Everything Under The Sun

Maybe he’s not interested in me, after all.

A terrible thought occurred then: What if I did it wrong? What if it was something I didn’t do? My face flushed with heat and humiliation when I thought about what had happened. Was Atticus lying about not being bothered by the blood, the same way I had lied to him about not being sore?




ATTICUS




I wanted to make the next move, to be the one for a change—it had always been Thais initiating before. I wanted to be with her in every way, to take her into the bedroom, or right there on the floor, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it because I wasn’t sure if she wanted it, and she wasn’t showing any signs anymore that she did.

Maybe I hurt her too much, and turned her off to ever having sex with me again.

I looked down at the bag of bullets in my hand because I couldn’t bear to look her in the eyes.

Then she got up. “I’ll get the candles,” she said, and her shadow followed her down the hallway.

“Okay.”

With a blanket of awkwardness laid over the room, we set everything out on the floor.

“Should’ve taken more toilet paper,” I said, stacking three rolls on top of one another.

Thais smiled.

She set her spice jars side-by-side, the labels facing her.

“You know,” she said, “I have a feeling June and Esra won’t turn us away if we need something else, regardless what they said about not being a grocery store.” She twisted the tin cap from a jar of cinnamon and placed the opening underneath her nose. “We could really help them out, not just in exchange for supplies, of course, but because they’re kind and I would enjoy helping them.”

I studied the print on the packages of MRE’s; there were two years left judging the manufacture dates.

“I’ll help them with whatever they need,” I said, setting one package down and picking up another, “except”—I glanced over—“digging a pond with a shovel.”

Thais cackled.

“I wonder when Tuesday is,” I said a few minutes later.

“I wonder too.” Thais twisted the cap back on a jar and set it beside the others.

“He really likes you.”




THAIS




I blushed.

“Does that worry you?”

I regretted saying it, but it was too late to take it back. How pretentious of me!

“Not at all,” he said; he grinned over at me under hooded eyes. “But if I did have reason to worry, don’t for a second think that because he’s handicapped I wouldn’t compete to win your heart.”

You already have my heart, Atticus…

Worried he could read my mind, my face flushed; I unlaced my boots as a distraction.

“I know we can’t stay here forever,” I said seconds later, “but I wish we could. We have everything we need here: a water source just yards away; this forest is teeming with wildlife—they had heirloom seeds in their stock; did you see them? If we stayed, we could plant a huge garden.” I set my boots on the floor, out of the way. “It’s just unfortunate that we have to leave this place. I mean, not that I’m trying to convince you to stay, because I know we can’t, but it’s amazing to me that June, Esra, and Jeffrey have made it this far.”

“They have to be in their eighties,” Atticus pointed out. “Sure, they’re getting along just fine on their own, but for how long? How much longer until Lexington City finds this place? You know what’ll happen when they do.”

I frowned.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“It’s okay. You’re right.”

He stood and reached out a hand.

I accepted, and stood to face him; he cupped my elbows in the palms of his hands.

“We’ll stay another week maybe, just long enough to pay June and Esra back for what they gave us. And then it’s time to go.”

I know, Atticus…I know.





48


ATTICUS





Apparently, Tuesday was the next day and the day after that, because Jeffrey was at the cabin, knocking on the back door bright and early both mornings.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I complained when Jeffrey’s knuckles rapped heavily on the wood; I groaned and rolled over onto my side, tossing my arm over Thais.

“Let me get up,” she said, and tried to wriggle herself free.

I pulled her closer, nuzzled my face into her neck. “Don’t answer it,” I said, my eyes closed. “He’ll come back later.”

“Let me go talk to him; he probably won’t leave easily.”

Boom! Boom! Boom!

“Come swim with me, Thais!”

I groaned louder, and then released her.

Thais got dressed and went outside to a delighted Jeffrey dressed in a pair of shorts, red with yellow stripes that dropped to his manly knees; he wore a pair of worn-out running shoes with no socks.

I sat on the bank of the pond watching them swim; Thais in her cotton pants and T-shirt. She shrieked when Jeffrey splashed her with great gushes of water; and when he’d swim underneath the water and grab her legs.

Jeffrey followed Thais everywhere. And she enjoyed his company.

When she was tired of swimming, she sat down next to me on the bank. Jeffrey sat down on her other side.

“Are you having a good time?” I asked Jeffrey.

“I love swimming!”

Four hours later, and Jeffrey still very much loved swimming.

Then came lunch. Fish and blackberries and pecans were the only things on the menu most days. Even with the MRE’s we’d brought back from June and Esra, I thought it better to save them and continue living the way we had been, adopting Esra’s philosophy.

Five hours.

Six hours later, Jeffrey—with Thais’ persuading—finally decided it was time for him to go home.

“Your grandma and grandpa need you,” she encouraged. “They shouldn’t be left alone for so long, Jeffrey. They’ll worry about you. And they might need your help.”

“Okay, I go home. Can I come back tomorrow? Can I swim tomorrow?”

Thais glanced at me, seeking my approval.

I thought about how she didn’t need my approval, but I nodded anyway.

“Of course you can,” she told Jeffrey, and then took him into a hug. “Now hurry before it starts getting dark.”

“See you Tuesday,” Jeffrey told her.

“Bye, Jeffrey,” I said, waving.

“Bye-bye! See you Tuesday!”

And then Jeffrey was off with his shovel in-hand, running like a gold medalist sprinter through the backyard; a blur of red and yellow stripes and pasty-white skin vanished into the thick green.




THAIS




It was early evening, before dark, and Atticus had just come from bathing in the pond. His hair was getting longer, now shaggy around the ears. He was dressed in khaki pants, the bottoms rolled up above his ankles, the waist dipped farther down his rigid hips, revealing the V-shape of his pelvic muscles. And while although I wanted to focus on how sexy he was, it didn’t go unnoticed how skinny he was getting—we both were.

“Why did you shave? How did you shave?” I asked, noticing the absence of facial hair.

Atticus sat down on the rocking chair.

“Baby oil and my knife,” he answered.

I sat down sideways on his lap; my left hand cupped his chin in examination. No cuts? Oh wait, there’s one. Two.

“You don’t like it?”

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