Ten Below Zero

by Whitney Barbetti

  “You don’t seem to want to talk about anything.”

  I watched him close the door without getting in. He turned towards me. “You’re one to talk.”

  “Is that a pun?”

  “No.”

  I put the nozzle back and closed the door on the Jeep’s fill spout. “Who are you? Do you regret what happened last night? Because you’re the one who initiated that.” I chewed on my cheek, wishing I could take back the words.

  “I don’t regret that.” He finally let some emotion show on his face. “How could I regret that, Parker?”

  I leaned against the Jeep, just a handful of feet from him. “Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

  “I just don’t feel great. My knuckles hurt and my head is pounding and you keep looking at me like a wounded animal.”

  I straightened my back. “No I don’t,” I insisted. “You’re just being exceptionally assholery today.”

  “Assholery? Is that a word?” A little bit of playful Everett was coming through his voice.

  “Yeah, it is. I can’t lie, remember? It’s against the rules.”

  Everett’s lips lifted a bit.

  “Let me drive,” I said, holding out my hands for the keys.

  Everett looked at me like I was insane. “Not going to happen.”

  “Come on,” I said, putting my hand closer to him. “Your knuckles are swollen. Let them rest. I can handle it.”

  Everett looked at me and then at my hand. A second later, he’d pulled me up against him. “I like my car.”

  “I’ll be careful,” I said, my voice soft. “Please.”

  Everett eyed me warily. “On one condition.”

  “Okay,” I immediately agreed.

  “Kiss me.” I leaned in to give him a kiss, but he put his hands on my shoulders, stopping me. “Wait. Kiss me like you mean it.”

  “Like I mean what?”

  “Like you mean it. I shouldn’t have to explain.” His voice was patient and he stared blandly at me, waiting to see what I would do.

  I placed a hand on his chest, feeling his heart beat through the shirt to my palm. I was struck how beautiful its rhythm was, and then instantly saddened to think of its beat stopping one day. Too much, Parker, I scolded myself. He’s dying. Don’t romanticize this.

  My hand on his chest moved up to his neck, wrapping around the back to the nape of his neck. I scratched just the tips of my nails into his scalp and then he hummed a sound of pleasure. I felt the vibrations in my fingers and was spurred on by them. With my other hand, I brought it up to cup his chin and brushed my thumb over his lower lip. His mouth opened slightly, releasing a breath, and I took the opportunity to steal the breath he was about to inhale by closing my lips on his.

  One of his hands went to my hip while the other dove into my hair. His lips opened and he took from me, kissing me deeply, passionately.

  I knew I wouldn’t forget this kiss. In the middle of a parking lot with dust swirling around us, his fingers dug into my hip bone while his other hand cupped the back of my head, holding me tightly, so tightly that I never wanted to let go. All other sound disappeared, and all I could feel and hear was Everett’s body against mine.

  Over and over, he pulled away from my lips only to return to them again, as if my lips were his lifeline, his oxygen.

  I pulled back and nearly stumbled away. Where had that come from? I held a hand to my lips and avoided looking at Everett. I couldn’t think. I closed my eyes and willed myself to turn off, to close off from Everett.

  I walked away, towards the restroom of the gas station. I nearly fell into the door, falling onto the cold, dirty concrete floor. I shut the door with both hands and shakily secured the lock. And then I walked to the sink below the mirror.

  My reflection revealed what I feared. The feelings Everett inspired in me were becoming something more.

  “Shit!” I yelled, alone in the bathroom. I slammed my hand onto the sink. I turned on the water and washed my arms up to my elbows before cupping it in my hands and splashing my face over and over.

  With my face dripping wet, I looked back at the mirror again. “What am I supposed to do?” I said aloud. I didn’t want this. Didn’t want these feelings. But I wasn’t ready to go home. If anything, I was only more determined to stay on this road trip with Everett. I wanted him to change his mind. Despite my personal feelings – that I wasn’t ready to explore – I wanted him to want to live as much as he wanted me to live.

  When I returned to the car, Everett was sitting in the passenger seat and had turned on the music. He’d grabbed a cold water bottle from the cooler and placed it on his knuckles.

  When I had climbed in and was settling into my seat, he looked at me funny for a second. “What happened to your face?”

  I flipped the visor down and slid open the mirror. Makeup was smeared around my eyes and down my cheeks. I looked like a total mess.

  Using my thumbs, I rubbed away the worst of it and then pulled up the bottom of my tank top to wipe the rest away. “It’s your fault,” I said, my head buried in the tank top.

  “Why is it my fault?”

  “I only wore this makeup for you.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “Because,” I said, pulling my face away from the tank top and checking my reflection for any missed spots. “You were so cold this morning. I wanted to get your attention.” It sounded pitiful to me and once again I regretted the words.

  “You’d have to be dead to not grab my attention, Parker. And you were barely living when you first grabbed it, so that’s saying something. So imagine how I feel now.”

  “How do you feel?”

  “I don’t know, Parker.” I looked up at those words. “I honestly don’t.”

  “Me neither,” I admitted.

  We were in the middle of a fifteen vehicle convoy on a rugged road, a guided tour through Picketwire Canyonlands. The road was rocky, steep, and at some parts a bit scary, but having the Jeep made it easier. We descended down into the canyon and soon the convoy stopped and the tour guides pointed out a set of petroglyphs. Everett stood beside me and pointed out a few drawings on the walls, from many years before.

  There was something moving, seeing drawings in rock that were hundreds, possibly thousands of years old. Standing in the same spot as someone else once did, leaving their mark on the world. I turned to look at Everett and saw him studying me, studying the images.

  “Now, you can find petroglyphs in many national parks around the country. Take the Grand Canyon for instance, has anyone been there?”

  Everett spoke up. “We were there a couple days ago.”

  The tour guide nodded animatedly. “Did you explore it?”

  Everett looked at me. “No. Parker,” he aimed a thumb at me, “called it just a big hole in the ground, so we didn’t stick around.”

  My eyes flew to Everett. He was grinning at me. I glanced around the group and saw everyone looking at me with shock.

  “You’re an asshole, Everett,” I said through gritted teeth, keeping my back at group and narrowing my eyes at Everett.

  Everett slung an arm over my shoulder and pulled me close. “Do you love me yet?” he whispered.

  I shoved him away. “Definitely not.”

  After the awkward silence from the tour guides and other members of the tour group, we continued on the road to a rock formed in an arch. Everett grabbed something from the backseat and then followed behind me while everyone climbed up to the arch to check it out.

  “Wait a second, Parker.” Everett put a hand on my shoulder. “Turn around.”

  I turned around while everyone took photos up on the arch. He stood behind me. “That’s the Purgatoire River.”

  I scrunched up my brow. “Picketwire. Purgatoire.”

  “Yes. Spanish explorers called it their translation of “The River of Lost Souls in Purgatory” after having a tough go of it. French trappers later called it the Purgatoire River. The pronunciation was bast
ardized when American Explorers came through, and so this canyon was called Picketwire.” He leaned down, putting his mouth over my shoulder, next to my ear. “Everyone comes here to see the arch, but I think the arch is fortunate one, to have this view, a view that was named for purgatory.”

  His voice tickled my ear but I tried to focus on the view of the canyon and the river that cut into it. “But isn’t purgatory a place of suffering, a place you have to atone for your sins before being admitted to Heaven?”

  Everett’s arms wrapped around my waist from behind and he pulled me closer to him. “How very Parker of you to think of purgatory so negatively.” I felt his lips at my temple as he said his next words. “I prefer to think of it as a place to cleanse, to purify your soul before heaven.” He left a brief kiss on my temple. “And is there a better place to see while you’re waiting for your forever in the afterlife?”

  I closed my eyes, let the heat of his arms around me and the sun beating down on us wash me with comfort.

  “Come,” he said, grabbing my hand and pulling me up the small hill to the arch after everyone else had started walking away. He handed the thing he’d grabbed from the car to someone walking by. “Would you mind taking a photo of us at the arch?” he asked politely. Why he never spoke to me so kindly, I didn’t know.

  Everett pulled me up to the arch and sat right beneath it, pulling me next to him, our legs dangling over the little cave that was carved out directly underneath us.

  “Look, Parker.” He pointed at the view we’d been looking at before. “Look at this view as this man takes this photo of us.” He turned to me, putting an arm around me and pulling me closer. I felt his lips at my ear. “Everyone who sees this photo will see us under the arch. But when you see this photo, you’ll see the canyon and the water and all the beauty in front of us.” I was vaguely aware of the man setting the camera down on a rock after taking our photo. “Remember that, Parker. When you look at this photo, remember looking at purgatory with me. While everyone else was looking at the arch, we were looking at that.”

  My heart was in my throat, blocking words from coming. I turned to look at him. His blue eyes were brighter than usual. They searched my face for a second before his lips moved to meet mine. He held my face tightly in his hands, keeping me still. The entire world dropped away when he kissed me. I wanted nothing more than to exist forever in this purgatory with Everett, with his hands on my skin and his lips pressed against mine and the warmth of his skin on my fingertips. He’d made me feel. With only words and the touch of his skin, he’d made me feel.

  When Everett pulled away, he was staring at me, unblinking. He swallowed hard and let out a breath. “Let’s catch up to the group,” he said before jumping down from the arch. He put his hands up, indicating for me to jump into his arms. So I did.

  Further down the road all the cars pulled off and people exited their vehicles, grabbing food and water and removing their shoes or putting on water shoes.

  “What are we doing?” I asked Everett as he tossed some things from the cooler into a backpack.

  “We’re crossing the river to eat lunch.”

  “Why?”

  “Because,” he said, throwing the backpack on his shoulder. “The longest set of dinosaur tracks in North America lie on the other side of that river.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Dead serious.” His lips twitched.

  “Hey! No dead talk. Against the rules.”

  “It’s an expression, Parker. Chill out. Oh wait, you’re already ten below zero.” He winked at me before closing the door. I knew he was teasing me, and I wasn’t angry. Instead, my own lips twitched.

  Everett looked at me with a bit of shock. “Don’t tell me you’re on the verge of smiling.”

  I shook my head, willing my lips to relax. “No. You’re still rude.”

  “Like I said, I never claimed to be anything else.” He winked at me and then reached a hand out for me. “The water is relatively low, but I want you to hold on to me while we cross it.” His mood had taken such a drastic turn from earlier that I couldn’t help but feel a little whiplash.

  “Why were you so cold this morning, Everett?”

  “I’m not allowed to talk about it, against the rules.” He pulled me close as we took the first steps into the water.

  “Okay, forget the rules for a minute. Or, abide by your own – no lying. Tell me.”

  He sighed. “Do you want to know how I first knew the cancer had returned?”

  “Sure,” I said, eager for any information.

  “I drove a student home from school. They didn’t wear their seatbelt as I pulled out of the parking lot. And it was on the tip of my tongue to say something biting, to yell. Remember how angry I became when you removed your seatbelt?”

  I nodded, grabbing on to his forearm when my bare foot slipped on one of the rocks. He wrapped an arm tighter around my waist. “The cancer, it makes me angry. It messes with my head. I get nightmares, headaches, and it changes how I feel about things. Or, rather, it exacerbates it. It’s why I don’t mind being an alcoholic.”

  I watched the others reach the other side of the river and wait for us. “But you haven’t had alcohol on this trip.” I almost regretted asking him to stop drinking as part of our rules. It was a weird feeling. You’d think helping an alcoholic refrain would be an obvious thing to do. But instead, it seemed like I’d only increased Everett’s torment.

  “I would be lying if I told you I didn’t miss it. Especially when I woke up with that nightmare. But I don’t mind being sober, not with you. You’re not a work colleague or a concerned friend.”

  We reached the shore and Everett loosened his arm from around my waist, grabbing my hand instead. “I am concerned,” I disagreed.

  “But I don’t have to put up a front with you. We both see each other for who we are. And you haven’t run.”

  “Yet.”

  He smiled. “Right. But you’re barefoot and clumsy, so if you try to run from me now, you’re likely to fall on your face in the river.”

  I shook my head. “There you go, proving you can’t say nice things to me like the rules stipulate.”

  “I thought I was supposed to forget the rules.”

  “Just for that question!” I was amazed at how quickly he could frustrate me. He knew he was being ornery. And he knew how rile me up.

  “What about the friend who set you up with Sarah?” It was one of the questions I couldn’t get out of my head.

  Everett looked at me for a minute. “Oh. Jacob.” He set the backpack down and crouched down, helping me put my shoes back on.

  “Yeah. You thought you texted a Sarah and instead-”

  “I got a Parker,” he interrupted, tying my shoelaces. He stood back up. “Who did you think Sarah was?”

  I shrugged. “A date?”

  Everett smiled. “Sarah wasn’t a date. Jacob was a concerned friend.”

  “Who was Sarah then?”

  “A therapist. Jacob was concerned about my drinking. He arranged for me to meet his friend Sarah, who happens to be a therapist.”

  I thought about that for a minute. “And you thought that meeting her at a bar was a good idea?” Everett never failed to surprise me.

  He laughed. “I thought it was an appropriate venue.”

  My lips lifted again. Everett put his hands on my face, his thumbs at the sides of my lips and then pulled. “So that’s what you’d look like with a smile.” He tilted his head, his thumbs still stretching my lips. “Looks weird.” He dropped his hands.

  “You’re rude,” I said, not really feeling the annoyance that usually accompanied that statement.

  “Come, let’s go look at these footprints so we can eat.” He grabbed my hand again and tugged me along to the footprints. “I’m glad I texted the wrong number,” he said quietly, when I was close enough to hear.

  I swallowed. “Me too.” He squeezed my hand once and tugged me to the end of the tracks, away from every
one else. The tour guide was explaining the species of dinosaurs that left the tracks, and how the tracks explained a lot about dinosaurs and their movements. But Everett was still leading me away, to the other side of the tracks. We were outsiders, Everett and I. We didn’t travel in a pack, like the rest of the group. We were solitary creatures. Much like the dinosaurs that had once walked in this area, leaving their impressions in the earth long after their extinction.

  Everett sat by one of the footprints and gestured for me to sit next to him. I did and he turned to face me. “Pretty unreal, right?”

  I nodded, putting my hands on the ridges that formed the print.

  “Apatosaurus,” he said. “I grew up calling them Brontosaurus.”

  “Oh,” I said.

  He leaned back on his hands. “It’s been millions of years since they roamed the earth. These prints have existed for millions of years.” I saw him turn to look at me. “That’s one hell of a legacy to leave.”

  I stewed on that for a minute, thinking about Everett’s meaning. “Do you want to leave a legacy?”

  “Who wouldn’t?” he answered. I didn’t think I would. I didn’t think I cared. “But mine doesn’t have to be a literal footprint. I’d like to leave something, somewhere. A small reminder to the world that Everett lived.” He scooted closer to me and put his arm around my shoulders, pulling me close to him. “I don’t want to merely exist, Parker. I want to live. I want to leave the world with that one sweet moment. I want to take. I want to dominate a memory. So when I’m gone, a part of me is left to live somewhere else.”

  My nose twitched. My eyes burned. I blinked quickly, clearing them.

  He stood up, grabbed my hand. “Here,” he said, leading me to a different set of prints. “These belong to the Allosaurus. A predator. It was the top of the food chain during its time. And now it’s gone. But it lived here once, and thousands of people know, thousands of people travel here just to see its steps on this ground.” He tugged my hand as we followed the steps. “I don’t need a thousand people to know I existed. I just want someone to know I lived.”

  I felt a tickle right between my eyes. I cleared my throat. “People will.”