by Schow, Ryan
“We’ve all left the things and people who are most important to us,” Bailey reasons.
“I have my home, though. And aren’t you all trying to get back to yours?”
Looking at Marcus, who looks down and away at this, I say, “Not all of us.”
“Then why?”
“Because we’re better in numbers,” Marcus says under his breath.
“What Marcus is not saying is that if it’s as bad as we’re fearing, then we’re going to need each other.”
“We’ll be okay,” Amber says, chin up slightly, her mind already made up.
“Do you have enough food?” I ask.
“I think so.”
“I’ll go to the truck with you, and you can get some from our supply. We have enough. Plus we’re probably not going to need all of it on the boat anyway, so you taking a few things means we have less to move.”
“Where are we going?” Corrine asks.
“We are on our way to Sacramento, but now that we can travel by water, I’m thinking we head up the coast, cruise into San Francisco in the yacht,” Marcus answers. “After that, we can grab a car and head east to Sacramento.”
Bailey starts to object, and I know why, but then Corrine asks, “What about us, Marcus? You and me?”
I catch the concern in Corrine’s voice, but Bailey’s apprehension is clear as day. I think she wants to formally cut the ties with her fiancée before heading to San Francisco with me. At least, that’s what I’m hoping.
“We’ll figure it out as we go,” Marcus says, his voice resolute, his answer leaving no room for further questions.
I look at Bailey and she’s not looking happy, but she’s not the kind of woman to throw a fit it seems, so she holds her tongue.
“I think I have an old flashlight,” Amber says. “I can see what you guys have, if you’re still okay with me maybe getting a few things to tide us over.”
“You have a gun?” Marcus asks.
“We don’t keep guns in the house,” she says.
“Well it’s time. We’ve got a really good supply. C’mon, let’s get you set up.”
“I don’t want to have a gun—”
Marcus stops cold, turns around and faces her. “If you don’t want a gun, then you and Abigail are coming with us. I’m not leaving you here without one, and not because of you, but because of her,” he says, looking down at Abby.
“He’s right,” I say.
“You have no idea the people who are out there using this situation to their advantage,” Corrine says in a small, certain voice. Looking peaked at the memories of her own ordeal, she says, “You’ll have to trust me on this one.”
“You’re taking a gun,” I say. I’m one thousand percent with Marcus on this one.
“I…I don’t…I don’t know how to use one.”
“Well in that case, we’ve got a couple of shotguns that’ll work just fine,” Marcus says. “They’re easy to use and they’re perfect for home defense.”
She swallows hard then says, “Will you show me how to use one?”
He nods his head, then says, “C’mon before it gets too late.”
When Marcus, Amber and Abigail leave, Bailey clears her throat then says, “I used to be a late owl, but with no light and nothing to do, I think I’m more than ready for bed.” Looking at me, she asks, “Are you coming?”
“Are you guys going to have sex?” Corrine asks, straight-faced.
I always forget how forthright today’s teens have become. It takes me off guard with Indigo. With Corrine, it does it even more so.
“No,” I say. “No one has sex in conditions like these.”
“That’s not necessarily true,” she says. When we don’t say anything, she reluctantly turns and heads back to her room. “Good night.”
“Night,” both Bailey and I say at the same time.
Lying in bed next to Bailey, our bodies almost touching, I listen to her breathing and I listen for Marcus to come home. He does and that’s when I allow myself to finally relax.
I’m feeling myself drifting off when Bailey’s body scoots next to mine. Her hand comes up on my chest as she turns on her side. She slides her calf across my shin and I have to say, this is comfortable. “When you said no one has sex under these conditions, did you mean it?”
“You have a fiancée.”
“We don’t know that,” she says.
“That’s a morbid thing to say about someone you once loved.”
“I wasn’t cracking a joke or trying to be cute. He could be dead. And even if he’s not, our relationship died a long time ago.”
“You said as much,” I reply.
“Why do you think I’m really going back home?” she asks.
“You would’ve gone home even if you didn’t meet me,” I say, closing the matter. “So whatever your reasons, they’re yours and yours alone.”
“I wish we weren’t going to San Francisco first,” Bailey says.
I think she’s mulling over the logistics of it. We were never going to Frisco first. It was always Sacramento so she could end things clean. The fact that Bailey had a conscience about this was something. But maybe she just needs to see if he’s still alive. I can’t imagine being in her situation and just writing your insignificant other off no matter how bad things were. I mean, for whatever reason, I still wonder about Margot. Did she survive? Part of me hopes she did. Okay, all of me hopes she survived. But I wouldn’t do for her what Bailey’s doing for him.
Because we’re talking about her fiancée again, I consider easing her leg off mine so we can straighten this out. Then again, the last time I had a woman nestled up against me was Margot and now she’s with someone else. I don’t like the idea of being with another man’s woman, but no man ever truly owns a woman. A woman is only a man’s if she decides that. And Bailey decided she’s no longer his. This is subject to change, though. From what I’ve learned living with two women, everything is always subject to change. So for now, she’s free to give herself to me, and by implied suggestion, she’ll stay with me, but it’s up to me to keep her and I won’t do that by shoving her leg off me again.
“If you would have never met me, and none of this would have happened, would you have married him?”
“Not after the titty-text from that girl,” she says. “I can’t feel this lonely and know he’s doing…whatever it was he was doing...with some skank on the side. So no, I would not have married him.”
“When you see him though—”
“I know exactly what he looks like,” she says.
“You know I didn’t mean it like that.”
“If you think I’ll see him and all these old feelings and emotions will come rushing back, that I’ll regret what I’ve done with you and choose to be with him, this isn’t a movie, Nick. This isn’t one of my books. I’m grounded enough with myself to understand I carried on neglected by him entirely too long, and that’s only highlighted by the feelings I’m almost letting myself have with you.”
The thing about men who take their women for granted is that when they’re ready to leave, when women like Margot and Bailey decide they’re done, there’s no turning back. That ship has sailed. But the thing about men with women like Bailey is that once the woman decides to leave, these same men realize they don’t want them gone, so they promise them the world on bended knee and with tears in their eyes, hoping they don’t get left. Sadly, this works a lot the first, second and third times. But sometimes it doesn’t work at all.
The proof is in the fact that if Margot wanted me back, I’d probably take her back.
“How many times have you tried to leave him?” I ask, still holding back on my own willingness to wade into these uncharted waters.
“There will be only once.”
“He’ll beg and cry for you to stay. He’ll tell you what you want to hear in the hopes that you’ll give him one more chance.”
“He’s had a thousand chances.”
“But you�
�ll give him one more, and that’s all he needs.”
“You are a good man, Nick. He’s not. He’s just pretty, and he has money he doesn’t mind sharing, and once upon a time he knew how to charm the panties off a lady. You don’t seem to want anything from me, or even me at all now that you’ve learned I’m technically with someone else, and for some stupid reason that makes me want you more.”
“It’s not a game with me,” I say. “It’s not just me.”
“It isn’t a game with me either.”
I don’t know what to say other than I like how she feels against me. I like her breath on my ear, her hands on my chest, this close proximity I feel with her. All I need to do is just let go once more. Let her in. Turning into her, I lean forward and kiss her gently on the lips.
She kisses me back, but then pulls away and says, “Is this a one time thing or are you all the way in? Because I can’t take this back and forth business with you.”
“When you say all the way in…”
“I mean no more wishy-washy crap about me and the guy I’m going home to leave.”
“If you turn out to be a pain in the ass, that’s a deal breaker, too,” I say, grinning. She now slides her body fully over mine and the next thing I know, we’re pulling at each other’s clothes and acting like a pair of love-drunk teens.
Marcus is on the couch, not quite asleep, but not fully awake as he listens to Bailey and Nick go at it. On nights like these, he wished his senses were not so attuned to every little sound. He wished he could turn on a TV. Plug in some headphones. Go for a walk. Then, just as he was lying there with his thoughts turning to his father, Corrine walked out into the living room wearing only a long T-shirt she must’ve found somewhere in the house.
“Marcus,” she whispered.
“I’m awake.”
“Are you going to sleep out here all night?”
“Yes.”
“I’m scared,” she said, quietly.
“You don’t want to be alone?” he asked.
“No.”
“You can take the couch if you want,” he offered. “I can do the floor.”
“I don’t want you to have to do that.”
“You can’t imagine the places I’ve slept before. Trust me when I tell you the floor is just fine. You’ll need to bring your bedding though because I want mine.”
She returned a few minutes later with a quilt and her pillow. She made herself a bed on the couch, then laid there for a long time. Marcus was waiting for her to say something, but somewhere along the way she fell asleep. An hour later, he heard a light moan followed by a whimper. She starting saying the word “no,” over and over again, frantic, and then she began to beg, saying “no” and “no, please, please don’t.”
He knew what this was. Rather he assumed it had something to do with what she survived. What he couldn’t tell was whether someone was trying to kill her father or whether they were moving in on her.
Finally she started to cry and he almost woke her, but he didn’t. He’d never dealt with something like this before. Finally she yelped out, jolting herself awake. For a long time, she just laid there, crying. Finally she got off the couch, found her way to the bathroom (and a toilet which still didn’t flush), then returned a few minutes later. Instead of going back to the couch, she pulled her blanket and pillow down to the floor and made a bed next to Marcus.
She didn’t seem to know he was still awake, that he had nightmares like hers and had since conditioned himself to sleep very little while operating at full capacity on limited reserves.
For a second, he was very uncomfortable.
He didn’t like the close proximity with people, not unless it was a life threatening situation. He liked it even less that she was young, without a family and fresh out of…what she survived. He felt her hand reach for his. He froze, letting her take it.
“I’m awake,” he said. She didn’t let go of his hand. In fact, when he started to take his out of hers, she tightened her grip just enough to let him know he should stay.
“I know.”
“What are you doing, Corrine?” he asked, his heart hammering in his chest, so much uncertainty in their physical connection.
“I miss my father.”
“I know.”
“I miss my mother, too,” she said, sad.
He didn’t say anything because it made him think too much about how beaten down at life his own mother had been. He’d left her all alone with his old man, the miserable son of a—
“Do you have anyone?” she asked, interrupting his thoughts.
“No.”
“Me neither.”
“I’m too old for you, Corrine, too damaged…”
“How old are you?” she asked.
“Thirty-one.”
“That’s not too old, if that’s what I wanted, but that’s not what I want, Marcus. I just want to be near someone who reminds me of my father. I just need to forget this is happening. If only for a few minutes.”
He didn’t say anything back, but he felt himself relax and he felt her falling back to sleep. He didn’t realize that he’d fallen asleep until he woke up, but when he did, he felt refreshed in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. He’d actually slept. Sitting up, the room flooded with a dim shade of sunlight, he realized the long end of the morning was facing him. He checked his watch. It had stopped working for some reason.
He tapped it.
Nothing.
Corrine rolled over, opened her eyes and said, “What time is it?”
“Time to get up,” he said.
Just then, Bailey walked out of their room to use the communal bathroom, stopping for a second at the sight of the two of them together. It had been a long time since he’d looked at anyone the way he was looking at Bailey. The word awkward sprung to mind. Embarrassed just wasn’t a strong enough word.
“It’s not like that,” he said.
“Not judging,” Bailey responded as she went into the bathroom and shut the door.
“There’s nothing to judge,” he mumbled to himself.
“What?” Corrine asked from behind him.
“I said it’s time to get up,” he replied, getting up and putting a shirt on.
“You didn’t say that,” she said.
“Still…”
“Does she think—?”
“I’m going down to the boat,” he said, cutting her off because he didn’t even want the image of him being with her in his head. He was her protector, not her lover. Not someone he wanted anyone thinking he was taking advantage of.
He took the boat keys, walked over to Amber’s house and asked which boat was theirs. She gave him directions and a description, then she stood there just inside the door, looking at him. He didn’t know what she wanted him to say, or to ask.
“Are you with that girl?” she finally said.
“Which one?” he asked.
“Tall girl, gorgeous, big boobs?”
“Bailey.”
“Yeah, her.”
“No,” he said. “Nick’s with her.”
She stood a little straighter, then slowly nodded her head and said, “Yeah, figures. He’s just about as pretty as she is. Well, I guess you must be going.”
“Thank you, Amber.” She nodded, then stood back to close the door, but he stopped her. “Are you sure you’re okay staying here by yourself?”
“I have Abigail.”
“You know what I mean,” he said.
“I’m fine.”
“Everyone’s fine until they’re not.”
“Would you ever date a woman like me, in a world like this? I’m not asking because I want to date you. I mean, you’re nice and relatively good looking, but I’ve got a kid and I’m…not very good at life, which means I probably won’t be very good at this life.”
“I’m not the dating kind, Amber.”
“Why’s that?”
“I’m a bit…my head’s not right. My upbringing, my time in the Army. It
’s not anyone’s fault in particular, and maybe I’ll try to change what’s mixed up here,” he said, tapping his skull, “but right now I don’t want to. My anger keeps me sharp. My hatred for everything keeps my heart turned off when I have to make tough decisions.”
“Like deciding who lives and who dies?” she asked, unblinking.
“It’s about survival now.”
“Have you killed people in this…whatever this is?” she asked before she realized you just don’t ask questions like this to men like him.
“Yes.”
Setting her jaw, she looked down, then said, “Thank you for the food and the gun.”
“It seems an unfair trade, you know. A boat for a few supplies.”
“I can’t use the boat, but I can use the food and the gun. You need a boat, and you have lots of food. As far as I’m concerned, we’re even Stephen.”
“Well I’m grateful for you. And if you change your mind, we’ll be leaving in a few hours.”
“Thank you.”
With that she moved toward him, stood on her tippy-toes and kissed his cheek. “You’re a good man,” she said.
He smiled as she shut the door, and then he turned and walked down the road, past the Mack truck and the house, all the way down to the docks. He found the yacht easily, then went aboard to check out the quarters. Although this one wasn’t nearly as nice as the other one, it was better than nothing. And right now that was something.
He rooted around and found the owner’s manual, read the specs, figured they’d have to fill it with water and gas, and though that would take time, it was far better than the alternative. Driving through this nightmare up the coast would surely be a worst case scenario. Well, worse than losing the first boat. Which was a perfect boat.
Letting out a deep breath, trying not to be upset at the yacht being gone, he stuck the key in the ignition, turned it, got nothing. No lights, no nothing. Battery? He went through the manual, found out where the main battery was located and a half hour later found it was dead. While he was going though the onboard tools, he found a portable fish finder, turned it on, nothing.
Frustrated, Marcus left the boat, walked back up to Amber’s and knocked on the front door. She answered, looking at him in his sweaty, agitated state.
