Epic

by Lark O'Neal

  Darcy comes around the corner, slicing the moment in two. “I’m ready. Drop me off at the bar.”

  “No,” he says, climbing back into the car.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You can get as drunk as you want at the hotel. Not out with a bunch of strangers.”

  “I can handle myself, big bro.”

  “Yeah.” He starts the car. “Still.”

  She rolls her eyes and slumps deeper into the seat. “Then buy me a bottle of vodka, at least.”

  He doesn’t answer, and it seems she doesn’t really expect him to. We drive back in more silence, the echoes of that awful day hanging in the air. I wonder how long it takes to get over something like that. How long until the city feels like itself again.

  How long until I don’t think of my mom as a ghost who can talk to me.

  At the hotel, Kaleb says quietly, “I’ve gotta look out for her tonight. But if you have dreams, you know where to find me.”

  “Thanks.” I think I ought to be upset, but somehow I’m not. It kinda seems to me that everybody needs some time alone anyway.

  After a shower I pull out my iPad and finally check email. There’s a lot, at least for me. Two from Henry, one from Electra, a couple from my dad, and two from Tyler.

  To: jessdonovan@cheapnet.com

  From: tlsmith@greatmail.com

  Subject: sliding in next to you

  26 July, 6:32 am

  I woke up thinking of you this morning, dreaming that your silky hair was spread out over my chest. I miss you like an arm or an internal organ and wish I could see you right now. RIGHT NOW. I’d hold you close and smell the curve of your neck and run my hands over your sweet ass and kiss you until you were boneless, weightless, melting into me.

  You’re sleeping as I write this, and I’m imagining that I’m sliding into bed beside you, naked, and curling myself around you. Feel it?

  God, I miss you.

  Xoxoxo

  I close my eyes, my body suddenly alive with the feeling of him around me, on top of me, in me. Our connection started instantly and burned hot from the very first second. If I think of how it feels to have him making love to me, my legs go boneless.

  But there were problems, too, I remind myself. That humiliation at the lake when he didn’t introduce me to his sister, and his constant, subtle digs at my lack of college, his big surprise that I’m smart and know things in spite of it. He’s a rich kid and I’m not, and that sometimes showed up between us. Actually, it showed up more than I liked.

  He was also born into a bad family, with the wrong set of talents to cope with them, and I feel protective of him over that. I miss him, honestly, miss hearing his voice, miss the way he looks at me with such intense focus, as if he’s going to brand my face into his retinas.

  There is, I realize suddenly, a Jess and Tyler world, just as there’s a Jess and Kaleb world. My secret world with Tyler is made of Mary Oliver poems, tattooed onto his scarred and broken body, and the house on the hill, and his strange, beautiful paintings, and the way he rescued me so completely, sweeping me out of the ruins of the restaurant.

  And the day, too, that it broke, when he lost his temper in a way that frightened me deeply and he ended up going back to jail.

  I read the next email.

  To: jessdonovan@cheapnet.com

  From: tlsmith@greatmail.com

  Subject:

  Friday 26 July, 9:14 pm

  Long day here. Really long, hard and disappointing. I was hoping to find something from you in my inbox, but I realize you’ve probably been working since I sent that first email this morning, or maybe you’re traveling, or you were asleep and then had to go to work.

  Sorry, I shouldn’t even have commented on it. And what I should do is erase this email and start over, but I’m not going to. I’m going to go have a beer with a friend of mine, the first one I’ve had all week (that’s a hint). I’m also not in Colorado anymore, which is part of why the hours are so fucked up. If I tell you where, you’ll guess the secret, and I guess maybe I want to keep that a while longer.

  Write when you can. Tell me about your world.

  Love,

  Tyler

  Two more hints. A new location and no drinking. The possibility of humiliation. I frown. I’m sure when he tells me what it is, I’ll say, “Oh, that! I get it now,” but at the moment I’m lost. I purse my lips and run through some ideas—Is he opening a restaurant? Showing his paintings somewhere? That might put him in a new place and if it didn’t go well, he might be humiliated, but what would it have to do with his parole? And also, why wouldn’t he drink?

  I just don’t know, but in the meantime, I want to share the day I had, bring him here with me on some level, share my life in a real way.

  To: tlsmith@greatmail.com

  From: jessdonovan@cheapnet.com

  Subject: Christchurch

  Saturday, 27 July, 20:43

  Dear Tyler,

  So sorry to be out of touch again. The internet here is not the same as it is the in US, trust me. My dad says the infrastructure isn’t in place yet, and that makes sense to me.

  Also, I have to admit I haven’t even been near the computer for two days. I just read your emails and I feel terrible that I haven’t been responding, but honestly, I am SO TIRED I can’t even see straight, and we’re going to fly to Queenstown in the morning. It’s sort of a day off because it’s a travel day. I really need it. I’d like to sleep about 24 hours in a row, but now we’re all packed into hotel rooms and it’s crowded and everybody wants to party (which I don’t mind, but it’s not the same as when we were going home to the sanity of my dad’s house at the winery).

  Today we filmed in Christchurch, focusing on the happy aspect of the town, because they want tourists to come back. It’s crazy, Tyler, seeing what those earthquakes did. I remember hearing about them, sort of, in that way that something happened in some far away place that was Bad, but it didn’t really register. I also didn’t know there were two really big ones. The first one did a lot of damage, but mainly in the downtown area, but the second one nearly killed the city. It wrecked the suburbs, too, and downtown became so dangerous they had to close off giant portions of it. A bunch of people died.

  It was haunting to see the big open spaces where buildings were knocked down. Even worse to see some old church with no roof, like a ruin from centuries ago. Or, or walking downtown and seeing this little courtyard kind of mall area all fenced off, with grass growing through the pavement. Imagine the whole of downtown Colorado Springs suddenly empty and smashed, with deserted shops and windows broken and buildings half-demolished, and an open space where your favorite restaurant used to be. It made me cry, which sort of made me ashamed, because Kaleb and Darcy lost their entire house. Their mom had to leave to find work because the business where she worked fell down. Darcy couldn’t stop talking about it, telling me in exact, endless detail about the house and what it had in it, and what happened in the first earthquake and what happened in the second and how they couldn’t find their cat (they did find him eventually—that’s the cat who lives at the winery, the one I told you about). She was right on the edge of hysterical, and then her brother took her aside and they went for a walk and she was better when they got back. I don’t know where their mom is, actually. I keep meaning to ask why they’re still living with their aunt, and I keep forgetting.

  Because there’s nothing else to think about, right? :)

  Crazy. It feels like I’ve dropped into another life, and it’s kind of surprising when I realize we’ve only been filming for a week. It’s such an intense immersion with all the other people and the life, and it takes everything over. I haven’t even really had much time to read, which is pretty weird for me.

  I do have my iPad back, which is what I’m typing on. Whether this email will go through or not is another question. Seriously, you just can’t imagine how slow the Internet is. Sometimes I try to send something and the little wheel spins fo
rever, and then it doesn’t send. Really irritating! Not sure I can actually send a picture because it’ll eat up so much bandwidth.

  I’m still loving the work, though, that’s the thing. If you had told me a month ago that I’d like acting, I’d have said you were cracked, but it’s like living in a book. Being a character, right? I get totally lost in it, and I’m getting some good feedback from the director and a couple of the other actors. And I’m sure I won’t do any more after this, but for now, it’s a blast.

  What is your super secret mission? When can I know? I’m glad you’re so excited about it, whatever it is. Give me another hint and at least I’ll have the fun of a riddle.

  Are you painting? Is that part of it?

  I loved your sexy email, but I’m sitting in a room with five other people and I canNOT write one in return. Soon, soon, soon.

  Xoxoxox

  Jess

  PS I’m trying to attach a pic of me, Darcy, and Kaleb. Crossing fingers it goes through. Send me one of you, too!

 

  The photo is one of me and Kaleb and Darcy yesterday on the road to Christchurch, all of us with our arms around each other. I send the email, see that it’s gone through, and settle in to sleep. This time there are no nightmares, no distractions in the form of a hot guy with no shirt, and I sleep like the dead, completely gone until the crew knocks on my door to wake me up.

  * * *

  We fly to Queenstown in the morning, and by the time we get there the snow is starting to spit. We’re piled into a lodge a lot like the one they had in Nelson when I first met everyone, and we’re stacked tight into the bedrooms. Darcy, Kaleb and I are stuffed into a room with a double bed and a cot, all the way on the third floor, but the view is so awesome I try not to think about the rest. The window looks out over a monster-size lake surrounded by mountains, everything blue and white in the snowy day. Lights glow yellow in windows and on top of streetlights, and I just want to get down there and walk around, absorb it.

  A crowd of people are headed out to do the same thing, but I hang back, pretending I’m not going to go. I just don’t want to explore it with a bunch of other people and a lot of noise.

  After they leave, I pull on my gloves and hat and sit down to pull on my boots, and of course there’s Kaleb coming down the stairs, because we’re our own two-person pod, moving through this in synchronization.

  “I thought you weren’t going.”

  I give him a rueful half-smile. “I might be getting kind of sick of people.”

  “It’s a lot of togetherness.”

  “Yeah. Honestly, until I did this, I didn’t realize how much of a loner I really am. I like quiet. Like, a lot.”

  “The greenhouse.”

  “Exactly.”

  He leans on the wall. “I was coming to find you, actually.”

  I raise an eyebrow.

  “No worries. I’ll let you go out on your own, get some quiet.” He flops on the couch, a book in his hands, and rests his feet on the coffee table. His body language is taut, only pretend-relaxed, and I incline my head.

  “What’s up, Kaleb?”

  For a minute he looks at me, measuring. Shakes his head. “I’ll find you later, Jess. Go explore.”

  “You can come with me.”

  “You want to be alone.”

  “No, I don’t want all the noise.”

  He nods. “I’ll pass.”

  I frown. “Are you mad at me or something?”

  “No.” He stands and tosses the magazine down, restless as a tiger, and peers out the window. “I’ll go take a nap or something.” He stalks out of the room.

  For a long moment I look after him, and I sort of know what might be wrong, but I can’t go there yet. We’re poised on this invisible line, not yet lovers, more than friends, and sooner or later I have to decide which it will be.

  But not right now.

  * * *

  It’s gorgeous outside, and after a couple of hours wandering around on my own, filling myself up with snow and the hypnotic movements of the lake and the blue of the mountains and all the people crowded into the tourist town, I’m finally easy in my skin again. I resolve not to think about Tyler or Kaleb or any other guy, just my own self, my own plans, my hopes and dreams.

  Life is better than it was when I was in Colorado, that much is for sure. I’m happier than I’ve been in a really long time, maybe even since my mom died. I like the work, and maybe doing it could get me some security for once in my life. I’m not sure, but it seems like an opportunity that just dropped in my lap and might be good for me, at least for awhile. I could build up some security, save money for college, give myself some comfort. I’m not sure how to go about getting another gig, what a person needs, but I’m sure I can find answers among the crew.

  It’s also good to be with my dad after so many years of making things up. Maybe I don’t even need to get answers about my mom. I just need to be happy in the now.

  So that’s what I do. I walk through the streets, looking in shop windows, and along the lake that’s lapping at the shore. There’s a park with pathways through it, and I follow some of those, too, thinking about nothing except the astonishing beauty that’s right in front of me.

  When I wander back to the lodge, I meet a big group coming out. “Come on!” Darcy cries, pulling on my sleeve. “Time to party, good girl.”

  Kaleb is there, too, silent on the other side of me.

  “Did you have a good time on your own?” I ask, and manage to barely keep myself from adding, sulking?

  He shrugs.

  I nudge him. “Dude, what’s up?”

  “Not right now, Jess,” he says with noticeable weariness. “Just some stuff I have to think about.”

  Stung, I shove my hands in my pockets. “Fine.”

  We all sweep into the bar, dark and narrow, with a few tables by the window. I order beer, and my fake ID stands up fine. Darcy is in fine form, telling stories, drawing everyone in, but there’s a kind of hysterical, trying-too-hard energy about her that makes me wonder what’s in her head. I glance at Kaleb, but he’s engrossed in something the guy next to him is saying.

  Somebody’s brought cards, and we start to play poker for matchsticks. It’s not a game I know very well, but it’s fun to just be playing instead of working or thinking about working. I win one round but mostly lose. We drink a few rounds as we play, then head back to the lodge, where somebody finds a bunch of board games, and somebody else opens some wine and passes around small glasses of red. I sit with Darcy, and I’m tipsier than I’ve been since I got to New Zealand.

  I know when Kaleb is studying me. My skin flutters or moves or something, all down my arms and spine, across my lips. I have to keep putting on lip balm from licking them so much, and I know I’m flushed from the beer and the wine and his glowering.

  Once I give him a perplexed little frown. What gives?

  He shakes his head, touching the scar, and I see that he’s more sad than mad. Maybe the tour of Christchurch reminded him of the time that was lost, or maybe he’s worried about his sister.

  Whatever. Guys!

  * * *

  Later, I’ve had enough alcohol and pour a big glass of water to carry into the main room. I hold the iPad on my lap, still kind of weirdly in love with the machine. I haven’t posted anything to Facebook, and I should do that, take a picture of the partying group and say something about New Zealand. It’s pretty cool.

  First email, though. Of course. Electra has sent a picture of her exploding garden. And there’s one from Tyler, too. Just as I open it, Kaleb comes and sits at my feet, raising one eyebrow.

  “What?”

  His expression is mischievous, not quite smiling. “Can’t a guy sit for a minute?”

  I roll my eyes. “Whatever. You’ve been a grouch all day.”

  “I’ll tell you about it later. Go on and check in with your boyfriend.”

  “I’m not checking in.”

 
“No?”

  “No.” I open the email, even if it feels kind of weird. He’s not going to get to me. And why is he goading me anyway?

  To: jessdonovan@cheapnet.com

  From: tlsmith@greatmail.com

  Subject: The Secret

  Hi, Jess. Your picture came through. You’re so freaking gorgeous, girl, and you really look happy. (Also, Darcy—I see what you mean. ;)) I’m attaching a picture of me here, too, with my newly minted goatee. What do you think? I kinda like it, and it might be my new talisman, a symbol of this new thing in my life.

  Another hint? Hmm.

  Okay, I know. Hint #2: I have bruises. Lots of them.

  I’m going out tonight, in just a little while. Long hard week and I’m ready to let my hair down. Hope you get to do that, too, when you get to Queenstown. There’s a bar I love there, right on the lake, called Bardeaux. Check it out if you can. I’m sure the crew will have lots of suggestions, too. And watch out for the Aussies, no kidding. The town will be packed with them, big guys in packs, getting drunk.

  No shortage of drunks here, either. My rooms are over a nightclub and the music plays until four am on the weekends. Tomorrow’s a day off so I don’t care, but this morning was a bit rough.

  You asked if I was painting, and I’m not at the moment. No time, though I saw a guy I wanted to paint today. Maybe that’s a good thing. First time I’ve been intrigued by a face other than yours since we met.

  I’ve had lots of time to read at night, so I cruise the leftover books shelves downstairs. Have you found those places yet? Every hotel nearly always has a shelf or ten of books that people left behind. Lots of glitz, usually, and often books in languages I can’t read, but there’s always something in English. This week, I read a thriller from the eighties (The Osterman Weekend) that was dark and gritty and kind of depressed me in the end, to tell the truth, so I went back last night and found To Kill a Mockingbird. Such a great book. Cleansed my palate. What have you been reading? (Because I know you have been. Even if you’re so tired you can barely see straight, I know you have been reading.)

  Thanks for writing about Christchurch. It was so vivid and you put me right there with you. I was there once, a long time ago. There’s some good shredding outside the city, and a bunch of us flew over there and hung out for a week or so. It was pretty, the Garden of…Canterbury? I can’t remember. The Garden City. Full of flowers and olde English style buildings. Sad to think it’s all fallen down now.