Me, I kind of wanted to follow those last two. Not that I liked smoking weed all that much, but I hated being around people who were stoned when I wasn’t. Somehow I always ended up feeling like the dumb one.
But I knew better than to wander. Rose liked me close. So I got out of the Pathfinder, slid my sunglasses on, and gently closed the door. Cecilville itself was nothing but a gateway to the mountains—a mere smattering of buildings. Most of its storefronts were boarded up and the streets desolate. But I stood and breathed deeply. I’d never been this close to wilderness—true wilderness, the kind you could get lost in—and I wanted to savor it all: the rush and roar of the mighty Salmon River; the bright chatter of birds—a whole chorus of killdeer and chickadees; the cloying late-day heat; the dust-filled air; and more than anything, the rich beauty of the Alps, those rocky edges and snow-capped peaks that filled the vista with their staggering rise and fall, seemingly stretching on forever.
Rose called my name from where she stood by the pumps, but I didn’t answer right away. Then she called for me again.
I turned and pressed a smile on my face as I peered over the top of the Pathfinder. “What’s up?”
“Where’d you get those sunglasses?”
I shrugged. I knew the glasses were flashier than what I normally wore—they were these oversize black-and-gold wraparounds—but I’d found them in the break room at work a few days earlier and had no intention of returning them.
“Really, Ben?” she said.
I smiled wider. “Did you need something?”
“Could you get me an iced tea?”
“Yeah, sure.” I was happy to be useful. I darted across the pumps and made my way into the market.
An older woman with bleached hair and a septum piercing sat behind the counter watching television at roughly the same volume as a Learjet. The news was on and she was clearly riveted. From what I could gather, two inmates all the way down in Napa had escaped from the state mental hospital and were now on the run from the cops.
“They’d better catch those assholes,” the woman muttered as I set Rose’s iced tea on the counter in front of her.
“Hope so,” I said brightly, although deep down, I hoped the fugitives would get away with it because you know they never do.
“Hey!” the woman barked suddenly, rising out of her chair to yell at someone behind me. “You gotta be eighteen to look at those!”
Twisting to peer over my shoulder, it would be a lie to say I didn’t feel a stab of pleasure to spy Tomás cringing in embarrassment near the very back of the store. He had a cardboard box in his hands but I couldn’t see what was in it.
“You eighteen, kiddo?” the woman shouted.
Tomás dropped the box and bolted.
“What’s in there?” I asked her.
“Porn,” she said with a cackle. “But nasty stuff, like pregnant ladies.”
“Really?” This was fascinating, to think that’s what Tomás had been looking at. A part of me wanted to peek in the box myself and see what else was in there, but I resisted. I wasn’t eager to be humiliated.
When I got back outside, Rose wasn’t taking in the view or the fresh air or anything. She was staring at the TV screen mounted over the pump, which was showing the same news station as inside, while putting on sunscreen. She rubbed the lotion on her face and arms like a punishment, then checked herself for white spots in the Pathfinder’s side mirror. Satisfied, she stepped back and I handed her the iced tea.
“God, it’s hot out here,” I said because the sun was beating down on us.
“Mmm,” Rose said.
“I’m already sweating.”
Rose didn’t answer. Instead she leaned back against the car and stretched her arms above her head like a Y. She knew I liked the way her back arched when she did that. Feeling a quick pulse of desire, I reached out, put my arms around her waist, and pulled her to me. She was short. I was tall. Her head cupped beneath my chin.
She looked up at me, smiling a lazy smile. It was one I hadn’t seen in a while, and I met her gaze eagerly, welcoming bliss.
“That’s pretty stupid, don’t you think?” she said.
I tipped my head. “What are you talking about?”
Rose pointed behind me. I turned to look. There was a bumper sticker affixed to the back of the silver F-150 parked at the next pump over. Adorned with stars and stripes, the shiny sticker pronounced: FREEDOM ISN’T FREE.
“What’s stupid about it?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I mean, I didn’t have to fight to come here. And I’m never going overseas to fight in some endless war. So for me freedom is free. Because, you know, I’m not the one paying.”
“Why, I guess that’s called a gift, Rose.”
“Well, it’s not one I asked for.”
I raised my eyebrows, more than a little taken aback. Up until that point, I’d always been able to overlook Rose’s occasional acts of entitlement for her other, better qualities. Who wouldn’t? Girls like Rose didn’t come around every day of the week, girls who were pretty and smart, and who just up and decided one day that you were going to be their boyfriend so that you didn’t have to do any deciding of your own.
But I mean, goddamn.
“Sounds like you’ve got a lot of things all figured out,” I said stiffly.
Rose wriggled around and kissed my cheek, her bright eyes fixed on mine. “Yup.”
—
Then it was time to get back on the road and head for the nearby campground. Mr. Howe hollered for everyone to get in their respective vehicles, and Rose started honking her horn like a wild lady. That got everyone to move their shit, even Tomás, who’d pretty much perfected the art of passive-aggressive slow walking. He didn’t dare look at me as he got in the car to sit beside his sister.
Archie and Dunc came sprinting around from the back of the market like a pair of dogs caught digging in the trash. Archie skidded up to the open Pathfinder door, took one look at me, and burst into red-faced laughter.
“What’s so funny?” I snapped. My mood had soured, thanks to the stupid bumper sticker thing. I couldn’t get it out of my head.
“You,” he said, still laughing. “You’re funny.”
“What’s funny about me? Did I say something funny?”
“It’s your sunglasses.”
I scowled. “What’s wrong with my sunglasses?”
“Two words,” he said, motioning for me to take the middle seat again. “Lady Gaga.”
I flipped him off, but Dunc, who’d been watching us, gave me a goofy grin and a thumbs-up before getting into Mr. Howe’s truck.
“I like your glasses, Ben!” he shouted. “I really do!”
At least someone did.
11.