Edge of Something More

by Andi Loveall

  “Are you talking about Ahmed? Because he’s from Palestine.” Devin grimaced. “Americans. Sometimes we do it right to ourselves, don’t we?”

  Leon leaned forward, his eyes like metal drills, indicating that it was time to shut up. People always told him that he took after his father, but it was only the surface things: their strong noses, their smiles, and the good genetics that had always given Leon nice forearms and a sturdy chest without having to try. Leon was like a bizarre mirror that showed Devin a disturbing future—one he was going to do everything he could to prevent.

  ***

  Waking up in his apartment on his last morning, he noticed the way the sun slipped in through the bathroom window while he was taking a shower and the ease of sinking into his favorite spot on the couch. Familiarity had turned his world invisible. Leaving made it real again. Leaving made him real.

  Aaron drove him to the airport in Sacramento, lovingly shoving him around before sending him on his way. At that point, he ceased to exist, lost in the void of having left one world and not yet arrived in another. There was nothing within this void but possibility.

  For the first time ever, he was on his own.

  Chapter Two—Arriving

  During his stopover at Dallas-Fort Worth, he wandered through the gift shops, looking over the walls of glossy magazines and Texas souvenirs. In the third store he went in, he noticed a cute girl behind the counter. She asked if she could help him, and he paused, looking from her frosted-pink lips down to her nametag. Nikki. Yes, Nikki and her lips could help him. They probably weren’t going to, but they could. Time to practice his flirting skills.

  “Actually,” he said. “I need a disguise. Tell me if this works. Give me a good look over … and now …”

  He plucked a pair of sunglasses from a nearby rack, leaning back and making a menacing face.

  “What do you think? Do you recognize me?”

  She gave him an awkward laugh. “Who you hiding from?”

  “I don’t hide. People hide from me.”

  It came off more psycho killer than action hero, but she was kind enough to give him another laugh. He could be a psycho killer, for all she knew. He could be a spy, or a best-selling novelist, or an international drug dealer with a penthouse in Milan. It was the most freeing thing he had ever experienced.

  He dozed off a few minutes into the second flight, waking up to the ding of the intercom. The pilot’s scratchy voice announced that Charlotte, North Carolina was partly cloudy with a temperature of sixty-eight degrees. They were right on schedule.

  The sweat started to bead on his skin. It was time to emerge from the void.

  Walter seemed like a nice enough guy over the Internet, but Devin had seen too many scary movies to not acknowledge the possibility that he would turn out to be a skull-collecting lunatic with a sneer packed in chewing tobacco. The thought made him snicker, but he readied himself anyway.

  He stood out front in the pick-up zone, not seeing anyone who appeared to be looking for him. He cursed himself for having canceled his cell phone. Maybe they would never find each other, and Devin would have to accept a new life as a Southern drifter.

  Just as he was starting to get excited about the idea, a lone man ambled out of the terminal. He paused a few feet away, eyes scanning the opposite direction.

  “Walter?” Devin called.

  The guy spun around, his mouth stretching out into a wide, flat grin.

  “Aye, that’s me.” He took a large, comical step over and jutted out his hand. “Devin, how are you?”

  “Good, good. I wasn’t sure where to go.”

  “Sorry about that. I took a piss,” Walter said, pulling the backpack off Devin’s shoulders. “Here, let me help.”

  “That’s all right, you don’t have to … Or, okay … thanks.”

  He had some sort of accent—Irish maybe. He was big and tough in stature, the sort of guy who would make a good bouncer or security guard. His worn blue t-shirt read 68 on the front and You Owe Me One across the upper back.

  Devin breathed a sigh of relief. He liked him already.

  “You nervous?” Walter looked both ways before heading into the crosswalk.

  “Should I be?”

  “New arrivals always have that same mug about them—like they’re wondering what they’ve gone and gotten into.”

  They arrived at a sporty white coupe.

  “This is Cora’s car,” Walter said, opening up the door and putting the bag in the back. “It’s good on gas, but it’s really not meant for a tall fellow like myself.”

  “Cora’s your wife?”

  “My niece or something akin to it. Goddaughter, technically. Although I suppose now that she’s grown, she won’t be needing me for those purposes.”

  The interior was clean and comfortable. A little shimmering disco ball hung from the rear view mirror. The ceiling was covered with a handful of little buttons that said things like Think Globally, Act Locally, and Respect All Life.

  “It’s a bit of a drive,” Walter said as he headed for the exit. “We might as well get comfortable. What sort of music do you prefer?”

  “Oh. Um … anything.”

  “Cora seems to like this one …” He fiddled with the buttons until a rock song Devin liked came pouring out of the speakers. It was a ballad—hopeful, “life is sad but beautiful,” sort of music.

  He pointed out the window as they drove. “See that? If you go truckin’ along that way it’ll take ya straight into downtown Charlotte.”

  Devin looked at the skyline in the distance, watching until the tall buildings vanished from view. He focused on his reflection in the glass as the sun emerged from behind the clouds. The light caught his eyes, filling them with fire.

  “You know, son,” Walter said. “We’ve all been excited for your arrival.”

  “Really?” Devin said. “Why?”

  “My wife has a feeling about you.”

  “What sort?”

  “Hard to put into words, I suppose,” Walter said. “First, tell me what are you more passionate about, making food or growing food?”

  “I’ve never really tried either. I mean, I can heat up waffles and stuff.”

  “I’m about on that level,” Walter said, rolling down the window. “You warm?”

  “I’m all right.”

  “Well, feel free to open that,” Walter said, stretching his arm outside. “And back to the point. Growing things is my area of expertise. My wife runs the kitchen. If you work with her, you’ll help prepare all of our meals. We eat together as a family most days—I hope you’re not antisocial.”

  “Not at all.”

  “As I mentioned, all our food is vegetarian.”

  “I’m not picky. And I used to be a vegetarian.”

  “It didn’t take?”

  “Not for long. But I was eating things like vegetable-flavored ramen noodles and potato chips, so I got pretty hungry after a while.”

  The moment his conviction crashed remained bold in memory. He stood in the kitchen for a good fifteen minutes debating before finally grabbing a chunk of Leon’s leftover roast beef and stuffing it in his mouth. He was ashamed, but at least it had earned him a split second’s worth of approval from Leon, who was glad to see him “getting over that vegetable nonsense and eating real food.”

  “Aye well, you’ll get no judgment from me,” Walter said. “I’d be lying through my teeth if I said I’d never eaten meat from time to time. We’ve had enough friends from enough different cultures and lifestyles over the years to know that there isn’t only one right way.”

  “I wouldn’t mind trying it again. My mom was a vegetarian.”

  “Do you like eggs?”

  “Yeah … Is that bad?”

  “Quite the contrary. It’s wonderful, wonderful. Our hens give us more than we can use since only a few of us eat them. My wife is vegan … Actually, she’s mostly a raw vegan. Ever tried raw food before?”

  “You mean like lettu
ce?”

  Walter chuckled. “That and a whole lot more. If you work with my wife, you’ll be making all sorts of dishes. She really is a master. She’s thinking about starting her own raw catering business soon. She even dabbles in herbal medicine. Does that sound like something you might be interested in?”

  “Yeah, it sounds cool.”

  “Well then, I think we’ve got ourselves a match.”

  Devin glanced at the stereo clock, which read 4:44. He was hit with a rush of déjà vu, and his flesh broke out in goose bumps. Walter’s words reverberated through his mind. We’ve got ourselves a match, we’ve got ourselves a match, we’ve got ourselves a match …

  He smiled and watched the scenery, appreciating the way the music complimented everything he looked at. A song came on that reminded him of Jess—but in a good way. A way that made him feel happy and triumphant about moving on.

  “So tell me lad.” Walter seemed to read his thoughts. “Do you have a lady friend back home? A real one?”

  “You mean the kind other people can see?”

  Walter hooted and slapped the steering wheel, laughing hard. “I like you, boy. You’re on the point.”

  Devin let out a chuckle. “No lady friends for me.”

  “Ah, yes then … Love can be a can of piss, son. But one thing’s for sure; there’s no broken heart like your own broken heart.”

  “It’s all a pain in the ass.”

  “No sore ass like your own sore ass.”

  Devin smiled. Walter was nothing like he had imagined.

  The further west they went, the greener and lusher everything became. After a couple of hours, they got off the freeway and headed into the hills. The road twisted and curved through the wildflowers and thick woods. Cows and horses wandered on the open slope. Houses sat high and low, visible through the trees but still somehow hidden from the world. There were dozens of churches, all nearly identical to the one before. Beyond everything, the mountains cascaded into the distance, a gradient of dusty blues.

  “North Carolina,” Devin said, gazing.

  “Some of the oldest rock on Earth,” Walter said, motioning out the window. “There’s what they call a vortex around this area. It supposedly attracts people with like minds.”

  Devin wasn’t sure what a vortex was, but he believed. Walter knew about stuff—real stuff—he could feel it.

  The car kicked into overdrive as the road hit a steeper grade. It curved around the mountain a few times before veering to the left and flattening out into a small valley. After a few minutes, Walter took a right onto a gravel road. Devin held on as they wobbled and bounced along.

  “This is the edge of our property here,” Walter said, pointing to an ancient-looking tree that leaned out over the road. “We call that The Guardian. It’s a Beech—we think over two-hundred years old. That there’s our neighbor, Tone.”

  A wood-paneled trailer sat to the left of the road, where an older black man was smoking a cigarette and watering his plants with a hose. He waved at them as they went by.

  Walter pointed ahead. “There’s us.”

  Devin spotted the house up the hill and then lost the view through the trees. The road was getting bumpier, and just when it seemed they would go crashing off into the woods; they turned up a driveway. There were vines and leafy plants all around, some even hanging down into the path of the car. They went under a large iron archway that announced a welcome to Hawk Beech Homestead in thick black lettering. To the right, a large, carved stone read: Then, Now and Always.

  “An artist who stayed here one summer made us that as a gift,” Walter said.

  They pulled up into a wide clearing where some other cars were scattered around. Walter pulled in and shut off the engine.

  The air was a symphony of scents and sounds: wildflowers, grass, a gentle breeze and birdsong, the vibration of a thousand different insects and some wind chimes, dancing in the distance. Dong … ding dong ding … That was what they sounded like.

  To the right of the parking area, the hill sloped down and met with the woods, and to the left, there was a little pasture where a brown goat gazed at them from the other side of a dilapidated wooden fence.

  “Hey, cool,” Devin said, forcing a grin. “You have a goat.”

  He would never admit it aloud, but goats had always kind of freaked him out. The big alien-looking eyes, the constant gnawing—it was disturbing. When he was a kid, his mother had told him that goats would eat anything. Even tin cans. He hadn’t slept that night.

  “He’s called Gym,” Walter said. “That’s Gym, the place you buff up, not Jim the accountant. And that there is Judy.” He motioned to the cow wandering on the opposite side of the enclosure. Some chickens clucked around nearby.

  The house was modern—not the typical farmhouse Devin had envisioned. It was all sloping angles and big windows, and the open front deck had an amazing view of the valley below.

  Walter led him into a dim living room. Soft piano music was playing and candles were flickering on the mantle.

  “Devin!”

  A woman with long, dark hair appeared from another room, drying her hands with a towel. She skipped over and threw her arms around him, forcing him into the world’s most inappropriate first hug. He froze with his chin squished against her boobs. Was this the niece or the wife? It had to be the niece, because—

  “Get off my wife, you,” Walter laughed, pulling her into his arms and kissing her. She kissed him back, carrying on with it for an uncomfortable amount of time.

  Devin peered past them into the kitchen, listening for any other signs of life.

  When they stopped, the wife turned back to him.

  “I’m Raven,” she said, clasping her hands over his. “And I’m so happy to meet you. Your vibration is even more incredible than I dreamed.”

  “My vib—” He paused, clearing his throat. “Really?”

  He eyed Walter, who nodded as if to assure him this was normal.

  She took him by the hand, leading him into the kitchen. The way she was dressed reminded him of a fortuneteller he and his mother once visited at the county fair—just the two of them as Leon didn’t approve of fortunetellers. Raven had similar flowing, colorful style, but she was younger and more beautiful. A lot more beautiful. Wow, go Walter.

  The makings of a dinner were spread over the countertops or sizzling in saucepans, filling the steamy air with a spicy sort of heat. Everywhere he looked, there were little vials and bottles and big glass jars. Satchels of crystals and drying herbs hung from the ceiling on strings above the table.

  Walter took him down the hall, giving him a quick look around the rest of the house. He had a cool study that looked like it belonged to an important professor, complete with a mahogany desk and antique globe. The entire back wall was a library, at least twelve feet tall and complete with a rolling ladder. On the opposing wall, a flat-screen television was mounted high.

  “Stereo,” he said, motioning to the expensive-looking headphones on the shelf. “I enjoy programming the wife finds too violent. Like the evening news.”

  “A man cave,” Devin said. “I dig it.”

  “If I’m in here, it means I don’t want to be bothered, but if you ever need me, just give three hard knocks. That’s what it takes to get my attention when I have my headphones on. So remember, three.”

  “Okay.”

  “Any questions so far?”

  Devin paused, wishing for a way to ask that Walter ensure his hot wife wouldn’t smash her braless boobs against his face again, just in the interest of keeping his own admiration for her appropriate.

  “No,” he said. “I think it’s all pretty clear.”

  “Come on,” Walter said. “I’ll show you where you’ll be staying.”

  The back door opened into a little garden with trellises and archways, wound with vines. A picnic table made of stone and thick wood was the centerpiece. It was surrounded by wooden torches.

  “That there is where we eat wh
en the weather is nice,” Walter said, pointing things out. “That’s where we grow a lot of the medicinal plants. Back around that way are the compost bins and the greenhouses. And this lil’ bugger is Mo.”

  Devin looked down at the thin white cat that was coiling itself around Walter’s ankles.

  “Cora found him a while back, skinny as a coat hanger, the poor bastard. She didn’t have the heart to leave him, so here he be.”

  Devin started to kneel down, but Mo scampered off, pausing in the shadow of the bushes to peer back at him, eyes like iridescent orbs.

  “Cats,” Walter scoffed. “Moodier than women I tell ya.”

  Beyond the picnic table, the path split in three directions; back toward the front of the house, straight ahead to the pasture, or right, up the mountain. They headed right, passing another fenced garden. The surrounding air was saturated with the scent of tomatoes.

  “This is where we grow most of our summer crops. The barrels collect rainwater so we can put it to good use.”

  Devin turned and saw a guy and girl coming down the trail toward them.

  Walter danced about, waving them over. “Hey there! It’s ’bout time you showed up to welcome the boy! Where’s Cora?”

  “Still in the orchard,” the girl said as she walked up, a cigarette burning between her lips. She was short and pretty, with dark tan skin and brown hair. Her friend was tall, also dark skinned, and had a head full of dreadlocks. He came at Devin first.

  “Hey,” he said, giving him a hug. “I’m Lucius.”

  “Devin. Hi.”

  “Finish this sentence.” He pulled back and looked him in the eye. “The tree went to the …”

  “Uh, what?”

  “Finish the sentence. First thing that comes to mind. Anything. The tree went to the …”

  “Uh … The tree went to the … big elevator in the sky?”

  The guy leaned back and touched his chin, turning to the girl. “That was deep, eh? I think I’m going to like this guy.”

  “What did you say your name was again?” Devin leaned forward. “Lucius?”