by L. Duarte
I pulled his weekly package out, this time it was weed and oxycodone. He handed me the money.
“So, what’s with Caleb and you?”
“None of your business,” I replied, counting the bills he had handed me.
“Here.” I passed the bundle to him and shoved the money in my bag. “Thank you for your business.” I leaned on a counter, waiting for him to leave first.
He took a step closer. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to kiss you,”
“Deadly. Touch me, and I’ll kill you,” I said without wavering my voice.
“I’ve been patient with you, but I can see that my slacking is giving an advantage to Caleb. Are you two hooking up?
“Out. Get out so I can get out, too. I’ve gotta get back to class.” I crossed my arms over my chest, hands close to my pocketknife. The room felt claustrophobic. Andrew’s grin was replaced by a smirk.
“Come on, Luna, I know you’ve got a thing for me.”
He was delusional. “The drugs are messing with you, Andrew. Lay off. Early onset dementia is common amongst junkies.” Yeah, I realize my advice wasn’t good for business but at the end of the day, it did give me a perverse sense of peace to know I had informed my clients of the obvious: Drugs are a curse that will ultimately destroy you.
Yeah, it was a bit self-righteous of me. No, I didn’t feel hypocritical.
“A kiss, Luna. A free sample of what you’re missing. And you’ll forget Caleb’s pathetic attempts to hook up with you.” He took another step toward me. His hooded eyes zoomed in on my boobs, and I noticed a bulge at his groin. Shit, I had to leave before things got out of hand, and I lost one of my best clients. But the door screeched open and instead of pulling my knife out, I snaked my arms around Andrews’s neck and pulled him to me. The punishment for making out in the closet was certainly lesser than dealing drugs. Andrew knew the deal and slid his arms around my waist, pulling me closer to his body.
“What the hell, Luna?” An angry voice resonated in the small room. It was Caleb.
Relief and dread flooded my chest. Before I could react, Caleb grabbed Andrew’s arm and yanked him away from me.
“Wow, lover boy, it’s not what you think,” Andrew smirked and added, “Unfortunately.” He glanced at me and winked.
“Asshole.” Caleb’s right hand balled into a fist, and the other bunched up Andrew’s shirt. The muscles on Caleb’s shoulders rippled in tension.
“Caleb, no.” I held his closed fist with both my hands. “Please, let him go,” I said, voice pleading. The last thing I needed was a scene to attract attention.
Caleb released his vice-like grip on Andrew.
“I’m out, love birds.” Andrew glanced at me and said, “Till next time, Luna.” With a small salute, he stepped out of the room.
Caleb paced the small space, reminding me of a rescued dog inside a kennel. “Are you with Andrew?” he asked, stopping in front of me. His hands were on either side of me, his teeth clenched.
“No. That’s our cover. When you opened the door, I thought we were being caught, and so we pretended to be making out.”
“So you make out with all your… clients, or whatever the hell you call them?” he asked and pressed his lips into a thin line. The veins in his neck were throbbing. I had never seen someone so angry.
“No! I seldom get caught.” Voicing those things made them grotesque and real.
He grunted, turned his back on me, and put his clenched fists against the door. I suspected he was wondering if I was worth the aggravation. The realization that he might discover I was unworthy of him hit me like a powerhouse punch.
He smacked the door.
The noise startled me. I wanted to plead my case, say something clever to compel him to forget what happened, to forget I sold drugs. I wanted to apologize for the way I acted earlier. I wanted to tell him to kiss me senseless. Instead, the unthinkable happened. Tears rolled down my face. Immediately, I wiped them off, but they kept streaming down.
Caleb turned, ready to say something when he caught sight of my tears.
“I’m sorry, I…” My words trailed off. I felt like a fool.
“You’re crying.” He closed the small gap between us. He cupped my face, and his thumbs wiped under my eyes. “Please don’t cry.” He pulled me into his arms.
Though being held during a crying fit was uncharted territory, there was a familiarity in the soothing comfort of his embrace.
For a few minutes, I just allowed the serenity and security emanating from him to seep through me.
“Let’s get the hell out of here,” he said.
“No, I’m not ready to go back to class.” I sniffed.
“Who said anything about going back to class? We’re skipping.” With a firm grip on my hand, he guided me through the empty halls. Luckily, other than crossing two other students, we escaped school unnoticed.
He opened the door of his Audi and buckled my belt. It was weird and comforting to have him treating me like delicate china.
Caleb stopped at a Starbucks drive-through. “What you wanna drink?”
We got our orders, and Caleb hit Highway I-95, exiting in a town called Milford. The sky was a pristine blue, and the air held a slight chill. The trees held on to their green leaves as if knowing that their death was imminent. Autumn would be upon us soon. I supposed nature has its way of knowing things to come.
My mind tried desperately to regain control over my emotions.
He drove along the coast for a few minutes, finally parking at the Audubon Society Center.
Caleb dashed around the car and opened my door. “Here, hold this for me,” he said, handing me his cup of coffee. He jogged to the trunk of the car and retrieved a sports store bag and his professional camera kit. Curiosity sparked inside me, but I didn’t dare ask what those things were all about. The silence between us was soothing, and I needed time to compose myself. It wasn’t every day that I cried and sobbed in front of other people.
“Have you been here before?” he asked.
“No. You?” I frowned.
“No.”
We walked around the building. On the side, Caleb pointed to a staircase. “Let’s go up. According to the website, the top of the tower is a bird observatory.”
We climbed the steps. Beyond the landing, I saw a narrow and steep set of stairs that ascended to the tower. When we reached the top, Caleb opened the plastic bag and pulled out two binoculars. They were still inside the boxes.
With swift movements, he unwrapped them and assembled the straps. “Here,” he said, handing me one. I placed the coffees on the rail. With a giddy expectation reminiscent of childhood, I looked through the lenses, scanning the area.
“You bought these?” I asked.
“Yes, Sherlock,” he said with half a smile.
“Hey, that’s my line,” I responded, going along with his attempt to ease the tension.
“How did you know about this place?”
“The wonders of the World Wide Web,” he said, attaching a lens to the camera.
“Oh, quick. Look! A seahawk.” I pointed to a bird’s nest on a platform in the marsh. The joy of bird watching slowly dissipated the earlier dread.
“How do you know it’s a seahawk?” he asked. I heard a series of soft clicks from his camera.
“Well, their actual name is osprey or Pandion Haliaetus. They’re diurnal birds of prey. Look at its toes. They’re equal length, and the talons are rounded. They like to eat fish, so it’s common to see them near water.”
“You’re such a geek.” He switched the camera for his pair of binoculars.
“This is awesome,” he said.
A seagull dropped a shell on a rocky area, picked it up, and dropped it again. He repeated the steps over and over until it cracked, giving access to meat inside. Such a small brain, yet so resourceful.
“Look! Look—oh, my God, Caleb. On the water, it’s a snowy owl. This is totally the best day of my life, really,”
I blurted out.
“Where?”
“Hovering on the water by that sandbar.” I pointed in the direction of where the bird was.
“How do you know so much about birds?”
“My father, he—.” I glanced at Caleb. He was staring at me with inquisitive eyes. My father was a forbidden subject. “It doesn’t matter. It was a long time ago. I don’t even know why I still remember all these useless facts.” I grabbed my coffee and sipped from it.
“Tell me about your father.”
“I don’t wanna talk about it.”
“No prob.” He resumed his picture taking.
I was relieved he dropped the subject. No. I wasn’t relieved. I was irritated. Caleb was too kind, too understanding, too… Ugh! Too unnervingly perfect. Yeah, damn right I faulted him for being faultless.
QUIETLY, AND IN between sips of coffee, I watched the birds and the nature surrounding us.
In the distance, I saw what, according to Caleb, was the mouth of Housatonic River. He really did his homework about the center and its surrounding.
Strewn around the marsh were several platforms with birds’ nests. The tall green grass that grew on the sandbanks undulated under a cool breeze. I had heard of the Audubon Society Center, but I had never had the courage to visit it before that day.
On the one hand, I did things that reminded me of my father, like the birdfeeders or volunteering at the shelter. But I could only take small doses of him at a time. I had spent my childhood visiting places like this with my dad. Together we visited endless parks, nature walk areas, sanctuaries. Those long gone summer vacations, filled with camping trips, sleeping under the stars, and grilling freshly caught fish in a fire pit haunted my memories.
My eyes fixed on a flock of seagulls hovering over the water probably searching for food. The salty ocean smell invaded my nostrils as memories of my father flooded my mind. Dad was spinning me on the sand, the echo of his laughter mingling with my giggles, an orange sunset burnished the clouds, and a white moon peeked from behind the water. I waited for the wracking pain to tear my heart. Instead, a languid nostalgia seeped through my mind, body, and soul.
Repressing the tears that welled in my eyes, I brushed wind-tousled hair out of my face and turned to Caleb. “Why did you bring me here?”
“Your obvious obsession with birds led me to search for an Audubon Society in the area. This place came up. I’m surprised you haven’t been here yet. Anyway, my initial plan was for a romantic picnic. On our second date. But then today happened, and you were crying, and I kind of didn’t know what to do with you. So here we are.” He shrugged, flashed a smile, and snapped a picture of me.
“Thank you.” It was such a thoughtful gesture. Nothing I said would reflect how deeply he had touched me. And in all honesty, I wasn’t sure I wanted him to know. Slowly, Caleb continued to chip away at my fortress of solitude.
We strolled on the sandbar and explored the marsh. I identified a Yellow-throated Warbler, a Blackburnian Warbler, and a Great Egret. But the highlight of the day was when, on the way back to the car I spotted a Northern Mockingbird singing away, perched on the top of a cedar tree. We stood in silence, listening to his performance. He made it sound like there were ten other birds singing along.
“Wanna get something to eat before we go to the shelter?” Caleb asked when we got in the car.
“Yeah, that would be swell.”
“I can’t believe you just said that,” he said.
“What?” I frowned.
“Swell…That’s, so 1940.”
“Oh, says the guy who uses the word ‘helluva.’” I grinned.
“No, really, who says that?” He grinned back at me.
“My Dad. It was his slang of choice. He said he liked the way it rolled off the tongue.”
Caleb didn’t pressure me to say more, making me grateful. It felt good to share that bit about my father. Even though, I was breaking one of my self-imposed rules.
Caleb drove to a bistro at Walnut Beach. We got sandwiches, kale juice (I shuddered at the sight, but Caleb assured me it was delicious), and cupcakes. We sat on the warm, fluffy sand facing the ocean and ate. (The juice wasn’t awful, but no, I wouldn’t recommend it. Another shudder).
I wanted to prolong that day. Stretch it to the end of times. But I also wanted to erase it from my memory. Eradicate it. Better yet, turn back the hands of time and never meet Caleb, never taste his kiss, never hear his voice, nor smell his scent. Amnesia would’ve been perfect, right about that time.
Caleb fell into my life, like an asteroid dropping from the sky. Suddenly, ferociously. He wobbled my world, tilted its axis. And I, a self-proclaimed chameleon, didn’t know how to adjust. I did know, however, that I was afraid. Terrified.
For the next few weeks, Caleb and I fell into a routine. At school, we rarely talked. I was relieved that he had accepted my boundaries that easily. Though deep inside, I resented his prompt acceptance. Double minded much? Well, I never made a secret of my state of mind.
Despite our lack of interaction at school, rumors flew. When I passed by lockers, I heard giggles and whispers behind malicious hands. For years, I had successfully navigated through school unnoticed, only to become a conspicuous student in my senior year. The entire scenario deviated from my plans, but I couldn’t put a stop to it.
A seed of “need to be near Caleb” had found fertile soil inside my chest. It rooted rapidly and branched out. Now, all the time in the world didn’t seem to be enough to be with him. He didn’t object either. And so we created our little world of hearts and flowers. We spent the afternoons at the shelter and the evenings in my room.
In my eagerness to be with him, I neglected my clients and suffered a great decline in my profits. I took comfort from the fact that I long ago passed the savings goal I needed in order to move out with Jake. Besides, I knew I would get some money from Mr. Bakosi on my eighteenth birthday. It surely would be enough and should last throughout my years in college.
Prior to his death, Dad did two smart things. First, he set up a trust fund that I would only have access to while in college. And second, he taught me the principle of saving money for rainy days.
Though he had hoped Auntie Lace would do right by me, he knew she wasn’t trustworthy. His foresight guaranteed my education. Most importantly, it would ensure Jakes’ and my freedom.
My plan was simple. Turn eighteen, pack up the trunk of my Mustang and with Jake in the passenger seat, get the hell away. I had tucked a small fortune inside my blue birdhouse. It took discipline to save it. I was frugal with my purchases, making innumerable sacrifices.
For over three years, Jake and I paid for Auntie Lace’s drugs, paid for the food in the house and stashed away the rest. See, the thing about drugs is this: if the ducks are lined up perfectly, people do make money.
Life couldn’t be simpler, yet more complex.
Autumn fell upon us, tinting the leaves of my secret little world with gorgeous colors. Caleb and I often walked through the woods and made out lying on a multicolored carpet of leaves. I found myself tamer, calmer, happier.
We were at the kennel playing with a mutt called Rex. Caleb snapped another picture of him.
“Smile, Rex, you’re on Candid Camera,” I said.
Rex rolled on his back for a belly rub. I scratched his tummy. With his tongue lolling out of his mouth, he wiggled his tail.
“Jesus, I can’t picture you watching Candid Camera,” Caleb said with a grin.
“Dad and I used to love that TV show,” I stated with a matter-of-fact tone and a shrug that clearly ended the conversation. We still didn’t talk about Dad. Caleb knew the subject involving him ruined my mood as instantly as a drop of vinegar curdles milk.
“Why the name Rex?” he asked instead.
“Because… do I need a reason? He just looks like a Rex.” Names are important, part of our identity. The first thing people learn about us when we meet. Dad used to say it’s a piece of the soul.
He said he named me Luna, because, and I quote “nothing on earth could reflect how rare and precious you are.” Yeah, I got some of my poetic tendencies from Dad. He was a bit of a philosopher, a wanderer.
“Lorrie told me you had a dog. What was his name?”
Oh, his sister had paid attention to our conversation.
“It wasn’t a male.”
“What was her name, then?”
“Laska, her name was Laska.” My lips curved up into a longing smile. “Dad named her after a character in a classic book from the eighteen hundreds.” I shook my head at the thought. “When I turned ten, he told me if I found the book…” I scrunched up my face and deepened my voice making a lousy impersonation of Dad, “‘without doing that Google Internet thingy you kids do.’” I smiled at the thought. “…if I found the book by my sixteenth birthday, he and I would backpack through Europe.”
“Did you? Find the book?” he asked.
“No. It doesn’t matter anymore.”
Caleb stared at me. His eyes were filled with a distinct emotion that I couldn’t identify.
“Go out on a date with me?” he asked. “Tonight?”
“Yeah, sure,” I said. He continued to look at me strangely.
“No, no. A special date.” His voice was playful, but his eyes were intense and serious.
“Ookay.” I thought all our dates were special. But whatever.
He continued to look at me with a peculiar expression and then snapping out of his reverie, he said, “Let’s prep this mutt, and go outside for a photo shoot. After I post his pictures on the Web, people are going to line up for a chance to take him home.”
I brushed Rex’s brown fur until it was lustrous and shiny, chose a burgundy bandana and tied it around his neck.
“You’re so optimistic,” I said, putting the leash on Rex.
“I tried being pessimistic. It didn’t work,” he said, flashing a dimple and shrugging.
“You’re such a dork,” I said, walking toward the door.
Before I turned the knob, Caleb’s hand pressed the door shut, blocking and caging me. His warmth immediately enveloped me, sending a tingling through my body. He leaned in and skimmed his nose on the back of my neck. “I like it when you talk dirty to me,” he said against my ear. Though the comment was playful, there was an agonizing urgency to his voice.