Ten Below Zero

by Whitney Barbetti

  “That feels good,” I felt the words vibrate from my throat.

  “Does it hurt?” he asked.

  “Only a little, but it also feels good.”

  “There’s pleasure in a little pain then.”

  I opened my eyes and straightened my head. “I guess so.”

  “There is, Parker.” He wrapped his arms around my front and rubbed the body wash over me again. “You just have to be brave enough to endure it.”

  After Everett fell asleep, I was left wide awake. Thoughts from our day wouldn’t leave my brain. Our moment at the Purgatoire River, and then again when I fell in it. And what Everett had said while admiring the dinosaur tracks, about leaving his mark on the earth somewhere.

  Quickly, I pulled out my laptop and made a few calls, making an appointment for the following morning. Everett breathed heavily next to me the entire time, not stirring once, so I was able to make our plans without interruption.

  After the excitement, I put my laptop away and crawled back into bed beside Everett. I watched him breathing deeply before I laid my head on his bicep. Like he had the first time I did it, he pulled his arm towards his body, pulling me in with him.

  I let Everett sleep in the following morning. Though he was normally awake before I was, I knew he’d been exhausted the day before so I packed our things as quietly as possible, to keep him in his deep, peaceful sleep.

  I brought food up from the continental breakfast in the lobby, and brewed a pot of coffee in the tiny hotel coffee maker.

  It was the coffee that finally roused him. I watched him from the chair opposite the bed, watched his arms stretch above his head as he looked around. When his eyes found me, he settled back in the pillow, seemingly relieved. I got up from the chair and poured the milk I’d grabbed from the breakfast buffet in the cup before climbing on to the bed. “Here,” I said, handing him the mug.

  Everett sat up and took the mug from me, drinking. “Thank you,” he said, his eyes never leaving mine.

  “How do you feel?”

  Everett set the coffee down. “I’m fine, Parker. Okay?” There was mild annoyance in his tone. I knew why. So I didn’t push him.

  “Okay. I have plans for us before we see your family.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I want to get a tattoo today.”

  Everett shook his head. “Are you serious?”

  “Dead serious.”

  He laughed at my word choice. “If you’re getting a tattoo, I’m getting a tattoo.”

  It was what I’d hoped he’d say. “So we’ll both get tattoos,” I said, biting my lip.

  “Yeah.” He said up straighter in the bed. “And you’ll be the last one to see mine.”

  I pushed him. Not hard, but enough for him to spill coffee all over the bed and himself. He looked down at the coffee-soaked sheets and then looked back at me.

  Before I knew what was happening, he grabbed me and pulled me on top of him, smearing my clothes with his coffee mess.

  “Kiss me, Parker.” I pecked him on the lips. “You can do better than that.” I pushed my lips to his again, trying wriggle out of his arms. “Kiss me with feeling,” his said, bringing a hand up to my cheek, cradling my face in his hand.

  “But I don’t know what I’m feeling,” I breathed.

  “You don’t have to. Whatever it is, let it come from your lips to mine.”

  My heart pounded painfully in my chest. But I did as he asked. I let my lips hover over his for a moment before changing course and kissing up the side of his face. I kissed his ear first, letting out a breath after that kiss and then moved up his temple. My hands pushed the hair away from his forehead and I hesitated for only a beat before my lips pressed to the small dent in his forehead. And then I kissed along his scar. I felt his breath shudder against my throat. I kissed down the center of his forehead, slowly, until I reached his eyes. They were closed, so I kissed each eyelid gently before moving down his face, placing a kiss on his cheek, the tip of his nose, his chin and then down his chest.

  I tasted coffee on his chest, but I didn’t stop kissing the trail across his body. My lips pressed to the skin that concealed his heart, and I felt thankfulness at its steady beat to my lips. I kissed the tattoo that had words and then down the trunk of the tree. I kissed across his abdomen and then over the sparrows on the other side.

  When I reached his bicep, my breath was coming in shattered. Partly because of the desire I felt whenever I was in his presence, but overwhelmingly because of the feeling of kissing all the broken and the perfect parts of Everett, with all the feeling that I held for him.

  I kissed each one of the lines on his bicep before resting my forehead on his shoulder, overcome with whatever this feeling was that I had for him.

  His hands were cupping my jaw and pulling me up. His clear blue eyes stared into mine for a minute, and then he pulled me down and kissed me, gently, softly. Each of his kisses so far had been different and this was no exception. It was a healing kiss. Healing the parts of me that hurt with how he made me feel.

  I pulled away and let my head rest on his chest, mind-numbingly terrified of the kiss I’d just given to Everett. Terrified of what it meant, what he saw in that kiss. I felt his hand come down to my hair and he brushed it with his fingers.

  We laid on the bed, my head on his coffee-covered chest and his fingers in my hair as I tried to wrap my head around what was happening with Everett.

  “When did you make the appointments?” he asked, pulling into the tattoo shop just outside of Austin, where his family lived.

  “While you were asleep, last night.”

  Everett looked happily surprised. And it planted a little seed of happiness in my chest, to know I’d put that on his face. Happiness was truly a weird emotion. It filled your chest with little flutters. It made me nauseated, but I chose to let it come. It wasn’t painful like the other feelings.

  Everett climbed out and walked around to grab my hand. “What are you getting tattooed?”

  “It’s a secret.”

  “Well then mine will be a secret too.” He squeezed my hand not once, not twice, but three times. So I squeezed back three times.

  Everett looked down at me and squeezed my hand three times again. Whatever it was, it was intentional. He furrowed his brow for a minute before clearing his features. “You ready?”

  “Yes.”

  When my tattoo was finished, I walked outside and looked for Everett. When I didn’t see him, I sat on the curb and waited. I decided to text Mira.

  Me: How did everything go?

  I tapped my feet on the asphalt as I waited for her reply.

  Mira: Fine. We had to let him go. But I think he’s convinced that Andra was never at the ranch.

  Me: Andra? Why did he call me Cora?

  Mira: He’s confused.

  Me: I feel like you’re not telling me something.

  Mira: Because I’m not. You don’t need to know. Drop it.

  I stewed on that for a minute, annoyed that she wasn’t telling me. But I knew that nothing I could say to Mira would change her mind.

  The door to the tattoo shop opened and Everett stepped out. He’d decided to wear long sleeves and shorts, so I knew that I wouldn’t be able to see where he’d gotten his tattoo. Luckily, mine was hidden as well.

  He reached a hand down to me on the curb and pulled me to standing. “What’d you get?” he asked.

  “What did you get?”

  “Ah,” he said, understanding coming into his eyes. “You’re not going to tell me, until I tell you.”

  I nodded.

  “You’re going to have to wait then, because I plan on keeping this on lockdown until you get me naked again.”

  I chewed on my lip. “Same goes,” I replied.

  Everett grinned. “I can’t wait.” He winked and pulled me towards the car. I was struck by how our relationship was developing. Despite the emotional feelings I was collecting for Everett, he still had to pull me, pull
them from me. And for some reason, I wanted to be the one pulling him.

  “Are we off to meet your parents?”

  He nodded. “We’re going to go to a late lunch with my sister and nephew first.”

  I continued chewing on my lip. Everett opened the passenger door to the Jeep for me. “You okay?” he asked, stalling on helping me in.

  “Yeah,” I said nonchalantly.

  “No lying.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “I wish I had added ‘no eye rolling’ to the rules right now,” he laughed. “Come on, what’s on your mind my precious Parker?”

  I raised an eyebrow at that. “Precious Parker? Really? That makes me sound like your pet.”

  He put an arm around my shoulders and brushed his hand down my hair. “My precious.”

  I pushed away from him. “That’s so creepy.” But part of me wanted to smile. A big part. I moved from chewing on my lip to chewing on the inside of my lip.

  “Don’t smile, Parker,” Everett said, leaning in to me. “It would look weird on your face.”

  I resisted the urge to roll my eyes again. “Why are you being so playful this morning? Where’s my dark, broody Everett?”

  He cocked his head to the side. “When did I become yours?” he asked.

  I stopped breathing for a second, not realizing until that moment that I’d referred to the Everett I was accustomed to as ‘my Everett’.

  “Relax, Parker. Breathe. I was just teasing you. Dark and broody Everett is on a high from getting new ink. Don’t worry; I’m sure he’ll return when we meet my parents for dinner tonight.”

  Whatever smile had been teasing my lips left quickly.

  “Come on,” he said, gesturing for me to climb into the Jeep. “We have pizza calling our name.” He patted my butt as I climbed into the car so I gave him a sharp look over my shoulder.

  He just laughed and climbed into the driver’s seat.

  Everett’s sister was pretty. Not the kind of pretty that you’d see on a beauty queen, dolled up with makeup and spray tan. She was tan like her brother, natural, or boosted by the sun. Her black hair was styled simply, long and straight. She had the same eyes as Everett, that unnerving ice blue. But her face looked softer than Everett’s even though she was a few years older.

  “Bridget,” she said, her face split open with her bright white smile. She was the kind of person that was so pretty, she was intimidating until she smiled. Her smile was warm, friendly. And there was hope in her eyes. I instantly looked away, uncomfortable by that. I didn’t want to responsible for whatever hope she saw in my presence.

  “Parker,” I said, shaking her offered hand and looking at Everett.

  “Sit,” she gestured to the opposite side of the booth. I climbed in and Everett slid in next to me. Almost immediately, he grabbed my hand under the table and squeezed. It was reassuring, so I relaxed a little bit.

  “So,” Bridget said, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Everett says you’ve been on a road trip for the last several days?”

  “Yeah,” I answered and looked to Everett. “Almost a week?”

  Everett shrugged. “Almost.”

  “And he’s taken you to some of his favorite places?”

  I drew my eyebrows together. “Well, he said he hadn’t been to the Grand Canyon before.”

  “He hasn’t.” She took a sip of her soda. “But he said he took you to the Four Corners?”

  I looked at Everett. “You’d already been there before?” Something about that bothered me.

  Bridget interrupted, “Only with family. And he took you to see the dinosaur tracks?”

  I looked away from Everett to the table. Part of me was angry. Part of me felt betrayed. I had no right to feel either, but I did. “Yes, we saw the dinosaur tracks and the river.”

  Everett squeezed my hand under the table but I needed distance. Not much distance could be achieved when we were so close to one another, but I still wriggled my fingers free from his.

  “I didn’t know he’d seen those places before,” I said, still staring down at the table. There was silence between Everett and Bridget and I felt even more uncomfortable. So I shrugged and blurted, “Not that it’s a big deal or anything.” I didn’t dare look at Everett. Something had shifted between us with Bridget’s admission about Everett having been to those places before. And I didn’t want to think about it.

  When the waiter brought our drinks and took our orders, nothing else had been said. It was the most uncomfortably awkward silence. And then a boy, about eight or nine years old, bounded up to the table. “Mom, do you have more quarters I can have?”

  “Hey bud,” I heard Everett’s voice, but my attention was on the boy.

  “Uncle Everett!” he exclaimed, wrapping his arms around Everett’s neck. I couldn’t avoid looking at Everett. His eyes were closed and his arms wrapped around the boy, the boy who looked so much like him that it was uncanny. My chest felt tight with emotion as I watched their reunion.

  Everett pulled a handful of quarters from his pocket and poured them in the hand of the little boy. That was when the little boy noticed me, staring at me with his guileless blue eyes. “Hi,” he said, cocking his head to the side, the way Everett did when he was studying me. I ached then.

  “Hi,” I croaked. I swallowed. “I’m Parker. What’s your name?”

  “Clark,” he answered. “How’d you get your scar?”

  I heard Bridget suck in a breath. This was why I liked kids, they said things that made other people uncomfortable. Adults made me uncomfortable, but not kids.

  So I said what I told all the little kids who ever asked. “Shark attack.”

  There was silence from Everett and Bridget, but Clark’s entire face lit up. “Cool!” he exclaimed. He turned to Bridget. “Mom, isn’t that cool?”

  Bridget nodded slowly. “Sure is. Why don’t you go play some more in the arcade and check back here in a few minutes?”

  Clark didn’t need to be told twice. He was gone from the table, leaving us adults in our awkward silence.

  “Thanks,” Bridget finally said. I looked up at her. “You’re going to be his hero now.”

  “It’s a nicer story than being attacked with a knife,” I said, sipping my drink. I watched Bridget exchange glances with Everett. This was becoming unbearable.

  Bridget sighed. “Everett, can you go check on Clark?”

  Everett climbed out the booth. I could feel him looking at me, but I aggressively avoided looking at him. I knew Bridget had asked him to leave for a reason. After he left, I looked at her. As someone who enjoyed studying people, I was able to pick up on a lot of body language cues. And Bridget’s body language was telling me to be prepared. I sat up straight.

  “Everett’s told you about his cancer.” It wasn’t a question.

  I nodded. “And his decision going forward from his diagnosis.”

  Bridget nodded. “What do you think about it?”

  This was going to be a heavy conversation. “When he first told me, I didn’t understand.” I took a sip from my straw, formulating my response. “And then he told me,” I started. Ugh. This was going to be even more uncomfortable. “He told me about when he had this cancer as a teenager. And how he felt like his family fell apart because of it.”

  Bridget pursed her lips, nodding slowly, absorbing all that I was saying. “Well, our family did fall apart. But Everett likes to blame it on himself. He’s got a touch of dark on his soul, just a touch, but you’d think his soul was black with how he won’t forgive himself for something he had no control over in the first place.”

  “Everett likes control.”

  “He does,” Bridget agreed. "That’s why he’s choosing this. Choosing not to have the surgery, choosing not to fight. He wants the choice. But it’s the wrong one.”

  Whoa. I didn’t know how to respond to that.

  Bridget signed and sat back in the booth. “How much has Everett told you about his tumor? The one he has right n
ow?”

  “Not much. Just that it’s decently sized and in his forehead, where I’m assuming his last one was, based on the scar.”

  “Everett hasn’t had the tumor evaluated. Not extensively. His doctors are here in Texas, the doctors that treated his cancer the first time. He saw an oncologist in California a month ago. Had a CT scan. The doctor recommended a biopsy, but Everett said no. He said he was done. But,” Bridget put her hand on the table, “he doesn’t even know what kind of tumor it is. He has no clue! It could be something so treatable, and he’s choosing not to do anything about it.”

  This was all new information. I had assumed Everett had checked it out thoroughly before deciding not to deal with it. “Then why was he so quick to decide not to operate?”

  “You didn’t see him go through cancer when he was a teenager. It was, well, devastating. He lost so much weight. He lost a lot of himself. He lost friends and his family fell apart. Physically, the cancer weakened him. Emotionally, in his mind, the cancer destroyed his life itself. And treating his cancer took away his memory.” I watched her fingers trace the wood grain on the table top. “Everett had an exceptional memory growing up. He remembered people he’d met only briefly, years later. He always did well in school. After the surgery, he had trouble with his short term memory. He forgot everything that had happened in the months prior to the surgery.”

  I nodded, letting this all sink in.

  “Everett,” she continued, looking to the arcade that was adjacent to the restaurant. “Everett is a good man. A very good man, Parker. He’s kind, he’s giving, and he’s selfless. But he doesn’t see those things in himself. He sees a man who tore apart a family. I wouldn’t say he is depressed, but like all of us, he does have his demons. But his demons are robbing him of a future that may very well exist.”

  This conversation was causing me pain. I felt betrayed by Everett. For not telling me about having visited all those locations we visited. For not telling me his real, more meaningful reasons, for not having the surgery. But again, I didn’t feel like I had the right to be upset, to feel betrayed. I sat back in the seat.