The Heat of Angels

by Lisa Girolami

  “I can’t say I blame him. I watched Abel fly through the air and bite that guy in the suit.”

  Chris pulled into a drive-through coffee shop.

  “Do you mind if we get drinks to go? I have to be back at the competition soon.”

  “Not at all.”

  As they ordered, Sarah placed her hand in Chris’s. It was so soft and warm Chris wanted to close her eyes and focus all her attention on just that one sensation. It brought back the night at Sarah’s house and the feel of that same hand massaging, tickling, and playing lightly across her entire body. Chris pulled her in and their lips and tongues met, eager and consuming. The sound of her amplified breathing made Chris dizzy. She moaned, and Sarah bit her lip provocatively, tugging with what felt like urgent longing.

  Sarah’s hand was now gripping Chris’s thigh with the strength of a cowboy grasping the reins of a bull. It was fervent and crazy and sexy. Chris might as well have dropped a lit torch in her crotch because her hips moved involuntarily. Helpless, she groaned at the extreme desire that abruptly seized her, and Sarah just gripped harder.

  The drive-through window opened, and, reluctantly, they pulled away from each other. Chris’s flushed cheeks burned from the sudden eruption between them, and she avoided eye contact with the barista.

  Chris took their drinks, trying to calm the shaking as she handed Sarah hers.

  “Oh, my God,” Sarah said quietly.

  Chris looked directly into her eyes, seeing an intoxicating intensity that had been there a few minutes before. “I love the way you kiss.”

  “Really?”

  “I can’t say that I’ve kissed a whole lot of girls,” she said as she pulled out of the driveway, “but of all of them, you really are the best. You are so…so present. You’re right there with me. Does that sound stupid?”

  “Not at all. I understand completely. And it means a lot to me.”

  Chris took a sip of her iced coffee, giddy that Sarah was here with her.

  “You got me a little worked up,” Sarah said.

  “Yeah, well, try wearing a wool uniform.”

  For the next block, Sarah swirled her cup of iced cappuccino.

  I could fall so hard for her, Chris thought. What harm could come from just simply letting go? Sarah would catch her, wouldn’t she?

  Chris hadn’t expected to meet anyone, but Sarah had come into her life, and suddenly those things that would normally fill her mind—training and work—seemed to get quickly diverted to a backseat.

  Now, all she could think of was making Sarah laugh and just being close to her. She thought about holding her and the sounds she made in bed. A desire to learn more about Sarah and treasure every detail permeated Chris’s brain. She wanted to know what she liked for dessert and how many hours she needed to sleep at night. Why had she gone to the store that day? What was her favorite movie?

  She wanted a crash course but longed to slowly become saturated with the essence of her.

  She turned her eyes from the road and watched Sarah as she looked out the window. Her fingers clutched her cup, and again Chris envisioned them tickling her skin, focused solely on her and driving her mad.

  After taking a sip, Sarah said, “It’s really great to see you and Abel work. It must take a lot of training.”

  “It does. Abel and I are together for ten hours a day on our shift, but I also work with him during my off time. We have these competitions, and we also do demonstrations at city and county functions.”

  “You said before that you prefer Abel to a human partner.”

  “Other than the fact that he’s a horrible conversationalist, yes. I see my other partners when we back each other up on calls. But I don’t have to deal with a personality that I don’t want to sit in the car with all day. And while I trust all my partners, and they trust me, their loyalty can’t match what Abel shows me. I rely on him, and I have all the faith that, if it ever came to that, he’d save my life.”

  “Wow.”

  Judging by the way Sarah turned to gaze out the window, it seemed there was more behind her response.

  “Does that surprise you?”

  “No. Dogs are remarkable.” She continued to look away. “You live in a world full of people you can trust. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt anything like that. In order to have trust, you have to have faith. It means being able to predict what other people will do and believe that the outcome is what you think it’ll be. I guess, in a way, the people in my life are pretty predictable, so I can depend on them acting a certain way. But it usually isn’t in the way I need. If you see a behavior often enough, then the law of probability gives you a high confidence level that you’ll get what you need. But do I have the kind of faith that allows me to be vulnerable?” She shook her head. “No.”

  “What about your family? Don’t you have people you rely on?”

  Sarah turned back to face the road. “Yeah. I can rely on the fact that my parents are going to get shitfaced tonight. I know my siblings will be critical of me. But would they protect me or let me be vulnerable? Not my family. It’s a long, dreary story.” She sipped her drink. “I suppose I trust Nat, my best friend.”

  “That’s a good thing.”

  “It is.” She looked at Chris. “And I trust that if I were to jump out of this car, strip, and run around naked, you’d arrest me.”

  “Maybe after taking a few minutes to observe the crime in action. But you’re talking again about the law of probability. It’s no different than putting money in a soda machine and expecting a can to drop out. I suppose having confidence that Abel will protect me can be seen in the same light. After all, he’s trained to get between me and someone who poses a threat, but even without training, dogs can inherently protect you because they’ve allowed themselves to be vulnerable with you. You take care of them and they develop trust. In turn, they protect you.”

  They got back to the competition and parked among the rest of the squad cars.

  “Yeah,” Sarah said, “I get that. But sometimes you learn that you can’t be vulnerable with people.”

  They heard a whistle, and Chris turned to see one of her K9 buddies frantically waving to her.

  “I guess I’m up next.”

  They got out of the car, and Chris hooked Abel’s leash up and got him out, too.

  “I need to go,” Sarah said when they met at the front of the car. “I’m late for something. Do you mind?”

  Sarah’s mood had definitely changed. The difference was slight, like the shift of a shadow over time. “No, of course not. I’m really glad you came out.”

  They hugged and Chris kissed her.

  She watched Sarah walk to her car, and the urge to call out to her suddenly pulled at her.

  “You’re up, Bergstrom!” Her buddy whistled again. “Come on!”

  “Shit.” Chris gave Abel the command to go and blew out a breath of frustration, unable to talk to Sarah about what was bothering her.

  Chapter Nine

  Only advertisements and offers of new credit cards waited in Sarah’s mailbox Monday afternoon. Why did she always let it piss her off that she never received a bill? She threw the letters in the recycle bin. Her mortgage, electricity, Internet—everything was sent to her father’s accountant, and each clank of the mailbox lid reminded her that she wasn’t in control of her own life.

  Sure, she’d never really fought for her freedom, but how could she? Growing up learning that she was to be “taken care of” was just like an Australian kid learning to like marmite sandwiches. It was just something you did without question.

  Could Chris ever take her seriously? Would a woman as unbelievably together as she was last with someone so…not?

  But damn, her feelings for Chris might explode inside her any minute. She’d climbed aboard the rocket and had her finger on the ignition button, wanting more than anything to blast off to that place where love could exist without gravity to slam it back to the ground.

  She wanted to be w
ith Chris again. Not just out for another coffee, but to feel her body and taste her and be consumed by her. Yes, she reminded herself, Chris wants to go slower, but the way Chris had kissed her yesterday defied that declaration.

  Sarah texted Nat.

  I’m about ready to go nuts. Let’s go get into trouble.

  She closed the laptop.

  Her phone buzzed and Nat’s answer confused her.

  Five-year-old little Johnny was lost…

  She was about to reply WTF when it buzzed again.

  so he went up to a policeman and said, “I’ve lost my dad!” The policeman said, “What’s he like?” Little Johnny replied, “Beer and women.”

  She laughed. It was Chris. She texted back.

  Except for the beer, I’m exactly like little Johnny.

  This is probably quite forward of me, but YOU are driving me crazy right now…

  Sarah leaned back on the couch, cradling her phone in her lap.

  Yeah, well, I’m a mess too.

  Figuratively or literally?

  Both!

  Damn, what the hell am I gonna do with you?

  Sarah thought a moment and then typed.

  How about we meet in the middle and let me take you somewhere crazy?

  I’d like that. I think.

  I promise we can have fun without breaking the law.

  Okay! When?

  What night are you off next?

  Tomorrow.

  Then tomorrow.

  The frustration that had propelled Sarah to text Nat evaporated, as would a hot puff of air into a cooling sky. She’d see Chris again soon, and though her insecurities about whether Chris would feel as much as she already felt scratched at the back of her brain, she was hopeful about the next day.

  Nat texted her back and asked her where she wanted to go. Her mind now at ease, she tapped out,

  Let’s just go get something to eat instead.

  *

  Sarah met Natalie at the Nyala Ethiopian Cuisine on Fairfax Avenue. She liked the almost anti-restaurant touches, such as their colorfully painted walls and the custom of eating without utensils.

  “This time,” Nat said to the waitress, “I’m trying the Yabesha Gommen.”

  Sarah looked up from her menu. “You know it’s made with collard greens, don’t you?”

  “It’s not my favorite veggie, but I always order the same thing, so I’m going for it.”

  “Good for you,” Sarah said, and gave the waitress her order.

  Nat waited until the woman walked away. “Are you in a funk?”

  “Kind of.”

  “But you’re dating this great gal, and I thought you really liked her.”

  “I do.” Sarah played with the saltshaker. “Chris invited me to a K9 competition. It was really awesome to see what they do. Chris has got it all so together, Nat. But she’s worlds apart from me.”

  “You’re getting hung up on the job thing again. Listen, ninety-nine percent of the people you meet are going to have a job. Okay, maybe less in this economy, but why do you insist on letting it be a sticking point? If someone’s going to like you, they won’t care whether you punch a time clock or not.”

  “I know, but it always turns out the same. I meet someone and everything’s great, but after a while, they start to dislike all the spare time I have, or they feel they can’t relate to my life.”

  “That just means you’re not compatible.”

  “Then I haven’t been compatible with every single person I’ve ever met.”

  “Well, duh.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Anyone who’s single right now, and that includes me, hasn’t found the right one yet.”

  “At least a lot of you have had long-term relationships. You were with Hailey for six years.”

  “Six years or six days, it didn’t matter. We broke up because it wasn’t working out.” The waitress came with their drinks, and Natalie ripped open the paper wrapping on her straw. “Six days would have been better. It would have saved me a lot of heartache, I’ll tell you.”

  Sarah understood what Nat was saying, but her life was nothing like Nat’s. If it was normal that everyone had baggage, Sarah felt like she had the entire baggage-claim department at LAX.

  “You like her, don’t you?”

  “A lot.”

  “More than previous girlfriends?”

  “Yes, that’s what makes this so scary. I finally feel like I’ve got something I want so badly that it makes me that much more afraid to lose it.”

  The waitress brought over their meals.

  “This place is so fast.” Nat watched the waitress place a plate in front of her, “Thank you.”

  “Anything else?” the waitress said as she left the bill on the table.

  Sarah tore off a piece of injera, but she wasn’t hungry. “No, thank you.”

  “Here.” Nat pulled out a credit card and handed it to the waitress. “It’s my turn to buy.”

  The woman picked up the bill and walked away.

  “Thanks,” Sarah said.

  “Listen, Sarah. Don’t undermine this. Be honest. I know you aren’t sometimes, and it only bites you in the ass.”

  It would be easier if she had a communicable disease, she thought. At least there were doctors to fix that.

  They ate in silence for a while, and when the credit-card receipt came, Nat signed her copy and gave the other to the woman. “May I keep this pen a minute?” The woman shrugged and went back to the kitchen.

  Nat turned the receipt over and began to scratch out some lines. “This is you. And this is Chris.” She drew two elongated circles close to each other.

  “You need to go to art school,” Sarah said as she craned her neck to see the image.

  “Shut up.” Nat drew squiggly lines around the illustrations of them. “This is all the shit you have and this is all the shit she has. And I know she has shit, Sarah, we all do.” Another line encircled the ovals and the squiggles. “This is what you need to do.”

  “Draw crappy portraits of us?”

  “I’m gonna fling my collard greens at you.” Nat shook the pen at her. “No.” She pointed to the drawing. “This outer circle represents you and Chris taking your respective shit and working it all out together. You can’t just step out of this circle because you decide it’s not going to work. You have to stay in there and give it a real chance.”

  It was true that in Sarah’s past, she was guilty of prematurely ending relationships to avoid the pain of being the one who was broken up with. But then again, she’d also been devastated when she’d tried to stay but then got blindsided by a sudden breakup.

  “You talk about stuff,” Nat said, “and let her know you want to see where this goes.”

  “I’m afraid Chris will realize that I’m not the right one, and for once, I don’t think I could handle it.”

  “She may, but maybe she won’t.” Nat handed her the drawing. “This is your map to find true love.”

  Sarah looked at it, now right side up. “You just drew a female vajayjay.”

  Nat glared at her. “You’re buying for the next fifty lunches.”

  *

  “So where are you taking me?”

  They were in Chris’s SUV, driving down Venice Boulevard toward the Palms District.

  “Just a place I figured you’d never go.”

  “You’re making me nervous.”

  “Because you’re not in control?”

  “Uh, yeah.”

  Sarah reached over and took her hand. “Trust me.”

  Chris was mostly kidding, but a part of her wondered how far into the grays they were going. Could it be to some sleazy place frequented by undesirables? Or would it be an underground club where the back room dealt in contraband?

  She squinted into the bright sun and saw a gray-and-green nondescript building with a brick-colored scroll over the door that read THE MUSEUM OF JURASSIC TECHNOLOGY.

  That was a curious name for
a museum.

  They parked and walked toward the front of the place.

  “I didn’t know you liked dinosaurs.”

  Sarah laughed. “You won’t find any dinosaurs here.”

  They stepped in and Sarah said, “This place is dedicated to the advancement of knowledge and the public appreciation of the Lower Jurassic.” She grinned mischievously. “But what they mean by the Lower Jurassic is never explained.”

  They crossed through the foyer and past a slideshow that played what looked like an introduction to the museum. Close by, a plaque hanging on the wall read: “…the learner must be led always from familiar objects toward the unfamiliar…guided along, as it were, like a chain of flowers into the mysteries of life.”

  Chris asked, “What does that mean?”

  “It means that the exhibits cross the line between fact and fiction and weave together a fabric of reality and imagination. A lot of critics say that the curators mingle science with art in a way that isn’t very museum-like. But that’s what I love about this place. It’s like they took all the exhibits that no one else wanted because they were too different or didn’t fit a standard mold. Instead of following the rules, they do whatever the hell they want here. Come on, let me show you.”

  They walked past a room whose sign read NO ONE MAY EVER HAVE THE SAME KNOWLEDGE AGAIN: LETTERS TO MT. WILSON OBSERVATORY.

  “That’s where they have a collection of weird letters people have written to the observatory,” Sarah said. “It’s full of schizophrenic rants and strange proclamations about entrances to other worlds. So cool.”

  The next exhibit was THE LIVES OF PERFECT CREATURES: THE DOGS OF THE SOVIET SPACE PROGRAM. All Chris saw as they went by was an oil-portrait gallery of the cosmonaut canines.