Johnny put the groceries away with Grandma. Edna helped them. She noted that Johnny did not bring the canned goods into the pantry but left them on the counter this week. It was nice that he respected her privacy, but she hoped the vision of her underwear hanging from the shelves was receding from his memory. She also hoped she was going to think of something irresistible to say, and she wanted to be right next to him if she did. Feeling that she had to be happy and uncomplicated made it hard for Edna to think. She followed Johnny to the garage.
“Does Bishop’s also fix cars?”
“No. I don’t fix anything, just keep it running for Mary. Check the oil, take it for a spin every week.”
“That’s nice.”
“Well, she pays me a little.”
“It’s still nice. I don’t know what she’d do otherwise. Do you do that for a lot of people?”
“No, just Mary.”
“Do you know anything about an oasis around here?”
“Sure, there’s one at the inn.”
“There’s an inn?”
“It’s, like, a bunch of cabins and a restaurant.”
“With an oasis?”
“Yeah.”
“I was curious about that mural in town, but I can’t look anything up. There’s no Internet here.”
If Edna wasn’t careful, she’d sound like she was complaining, one of the top ten ways to turn a man off, according to Shimmer.
In Johnny’s experience, people didn’t generally ask questions or talk much, especially to people they didn’t know. It wasn’t out of coldness, but more in the spirit of minding one’s own business. Desert dwellers sought solitude and freedom, and minding their own business was what they did best. This girl from L.A. was probably bored out of her mind with her grandparents, who were the most extreme kind of solitude seekers.
“Do you feel like going for a ride?” he asked.
“Where are you going?”
“Just down the road and back.”
Edna would have gone anywhere with him. If liking boys was a game, then hours of proofreading Shimmer for her mother finally gave her some advantage. She knew better than to seem too eager. With that in mind, she should say she was busy on such short notice, but under her circumstances, at her grandparents’ cabin, that would have been impossible to believe.
When Johnny put on his Aviator sunglasses in the Bronco, Edna wondered if he knew he looked like a movie star. She couldn’t see how he couldn’t. If he lived in Brentwood, there would be no question he knew he looked like a star, and he’d probably act like one, too. A very bratty one.
“I don’t want Mary calling the police again,” he said as he pulled over by the cabin so Edna could jump out and tell Grandma where they were going. She’d never ridden in a car with a boy alone before. Her parents would not have allowed this at home.
Edna’s time in the desert was mostly miserable, but it was occasionally more magical than anything in the real world. She’d had no idea she’d be going with Johnny to the oasis today. She was glad she hadn’t known; she’d have been exhausted. She wouldn’t have slept the night before.
13
OASIS
Edna gave up trying to think of the beguiling things she would say to Johnny if she were a happy and uncomplicated young woman. It was mentally straining, and it wasn’t working. Everything she’d said was so dull it didn’t come close to starting a conversation, and the sound of her own voice made her cringe. She was glad she had practice saying nothing with Grandma, because she really had to find a way to calm down.
They were only a few streets away from the stores in Desert Palms, in a neighborhood of charmless houses surrounded by colorless patches of dirt and delineated by chain-link fence. Edna was starting to doubt that an oasis as bucolic as the one in the mural could be near these scenes of neglect with abandoned cars on blocks and sagging laundry lines. But before they reached a dead end, there was a sign with an arrow that said: Inn.
Johnny turned into a long driveway lined with short, thick palm trees. Within a moment, the setting had transformed into the kind of shabby-chic luxury that could be found in a travel magazine. The driveway seemed to lead into the wilderness until a freestanding glass lobby came into view. Next to it was a rectangular swimming pool, lounge chairs and cafe tables, all elegant in their rustic simplicity. Beyond a grass lawn was a cluster of lush, tall palm trees surrounding a real pond. A soft chorus of birds was just loud enough to hear.
Edna was humbled; it was one of the most beautiful places she’d ever been to. When she had been lost in the desert, she’d thought it would be too much to expect a pretty little pond to die next to, but one existed after all. She would think twice about what was too much to expect in the future. As surprising as a pond in the middle of the desert was, a boat on the shady water was even more surprising. It was wooden with red trim, a quaint, gingerbread houseboat. On the water’s edge, a deck had a rowboat tied to it. The scene was straight out of a fairy tale.
“Do they use that to get to the houseboat?”
He nodded.
“Let’s check it out,” he said.
He made his way over to the deck. Edna followed him.
“What if someone’s in there?”
“Then the rowboat would be tied to it.”
“What if the owner comes out?”
“I’ll say, ‘Hello, Aunt Betty.’”
“Oh.”
Most kids Edna knew would have made a point of bragging that their family owned this hotel. Johnny held the boat as Edna got in it. The pond was small for actual boating, and a push was enough to coast to the houseboat. The damp air smelled like a mountain lake, and they were inside an invisible bubble of coolness. Johnny helped Edna up the steps on the side of the houseboat. Once aboard, they sat, their knees almost touching, on the houseboat’s tiny patio in the improbable biosphere. Johnny wasn’t only the cutest boy she’d ever seen, Edna thought, he was also really nice.
“Thanks for bringing me here.”
“Sure.”
“It’s so beautiful.”
“This isn’t the same oasis as in the mural.”
“There’s another one?”
“Yeah, but the water’s underground in that one now.”
“Oh.”
Edna looked up into the thick canopy of green. The palms swayed, and the sunlight sparkled around them. Insects swirled above the pond, catching light on their frantic journeys.
“Do you ever miss trees?”
“I never lived around that many,” he said. “I just visit trees.”
“I miss being around lots of trees sometimes.”
“How long are you staying with your grandparents?”
“The whole summer, I think.”
“They have trees.”
“Just two.”
“It’s pretty far out, where they are.”
“I guess so.”
“You’re nice to keep them company for so long.”
“I try to be.”
Edna wasn’t about to tell Johnny that she was left with her grandparents because her parents were so frustrated they didn’t know what to do with her. She also wasn’t going to mention that she never once thought she was keeping anyone company. She couldn’t tell Johnny much of anything about herself, but she didn’t feel like that girl anymore anyway. If she changed into a new girl, the girl he thought she was, would it count? She stood up and noticed her reflection in the water. Would she have to tell him that she was kicked out of two schools? That he’d rescued her in the desert that day because she had been running away? Being in this beautiful place with this beautiful boy made Edna feel beautiful, too, but it still didn’t help her think of anything to talk about. Shimmer advised asking something about the other person to start a conversation.
“How long have you been delivering Grandma’s groceries?”
The question was stodgy on its own, and more so in the stunning surroundings.
“I’ve been driving for t
wo summers, but we’ve been delivering your grandparents’ groceries for, I think, seven years. I used to ride out there in the truck all the time. It’s the furthest place we go.”
“Did you ever hear my grandfather talk?”
“No, never did.”
“He was in Vietnam.”
Johnny nodded.
“There’s lots of vets out here.”
“I think he got sick after the war, not in it,” Edna said. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him, really.”
The article in the paper had said Edna was thirteen. Even if no one in her family told her, Johnny figured she deserved to know about her own grandfather. She should be able to handle what was pretty common knowledge about Ezekiel Miller.
“It’s called obtunded, the thing he has.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s like a…a reduced level of consciousness. They think it’s from head injuries or PTSD.”
Edna didn’t know what that was either.
“Post-traumatic stress disorder.”
“Oh. I’ve heard of that.”
“And he was…he wasn’t…doing that well around anything, uh, electrical, so they took over your dad’s cabin. That was a long time ago.”
He changed his mind; maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to talk about this. He remembered when his dad had helped Mary chase Zeke down at the gas station. They’d finally changed the pumps to accept credit cards, and the beeping sounds they made flipped him right out. Johnny had watched as all three adults disappeared down the street, leaving him and little Pete alone in the backseat. He didn’t share the story with Edna.
Even without it, this explained the weird setup of the cabin to her. She hadn’t even known it belonged to her father. Edna felt uncivilized; Johnny knew more about her grandparents than she did. He’d shed some light on Grandpa, but Edna regretted bringing it up. It was a creepy topic, even if it was one of the few subjects she might have in common with Johnny. She would never bring her grandparents up with anyone at home. Edna never talked about them, and she didn’t know until now that she was ashamed of them.
Two young couples came out of their cabins, a welcome interruption. One of the men tossed a volleyball into the air and yelled, “Hey, you guys wanna play?”
Four wasn’t really enough for a volleyball game, considering his wife “sucked at it,” he explained. One of the women, presumably the wife, punched his shoulder. Because of their trendy attire, Edna thought these artsy couples were probably from West Hollywood or Venice, and she proceeded to judge them. She was not an entirely new girl just yet. Bob, the guy who had called out to them, had an angry edge and was in his mid-twenties. He was soft, pudgy, and his fashionable eyewear did not make up for it. Bob’s fair-haired wife, Susan, seemed timid, probably because of him, and as a result she was a terrible volleyball player. Sherry, the female of the other couple, had dark skin, tattoos and blond dreadlocks. Edna didn’t see how she could play volleyball with so many rings. Her boyfriend, William, wore jeans that were ripped by their designer.
It had been a while since Edna had played a game, and she’d do anything to stay out with Johnny. She said she’d love to. He didn’t mind waiting a little longer before spending the rest of the day cooped up in the store. He was getting a new bike at the end of the summer, but that didn’t mean work was fun or easy.
The couples stayed as teams, and Edna and Johnny became the third person on each side. Edna couldn’t wait to watch Johnny play, but a game never really got started. The other three only hit the ball to Susan, who leaned away from it in fear. The few shots she made flew wild and prompted a bizarre wrath from Bob.
“See what I mean? She’s useless.”
“Hey, play nice!”
Bob ignored Sherry and spiked the ball at Susan, cursing her mistakes.
“Ow!”
“Susan, that was a pass.”
“Well, it hurt my hand!”
The ball rolled away. Bob and William laughed, too hard. Edna didn’t know what was so funny, but they were strangely hysterical.
“Go get it,” Bob ordered Susan, and he pointed toward the ball.
“You guys are mean,” Susan yelled as she came back with it and whipped it at William.
Sherry supported Susan with, “Yeah, you guys really are.”
Edna and Johnny were in the middle of some kind of psycho-drama that had started before the volleyball game.
“We’re gonna get going,” Johnny announced.
“We’re playing a game here. Don’t be such a twit.”
Johnny ignored Bob and his fake British accent. He looked to Edna and said, “Let’s go.”
“What’s up, kid?”
“We have to get going. Thanks for the game.”
“Really? Is there a problem?”
“No.”
“All right!”
It didn’t sound like it was all right, but Bob stuck his hand out to shake as Johnny passed. Johnny sighed and put his hand out in return, then Bob pulled his away. It was a lame joke, not worthy of acknowledging, and Johnny kept moving.
“Hey, kid. Kid!”
He turned, only so this jerk would lower his voice.
“Why don’t you just pop that cherry and get it over with?”
Edna tried to imagine what else that could have meant besides the crude thing it sounded like during the split second before Johnny hit Bob. Bob fell flat. It seemed like a pratfall, but then he didn’t get up. Johnny shook his hand out as he marched to the Bronco, pulling Edna, who, in shock, would have stood there indefinitely. They heard Susan as they left:
“That was awesome! I’m glad someone finally punched you in your fat face!”
Edna was too afraid to turn around. She didn’t even notice that Johnny was holding her hand. Moments later they were driving through the sad neighborhood and into the open desert. The world fell into one of those quiets after something unbelievable has happened, but Edna couldn’t let the incident fade away.
“Thanks for defending my honor.”
“It wasn’t that. I don’t like being called a kid.”
Edna smirked.
“You’re not funny. That was a little dangerous.”
“It was wrong.”
He left out that he wasn’t sorry, and he would do it again.
“Betty would be upset if she found out I hit a guest.”
“Does your hand hurt?”
“No.” He opened and closed his fingers. “Not too much.”
“Do you get into a lot of fights?”
“No.”
He was sincere. Edna loathed violence, but there was no denying she was pleased, and she found this disturbing. She wanted to curl up next to Johnny like a kitten now that he’d punched someone for her. It was sick. Instead of doing that, she looked at her watch.
“So those guys must be having a great vacation if they have to be drunk by ten in the morning.”
“I don’t know what they were on,” he said under his breath.
“Are they going to be like that all day?”
“People come out here to do drugs.”
“Do you do drugs?”
“No. Do you?”
“No! I don’t know why you’d want to there. That oasis is even prettier than Hawaii. Maybe because it’s so fragile. The bugs and frogs and everything would all die if they were only a few feet away from that spot.”
“It’s true.”
“That must be why the town’s called ‘Desert Palms’ and not just ‘Desert.’”
He raised his eyebrow.
“I think so.”
“I can’t believe there are little fish in the pond. Did you ever sleep in that houseboat?”
“Sure.”
“I’d like to stay there. It must be beautiful at night, especially with a full moon. Did you see how bright the moon was the other night?”
He nodded that he had.
It might have been the idea of Edna in the moonlight, Bob’s crude suggestion,
or the combination of the two that made Johnny stop the Bronco. Edna thought there was a problem, maybe the Bronco broke down, but Johnny didn’t say a word. He slid close to her, assessed her face and softly kissed her. Soon his lips separated hers, and his tongue searched the inside of her mouth. She inhaled his breath. Edna had never kissed anyone this deeply before. She was terrified, and thrilled, and she had no idea what to do other than to let it happen. They clutched at each other with an urgency that came out of the blue. The muscles in his shoulders flexed, the ones he used when he was steering the dirt bike. He caressed her soft hair and the adorable curve at the small of her back. They were horizontal. Distant and then increasingly persistent alarms grew louder in his head. He could take Mary’s granddaughter’s virginity if he wasn’t careful. On a dirt road, in their Bronco, no less. He had to tell himself a few times that this would not be a good thing. He made a low, involuntary sound as he peeled himself off this girl. He slid back behind the wheel and turned on the car. It sputtered before it started. He shook his head slightly.
“I shouldn’t have done that. I just hit a guy for saying…I’m sorry. That was crazy.”
He shifted the gears and drove on.
Edna’s brain exploded, slowly, like a mushroom cloud.
Johnny liked her.
It was, at first, too foreign a notion to comprehend. As they rode on in silence, the only two people in an empty world, the blurry thought came into sharper focus.
“I can kiss, you know,” she informed him.
“You should kiss someone your own age.”
“Why?”
“It’s safer.”
“Why? You’re not that much older than I am. I won’t call you a kid if you don’t like it, but you are still technically jailbait. The newspaper said you’re seventeen.”
She folded her arms and shrugged, as if he was no big deal.
“We’re not going to do anything, Edna, and we shouldn’t talk about it anymore either.”
Most girls Johnny knew didn’t challenge him. They wouldn’t have had much to say about an oasis. They usually went on about some problem or how they felt fat, turning the topic, and his eyes, to their bodies. Before he knew it he’d be telling a girl that she wasn’t fat and that he liked her body, and this usually led to some level of consummation, followed by crying later on when he got bored of it. Most girls Johnny knew had either been his girlfriend already or tried to be. It was a small town. In any case, it wasn’t like him to ditch work, hit people and take advantage of thirteen-year-olds.
Edna in the Desert Page 8
