by SJ Cavaletti
She looked up suddenly. “But if you don’t mind getting the monkfish and I get the mushroom risotto and we share?”
She asked but told. She knew I’d agree. I was a pig. I’d eat anything and preferred nothing.
“Cool. Of course.”
Tom and Enrique put their menus down and Liz asked them, “What are you two ordering?”
“Lobster.” They said simultaneously.
“Argh,” she said, “Shit. I’m going to have food envy.”
“You can have a bite of mine,” Enrique said.
And I just loved him for that. He wanted this to be perfect for her. For me. For us.
The rest of the meal was full of laughter, ease and Chardonnay. Liz slot in with my old friends as though she’d known them as long as I had. And they probably liked her even better.
For starters and mains, I calmed down; the wine easing the tension in my neck and the shake of my hands, but after we ordered our dessert, some little creature in my stomach began shooting a slingshot. Pangs hit the sides every so often.
Nervous.
As.
Hell.
The server arrived. Not with the three scoop sorbets that Liz had ordered, or the dissected peach cobbler I had, but with an enormous platter of tiny desserts I had asked for well before we ever arrived in Arizona. All beautiful, different, unique and bite-sized. Another server came alongside him, holding a bottle of Dom Perignon. The servers didn’t leave but waited. With cheeky smiles on their faces.
Tom stopped mid-sentence, and Enrique pulled back in his chair. It felt as if the entire restaurant went silent.
Liz looked at the platter now in the center of the table. There were about thirty different desserts on it.
“What’s this?” She looked up at me. “We didn’t order this?”
She looked at the server, who had set it there, confused. Then at Enrique. Then Tom. Then one server. The other one again. Her eyes wide and then one brow dipped down, questioning.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out the blue ring box. Her chest rose with an inhalation. Like a reverse sigh. Her mouth fell open, and she lifted her hand in front of it.
Getting down on one knee, I said the words I’d rehearsed for weeks.
“Liz, I may not be your first cupcake. Your first cookie or your first eclair. But I don’t care about that. All I want…” I felt tears coming to my eyes. I never felt full of so much love before. “All I want, is to be your last everything.”
Her other hand came over her mouth. Her breathing quickened, a hidden smile behind her surprised hands.
“So I asked you here. To tell you I offer you all of me and then some. Not just me, I offer you the world you want. All your desires. Your dreams. I’ll be part of every single one of them. Every day. Every month. Every year. I’ll take care of you and never let you want for anything.”
I lifted the box
“Liz, will you marry me?”
She nodded her head up and down quickly, then threw herself down on the ground next to me. I hadn’t expected it and nearly dropped the box as she threw her arms around me.
“I’ll be your wife.” She said into my neck, then peeled back to look at me. “I’ll be your everything, too.”
Tears trickled down her rosy cheeks, and I took the delicate ring out of the box, hoping to God it slid on her slim finger. It did. And it looked exquisite.
She stared at the ring for a moment, and I realized the whole restaurant watched us. Two people sitting on the floor, draped all over each other. Then Enrique stood up and clapped. Tom followed and one server joined in, then the rest of the diners. A crowd erupted in applause. Like a choir of angels singing hallelujah. I heard the other server pop the champagne, and some of it went on Liz’s head.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, bending down wiping her hair.
But she just beamed from ear to ear and looked up at him, more tears coming from her eyes and said, “I’m getting married.”
He looked down, twinkling at her. “I know. Congratulations.”
I made a move to get up, but she pulled my arm hard and my butt plopped back down on the ground. She leaned in, not a care in the world for manners, and softly placed her lips on mine. She kissed me warmly, then pulled back and said, “I’ve never been so glad to be alive. And to be alive at the same time as you.”
11
Liz
Present Day
Uyu
* * *
Driving the chariot to City Center had been daunting as, like RollerBunny had said, it drove like a boat. The front end felt like it had a mind of its own and operated with a delay. The turning radius wasn’t great but when we got out on to the Plain, and miles of space opened up before me, I knew the art car had been a worthy effort. Indispensable. Having a power vehicle would save my arms.
I looked around, and many people were still in regular civilian clothes. We were. We hadn’t bothered to change out of our shorts and tank tops, having been so excited to get off site for a ride and bag some essentials before dark. Many others apparently had the same idea.
Arriving at our destination, a place where we could buy a few supplies, I parked up as close as possible and we disembarked to head into a giant tent, big as a Cirque du Soleil big top. We weaved through the crowded space inside and found the line for ice. As we waited, my eyes wandered around the enormous, yurt-like structure. The temporary building was triple height and at least a hundred feet across. It was airy and minimally decorated with bunting donning Sanskrit writing, strewn from one side to the other. There were tables throughout as well, where people enjoyed coffee.
Coffee and ice. The only two items one could purchase at Uyu. And we waited to purchase the latter.
There was an air of friendship around us. Bouncy, blithe and easy, people walked about in small groups, which made sense as few people came to Uyu alone. It was a communal experience, or so I had read, and it was all about connecting with people.
“And just when I thought this place wasn’t as weird as I expected it to be,” Simone said, tapping my shoulder and pointing to a guy ten feet away, “I see a guy in a red mankini with a Spiderman mask on.”
“Mmm. Yeah… Interesting.” I mumbled, looking but trying not to look.
“Not the words I’d use.”
“If he had better abs, you’d be into it.”
“Maybe,” she considered, “But no. Ever since the gimp in Pulp Fiction I can’t think of a guy in a mask the same way. I know it makes me uncool. But it freaks me out.”
“Aw man…” I pinched my eyes shut, “Wish you hadn’t put that image in my mind.”
She laughed, and we pushed up a few more spots. Simone had paid for our meals through RollerBunny, and he had also offered a water delivery service for anyone joining the camp. He brought an entire truckload of water for those who had ordered it. RollerBunny ran an impressive operation, and it was something notable. For people at Vertical Soul camp, who, like me, traveled with a decent amount of equipment, it was imperative to have someone else bringing essentials in additional vehicle space.
“RollerBunny is cool,” I said. “I mean, to run a service camp like he does without being paid. I’ve been here, like, two hours and I can already see how indispensable his service is. I’m not sure how we would have made it work without his help.”
“People have a way,” she answered.
“Yeah…”
My voice trailed off. We moved up again, now only one spot away from ice. My eyes scanned the crowd again and suddenly, my belly felt like a trampoline with a walrus jumping on it. There were a LOT of people at Center Camp. And it made sense that most people would come here as a first stop. In fact, who wouldn’t come here on their first day? It would be hard to travel for hours with any real quantity of ice.
And that meant…
El.
El might be here. Or if he wasn’t here, he might be soon. I looked around but didn’t want to make eye contact with anyone. I checked my wa
tch.
Four-thirty. El said he’d meet me at six at my camp. Oh god oh god oh god. Did I want to be at camp when he said he’d come? Maybe I wasn’t ready for this. But then, I knew El. Ready or not; he was coming for me. He said so. He said he’d come at six every night. It made him sound like a stalker but I had heard that Uyu was a fly by the seat of your pants kind of place so it was him, as he always was, letting me be free but giving me a sense of security.
One of the best parts of him hadn’t changed at all. Five years later, that one brief email told me he was the same guy. I wondered if anything about him had changed. Did he gain weight? Lose hair? No Greeks had magnificent hair…
I didn’t have to go back and see him at six. I could let myself settle in to this jungle first. It was so much to take on. I had to come to grips with my new chariot, meet camp mates, get this damn ice…
“Hello, how many bags would you like?” A woman wearing a rainbow bikini and boa asked.
Simone answered, “Two.”
I asked Simone, “Maybe we should get three? Give one to RollerBunny?”
Simone re-ordered, “Three.” Then turned to me. “Not that I’m sure he’ll have anywhere to keep it, but gestures are good. Gifting as they say.”
“Yeah. One less trip for him. We can offer to be camp mule for ice. I don’t want to just give him money and not take part in camp life.”
“True.”
Boa lady passed the ice over and we gave her some cash. As we headed toward the tent exit, I looked around one last time.
Would it be better to run into El randomly?
Or sit at camp for the next hour, worrying myself sick?
This was so weird. Of all places to run into El for a reunion. Uyu took the cake. What would he be wearing?
Shit.
Not a mankini?
No.
He wouldn’t do that. But then, people change.
No. Not a mankini. He’ll have on something Mad Max and not trying to be sexy, but he’d still look sexy. Maybe he’d have on some chaps. He did always have an amazing set of ass cheeks…
“Liz!”
I turned around to see El with his arm in the air.
Shit. If only we had left a split second earlier, I would have had time to decide how many days I wanted to wait to reunite with El’s glutes. But now, just like that, they were walking toward me.
12
Elias
Present Day
Uyu
* * *
I just shouted out her name. More a combination of blurting and shouting. My mind told me not to. To wait for six. But when I saw the back of her, my voice rushed ahead of logic and reason and seized her. The subconscious desire for this moment for such a long time making me do something dumb.
Drake, Maeve and I had been standing in line for a coffee, only just having arrived at Center Camp when I caught a movement at the edge of the tent.
Proprioception. This is the sixth sense. It’s the human’s ability to perceive its own position in space. Like being able to touch your nose with your finger, even blindfolded. Or knowing you stand on grass and not cement even though you’re wearing shoes. Our proprioceptors allow for this. These sensory organs feel things that aren’t even touching our body.
And mine? Mine could feel Liz, even when she wasn’t touching my skin. Even when she was fifty feet away and I hadn’t seen her or smelled her in years. My body still appeared to be tuned into her. Crystal clear.
She was at the perimeter of the tent with another woman, about to leave. She hadn’t turned yet. Maybe she wouldn’t hear me.
But she did.
She turned around.
My shout turned Drake’s attention away from his indecisiveness over latte or maté and he looked in the same direction I did. He saw the same two women I did. Their eyes searching in our general direction, trying to find the source of the voice. He tapped my arm with the back of his hand.
“Eh! You saw Liz?”
“Yeah,” I said, now waving one hand overhead looking like a total dick. “She’s at the edge of the tent.”
Drake saw the enquiring faces of said women. They both made eye contact with me and raised their hands to wave. Drake came next to me to see better.
“Dude. She’s tall. And hot.”
“Not that one. The other one.”
“Oh…” His voice shouldn’t have trailed off the way it did. I knew what he was thinking. After a couple beats, with Liz and the other woman walking toward us he said quietly, “You didn’t tell me she was in a wheelchair.”
My head snapped to meet his face. “I don’t tell everyone you’re black either.”
“Yeah, but…”
“But what?”
“I guess…”
“You guess what?”
I had never acted like this with Drake before. Never had I built a wall or defense. It wasn’t something that I didn’t normally erected in my everyday life. But with Liz. It was natural. I always wanted to protect her.
Even before the accident.
Even before the wheelchair.
Drake dropped it. “Nah. Yeah. You’re right. Not noteworthy. Anyway,” he snapped his fingers with both hands, “It’s showtime. I’ve wanted to meet this mystery girl for a very long time, my friend. Got to get my popcorn ready.”
He turned to Maeve. “Babe, can you get our drinks, pretty please? Don’t want to lose this space in line.”
“And miss the show? I want to meet her, too.”
He flashed her the golden dimples that even worked on me sometimes.
“Of course.” She conceded. “See you in a sec.”
A small part of me wanted to see Liz for the first time completely alone. But a bigger part of me was grateful my boy was there. Drake lit up every mood. And mine needed a torch. It wasn’t dark. It wasn’t dreary. It was more like rain clouds with sun peeking through and wishing so much for the day to clear.
Liz and her friend worked their way toward the middle of the tent, and we approached them from our side. Suddenly, there she was. A foot away from me, in the flesh. The honey-scented, soft as silk flesh. And as I bent down to hug her, holding her in my arms, her buttery skin on mine, she whispered in my ear, “Hi El. Nice to see you.”
Her voice echoed through my body like the holy spirit. A healing entity.
When I pulled back, her eyes were just as soft as that smooth skin of hers.
“You look great,” I said.
“Thanks. Still rowing and doing water sports.” She lifted one arm and flexed her bicep.
Drake nodded his head, impressed. He gently slapped my arm, “Going to introduce me?”
“Course. Liz, this is Drake. Drake, Liz. Drake and I have been friends for…” for as long as you’ve been gone. Since the month after you left me. He took your ticket to Uyu…
“For what feels like forever. We’re at camp together. B and October.”
“Yeah,” Liz said as Drake bent down to hug her too. Because Drake was a hugger. Uyu was a hugging place. “You wrote about him in one of your emails. The rock star, right?” She wiggled her eyebrows and pursed her lips, giving Drake that special kind of attention Liz was famous for.
“Almost,” Drake said. Was he being bashful?
Liz gestured to Simone. “My agent, Simone.”
Simone was a tall, slender woman with stunning almond-shaped eyes and wild hair.
“Ah, so you’re the one who put Lizzie on stage?” I asked.
Since the accident, Liz had become an inspirational speaker and disability advocate. I knew from those late night internet crawling sessions that she had spoken all over the world. Even in countries where they had to translate.
I was mostly happy for her. I wanted to be totally happy for her, but it seemed like she had given up her dream of becoming an inventor. I wondered if we’d spend enough time together this week for me to understand that.
The world was missing out. That little notebook of inventions she had kept many years a
go still contained innovation that could alter the health of so many individuals. What happened? Now wasn’t the time or place and I had to push back the barbed comment, pricking to get out.
“So far… what do you make of Uyu?” I asked, staying superficial.
“We’ve only been to our camp and here so far,” she said, looking around, “But yeah. It’s beyond my wildest imagination.”
“Just you wait,” Drake said. “Nighttime is…” he exploded his fingers out from his head like fireworks. “Actually, what are you two doing tonight? You should join us.”
I should have been annoyed. Making such an invitation without asking for my approval. Before seeing if I was okay with it. But, when I told Drake the story, our story, the part of it I was comfortable telling because obviously, the wheelchair… I left a lot out. But I made a few things clear.
One. Liz broke it off with me amicably.
Two. We were supposedly friends.
Three. I was still in love with her. Well, I didn’t say that part. But I was certain he drew that conclusion.
So basically, in Drake’s eyes, he was doing me a favor.
Simone and Liz looked at each other. Simone had a decent poker face, but her eyes betrayed her. I could tell she wanted to say yes, but waited for Liz’s approval. Liz’s eyes, wide, a partial smile with her rounded, gorgeous white teeth peeking out the bottom. She was going to say yes. I could still read her like the ABCs. Yes, would be the next word out of her mouth.
“Yeeeeah,” she said, still looking at Simone. “If that’s cool with you, Sim? I don’t want to go off without you. Especially because I promised you first ride.”
“First ride?” I asked.
“We have an art car.”
“Oh! What is it?” Drake asked excitedly.
Liz bit her bottom lip, gave him a coy look, and then lifted her eyebrows a few times playfully. “Why don’t we pick you up? Tonight. Any of you hippies wear a watch?”
She knew I wore a watch. Since the day I met her. I even wore a watch to bed. I lifted my wrist. “Yup. Old habits die hard.”
