“How many foster homes were you in, Stuart? Weren’t they supposed to take care of you, take you to doctors and everything?”
He looked out the window at the passing scenery for a while, and she wondered if she had overstepped. “I don’t know how many homes, honestly. Quite a few, and then when I was a teenager, I was in three or four different group homes. Just living with a group of boys, and trying to keep my head above water. They were rough kids, and… Worse.”
“That sounds awful.”
“Sometimes. And they did give me basic medical care. I always had my inhalers supplied. It wasn’t until I was older I found out that there were other medicines that could treat asthma. But it seemed like, I’d gotten by this long, why start taking them now?”
“Do you feel okay… most of the time?”
“I feel about as I ever have. Not sure what other people feel like.” He swallowed. “I dreamed about Cath last night. Or talked to her, I guess.”
“What’d she say?”
“She gave me a hard time for dreaming too loud,” he chuckled. “And I tried to ask her questions. She kept saying it wasn’t for her to tell me. And I was like, then who will tell me? I asked her what happens if we see something we don’t want to come true, though, and if there was a way to prevent it. She answered that, but I wasn’t happy with the answer.”
Ally gripped the steering wheel a little harder. “Did you… Did you have a vision of something you didn’t want to see?”
He ignored her question, or didn’t hear it, lost in his own train of thought. “She said that it’s not about being psychic, that if I see something, it’s giving me a sign of something I should do, not of something to avoid. That doesn’t make any sense to me at all.”
“I saw something I don’t want to come true, too,” she admitted.
Stuart turned to look at her, his head tilted. “Do you want to talk about it?”
She glanced at him. She thought about what she’d seen, and couldn’t imagine anything she wanted to say about it. And if he had seen something else unpleasant, maybe even worse, would she want to know? She shook her head. “Probably not.”
He didn’t say anything , but turned to look out the window for a while. Eventually he pulled out his violin.
“Can you play that in the car?”
He grinned. “Let’s find out.”
He played a few bars of a simple melody, and Ally felt something on her heart lighten. When he stopped, she asked, “Did you just make that up?”
“Nah, it was part of a beginner lesson on YouTube I looked at while you were picking up the car.”
“You make it seem so easy.”
“That's the weird thing. It is.” He traced his fingers around the instrument lovingly. “I've been trying to learn how to play guitar for years, and it never felt easy, no matter how much I practiced. I could play a song adequately enough, I guess. But it never felt right, somehow.”
“Why the guitar, if you were so drawn to the violin?”
“I don't know. It was… I was just scared, I guess.”
I can relate to that, thought Ally, looking at the man she was so drawn to, yet so afraid it wouldn’t last.
She fell into the natural hypnosis of the road, letting her mind drift to nothing in particular, and they enjoyed a companionable silence for some time, while Stuart watched something on his phone with headphones on. Did it count as companionable silence if one person wasn’t in complete silence? Probably not, but it was companionable, at least.
They had driven about half an hour when Stuart took out the headphones, tucked his phone into his back pocket with a shift of the hips, and took the violin back up to his chin. He started to play a new tune. Holy shit, did he just learn that from watching YouTube?
After a few bars, she realized she knew the song. It was an old folk song, but had been in a Cohen brothers movie recently. The soundtrack had been the unlikely power to her weekend workouts for months.
She hummed for a few bars, then came in on the next verse.
If I had wings like Noah’s dove
I’d fly the river to the one I love
Fare thee well, my honey, fare thee well.
As she sang, she continued to feel the increasing lightness of her heart, like a chain was unwinding from around her chest. She watched Stuart from the corner of her eye, and glanced over every so often. He looked like someone who had been born with this instrument in his hand. And he was glowing.
It was so hard for her not to think about this light as Death, that she stumbled over a few words. But Stuart kept playing, and she kept singing. This light was the sign that he was doing something he was meant to do… and maybe her singing was a part of that, because she could see the light around her now, too, and she had never been able to see it around herself before.
I remember one evening in the pouring rain
And in my heart was an achin’ pain
Fare thee well, my honey, fare thee well.
After the final verse, Stuart stared at her. She tried to focus on the road, but the way he looked at her…. “You have such a great voice.”
“Thank you.”
He played another song, and she didn’t know the words to that one, but it wove a spell around her, and she started to believe: to believe that she would be able to walk this path, of following dreams and portents; that she would be able to open her heart to love, that she would be able to risk losing someone.
She wasn’t all the way there, but she was halfway there. Perhaps this was like making a sauce: You just had to put the ingredients together, and wait, and trust. Tomato sauce was always a bit magical to her, when her mother made it. (Ally preferred the ease of a jar.) How could gloppy tomatoes become something so delicious and savory?
So… She started to believe she could give this time, and she would believe more as time went on, until her life became a sweet sauce.
That lasted for a few days, and they were some of the best days of her life.
***
Stuart chose the hotel based solely on the expression on Ally’s face. There were several motels they passed, each looking a little seedier than the one before it. He could tell she was trying to be brave and adventurous, but the idea of one of those places was a little scary for their first night on the road.
Stuart agreed, without saying so. They would have to work their way up - or down as the case may be - to the $35-a-night places. Besides, what if they…? He almost didn’t dare to hope, but if it did happen, he didn’t want the first time to be at a scuzzy, probably infested, motel. Waking up with bug bites did not seal the deal for romance.
He scrolled on Expedia as they continued down the road, and pulled up a few spots nearby. She only said an outright no to one of them, and the rest were responses of, “Sure, that looks fine,” with expressions of, “I need a place where I could take a hot bath, and that’s not it.”
When he showed her a chain hotel that wasn’t terribly upscale, but had a brighter appearance and recognizable name, she visibly brightened. “Yes, please!”
He almost called her a cheap date - the rate was only $72 - but he thought that might give the wrong impression.
Checking in was a breeze, and they even got official permission to have a cat in the room. Stuart had thought it would be easy to hide him under the bed, but Ally pointed out that it would be nice to let Scruffers out, and besides - housekeeping would surely know. They probably had pet hair detectors hidden in among the towels.
They set up a portable litter box. (Another of Ally’s clever ideas. He wasn’t sure how he imagined travelling with a cat, but she was certainly the more practical of them on this matter.) They put out a wet can of food near the cat carrier, and watched for Scruffers to come out. But he seemed to want to stay in his cave for a little longer, so they collapsed side by side on the bed, landing simultaneously and causing the bed to thump against the wall.
This cracked them both up for some reason, and then they were facing
each other, inches apart, and Ally was smiling at him. As their laughter faded, Ally took his hand, and moved closer to him.
They kissed, tentatively at first - Stuart knew he, for one, was bracing himself for another vision. But none came, and he felt just a pleasant tilting sensation, along with an electric bolt through his entire body. She made a soft sound in the back of her throat and he wondered if she felt the same.
He shifted to lay against her, savoring the feel of her body pressed against his, and buried his fingers in her hair. Wild, curly hair that smelled like citrus. “You are a goddess,” he breathed.
She pushed him over and straddled him, then leaned over and kissed him, deeply. It took his breath away - somewhere between figuratively and literally. He made a mental note of where his inhaler was, just in case.
“Are you okay with this?” he whispered.
She gazed into his eyes. “I am.”
“It’s not too fast?”
She kissed his neck, then grabbed his hand and held it between them.. Together, their hands glowed like a torch. He thought he might be imagining it, but it seemed like it was more than an ambient light, that they were actually casting shadows. “I don’t know, Stuart… let’s ask destiny.”
***
They laid curled together, their breath gradually slowing, and gradually their breath matched each other’s.
Ally thought, maybe this wouldn’t be so hard, after all. It felt so good with Stuart. It wasn’t like she had to work at all. She felt open and brave and free. In the happy haze of afterglow, she couldn’t even remember what she had been worried about earlier.
It had been quite a day.
“This is the perfect ending,” she murmured against his skin, relishing the salt taste against her lips.
“Ending?”
She kissed his shoulder lightly. “Ending to the day. Autumn is the time when endings feel sweet, the end of the seasons, the end of the leaves, the endings of the days… It’s all so perfect.” And death? Whispered that cruel, small voice, but she ignored it.
“You’re a romantic, Ally Jefferson.”
That would be new. “Maybe I am.”
“I’m here for it.” The clear sound of a cat eating wet food came across the room. “Scruffers is awake.”
“He must be hungry.”
“‘There is no love sincerer than the love of food.’”
Ally propped herself on one elbow and gazed down at him, wanting to look baffled, but sure she looked goofily in -
Infatuated.
“George Bernard Shaw.” He winked.
“Ah.” She wanted to kiss him again… but ran her fingers along his jaw instead, and he leaned his face into her palm. She felt something bittersweet tug at her. “Well, he’s not wrong.”
He kissed her palm. “No?” He looked up at her, warm brown eyes full of promise. I think i see the future, the song lyrics echoed in her mind.
She shook her head. “There’s no second-guessing food. Or wondering if you’re good enough for it. Or if the food is going to die. Food is just something you can love without any reservations.”
He answered only with his eyes, and she realized what she had said contained so many layers… and not only that, but he heard her, he understood. He was letting the moment sit without judgment, and letting her see how he felt, just by looking into her eyes. She felt herself tilting again, tipping, falling, falling.... She closed her eyes and took a breath. When she opened them again, she felt like the world had righted.
His eyes softened some, releasing the intensity of the moment. “Let’s get dinner.”
***
When Ally awoke the next morning, eyes slowly blinking open, she was struck with overwhelming regret. What am I doing? What have I done?
It wasn't about the sex... well, not completely about the sex. She wasn't against casual sex, theoretically, and even though it had been the first time she'd been with someone so early after meeting them, she felt mostly okay about it. It was the rest of it. What was she doing at a motel room? Had she really dumped her boyfriend, the only dependable thing she had in her life?
For this? Scratchy bed sheets and no idea what tomorrow would bring.
Last night, it had seemed so easy to be the kind of person who could live - what was the word she was looking for? Free, wild, reckless?
Alive.
She wanted to be a different kind of person, that much was without doubt. Things had been lackluster in her life for too long. And she was still young. (Or young enough.) But surely this was a rebound. The desire to grab the first man who came along and be a little wild, a little reckless ... Wasn't that just one of those things that happened after a breakup? Like buying a new short dress or getting a hair cut?
Surely it wasn't real.
For a flash, Ally missed David fiercely, and wondered how he was doing.
Then Stuart stirred. His eyes met hers and he touched her face as if they had been lovers for years, not hours. As if she were his beloved.
"What are you thinking?" His voice was husky.
"Maybe this is real."
Chapter 10
Brad Wheeler had always considered himself a man of the land. He backpacked with his mountaineering father, and then led groups in college. He loved watching city kids (or even better, suburban kids, with their intrinsic sense of the world owing them safety) learn to navigate the world on its own terms. He had seen more than one boy become a man this way, even following the most well-blazed trails in the most forgiving landscapes. That’s what nature did for you.
It was different with women, but not because they were weaker. If anything, they seemed to have an easier time with the basics of backpacking: sleeping in tents, paying attention to what was around them, trusting the signs of the land. For a short time, he’d even bought into the earth-goddess mentality, because of this. Women had a special connection to the earth. They honored it and respected it.
He didn’t believe that bullshirt anymore, of course.
As a man of the land, it had seemed the most natural thing in the world to retreat to a corner of the world that no one cared about, and where no one would look for him. (Not that anyone was looking for him.) He had a camper, and a locker where he kept his salvation. It was all a man needed.
He stared at the ceiling of his camper, deciding how to spend his day. He could go into town, though the idea of facing people was increasingly disgusting to him. He saw the way they looked at him, the way they judged him.
Maybe he would finally get around to joining a gym today, so he could use the shower.
Or maybe he would watch some of the videos he had downloaded. He was limited by the storage on his phone, but every time he went into town, he downloaded new ones to use offline, so he could watch something new at least once a week. They were probably the most exciting part of his life right now. Watching them was the only thing that made him feel alive.
The rest of his time was spent in a sort of a daze - sometimes aided by liquor, but often just his natural state of existence. His job had fired him, though they kept talking about how much they needed good, quality help. He was good. He was quality. He knew his shit better than any of those fuckers. They had lied to him about why they fired him, too. He was sure of it.
They said they had to let him go because he didn’t meet the requirements for safety, that he overlooked protocols. They had even had the gall to show him a list of infractions - all made up shit by the night supervisor. Well, there might have been a grain of truth in some of them, but he didn’t see her writing up anyone else for making such simple mistakes. It was hard to focus on monotonous tasks for hours on end, with one 15 minute break and one 30-minute break. Everyone knew that. Mistakes were part of the job. He hadn’t hurt anyone.
But they wanted to get rid of him because… well, because he was better than all of them, of course. He made them feel threatened.
He’d show them threatened.
He slapped himself. Shut the fuck up, assho
le. You are not going to do anything. You’re allowed to watch the fucking videos. But you’re not going to do anything.
He decided not to go into town today. He’d walk in the woods a while, and remind himself what was good about living.
It was harder and harder to remember, even surrounded by nature. So many days, all he could think about was how much people were fucking up the planet. Nature had been the one good thing on Earth, and humans had managed to destroy it in short order.
Most days, he hoped he would die before it got really bad… But it was already getting bad. The hurricanes, the endless wildfires, the starving polar bears. He could ignore it to an extent. He could take his camper and go where the least bad things were happening. He could walk in the woods today and remind himself what was going right. The air was getting crisp, cold even. The leaves were changing into brilliant oranges and reds. The squirrels were settling in for winter.
Sometimes he even slipped into a meditative mode, almost like a trance, where he felt relaxed, and at peace. Those moments were really… nice. But they were fleeting, and after they passed, he had a hard time remembering how that had felt.
And then he would watch the videos some more, and tell himself it was just a guilty pleasure.
He wouldn’t act.
***
On Sunday morning, Ally was the first to wake. She watched Stuart sleep, and she watched the rise and fall of his chest. His breath seemed to come easily and naturally. She had reassured herself that he would be okay, that nothing bad would happen, that she could enjoy their time together.
She almost even believed it.
A Google search had told her pretty quickly that asthma was rarely deadly. As long as the patients had their nebulizers nearby and avoided allergens. But it also mentioned other medicines, and hadn’t Stuart said he wasn’t on anything else?
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