Douse (Book One: At the Edge of a Hurricane) (18 page)

“So,
you’re saying you love the country.”

I
laugh. “More or less. Just the clarity of mind. Being able to talk
without people busting in on our lives. Literally and figuratively. People,
people, people. They’re everywhere in the cities.”

“To
be fair, the country’s not much better. Small town gossip is infectious.
Nothing better than guys and girls jamming their noses into anything resembling
your business.”

“Maybe
we should make a place of our own then. Where nobody can intrude. Nobody but
us.”

“That’s
a nice pipe dream.”

“If
we think it’s just a dream then it has zero percent chance of
happening.” I tug on his nose. “Dream with me a little. There are
stars you can wish upon.”

Bishop’s
breath is a mighty thrum against the shrill winds. He speaks unintelligible
words. I put my ear close to listen.

“Did
you catch that?”

“No.”

“I
said I’ll dream with you. I’ll do anything with you.”

I
spin around. “Mind unclipping me?”

My
bra tumbles to the ground. I sway in place, wind caressing my breasts.

“We’ve
been talking so long.”

“You’re
tired?” he says.

“Nope.
I just didn’t take off my bra to
keep
talking.”

“Ah.
Smart girl knows what she wants.”

“You.”

I
lie backwards into Bishop, and he hoists me onto the creaky cot.

We’re
louder than even the wind all night.

Sunlight
sets the tent ablaze in a striking hue of muddy orange. The orange pools at the
tent’s seams, and the canvas bellows as breezes slam into the sides like
invisible tsunami waves. My skin sticks to Bishop’s as if we were
composed of tape and glue. We’re a mosaic completed only with the
fragments of one another.

“Amazon.”
Bishop gropes my belly. “Are you awake?”

“I’ve
been so.”

“Where’s
your camera?”

I
swing an arm down below, grasping at the floor. Eventually I happen upon a
lanyard connected to the camera. “Here. It’s here. Take it.
What’re you doing?”

“You
need to be in the album too.”

The
flash sparks an incredible shock of light comparable to the sun. Bishop takes a
couple more shots and adjusts the settings to sharpen the focus or blur the
image.

“You’re
muscular too. I love it.”

Bishop
shows off the photos intermittently. Cords of muscle jut out like prominent
rides on a crumpled paper bag. I am a lean Amazon.

“Most
girls do the entire ‘model’ thing on Facebook, those bathroom
mirror shots. But you could seriously make real cash modeling. You are
gorgeous.”

I
point to myself. “America’s worst liar?” I point to him.
“You’ve just taken the title from the Queen.”

“Not
true. I only tell truths.” 

“Okay.
Do I snore?”

Bishop
shrugs. “I’m a heavy sleeper.”

“So
that’s the truth?”

“I
still love you.” Bishop’s lips engulf mine in a rolling wave of
tight muscle. I clamp my lips around his cinch his Adonis belt.
“I’m glad you’re the way you are,” he says.
“Fully. One thing different mean’s a different girl. To think that
women don’t want to approach guys because of society. If you
weren’t you, we wouldn’t even know each other.”

“It
took a spark. It took you. My friend. It’s like—and I’m not
converting—but it’s like fate.”

“You’re
sounding spiritual there.”

“No,
seriously. It’s like fate drew us together. Everything working as one.
Maybe the stars. Maybe chance. Maybe it was God. I don’t know. But I do
know you now.” I push him against the cot, and it creaks as he bounces on
the blankets. “I know you now.”

“I
want to know more.”

“Totally.”

“Everything.”

“Tell
me something then.”

Bishop
sits upright. He dangles a leg off the cot like he did off the billiards table.
And it swings, the ball of his foot acting as a pendulum, counting down until
he spills whatever’s pent up inside him.

“I
have thought about just leaving everything,” he says. “Going
vagabond for a while. Bouncing from town to town. That’s why I kind of
envy you. You have that business thing going for you. You could move back and
forth wherever whenever. That would be fun.”

“I’m
only tangentially related to the business anymore. My friends keep at it, but I
make enough to move out solo.”

“What
would they say though? You and your friends look like siblings when
you’re together.”

“We
are. But we’re not conjoined twins here. We’re individuals. If they
want to come, they can though. We can all grow together.”

“You’re
moving out. I’m moving out…You know what I’m
suggesting?”

“We
move in together?”

“Sort
of. Vagabond lifestyle like I said. Open roads. Country. Cities. Town to town.
Anywhere with you. You know? That bouncy life you could read about in
Westerns.”

“We
can start small. Make a goal to leave the city first, like we left our
homes.” The tent snaps at the seams as if heckling my idea, but I go on,
ignoring Fate’s assumptions of failure. “I’ve saved money
over the years. Scarcity mentality. It’s enough to leave. That could be
our small start.”

“Where
to though?”

“You
pick. Anywhere as long as you’re there.”

“Alaska. Maine. Spain.”

“Across
the international pond?”

Bishop
grabs a tuft of grass. He digs up soil and dirties his hands. “We can
spread our roots anywhere,” he says. “Just us two.”

CHAPTER 35

Our local Barnes
& Nobles hosts Caddy and I again, in the same tucked away Starbucks in the
back. We chat over nothing, preferring to save our bank accounts from
overpriced lattés. Months ago we exchanged info and dossiers and joked
about the city imprisoning us.

It no longer does.

“You could
come. We’ve already lived outside what society deems normal.”

“Still
do.”

“You want to
come?”

Caddy ignites like
a match, burning down my apprehensions. "Girl, we work minimum wage jobs
at nowhere. Educated Inc. is what we have to our name but that's it. If we
travel with you, we'll have an opportunity to get out there and see the world.
Plus, we’ll all be together. Proximity, relationships, science, we did
that spiel long ago."

"You’ll
be leaving entirely. Coming back might be a luxury. That’s not to dissuade
you at all, but you should be completely in without hesitations."

"As if I stay
dateless in the land of No Gays or want to see my mommy and daddy. Homophobic
mommy and daddy." Caddy makes two fists and beats the table with them.
"I think Piranha's the only one who has a good relationship with hers.
Look how she turned out." He pauses, the match spirit dying. "Never
mind, she's probably the more adjusted of the three of us."

"Where would
you even stay?"

"Where are
you
going to stay?"

"We're
planning on renting here and then living out of car. Staying in different
places. We'll be creative. My new job has me telecommuting so it works. I never
interacted with any customers face to face anyway."

"Are you
running away from him?”

"It was like
that at the beginning. But now it's fifty-fifty-fifty. Too many reasons. But
I've stayed here so long, and I want to leave. Spade is probably out there
still, but he doesn't scare me anymore. It's Bishop I'm worried for. He seems
tense sometimes. Unsure. He had plans to move out of his house but now after
seeing what could be, I want out of here. Getting robbed was just a catalyst.
This is what I need: to leave again. And if you come, then remember I can't
help you with everything. Not until Bishop and I establish a routine. Else
we'll all kill one another over Piranha's music in the morning."

"Her
music."

"Yeah. Every
morning. On the road. Long, long, long roads. You know she'll play it. Can you
take that?"

"How many
mornings have we faced now? Girl, yes, I can take the music. I'll even dance.
You know she's been meaning to teach us some patriotic moves. It’s taken
the white girl five years, but I think she’s got the electric slide
finally down pat."

"We’ll
need those skills.”

“So
important.”

“I'm just
outlining the trip parameters. If things go off course, I can't save us. This
won't be a one-woman show."

"Of course
not. It'll be all four pitching in. If you’ll have us."

"Then you get
it. You can come. Bishop’s okay with the idea. You’ll tell
Piranha?”

“Sure.”

“We move
soon. Three weeks soon. Two weeks even. Just have to gather our things and
go.” I scan the crowd around us. All these people talking and yawning
while I only want to walk and run. “Tomorrow,” I say, “we
pack. It could be one week if we move fast.”

“Whatever.
I’m with you.”

“And you
were actually angry at me.” I knock the table once. “Caddy,
you’re one of my best friends. Thank you for everything.”

“You’re
welcome. But you don’t ever have to thank me for my friendship.
That’s a given. Always.”

CHAPTER 36

Piranha and Caddy
load the car. Bishop and I pack. We’re in my bedroom sorting through
clothes, piling empty hangers on top of rapidly filling plastic bins. A
neighbor’s complaint about loud music has the apartment silent save for
our bumbling footsteps and occasional conversation.

“You
sure?” Bishop asks.

“It’s
time to leave.”

Bishop snaps shut
one last box. “You’re fixing to get out fast.”

“I feel like
I have to pack and up go, go. Though I feel bad about leaving your stuff at
your place.”

“Well, you’re
definitely not going back there, and I think it’s too risky if I go
alone. My contact network is shot. In other words, yeah, fine by me.”
Bishop skips over the packed box and lands grabbing at my waist. He lifts me
once and kisses my belly. “You’re what I’m taking away from
this city. That’s enough.”

Piranha waltzes in
the room—literally, she waltzes—and lowers a tray of snacks onto my
bed. “You’re working so hard up here. Eat something I made,
I’ve been working hard too.”

“Thanks,”
Bishop says. “What’s your name again?”

“I’m
Piranha. Good to know you.”

“You’re
an excellent chef.” Bishop chomps on a mini-lettuce wrap.
“It’ll be good to have you on the road.”

Caddy knocks at
the door but walks in too without stopping. He vacuums up the tray with his
insatiable hunger, and he deserves every bit. He’s carried out more than
any of us and organized us, the small crew of four, to its maximum efficiency.
You get that coming from an International Relations major who loved military
histories.

“The
car’s ready,” he says. “Are you?”

“Totally,”
I say. “Let’s take the rest down and finally
go
.”

Each box out is
like a stone skipping across a pond. Nobody knows how far they’ll travel
or where the ripples will eventually stop. They might fizzle out immediately.
They might combine and form a greater wave, banning with others of similar
lengths.

I just hope the
ripples reach the bank of life on the other side.

Acknowledgements:
Me
.

Just
kidding.

I’d
like to acknowledge my wonderful beta readers and editor, all of whom shall
remain
anonymous
.

I
know some very private people. And no, they’re not embarrassed to be
associated with me, they’re just private people. Really.

As
for DOUSE, I’d like to thank everybody who’s ever put up with me in
a relationship, platonic, romantic, or otherwise! I’m sure it was like
standing at the edge of a hurricane!

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