Sideswiped, page 8
He grunts, resets his hat.
I lift my bike and toss my leg over the seat. “I’m going to pretend this conversation never happened. But if you ever run your mouth off like this to me again—”
“Dropped something.”
Shit, he’s holding the printout I made from the Peace Corps e-mail.
“Give that back.”
“Must be important, how curious.”
“It’s nothing.”
He opens the paper and I can see his gaze scanning the words. “Hmmm. Look at you, going all Choose-Your-Own-Adventure like a big girl. Maybe I pegged you wrong, Na-ta-li-a.”
I hate how he drags out my name.
“Volunteering in Africa? Funny, I didn’t expect Bran to be cool with that sort of arrangement.”
“He doesn’t know. My visa expires December thirty-first. I need to keep my options open.”
“Curiouser and curiouser. You might not be as shithouse for him as I imagined.”
“Wow, thanks for the glowing recommendation.”
“Did Bran tell you about the Sea Alliance position?”
“Yes.”
And by yes, I mean he communicated the bare minimum required by the English language.
“He’d be a perfect candidate, what with his small boat certificate, competent waterman skills, and the fact that he speaks bloody Japanese.”
Japanese?
“We’re discussing all options,” I say, resisting the urge to cross my fingers.
“You in the Peace Corps, Bran in the Sea Alliance—might be a happy ending after all.”
“I’m stumped as to whether you’re actually a nice guy or a total prick.”
“Prick? Nah. More like a hard, throbbing—”
“Okay, okay, I get the idea. Can you resist the urge to tattletale about this e-mail?”
He mimes locking his lips and hands me back the paper.
“I’m serious.” I shove the printed e-mail into my backpack. “This is important.”
“So am I. I’m no rat.” He says this with unexpected vehemence.
“I’m not sure if I like you.”
“No worries, no one does.”
“I’m probably not going to do it.”
“Why would you?” He hops back on his board and pushes off, calling over his shoulder, “You’ve got Bran’s coattails to ride!”
Chapter Ten
Bran
I keep a solid rhythm along the trail’s stony incline. Earth underfoot, fresh air in my lungs. I’m free for a change from the sterile death trap masquerading as an office. I duck under a drooping tree fern and leap onto a boulder to catch the panoramic view. In the distance, hilly peninsulas stretch toward the Southern Ocean. I let my head fall back and suck in a deep inhalation. There’s more breathing space in the wild.
And no sound behind me.
The trail’s empty. Talia’s fallen back. Rather, I raced ahead too fast. My heart’s still pounding—a good effort. My calves twitch, urging me to push on, go harder. I wasn’t made to sit at a desk. But really, is anyone?
I pop the straw from my CamelBak into my mouth and suck. We’re on the south side of Mount Wellington. The hulking mountain behind Hobart taunts me daily, miles of choice trails at my fingertips. A playground I ignore to run an academic merry-go-round.
Only one thing saves me from losing my shit. And here she comes, rounding the bend. Her cheeks are flushed, hair wild from the ridge climb. I’ll swap any vista for the sight of Talia breathing hard in a clingy sports tank. I jokingly flex my biceps.
She flashes me a weak smile and pauses to fish a muesli bar from her backpack.
“Well, you look happier.”
“I’m great.” And I mean it.
“You’ve been stalking around the house like a caged tiger. I debated throwing raw meat at you and making a getaway.”
I jump off the boulder and land on the path in front of her. “All you ever need to do is throw yourself at me.”
She unwraps her bar. “Is everything going okay? Sorry, I’ve been a little checked out the last few days.”
Foreboding flares in my stomach. This is one of the reasons I invited her for a hike. I’ve become a boring bastard, but that’s no reason to drag Talia down. I need to keep her happy, not give her cause to stress. She seems improved, more relaxed¸ but that’s no indication. Maybe she’s figuring out sneakier ways to hide her symptoms. What can I do but give her the best parts of myself, dark as they might be? There’s no denying—I’m brightest out here.
“Bran?”
“Yeah, sorry. I’m good.” I brace my foot on a rock and stretch my calves. “School’s not what I thought it would be.”
“How so?”
“I don’t feel like I’m doing anything, you know?”
“No.” She takes a vicious bite from her muesli bar and licks crumbs off her lower lip. “I don’t, actually.”
My chest tightens as I try to gather my thoughts.
“You have so much going right, you don’t even know. I mean, after honors you’re pretty much guaranteed a fast-track to a PhD.”
“Four more years chained to a desk? Frying my brain cells on computer models for a world I no longer see? Yeah, a regular charmed life.”
“Oh, please. Do me a favor and put away the violin, all right? Your supervisor freaking loves you. What about last week when I came to have lunch in your break room? After you left, she cornered me by the stairs, raved you were some boy genius.”
“I feel like a fraud.” The admission stings but it’s the truth. “Maybe this is the wrong path.”
“Wait, are you talking about me?”
“Jesus, Talia, come on. Everything isn’t about you.”
She withdraws into herself, a bright bloom that closes when darkness falls.
My tone was harsher than I intended but she’s acting like I scored a golden ticket. I’m halfway through my honors—no backing out. I need to see the project to completion. And she’s right about one thing. I do have a clear shot to a PhD. A scholarship is already in the works. My supervisor talks like I’ll have a quick ascendency into the new Department of Climate Change. Like becoming a high-level bureaucrat is the ultimate life pinnacle.
Someone might as well take me out back and shoot me now.
“What if I’d rather do something else?”
Talia grabs her hair in two fistfuls. “You really don’t realize how lucky you are!”
“This is the first time I’ve spent outdoors in weeks.”
“But your career is moving forward. Obviously there are going to be trade-offs.”
“I’m twenty-fucking-three. I shouldn’t have to trade a goddamn thing.”
“Oh, but I should?”
“Here you go again. This isn’t about you.”
“Yes, it is. Your head’s so far up your own sorry-for-yourself ass that you don’t even notice.”
“Fill me in. What am I missing?”
She looks like she could mouth punch me. “What am I going to do?”
Right. That. My arms fall limp to my sides.
“I track classmates from UCSC online. Everyone is scoring jobs or landing awesome internships.” Her posture is rigid. “I’m falling behind.”
“She’ll be apples.”
“What the hell does fruit have to do with anything?”
“It’s an idiom, means no worries.”
“Everyone says that here. No worries, mate.” She addresses the massive peppermint gum overhead. “Screw the hakuna matata bullshit. How will I get money? My savings sucks and there is no way I’m going begging to my mom.”
“Can’t you find some work under the table?”
“Doing what? Being a nanny? Awesome. Great. Way to dream big. I don’t even know if I ever want to have kids.”
“You don’t?” The idea slams into me with unexpected force.
“What if I turn out to be one of those serial-killing moms?”
“Hang on—”
“I’m sure those women never planned to go all psycho, right? What if I wake up one morning holding an ax?” She mimes a swinging motion. “Everyone dead?”
“Settle, sweetheart. You haven’t murdered your hypothetical family.”
“I know. I know! But knowing the truth doesn’t stop my brain. Haven’t you figured that out by now?”
“Come here, kid.”
“No.” She buries her face in her hands. “Do you speak Japanese?” she asks after a pause.
“Pardon?”
“Japanese, the language? Do you speak it?”
“Yeah, sure. A bit.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I also speak Spanish, and better than decent Italian and French. Sorry I didn’t give you a memo.”
“Another reason why you’d be a perfect fit for the Sea Alliance. You can talk to the Japanese whaling ships and international media.”
“Sure, whatever.”
“Holy crap, listen to yourself! First you’re set at university, with a full graduate school scholarship in the wings. But that’s not all. Behind door number two waits a second amazing option, a kick-ass environmental organization inviting you to the Antarctic—your dream destination. Sorry, I’m struggling to organize a pity party.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“I can’t sit around while you count your options. I need to figure out my own life.”
Her words rip through me like a hail of bullets. “What are you hinting at, Talia?”
“Maybe—I don’t know—if we took some time…”
Despite everything, I’m not enough, can’t keep her. My face must look like hell because her eyes widen and her expression softens.
“Whoa, Bran, calm down. I’m not saying anything about breaking up, not even close. It’s just… I never imagined I’d be the kind of girl who followed a guy. I’m almost done with school and I need to make some plans.”
“Fine.” Maybe she doesn’t want to end things right now, but suddenly, the possibility is fucking real and I don’t know how to save us. “I need a moment.”
“Alone?” She eyes the bush with trepidation. “You can’t leave me here.”
All my emotions are getting dangerously out of whack. I need to break away from here, get a handle on myself before I seriously lose my shit. I dig into my hip pocket and pull out the key chain. “Take the car. Go home.”
“No way! I can’t drive on this side of the road.”
“You’re a smart girl, figure it out.” I turn up the trail, pound the earth, run away. The forest is too tight. Got to be higher, where the trees thin out. Need more room. More headspace.
“Bran!” Talia yells. “Bran.” I run until her voice grows faint, disappears.
Why am I even surprised? I lose everyone in the end.
* * *
Night’s dropped when I return down the trail. My headlamp illuminates a wallaby nibbling leaves along the edge of the path. It doesn’t move as I pass, probably because I’m calmer. Spent a few hours wandering the giant dolerite columns on top of the mountain. I gave my thoughts over to the stillness and as usual an answer emerged. Not the solution I expected but still the beginning of a workable plan.
I don’t need to let Talia go or ask her to abandon career ambitions.
The idea is crazy but it smacks of genius.
I pick up speed, need to be home, with her. I’ll have to hitch but that’s okay.
I found us a way.
“It’s the way. It’s the way.” I repeat the words while skittering down the moss-lacquered steps to the parking lot.
I’m jarred for a few heart-thudding seconds. A cherry-red Holden Kingswood is parked in the corner.
My car.
Bloody hell, Talia didn’t march down the mountain in a snit, did she? Headlights suddenly burn my retinas.
I’ll take that as a no.
I shield my eyes and draw closer. A safe bet she’s stewed in the car for hours.
“Idiotic motherfucker.” Talia jumps out of the car, tears in my direction. “I told you never to shut me out again.”
This isn’t going to be fun.
“Hello to you too.”
“What part of I can’t drive stick on the opposite side of the road do you not understand? And may I remind you of another fun fact? There are snakes out here—big, poisonous ones. What if I got bit? Who would have helped me? The venom would have coursed through my body by the time I managed to flag a car down. And I couldn’t even begin to identify what type of snake, so the hospital wouldn’t have known the appropriate antivenin to administer. I’d have lost precious minutes. And those are the ones that count when a life hangs in the balance.”
“You saw a snake?”
“No, but they’re around, smelling my fear.”
“Sorry you were scared.” I mean, what can I say when she lays undiluted irrationality at my feet?
“Scared?” Her voice cracks. “That’s what happens when someone reads Stephen King or spies a clown. I was t-e-r-r-i-f-i-e-d. Google the word and you’ll find a picture of me, alone, abandoned by you in the forest. Go ahead, do it. I can wait.”
“Finished?”
“I’ve barely warmed up. But my ass is freezing and I want to get home, eat soup, and spend the night not speaking to you.”
She storms to the passenger side and slams the door so hard the pane rattles.
The Kingswood is almost fifty years old. A ride that needs to be treated with the same TLC reserved for venerable older ladies. I open my mouth to tell Talia to take it easy but reconsider. Chances are high she’ll strangle me with my vocal cords. I get it, okay? I left her alone, not cool.
Our drive is silent. Even still, the idea I had on top of the mountain keeps me in good spirits.
I found us a way.
I give her a glance at the stoplight, careful to keep my smile on the inside.
She juts her chin forward. “The light’s green.”
I ease my foot onto the gas. A horn sounds. My foot finds the brakes before my brain can issue the command. The world contracts into oncoming headlights. Talia’s scream is overwhelmed by the sickening sound of rubber squealing on asphalt. All I know is that the scream means she’s still alive, that I’m alive. We jerk to a stop, flying forward until the seat belts yank us back.
“What the cocksucking shit?” Adrenaline scours my veins. A utility truck ran the intersection’s red light, missed plowing into us by a meter.
“Bran. Holy crap.” Talia’s eyes fill her face. She unclicks her seat belt and throws herself over the console, patting my cheeks. “Are you okay?”
I pull over to the curb and cut the engine. “Fine.” I blow the air from my cheeks. “Everything is okay.” I repeat the words and reach for Talia’s hand as the truck speeds off.
Dickhead.
“What if we—”
“We didn’t.”
“But—”
“No harm’s been done.”
“Maybe it was a sign.”
“Indicating what?” This isn’t my first dance with disaster. Far as I see it, the Earth does a mad spin and we hang on for the ride. “Talia.” I interlace my fingers with hers. “I never should have left you alone on the mountain. I’m sorry. I got scared.”
“I know. I’m sorry too. For freaking out that being here with you is keeping me from being me.” She kisses my brows, one and then the other. “Being with you is when I am the most me.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
She tilts her head forward until our noses touch. “I’ll do better.”
“I shouldn’t have bailed.”
“Everything can change in an instant.”
She’s remembering her sister, Pippa, whose life ended in such a way.
“I’m not taking you for granted, Talia. Ever.”
“Me neither. I love you.”
We crash together, a tangle of lips and tongues. Before I met Talia, my foot was on the gas—in the wrong-ass direction. She stepped into my blind spot when least expected. I didn’t have time to duck or avoid her. I tried a few defensive maneuvers but nothing could change the irrevocable course of our collision.
Sometimes, an impact can hurtle you down a path you never expected, to the exactly right place.
We drive home in silence, each preoccupied by our own thoughts. When I pull up to the curb, Karma is sitting on the front porch.
Talia lets out a heavy sigh. “Why are you friends with that guy?”
“I don’t know; he doesn’t take shit.”
“And you do?”
I climb out and shout a greeting. “How’s it going?”
“All good, mate.” Karma reclines on his elbows and stretches his legs over the front stoop.
“I’m confused,” Talia says. “Why aren’t you scavenging our pantry?”
“Hello, hello, Talia. Nice to see you’re charming as always. You look tense. Maybe you should consider yoga.”
“Aren’t you cold outside?” She looks smug.
Karma’s smile shrinks. “The front door key vanished.”
“Oh, crap.” She walks to a flowerpot on the veranda. “I moved it a few days ago. Whoopsies.”
Sucks the two people I like best on this island want to carve each other’s throats.
“Hey, Captain.” I wrap my arms around her waist, lean so her feet dangle a few inches in the air. “We had a bloody day of it. Why don’t you jump in a hot shower and I’ll have a quick beer with Karm.”
Karma flips off his fedora and twists a dread. “Got anything harder?”
“Talia brought duty-free bourbon.”
Karma nods. “Whisky makes me frisky.”
We head inside and Karma veers toward the hall bathroom. “Going to hit the loo.”
“Why does he get under my skin so bad?” Talia grumbles as we enter the kitchen.
I fetch two glasses from the cupboard. “If it makes you feel better, I think the feeling is mutual.”
“It’s like he’s a jealous wife.”
“Hardly.” I pull out the bottle and pour a few fingers into two tumblers.
“Do you think Karma is in the closet?”
“No, I don’t. Nor do I believe nine-eleven was an inside job, that the government is poisoning us with chemtrails, or that the world is secretly ruled by alien reptiles masquerading as humans.”
