Beyond Heat

by Ashley Logan

  Laughing under my breath I turn back to Vi, who’s waiting for me to cough up some sort of explanation of my relationship with my sister.

  “Backup?” she says with an odd look.

  “Second child,” I explain, knowing Vi has lived the life of a single child. “You know, I’m the backup if something happens to the first one,” I clarify, rolling my eyes.

  “You two look really similar.”

  “That’s where the similarities end,” I say, excusing myself as Debbie comes back, flashing her winning smile at my friends as she makes her way over to Dad.

  “Hi Daddy. And hello handsome,” are the words I hear as I head for the bathroom with gritted teeth.

  When I finish in the bathroom, I step into the hall and all I can hear is Debbie’s voice talking about how marvelous she is and how New York City is the best and blah blah blah. Heading in the opposite direction, I open the door to my old room and flop onto my bed, trying to work up the energy I’ll need to endure my sister. It could take a while.

  I hear faint footsteps and wonder which of my friends has left the Debbie bragfest, and whether it was because they can’t stand her fake innuendo, or if they have to pee. The footsteps stop, but I don’t hear the bathroom door close and it hits me - whoever it is, must be looking at Mom’s photo montage of our life that runs the length of the hallway. Cringing, I sit up to go scare them off, but stop when Debbie’s voice travels down the hall to me.

  “There you are,” she says in what she probably thinks is her sexy voice, but ‘slutty voice’ is what I would refer to it as. “I was hoping to catch you alone a moment.”

  Spew.

  I feel sorry for whichever chump she’s cornered.

  “Why’s that?” Bruno answers distantly.

  Silently covering the distance to my open door, I peer down the hall to see Bruno bent to look at the photos.

  “I was hoping to get to know you better. You’re a friend of Scarlett’s?”

  “Obviously,” he says carefully, his attention being drawn away from the picture. “Who’s this guy?” he asks, pointing at the picture.

  Debbie intentionally leans in close so she can brush against him as she looks. Looking annoyed, Bruno steps back to give her room and I can’t help but smile.

  “That would be Kenny, Scarlett’s high school sweet heart. He was captain of the football team, she was captain of the cheer squad. It was all very cliché. She hates that picture, but Dad made her promise to stop breaking it because Mom loves her smile in it and it’s her only prom picture. Secretly I think Mom loves how perfect she was then, and can’t bear to part with it for fear of never seeing her happy again.”

  “She’s still perfect,” Bruno says, viewing a few other photos before returning to the same one.

  “Oh,” Debbie says, reassessing him with her eyes. “I thought maybe you were interested in her, but I didn’t realize you two were together.”

  “We’re not,” he says, giving her a sharp look before turning to the pictures again. “If she was so happy, why’d they break up?” he asks, returning to the stupid prom picture.

  “Um, because of the burns,” she says as if he’s stupid.

  “He didn’t stick around?” Bruno asks, sounding shocked.

  Debbie is starting to look uncomfortable now and I’m taking great pleasure in watching the show.

  “She wouldn’t let him,” she says, rubbing her arms as if she’s cold. “Mom thinks Backup pushed him away before he even had the chance to see her because she couldn’t stand the sight of herself and didn’t want to see the same reaction in others. That and she wasn’t interested in Kenny being stuck with her out of guilt or whatever, you know, because she wouldn’t find anyone else.”

  “Why wouldn’t she find anyone else?” Bruno asks, looking to Debbie and crossing his arms. “You don’t think your sister is beautiful?”

  Debbie sighs and looks behind her, and I just know she’s wishing she’d weeded out Smith, or Coop, or Benji, instead of this guy. Holding my laughter in, I wait for her response.

  “She was always the pretty one. The gorgeous and clever one. The one that everyone adored. Of course she’s still pretty. She’s just not as perfect as she was. Obviously.”

  “She’s better,” Bruno says, adamant. “And she’s still better than you. Do you think people can’t see through this fake bull shit act you have going on? Honestly, it’s creepy and you need to take a hard look at yourself.”

  Frozen, Debbie lets out a tight squeak and Bruno sighs.

  “Sorry. That was harsh. I’m under a lot of stress at the moment, so I didn’t sugar-coat it, but you rubbing your tits on me when you know I’m interested in your sister says volumes about you as a person. Excuse me, I need some fresh air.”

  Debbie squeaks again as Bruno walks around her, heading back to the living room. Once he’s gone, Debs makes a dash to the bathroom, locking herself in. I can only imagine that she’s consoling herself in the mirror right now.

  This birthday just keeps getting better.

  Thank you Bruno Jackson. Best present ever.

  Making my way back to the living room while Debs is still occupied with her undoing, I do my best to keep from skipping. When I arrive back with the others, I see Mom has gone old-fashioned with the entertainment and has brought out the board games and cards and everyone is sitting in whichever group they prefer, playing their games. Most of them appear to involve alcohol.

  “I had arranged for some outdoor dancing on the patio,” Mom says at my shoulder with a sigh. “But the damn rain has ruined that for now. If it was still summer, I’d say screw the rain, but winter’s chill is on the air today.”

  “Mom!” I scold mockingly. “Screw the rain? Where have you left your decency?”

  “At the bedroom door,” Dad jokes hugging her from behind.

  “Ew!” Immediately closing my eyes, I stick my fingers in my ears. “La la la la. Have you stopped being gross yet? We have company!” Opening one eye, I catch Dad’s wink as he heads back to the drinks table. “Now we’re in trouble,” I say to Mom when I realize Dad’s moved onto spirits.

  “Oh let him have some fun. He barely drinks and what better excuse to enjoy himself than his baby’s birthday,” Mom says with a smile, her own cheeks a little rosy.

  “I suppose I’m getting a ride back with this lot then?” I say, pointing to my friends as I nod at the drink in her hand.

  “Or you can stay,” she says, with a little too much enthusiasm.

  “I don’t think I want to be down the hall from you and Dad tonight, but thanks,” I say, wrinkling my nose and moving away.

  I hover at Vi’s shoulder as she plays blackjack with Reeni and Nina while Benji acts as dealer.

  “Where’d Bruno go?” I ask, as casually as possible.

  Looking up briefly, Vi glances over at the French doors out to the patio. “I think he stepped out.”

  Really noticing the weather outside, I feel myself tense up. “But it’s raining.”

  Starting to worry a little, I borrow Dad’s parka from beside the door and slip outside. Sliding my feet into his work boots, I traipse out into the rain, scanning the garden in case I find Bruno in some frozen state of flashback oddness, but I can’t see him anywhere.

  Turning in a circle, my eyes fall on Dad’s woodshed. Making a beeline for it, I pull open the door to find Bruno sitting on Dad’s chopping block, resting his feet on the nearest stack of wood. Breathing a sigh of relief, I step inside, out of the rain and shrug out of Dad’s parka before kneeling to smooch with Gordon, who is purring up a storm on Bruno’s lap.

  “While you’re down there...” Bruno says, unable to keep from laughing when I reach out to smack him upside the head.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  BRUNO

  Picking up her cat, Scarlett cuddles him to her chest as she shakes her head at me.

  “You think I’d suck your dick in my dad’s woodshed when we’re not even together?” she asks with a
giggle, making me wonder if perhaps she would if we were together.

  “No harm in asking,” I mumble, aware of my dick waking up at the thought. He sure likes her. A lot.

  “You’ve led me to believe there would be no point,” she says with a teasing smile as she turns her attention back to the cat.

  The woodshed seems a bit cramped now that I have the company, but I have no intention of leaving. Lowering my legs so they’re level, I offer her a seat on them.

  “I didn’t say it was pointless. I still hope to recover full use one day.”

  Sitting on my shins, Scarlett sets the chubby cat on her lap, stroking him. “Is that a real possibility?” she asks, not looking at me.

  “No-one knows. But until you started smiling at me a few weeks ago - I mean really smiling,” I say, making sure she knows I’m talking about her recent acknowledgment of the spark between us, “He was dead as a doornail. Now whenever you’re around, he’s doing his best to keep his head up. I’d say there’s hope. Maybe,” I add, not wanting to be presumptuous, considering I basically just told her she’s the only one who turns me on. I don’t want to put any more pressure on our already fragile friendship by demanding more when she’s not ready.

  “Interesting,” she says, more to herself than to me. “So. How come you’re hiding in the woodshed with Gordon?”

  I try not to laugh at the cat’s name, or the fact that he now has a trail of drool at least an inch long dangling from the corner of his mouth.

  “Gordon is good company.”

  “I know.” Pulling a face when she sees the drool, she sets the cat on the ground. “Except when he’s leaking,” she adds, turning back to me with one of her heart-melting smiles. I could look at this face all day and never tire of it. Its radiance lights up a dim woodshed on a gray Buffalo evening. That’s pretty special.

  “He is much better company than say... Debbie?” she says, stifling her smile.

  My eyes narrow at her. “So you know why I’m hiding?” Crossing my arms over my chest as I jiggle my legs beneath her, testing her balance. She stays firm.

  “You hid from her first,” I counter with a slow smile.

  “Ah. Touché,” Scarlett says nodding. “I had the advantage of knowing her prior to this evening, so knew to hide before you learned of the need. She’s a piece of work that one.”

  “Agreed.”

  My eyes run over her while she’s distracted by Gordon. “I like your boots.”

  Looking down she laughs. “Thank you. I’m thinking of wearing them on stage next week.”

  “Construction chick. Hot.” Shaking my head at myself, I lean back against the wall behind me. “So. Your dad’s pretty cool. He built the house himself?”

  “Him and his crew, yeah. He is pretty cool. He probably wouldn’t be as cool if he knew his daughter was a stripper, but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

  Scarlett shivers and wraps her arms around herself. Lifting my legs, with her on them, I tilt them up and shake her down into my arms.

  “Smooth,” she says, burrowing into my chest for warmth.

  “I would have said it was bumpy,” I say with a smile. She hits my chest, making me laugh.

  “I meant your suave maneuver. Do you have to argue every point?”

  “I know what you meant. I just enjoy pushing your buttons.”

  “Maybe I don’t want you touching my buttons,” she says, only half convincing as she presses herself even closer.

  “Maybe you do,” I whisper in her ear before resting my cheek against her hair.

  She shivers again, but I don’t think it’s because she’s cold. The heat between us is more than enough to raise our temperatures.

  “Why did you come out to find me?”

  “I was worried about you. I know you’re scared of the rain.”

  I laugh a little. “I’m not scared of it, I just don’t like it. Kind of like you and fire.”

  She sits up a little. “I just don’t like the way it flickers, and how hot my scars feel if I’m near it. It’s like I’m burning all over again,” she says with a shudder. “And I wasn’t ever on fire; my blanket was. It was one of those polar-fleece things and it melted onto my skin. If anything I should be scared of blankets,” she says, trying to lighten the mood.

  Smiling a little, I pull her back to me, wrapping my arms around her. Maybe I’m comforting her and maybe I’m using her for my own comfort as I prepare to share my story as she so valiantly shared hers.

  “A lot of people think it doesn’t rain in Afghanistan, and most of the time it’s as hot and dry as you see in the media, but sometimes it rains so much that it floods. Rivers rise, the rain keeps falling, and the ground is so hard and dry that the excess water has no place to go but up.” I tighten my hold on Scarlett and feel her hands wrap around them in support.

  “My unit was helping with flood relief, but it was in an active zone, so we had to help civilians and cover our backs. Things were going fine until we started getting shot at. Several of my guys were hit, but the danger was double, because they’d fall into the water. We managed to find most of them and get them out. I went back to find Stevens. I’d seen him hit and was pretty sure I knew where he should be.

  The guys covered me and I waded back in. I found him, managed to revive him, and stemmed his bleed.” Taking a breath, I prepare to tell her the hardest part of the story. “We were still under fire, and it only seemed to be getting worse. That was when I was shot under the shoulder. Just a flesh wound, through and through, and on the right angle so it missed everything vital. A lucky shot, I was told. Anyway. I dragged Stevens through the water towards a wall, to give us some cover so I could plug my wound and plan our next move, but I didn’t get a chance. I heard an explosion and before I knew what had happened, the wall was collapsing on us.

  “This wall was made of stone blocks about the size of the one I’m sitting on, and heavier to boot. They fucking hurt. Reaching for Stevens, I tried to pull us out of the way, but he was pinned and my legs weren’t working. I nearly lost my head when another stone tumbled over us. I had to duck underwater and I thought for sure I was going to drown, but the chunk of stone kept rolling, and I came up gasping.

  “I tried to free Stevens, hoping to hell that the rest of our unit was coming to find us, but they didn’t come. Not then. The rain was relentless and the waters were still rising. I tried to position myself to get the block off Stevens, but without my legs, everything was a million times harder and slower. There are few things worse than listening to a friend drown as you try to free him. Eventually I managed to lever off what had pinned him and revive him again, but I couldn’t see help coming. I slung him on my back, wrapped his arms around my neck and dragged both of our busted asses through the water and the gunfire, back to our unit. The water was actually helpful then; it took most of his weight. When we got close enough, the boys came and got us. Stevens was in real bad shape. He’d taken another bullet during our retreat and died before we could be evacuated. If it hadn’t hit him, it would have gone through my skull. He saved my life, while I was trying my best to save his,” I finish with a sigh. “So you see I’m not scared of rain, so much as haunted by it. It makes everything else just a bit harder, but I don’t fear it.”

  Scarlett sniffs in my arms and I kiss her head.

  “You’re not allowed to cry on your birthday.”

  “Then don’t tell me horrific stories of how people died, and how you almost died!” she says, sniffing again and wiping her face.

  “You almost died once. You know it can have a happy ending.”

  “I almost died of infection, not heroic antics. It’s hardly comparable. All I did was sleep naked with my blanket to close to the fire.”

  I tense a little beneath her. “Naked? This is where Kenny comes in, I guess?”

  “Why? Jealous?”

  “Of being naked next to you? Definitely. But he wasn’t there was he?”

  Scarlett shakes her head. “I o
ften wonder how different things would have been if he’d just stayed with me that night,” she says quietly. “You definitely don’t need to be jealous of that cheating asshole.”

  “He was with someone else?” I ask, sitting up beneath her and cupping her face with my hands. “The guy is a fucking idiot.”

  “I know,” she nods. “That’s why I never let him near me again. At one stage I was quite scared I was going to kill him. It was probably for the best that I was bedridden at the time,” she says, laughing a little.

  Wiping away her tears with my thumbs, I press my lips to her forehead for a long time. It’s all starting to make sense now - why she pushes people away. She doesn’t want to be hurt again by someone she cares for.

  “You loved him?” I ask haltingly.

  Scar sighs and her glistening eyes look to the roof of the shed as the rain gets harder. “I thought I did, but he was so easy to get over, I must not have.”

  Frowning, my hands leave her face and wrap around her middle again, pulling her back against me. “I don’t get it,” I whisper.

  “Get what?” Scar asks, looking up at me.

  “I thought Kenny was the piece of the puzzle I was missing, but now I’m stumped again. I have no idea why you hate me for loving you.”

  “I don’t hate you,” she says, leaning back. “And I know it’s selfish, but I quite like that you think you love me.”

  “I don’t just think it, Scar. I love you with everything I have. It’s you that holds it all back. I can see you fighting with yourself, I just don’t understand why you can’t invest, even when you want to.” She starts to pull away, but I hold her, needing to get to the bottom of this mess of emotion.

  “You hate the fact that I offer my love so freely, when you make yourself keep it locked in a vault. You hate feeling indebted by it, even when I ask for nothing in return. Why do you do it?”

  “Because the person I loved most in the world broke my heart, okay?” she cries, ripping her arms from my grasp and smacking me across the face. Grabbing her hand before she can wind back again, I pull her in close and stroke her shuddering back.