Beautiful Sacrifice

by Jamie McGuire

  My eyebrows shot up, unable to hide my surprise at his conclusion, and I offered a single nod. "Aliens it is."

  "You going to quit busting my balls?" he asked, crossing his arms.

  I crawled back over to the chair and sat down, hooking my legs over the arm. "Probably not, but it'll just be run-of-the-mill Falyn bitchery, and it won't be because I'm trying to get rid of you."

  Taylor sat on his knees in front of the television, pulled on the knob to turn it on, and then twisted the dial to channel three. "You forgot the movie."

  I went to the closet and pulled it from a stack before tossing it to him. He pulled the tape out of its cover and fed it into the VCR's front slot. Once the tape settled in, the movie began to play. For a few seconds, the picture along with the somber violins playing during the opening credits became fuzzy, and then it all cleared up just as Ripley's spaceship appeared in the distance, a tiny speck of white among the darkness.

  Taylor walked on his knees to the sofa before crawling up and stretching out.

  As I returned to my chair, a tiny part of me wanted to be polite and explain why I was being so hard on him, but I squashed it down to where I kept the old me. Explanations and apologies were a waste for someone like me. Facing forward and remembering to forget were the only things I had, and under no conditions would I ever allow myself to feel--for anyone--and risk any other similar feelings to come to the surface.

  Taylor reached down to the crotch of his shorts and adjusted, tugging at the navy fabric. Once he was satisfied with the location of his junk, he pulled down his T-shirt.

  I rolled my eyes. He didn't notice.

  One arm was propping his head as he sat with his eyes glued on the screen.

  Just as the rescue ship crashed and Ripley was apologizing to Newt, Taylor put our jeans in the dryer and started a new load in the washer. He returned to the couch, repeating Newt's line with a perfect young girl's British accent, "'They mewstly come at night ... mewstly.'"

  I chuckled, but he ignored me, not saying another word until the end credits.

  My eyes were heavy. I was feeling the effects of a long Saturday on my feet.

  "You're right," he said, standing up. "It's a classic."

  "It might take a while to get all those jeans dry," I said.

  Taylor opened the dryer door and checked. "Yep, still damp." He turned the knob to reset the time, and then he stretched out on the sofa again, his eyes blinking twice before they closed.

  "You can't sleep here," I said.

  "Okay. But can I accidentally fall asleep here?"

  "No."

  He shook his head, his eyes still closed. "I'm even doing your damn laundry. You could at least let me take a nap between loads."

  "I'm going to bed soon. You can't be here while I'm sleeping."

  "Why not?"

  "I'm still not convinced that you aren't a serial killer."

  "You think I just wanted to wait to murder you until after we enjoyed a movie together? I hate to break it to you, Ivy League, but I don't need to wait for you to fall asleep to overpower you. You might be scrappy, but I've got at least fifty pounds of muscle on you."

  "I'll give you that. You still can't stay here. Just because you don't want to sexually assault me doesn't mean you don't want to rob me."

  He shot me a dubious look. "Sorry, but I don't need your retro Zenith. I have a badass seventy-two-inch flat screen on my wall at home."

  "Where is home? In Estes Park?"

  "Yep. I've thought about moving here a few times, but all my buddies and my brother are living either there or in Fort Collins. But it seems like the Alpine group always ends up here."

  "One of your brothers lives in Estes?"

  "Yeah." His voice strained as he stretched. "We've always been kind of inseparable. I have two brothers back in Illinois and one in San Diego."

  I paused. "Do you ever go home?"

  "As much as I can. Between fire seasons."

  "So, after October?"

  "Yeah. Thanksgiving, Christmas, birthdays. My baby brother got married this past spring, kind of on the fly. They're planning a real ceremony on their anniversary, after the bachelor party and stuff. I'll be going back for that for sure."

  "Why?"

  "The second ceremony? I guess her best friend was kind of pissed that she wasn't invited to the first one."

  "So ... you went to the same college in the same town where you graduated high school?"

  "Yes, Falyn. What insult would you like to issue for that?"

  "None. It's cute. I imagine that it's a little like high school but with less rules."

  "Isn't that what college is anyway?"

  "Not really. But I went to Dartmouth."

  "Shut up."

  I nuzzled my cheek against the arm of the chair, utterly content with how mean we were being to each other. Taylor began tapping at his cell phone, and I relaxed, feeling like an invisible one-hundred-pound blanket was draped over me.

  I woke up to the morning sun pouring through my windows. My mouth tasted like a cat had pissed in it while I slept.

  "Hey," Taylor said, sitting in the center of the sofa, surrounded by piles of folded clothes. "Do you have to work today?"

  "Huh?" I said, sitting up.

  "Do you work on Sundays?"

  "Not this week. It's my day off," I said, groggy. When my brain began to work again, I blinked and then glared at the man folding my unmentionables. "Why are you still here?"

  "I did the rest of our laundry, and then I fell asleep. You woke me up a couple of times though. Do you have bad dreams like that a lot?"

  "Huh?"

  Taylor hesitated. "You had some pretty gnarly dreams. You were crying in your sleep."

  I hadn't had a nightmare in years, not like I had while I was at Dartmouth. My former roommate, Rochelle, would still talk about how I'd terrified her in the middle of the night.

  I looked at the delicate cotton in his hands. "Put down my panties. Right now."

  Taylor tossed them into the basket with the rest of my panties. Most of them were the discount-store printed variety. On certain pairs, the elastic hung loose in fuzzy strings from the waistline or leg holes.

  "This is the last load," he said, gesturing to the basket between his ankles. "Socks and panties."

  "Oh my God," I said, rubbing my face. "You're going to make me do the walk of shame in front of all my coworkers and customers."

  Taylor stood up. "Isn't there a back door?"

  "Chuck and the boys will still see you."

  "What time do they open on Sundays?"

  "Chuck and Phaedra are pretty much always at the cafe--from sunrise to sunset."

  "How do you have any privacy?"

  I blew my bangs from my face. "I didn't need any until now."

  "I'll fix it. I know what to do."

  Taylor gathered his laundry, fitting it all perfectly inside of the lone basket he'd brought, and waved at me to follow him downstairs. We stood at the bottom in full view of the retirees who always stopped at the Bucksaw on Sundays for coffee, all my coworkers, a few local families, and a table full of tourists.

  Kirby stopped in her tracks, and so did Hannah. Phaedra noticed them staring, so she whipped around, her mouth falling open. The loud rumble of converging conversations abruptly silenced.

  Taylor cleared his throat. "I didn't touch her. She's too fucking mean."

  He passed me, heading for the front door, and I watched him, trying to kill him with my expression alone.

  Kirby burst into laughter. She was still cackling as Taylor waved at her before walking out onto the front sidewalk. Phaedra tried not to smile, but her deep wrinkles betrayed her. Hannah seemed just as stunned as I was.

  "Good morning, sunshine. Coffee?" Phaedra said, handing me a steaming mug.

  "Thank you," I said through my teeth. Then I stomped back up the stairs.

  "Falyn?" Phaedra called after me.

  I stopped before turning down the hall and look
ed down at her.

  "He's ten steps ahead of you, kiddo."

  "I know," I grumbled, taking my coffee to the loft.

  I exploded through my door and kicked it shut before leaning against the side of the refrigerator. When I felt angry tears burning my eyes, I set the coffee on the kitchen counter and then rushed to my bedroom, reached for the shoebox, and pulled it onto the bed with me.

  The most recent letter was on top of the others, and beneath it was the stack of cash I'd saved so far for a plane ticket. I held the notebook paper to my chest and took a deep breath. The carefully scripted loops and lines informing me of everything I had missed was nearly four months old, and it would only grow older.

  I let the thin notebook paper fall to my lap.

  Of course it would be Taylor fucking Maddox. The last person on Earth who I want to need is my one quick ticket to Eakins. I pushed the thought from my head. I didn't want a plan or to even think about it.

  I just needed to get there. No expectations. No hopes. Just the opportunity to knock on their door. Even if they wouldn't forgive me, maybe I could finally forgive myself.

  I wiped my cheeks, smiling as the dad in Poltergeist pushed the television out of the hotel room and onto the balcony. The credits and eerie music began to play, and I scowled at the empty mug of coffee on the carpet next to me.

  My fridge contained only a moldy jar of cheese dip, ketchup, and two cans of Red Bull. Phaedra had given me a used coffee maker, but I didn't have any coffee or sugar ... or water if I couldn't afford the bill. I cringed, thinking about having to go downstairs to use the toilet. I would have to clean that restroom on occasion, and although I made a conscious effort not to be a snob about most things, public restrooms made my skin crawl.

  I stood up and made my way downstairs to the kitchen. The loud chatter of customers instantly infiltrated my head, especially the squeals and cries of children. They always seemed to hit an octave that stood out to me, grinding inside my brain like a metal fork on a plate.

  The water splashed onto my T-shirt as I rinsed the mug. Then I put it into one of three dishwashers.

  Hector smiled at me as he rounded the corner, wiping his hands on his apron. "Are you going to get outside and see the world today, Miss Falyn?" he asked.

  I sighed. "Are you ever going to stop calling me that?"

  Hector just smiled, carrying on with his duties.

  Phaedra's face appeared in the food window. "Hey, kiddo. What do you have planned today?"

  "Nothing." I took a bite of celery that had been left on the prep table.

  Pete slapped my hand as I grabbed for another, and I tried not to laugh.

  My grin fell away. "He said I had a nightmare," I said to Pete.

  He frowned.

  "It's been a long time ... since ..." I said, trailing off.

  Phaedra came over to stand next to me and gently pulled on one of my tawny waves, moving it away from my face. "You sure you don't have anything planned?" she asked.

  "Yes. Why?"

  She gestured behind her with a nod. "Because that boy's here, looking for you."

  I scrambled to the doors, pushing through to see Taylor standing on the sidewalk outside. He waved to me.

  "He likes you," Kirby gushed as I passed her.

  Taylor shoved his hands into his jeans pockets, his short sleeves showing off the lean muscles in his arms.

  "If you tell me you were in the neighborhood, I'm going to be disappointed," I said, crossing my arms.

  He chuckled and looked down. "No. I was bored and came straight over."

  "You have the day off, too?"

  "I do. Wanna do some stupid touristy shit with me? You listed all that stuff before."

  "Are you driving? I don't have a car."

  "My truck is over there," he said, turning slightly and gesturing toward a shiny black foreign job with mud tires. He turned back to me, dubious. "How do you get around?"

  "Where am I gonna go?" I asked.

  Taylor held out his hand, one side of his mouth pulling into a mischievous half smile. "With me."

  My first impulse was to say no. I had gotten used to being broody and spitting words that would make any man retreat, but I didn't have to do that with Taylor. My insults had no effect on him, and he'd just keep coming back until it was time for him to leave. If I managed to get him to take me to Eakins, I wouldn't even have to push him away after our return to Colorado Springs. His job and the distance would do it for me.

  He flashed his dimple, and saying yes to him was nearly compulsive.

  "Just don't do anything stupid, like open my car door."

  "Do I look like that kind of guy to you?"

  "No, but you don't look like the kind of guy who makes friends with girls either, and it feels like I've got the job."

  He pulled me along, looking both ways before crossing the street. "What can I say? You're the opposite of my better half."

  "So, I'm so horrible that I make you feel like a better person?" I asked, standing next to the passenger-side door.

  He pointed at me. "Exactly."

  He reached for the door handle, but I smacked his hand away.

  "Don't worry, Ivy League. I wouldn't open your door for you even if I liked you," he said. "You're driving. I don't know where to go, and I damn sure don't want you barking directions at me."

  "You want me to drive your truck?" I asked, feeling a bit nervous. I hadn't driven anything in years.

  The doors clicked, and Taylor handed me a set of keys--some shiny, some not so shiny. Walking around the front end and then climbing into the driver's seat, I tried not to show fear, but mostly, I didn't want to feel it. I closed the door and pulled on my seat belt, horrified that my hands were trembling.

  "Do you even have a license?" he asked.

  "Yes. I know how to drive. It's just ... been a while." I sniffed and felt even sicker. "You spent the morning cleaning your truck, didn't you?"

  "Smells like new, doesn't she?"

  "Isn't it new?"

  "She. She is not new, no. I bought her last year." He took the keys from my hand and chose the largest one to stab into the ignition.

  "Jesus," I whispered. "I really don't think I should drive ... her."

  "You'll be fine."

  Instantly, the radio blared screamy hard rock.

  He twisted the volume. "Sorry."

  "No country?" I asked, resting my hands on the wheel at ten and two.

  He laughed once. "Country's for dancing and crying. AC/DC is for cleaning your truck."

  I made a face. "But ... it's old."

  "The classics never get old. Let's go."

  I pulled down the gearshift and turned around, slowly backing out of the parking space. A car appeared and honked, and I slammed on the brakes.

  Taylor looked at me, his eyebrows shooting up almost to his hairline.

  "I desperately want to keep up my cast-iron bitch persona, but I don't think I can do this," I said.

  "How long did you say it's been?"

  "Five years."

  "Why?"

  "No car."

  "Ever? Or did you wreck yours?"

  I stared at him, unable to answer.

  He unfastened his seat belt. "You'd better just tell me where I'm going. I'll learn to live with directions from a girl. We can reintroduce you to the road another day."

  "Directions from a girl? Shall I assume you'd even ask for them? Or is that too far from the ancient stereotype?"

  He stared at me with dead eyes. "Ivy League, stop talking to me like you're writing a fucking paper."

  "Let's just do this," I said, climbing over the console.

  After jogging around to the driver's side, he climbed up and settled in. "I feel better about this," he said, nodding.

  I agreed, "Me, too."

  "Where are we going first?"

  "Um ... Garden of the Gods. Just over ten minutes away and free parking."

  "Not Pikes Peak? You haven't hiked it, have you?" H
is tone was accusatory. "I've heard the locals don't."

  "I have actually," I snapped. "A couple of times. But you can see Pikes from the Garden of the Gods. Trust me. It's really a special place."

  "Okay. Where am I going?"

  "Take Tejon south to Uintah. Go until you get to thirtieth, and then take West Colorado onto Ridge Road. Just follow the signs."

  "You got it," he said, backing out. He slammed on the brakes when another car laid on its horn. "See? It wasn't just you."

  I laughed and shook my head as he inched out onto Tejon Street.

  The familiar view outside my window hadn't changed much since I was a girl. Colorado was its own Eden, its residents holding tight to preserving the state's natural beauty. The Garden of the Gods was the earth turned on its edge. The views were particularly gasp-worthy. As a child, it had been my favorite local place to visit--not only to see it for myself, but also to watch as others experienced it for the first time.

  Taylor was no exception. As we parked, he couldn't stop staring. He said little as we hiked along the formations, breathing in the fresh air and open space. The sky was still a bit hazy from the outlying fires, but it didn't seem to faze him.

  An hour after we'd arrived, Taylor sat on a boulder to rest. "This is incredible. I'm pissed I've been here for as long as I have and haven't come here before. I've gotta show the guys."

  I smiled, satisfied with his reaction. "Everyone should see this place. I don't know. There's just something about it."

  "I walk a lot of miles when I'm on the job, and I'm fucking tired. What's up with that?"

  I looked up, squinting from the sun overhead. Beads of sweat had just begun to fall from the nape of my neck down to the top seam of my tank top. "I don't think you're tired. I think you're relaxed."

  "Maybe so. All I wanna do is take a nap."

  "That's because you were up all night, doing my laundry."

  "Not all night. I slept. You drool by the way."

  "Oh, that's why you didn't make the moves on me. I thought maybe I snored."

  "No. You might actually be the cutest sleeper ever."

  I made a face. "Like you've spent a whole night with someone before."

  He thought about it. "True."

  "So, tell me something I don't know about you," I said, trying not to sound too eager. This was the precarious part. It was the make-or-break moment where I would get information I needed without seeming like I was getting information.

  His brows pulled together. "Like what?"

  I crossed my arms and shrugged.

  He patted the empty space next to him. "My birthday is January first."