A Lush Reunion

by Selena Laurence

“He’s right, Sean. I’m off tomorrow day and night. We’ve got lots of stuff to take care of, and maybe we can catch the new Robin Hood movie in the afternoon.”

  Sean sighs as he mulls it over. “Okay,” he says, “but can I hang out with Colin again sometime?”

  “We’ll see. Now go get your dinner.”

  “That doesn’t mean yes but it doesn’t mean no, either,” he stage-whispers to Colin as he scoots by him. “I’ll work on her.”

  Colin chuckles more as Sean heads to the kitchen.

  “So, sounds like you had quite a day,” I tell him.

  “That is one great kid you’ve got,” Colin says, taking a step closer to me.

  My heartbeat picks up. “Thank you. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you taking him to do all of that. It was really…um…sweet of you.” My face warms, and I swear he gets another step closer. Or maybe I did. I’m not sure. I know he’s warm—heat is emanating off of him—and he smells like hay and sunshine and a little bit of good, clean guy sweat. I can’t help but lick my lips.

  “I’d like to see him again. If it’s okay with you. They’re shearing sheep at the ranch on Friday. They’ll put all the sheep in the holding pens and run them through the barn to shear them. When they come out, they’re pretty funny-looking. It’s sort of a party all day—lots of food, people’s families hanging out. Ronny’s rented one of those jumping things to keep the kids busy while their parents help out. Do you think maybe Sean could come?”

  “Oh.” My voice betrays my surprise. “He has school.”

  “Yeah, I was talking to Leanne about that. She said a bunch of the ranches in the area do shearing that same day. The school shows movies all afternoon so the kids can leave right after lunch if they’re from ranch families.”

  “Gosh, you have it all covered, don’t you?” I don’t mean to sound harsh, but he jerks back from me and I know I have a touch of my mother’s bitterness in my voice.

  “No. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t—”

  “I’m sorry,” I spit out quickly. “I didn’t mean that. It’s really thoughtful of you, and if you’re okay with it, I’m sure Sean would love to be there.”

  He smiles, and there’s the guy I fell in love with. The sweet, caring, young man who used to make my body sing and my heart hum.

  “And what about you?” he asks. “Would you be willing to come too? I’m sure you’d know most of the people there, and you won’t be working until later that night, right?”

  My mind freezes for a moment, and I am equal parts terror and joy. Spending time with Colin—it’s like my worst nightmare and my greatest dream all rolled into one.

  “I’m not sure…” I don’t know what else to say. My thoughts and feelings are too muddled.

  “Think about it. You have my number. Shoot me a text later in the week. Let me know what you’d like to do.”

  I nod, swallowing deeply. His eyes watch my throat as it works up and then back down. His gaze heats, and my fingertips tingle with the desire to touch him, to feel his hot skin on mine.

  He leans into me, so close that I can see the flecks of amber in his brown irises. “I hope you decide to come,” he tells me in a low voice. “I’m really looking forward to it.”

  Then he walks out of my bar, taking all the oxygen with him.

  Chapter Five

  Colin

  I HAVEN’T seen Marsha in four days, but it’s like she’s embedded under my skin. It’s agitating. There’s an itch I need to scratch but can’t quite find. I drive by the Bronco at least five times a day, hoping for a glimpse of her, but I’ve been disappointed for going on a hundred hours now. I can’t help but wonder if this is the universe’s way of telling me to leave it be.

  I was sixteen, new to town, and predictably horny when I first met Marsha. She was a year ahead of me in school and already a firecracker. She didn’t have many friends although everyone seemed to like her. My family were vagabonds, moving from place to place every year or two as my parents took on new projects to better the world. One year, they might be teaching in an inner city school, and the next, they’d be running a vaccination clinic in Africa. Wherever they thought they could help, that’s where they went. I was dragged along most places, although I did spend a couple of years in middle school with my grandmother.

  We landed in Tulsa for my folks to work with a new homeless program the state of Oklahoma was pilot testing. They both had teaching certificates as well as all kinds of emergency medicine training and social-work backgrounds. It was an unusual lifestyle, but one that never bothered me too much as I didn’t know any other way. I guess I was like a military brat in that regard. That was what my family did. It was what I did. It was how we lived.

  Tulsa wasn’t shaping up to be anything special as far as places we’d lived until the second week of school, when I was sitting in American history class and a curvy little redhead walked in with a slip of paper for the teacher to sign. Turned out she was transferring into the class, and she ended up seated right across the aisle from me. History became my new favorite class, and trying to capture Marsha’s attention my new favorite pastime. From the minute I first laid eyes on her I knew that Tulsa was going to be my favorite town of them all.

  It was nearly three weeks later that I finally got my chance to charm the girl into a date. I left school later than usual that day, after having met with one of my teachers. When I walked out to the parking lot, I was greeted with the vision of Marsha hiking across the heated asphalt, lugging a backpack nearly as big as she was.

  “Hey,” I called, jogging up to her. “Do you want some help with that?” I pointed to the giant pack.

  “Oh, uh, thanks, but I’m heading home.”

  Her plump breasts bounce along under her tank top as she struggled to keep upright under the weight of her pack. I wasn’t real experienced with girls yet, but I knew enough to judge that Marsha’s rack was exceptional.

  “You have a car?” I asked, walking alongside her.

  She shot me a sideways glance. “No, I walk.”

  “I could give you a ride,” I offered.

  She stopped, unceremoniously dumping the pack on the ground. “You’re Colin, right?”

  “Right.” I grinned, so excited that she’d remembered by name from roll call in class.

  “You going to get me in your car and try to get in my pants?” she asked bluntly.

  Though I didn’t have that exact scenario planned, I’d certainly hoped being in my truck together might push things in that direction.

  “Wasn’t planning on it.” My answer maybe wasn’t completely honest, but it was close.

  “Good. I live over on Garfield, and I have a few bucks, so if you’ll stop by the All Right Burger, I’ll buy you a Coke.”

  I leaned down to pick the backpack up and nearly stumbled under its weight. The girl was tough, no doubt.

  “It’s a deal,” I answered as I walked to my truck, Marsha tagging along in my wake.

  “You don’t have to carry that for me. I can do it.”

  “Yeah, I know. But I want to help you out.” Get used to it, I thought.

  She never did, and that is the greatest regret of my life.

  IT’S THURSDAY when I finally get the text I’ve been waiting for.

  Marsha: Meet me at the elementary school at eleven thirty a.m.

  That’s all. No indication of whether she’ll come along with Sean and me or not. I’m immediately irritated, a combination of resentment and pain crawling through my gut.

  Playing with a famous rock band I’ve had people after me for shit for years. They want my money, my time, my advice, my connections. You name it and I’ve probably had someone hit me up for it. For the most part I don’t mind. Helping people is what we do in my family, and I was raised to consider it an honor to do what I can for others. Things to help them have what they need to be healthy and happy. What they need to be the best they can.

  But Marsha is the one person in my life who never asked me f
or anything, and it’s never stopped bothering me. I wanted to help her more than anyone else I’d ever known. I wanted to be there for her, give her things, do stuff for her, help her achieve everything she wanted in life. But Marsha was never able to accept help from anyone. Her crazy-ass mother made sure she was so mixed up and co-dependent that I never stood a chance. Marsha’s view of the world was skewed, and no matter how hard I tried after that first day when I’d carried her pack, she never let me shoulder some of her burden again.

  Now, ten years later, I want to get her away from the work and responsibilities of her life for an afternoon and she still won’t let me. It pisses me off, and there’s very little else in the world that makes me feel that way.

  I pick up the phone and hit “contact.” Then I press the phone icon. Fuck texting.

  “Hello?” her sand-rough voice comes through the receiver, and my heart bucks in my chest.

  “Hey. It’s Colin.

  “That’s what the caller ID said,” she answers like a smartass.

  I choose to ignore her wicked tongue for now. “Your text was missing something.”

  “Yeah? Do you need directions to the school? I figured everyone knew where it was.”

  “No, not that. You didn’t say if you’re coming too.”

  I wait, my breath held in abeyance while the line is dead silent.

  “I probably shouldn’t…”

  “Why?” I jump on it with no preamble. I’m not sure what I’m doing here, but I know that I want her at that shearing party, and I don’t like hearing “no” out of her any more now than I did a decade ago.

  “Well, it’s sort of your and Sean’s thing…”

  “That’s bullshit and you know it. Are you scared to come with us? Like you’re afraid of sheep or something?”

  She sighs impatiently, and it makes me think of when she used to sigh in ecstasy as I ran my tongue along the seam between her thighs. My jeans tighten and I shift uncomfortably, glad she’s on the phone and not here in person.

  “I am not afraid of sheep, Colin Douglas.”

  “Then what is it? Are you afraid of me?”

  There’s a pause, the silence louder than any voice could be.

  “Maybe,” she answers, ever honest and direct. I’ve always loved that about Marsha.

  “Fair enough. But not a legit reason to avoid the party. It’s an afternoon with all your friends, outside in the sunshine away from work, with built-in babysitting for your kid. You’ll come, laugh with Leanne and the wives, watch stupid sheep run around and bleat, eat some home-cooked food, and see Sean playing in the fresh air, having the time of his life. Yeah, I’ll be there too, but as Sean’s buddy, nothing more. Just do it, Marsha. YOLO and all that.”

  She laughs, the sound like a throaty mating call that amps my hormones up even more. “YOLO, huh? Fine, I’ll come. Are you driving me?”

  “Yeah, I am.”

  “Okay. I’ll get Sean at school. Come to my apartment at eleven forty-five. We’ll be ready to go.”

  I get directions and hang up the phone. I still flying blind, but I get to see them—both of them. That makes whatever else happens worth it. At least, for today.

  I SPEND Friday morning washing the truck and acting like a girl about what I’m going to wear. It’s a fucking all-day barbeque—my attire shouldn’t even be a consideration, but I can’t help trying to remember what Marsha’s preferences were. She always loved me in green, so I choose a short-sleeved button-down in a dark green and my worn Levis because Tammy once told me they make my butt look good. Yeah, like I said—total girl.

  Marsha lives a bit outside the town limits in an area I’m not familiar with. It’s mostly trailer parks and run-down farmhouses. But there is one small subdivision full of cheap fourplexes with weeds and cracked asphalt for front yards. When I pull up outside her building, I have to sit for a moment in the truck to gather my thoughts.

  There are four doors across the front of the building—two on the ground floor and two on the second. According to the numbers on the doors Marsha’s is on the top left. I could have guessed it from the collection of potted, flowering plants and kid’s toys clustered on the small walkway in front of that unit.

  The building is constructed of concrete block and painted a sickly shade of green—institutional green I’d call it—used in hospitals and schools the world over. The trim is a dark brown, the paint peeling and curling all over. The front “yard,” like the others on the street, is asphalt, cracked and missing big chunks here and there, weeds growing up in the bare spots.

  There are four cars out front—two up on blocks, their paint oxidized, their windows broken or missing, one a dark, sleek Trans Am, and the last a small Kia sedan, several years old, but clean. Not too tough to figure out which is Marsha’s, even without seeing the “Build Schools Not Bombs” bumper sticker. The totality of it is bleak, grim, and damn sad. It’s the kind of place where people who need my parents’ programs live. It’s the sort of environment that produces the future inmates of rehab centers and prisons.

  And it’s utterly inappropriate for Marsha and her child.

  I grip the steering wheel, trying to contain my distress before I go up and get them. Telling myself that, as much as I’d like to, it’s not my place to drag them out of here and insist they live someplace better, healthier. As much as I’d like to offer Marsha money to get little Sean out of a shithole like this, if I know anything about her it’s that she would never agree to that.

  I’m stepping out of the truck when I hear Sean’s voice shout from above, “Mom! He’s here!”

  I look up and see him leaning over the rickety railing along the top walkway. “Hey, dude. You ready to go the party?” I wave, relaxing back against the passenger’s side of the truck.

  “Oh, he’s been ready since you invited him,” Marsha says, exiting her apartment and locking the door behind her. “It’s about all I’ve heard for five days now.” She laughs as she grabs Sean’s hand and they walk toward the stairs.

  Once they get to my truck Sean throws his arms around my legs and looks up at me. “Thank you for taking us, Colin.”

  Something inside me starts to crumble, and I have to gulp a deep breath before I can answer him. “I wouldn’t dream of going without you, little dude.”

  Marsha smiles at me gratefully. I open the door to the truck and get Sean settled in the center seat before Marsha steps in. I jog to the driver’s side, starting the engine and pulling away from the curb before asking, “You lived there long?”

  I see Marsha tense from the corner of my eye, and palpable waves of bad energy roll across the narrow cab of the truck.

  “About eighteen months,” she answers crisply.

  “You like it there?” I ask, trying to keep my voice casual.

  “It’s what I can afford.” Her voice tells me that the subject is closed, but six-year-olds don’t often pick up on adult signals like that.

  “I liked our old trailer better because it had a yard,” Sean tells me, all innocence and ignorance. “But the trailer costed more money than Mom makes by herself, so when my dad went to prison we moved.”

  I swallow to keep myself from shaking my head, pounding the steering wheel, or saying something completely out of line like, “What the fuck were you doing with a guy who’d rob his job at gunpoint?” or “Please let me help you so you can have a decent place to live.” It sucks, but I know I need to shut up. For now anyway.

  “Well,” I say, trying to infuse cheerfulness into my voice. “You have some really nice flowers outside your door, and I bet there are all sorts of things you can hang off that banister—toys, parachute guys, birdhouses.”

  Sean’s face breaks out in a giant grin. “I hung my stuffed monkey off of it last week, but Mom made me take it down. She said it looked like I was hanging a baby.” He giggles hysterically over that one.

  Marsha finally smiles too. My intrusiveness is forgotten, and by the time we get to the ranch, everyone is in a pa
rty mood.

  “There’s the boy!” Ronny shouts as Sean and I walk up to the pen where the sheep are being kept. He starts a strange dodging sort of dance around me, first to one side, then the other, while Sean goes the opposite direction each time. Ronny finally stretches around me and grabs Sean, both of them laughing as they struggle, tickling each other.

  “Sean,” Marsha scolds when she catches up to us.

  “Hey, girl. How are ya?” Ronny leans down and gives Marsha a little kiss on the cheek.

  I try not to be jealous, but I am anyway.

  “I’m glad you could make it,” he tells her.

  “Thank you for having us. Sean’s been so excited.”

  “Well, let’s get him the best seat in the barn,” Ronny says. “He can be the official timekeeper. The guys like to compete to see who can shear the fastest. How’d you like that job, kid?”

  Sean’s face is beaming as he nods emphatically, and Ronny leads him away to the barn, where I can already hear the ranch hands whooping and shouting as they move sheep from the holding pen to the barn.

  “Well,” Marsha says, shifting awkwardly. “Maybe I should go see if Leanne needs any help.”

  I touch her elbow for a moment. “Why don’t you relax instead? Enjoy the afternoon off. I can get you something to drink if you’d like. An iced tea? Soda?”

  She squints at me in the bright sun. Why the hell doesn’t she have sunglasses?

  “Please?” I’m basically begging now, but I don’t care. I’m driven by this need to be near her. It’s starting to take over my life. But I can’t control it. The word addiction flashes through my head, and I can’t help but think of the irony of realizing I have one while sitting on a ranch for recovering addicts.

  The bleating of the sheep increases and Marsha peers around me toward the barn. “Maybe we should go in there and see what’s happening?”

  I smile. “Sure thing. Can I get you a lemonade first?”

  She sighs. “Okay. A lemonade would be nice.”

  “It would,” I say, satisfaction warming my whole chest.

  TWO HOURS later, I sit watching Marsha as she smiles and laughs with Leanne and some of the other ranch hand wives. Nothing has ever felt so right as seeing her happy and relaxed.