your watchdog when you were two years old. That was for life. I should’ve been there. Through all of it.”

  A tear tumbled out, warmth filling her chest. His thumb swished her tear away, his eyes intently studying her.

  “Just be my friend,” Sara replied softly. “I really need one right now.”

  “Of course. Forever. We won’t let distance separate us again. I need my little fart factory.”

  “Oh my God!” she squealed. “You remember that? Look, I was young; no one told me that gas wasn’t hilarious.”

  “Then why are you laughing?”

  She wasn’t laughing. She was cackling. Hands on her stomach, bending over at the waist, she helplessly guffawed. “I was so gross!”

  “I do believe I won the farting competition most of the time. Looking back on it, I think I had a problem.” A crooked smile quirked Mikey’s lips.

  “But you’re a boy. Boys are supposed to be gross. I was supposed to be all dainty and, I don’t know, belle-like.”

  “Belle-like? More like bruiser-like.” He put his hand up, palm out, fingers spread apart.

  Without even thinking, Sara put her palm to his, fitting her fingers between his. Electricity surged at the contact, sizzling through her arm and dumping into her body. Swirls of exuberance washed through her, joy and bliss making a spicy cocktail.

  A smile lit up her face. “Wow, we still have that weird electrical socket thing. When was the first time that happened?”

  “We were in the treehouse, remember? I was twelve and you had just turned ten.”

  “That’s right, we’re not a whole three years apart.” She thought back to the soft petals of sun drifting through the tree branches and floating around them. Mikey had held his hand up, just like he had a million times, only this time, when she threaded her fingers through his, a jolt of pure electricity singed her palm and raced up through her arm. It had settled strangely in her body, tickling some parts and tingling others.

  She’d been terrified at the time, unsure what it was and why it happened. She hadn’t liked the strange surge and the answering stirrings. Now, though, she let the pleasant feeling settle deep into her body, humming through her. It was safety and comfort. Like him.

  “I tried to kiss you that day,” he said softly. “A real kiss. Remember?”

  She nodded, still sitting in that treehouse. His beautiful hazel eyes, so expressive, had been looking at her with an intense gleam. He seemed scared, curious, and sure of himself, all at the same time. The strange feeling of holding his hand, and then that look, had been enough to unsettle her. When his lips touched hers, fear had overcome the curiosity.

  “I gave you a bloody nose,” she said with a laugh. “I wasn’t ready for kissing boys. You were
older.”

  “And are you now?” His voice was so deep. So soft.

  That pleasant hum heated, turning into something suggestive.

  The icy tendrils of fear gripped her, pain and insecurity bubbling up. The memory of Phil driving away accosted her. Tore at her.

  Her eyes widened in shock. She loosened her hand from his.

  “No, I mean, have you moved on? Put your ex behind you?” Mikey said hastily, dropping his hand. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply…”

  “Oh no.” She waved the thought away. “No, of course you didn’t. Duh! No, I know. Just surprised me, is all.”

  She sucked in a deep breath and let the relieved sigh tumble out, taking all her insecurity with it. This was Mikey! He was almost family, not to mention Mr. Lady-Killer. No way was he coming on to her!

  “What’s funny?” he asked.

  She rolled her eyes. “I’m dumb. Anyway, in answer to your question, no, I’m not ready. Truthfully, I don’t know that I’ll be ready again. I don’t think I love him anymore. Haven’t for a while, if I’m extremely honest with myself. But then, I stopped loving myself, too…”

  She turned away, looking out at the night. She wasn’t ready to admit the depth of how Phil had hurt her. Saying it out loud, admitting her lack of worth—she wasn’t strong enough yet not to believe it.

  “I’ll never push you, Sara, you know that,” Mikey said quietly, gentle words on a breeze. “But I always have an ear open, should you need it. Please know that.”

  “I know,” she whispered. “I’m just not ready for a lot of things, I guess.”

  “That’s to be expected. Time is a great healer, though.”

  “So they say.”

  “Yes, they do. Or why else would they put it in a fortune cookie, which is where I got that excellent cliché.”

  Laughter bubbled up despite her mood. She leaned so her head could rest on his shoulder. “You always knew just what to say.”

  “Lies.”

  “Not lies. I’m just gently bending the truth.”