“You think so, huh? I kind of agree.”
“No butch is complete without her femme,” I teased, wiggling my eyebrows. “Does that mean you’re offering?” As soon as the words escaped my mouth, I regretted them.
Our eyes met for a brief second, and she shifted her gaze away from me.
The grin on my face dissolved. “I’m sorry, Kisana. That was pretty stupid of me.”
She stared out at the settling dust cloud again. “It’s okay. I should have seen it coming. I provoked it.”
“No. I shouldn’t have said it. I know you’re straight. It was uncalled for. It’s that simple.”
Kisana shook her head slowly. She glanced around the outdoor corridor. We were by ourselves. For whatever reason, everyone else was inside. The dust-ridden twilight was ours alone. She then turned her head toward me, and our eyes locked. “I’m…not exactly straight,” she whispered.
My heart jumped inside my chest disobediently, and my face began to flush. “Wh-what?”
She sat down her bowl and then averted her gaze back to the pile of debris. “I always thought I might be bisexual,” she said. “But I grew up in a religious family, a strict Spanish household…so I just kind of tried to forget about it.”
The sun started to sink behind the cloud of debris as I tried to calm the frantic beating of my heart. I was crazy about her—it was freaking obvious to me. But I didn’t want to seem too eager.
“I buried myself in my schoolwork, my artwork. I haven’t dated a man in over a year. My family’s been bugging me about it, but I just can’t bring myself to want to date a man right now.” Her eyes met mine again. They shone bright against the backdrop of the setting sun and the hazy dust in the air. “Then I met you. You’re so strong, self-assertive about who you are. Your father doesn’t approve, yet it doesn’t stop you from being who you are. I am…jealous of that.”
“It took me years to get to that point,” I added softly. “And I still feel like a sack of shit whenever someone mentions it around him.” I’d told her my story of coming out to Bruce. “But if this has been something within you for years…” I paused, knowing that I had to choose my words carefully. “I think you owe it to yourself to at least explore it.”
Heat rose to my face again. Those probably weren’t the right words. “Not explore it with me necessarily, but I, uh…I’m pretty bad at this…” I gave up. Nothing I was saying made any sense, even to me.
“Sam,” she murmured, the autumnal hues of her eyes blazing into mine like a comet’s tail. Kisana leaned toward me and cupped my chin in her hand. She closed her eyes and pressed her lips to mine. Her kiss was silky, with the perfect amount of ferocity. Her lips were the softest lips I’d ever felt against mine. The scent of her skin sent waves of pure joy through me like a subtle, extraordinary rain.
The setting sun flared in front of us as our lips parted. She kept a gentle hand under my chin as I scooted closer to her and wrapped an arm around her slender waist.
“I guess that’s one way to…explore,” I said, my face tightening as a grin enveloped its surface. “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this…”
“Oh, I think I had some idea,” she admitted, a bashful grin appearing on her face, keeping mine company.
I thought back to the night when she reached down and pulled me up from the depths of my own self-pity, paired with stucco shreds and a garden trowel. I laughed and raised my eyebrows, feigning innocence. “I guess I wasn’t too subtle?”
“No, not at all. But I like that about you.”
I brushed my hand against her cheek softly, grinning still, as I relished the feel of her velvety skin. My hand crept behind her head and into her hair. I brought her head closer to mine, closed my eyes, and initiated the kiss this time. My heart lit up like a field of dancing fire flies.
Chapter 15
Kisana and I spent a few days trying to avoid everyone else and enjoying each other’s company. She didn’t want her parents to find out about us yet, but avoiding them was getting difficult. I hated feeling like a love-drunk teenager, but my insides swam with a silvery sheen of happiness every time I saw a smile appear on Kisana’s face. I just couldn’t help myself. I wanted to spend every waking moment absorbing her warmth.
She was with me now, atop our lunch table. We called it our hideout. I had moved my tent closer to it and set up a cardboard wall of sorts, blocking the table from anyone else’s view.
We continued to find little scraps of blown-apart wood inside the gym. David assumed the little bits came from all the exploding buildings though no one was entirely sure. We had even found bits of cardboard and metal. Joel, Kisana’s brother, had found a beaten-up hubcap. He had placed it outside his tent like some kind of trophy. I couldn’t say much. My silly flag was still my trophy.
I started using the small bits of wood and metal to solidify the cardboard wall, creating a little world of sorts for Kisana and me. We leaned against each other now, watching the sun dip down against the horizon. Simon was curled up in a ball between us, sound asleep.
“What’s your favorite time of the day?” I asked. “Mine’s now. Dusk.”
“Dusk and dawn are both beautiful,” Kisana said. “Especially today’s. But the promise of dawn—a new start—means more to us as human beings, I think.”
I nodded. There hadn’t been any explosions today, and the sky wasn’t a rust-covered portrait for once. Deep blue shimmered in a melody of pink, orange, and a hint of violet. There were some clouds in the distance that looked like rain clouds.
“What will a storm be like under this dome?” I wondered aloud.
“Might be pretty noisy. You’re just trying to change the subject, aren’t you?” She shook her head accusingly and smiled.
I laughed. “Maybe.”
Kisana had tried to talk me into reading my story to my father again. My story was a whole eleven pages now—not long at all—but he had never read to me when I was a child. The thought of reading to him now didn’t sit right with me. Marge had told me this morning that she didn’t think he had much longer. Maybe a couple of days or a week if we were lucky.
She sighed. “I don’t understand why you’re being so stubborn. You haven’t been to see him in the last couple of days, have you?” She took my hand in hers and traced my palm between two fingers. Her touch was so smooth. My hands felt dry in comparison.
I shifted and met her concerned gaze. “Dang, I was hoping you wouldn’t notice,” I said in a low voice. “I guess I’m scared. I hate being scared.”
“Scared of saying goodbye?”
I shook my head. “Scared of finding some neat little bow to wrap up our whole relationship, our whole life together. I don’t think it exists…but if it does, I’m afraid to see what it looks like. I’m afraid to let anyone else see. What if it’s neon green?”
Kisana frowned at me. “Who cares what it looks like? Who cares what others think? As long as you get solace from it, it doesn’t have to be neat and tidy. Everyone’s personal relationships are so different, there’s no point in comparing yours with anyone else’s. Cancer…doesn’t come gift-wrapped. Just be there for him and make sure he’s comfortable.”
I squeezed her hand, grinning. “I’m so glad you understood that goofy analogy.”
“I try.” She smiled a crooked smile. “Besides, if you asked the aliens for gift bows, you’d get neon green anyway. May as well make the most from what we have.”
“All right,” I said, “enough of this stalling. Your smile has convinced me.” I hopped off our table and moved the bit of cardboard where it ended. I had cut part of it loose, so it formed a hinge and a makeshift gate.
She followed. “I’ll get us some dinner. What would you like?”
Simon poked his head up at the mention of food and joined us. I exited the gate and held it open for them, peering left and right. Naomi was at another table, rinsing out some clothes, and Joel passed us, carrying another piece of metal that looked like it
came off a car.
“Thanks for stopping by, Kisana. I appreciate the help with my story!” I said, my voice extra loud. “Oh, hi, Joel! Find more random parts?”
“Yeah,” he said, giving me an odd look. “Found this just now. I don’t know what I’m going to do with it yet…maybe build a fence like you have.” He shuffled off quickly. He probably thought I was crazy.
Kisana emerged from our hideout and raised an eyebrow at me. I tossed her a grin and finally answered her question in my normal volume. “Mac ’n’ cheese?”
She chuckled at me, shaking her head. “You’re such a goof. Mac ’n’ cheese sounds good. I’ll make us some.”
I shut the cardboard gate behind us, and watched her make her way into the gym. Simon and Kisana had become fast friends, and he sauntered after her. I liked the way Kisana’s ass looked in jeans. I couldn’t wait until summer, when tight shorts were in season.
“Helping you with your story. Yeah, I believe that one, girl,” Naomi said from her table. A wide smile encompassed her face.
I grinned at her in response. “Good, because it’s true, you know. She’s a pretty fucking awesome muse.”
“Mmhm. I’m sure.”
“So.” I cleared my throat. “I do have to ask you something.”
“Sure, what’s up?”
“Actually, hold on a sec.” I left her side and stuck my head inside the gym, peering around. “David! Come here!” I shouted.
He was playing a board game with Julie and Han. He looked up at my shouting, mouthed a quick apology to the kids, and then joined me at the door.
“Sorry, this’ll only take a minute.”
“No problem. They were kicking my butt anyway.” He smiled. With the lack of explosions today, it had been a good day for most of us.
We walked back to Naomi. Thankfully we were the only ones outside besides Joel, who was on the opposite end of the corridor, fiddling with his metal piece.
“I have a request,” I said, “concerning Bruce.”
David nodded at me to continue.
“He doesn’t have much longer. I’d like to do something for him. He loved his old TV westerns. I want to get a TV and DVD player in here, and I want to request some of our generated electricity. Just enough to show him an hour and a half movie.”
Naomi took a step back from her water bucket, letting the clothes drip on the cement. “You know we need those generators for the ventilation system,” she said. “We don’t even know how much longer the generators will last.”
“I know.” I shoved my hands in the pockets of my jeans. “I’ve tried to think of other things I could do for him, but nothing else fits. We tried getting a laptop computer in here, remember, to use just as long as its battery power would last. We couldn’t even get it to power on.”
David nodded. That had been his idea. A good one, but whatever was making our cell phones not power on affected mobile computers as well. He figured it had to do with the type of batteries we used and the aliens’ power sources conflicting with the batteries and satellites.
“I don’t know, Sam,” Naomi said, shaking her head. “I think we should save all the energy we can, to make sure we live as long as possible.”
“I wouldn’t be asking this if he weren’t dying,” I said softly. “You know that.”
David twisted an end of his mustache. “If we do it for you, everyone else will start wanting similar treatment. The kids will want cartoon shows, the guys will want golf tournaments, and the women will want their soaps. We have to treat everyone the same, no exceptions.”
I glared at him. “Okay. If anyone else’s loved ones die, they can have the same fucking treatment. How’s that?”
His gaze softened at my words as he stared down at the concrete.
“What did I say?” I asked, my brows furrowing together. Then it dawned on me. “Oh. I…didn’t mean your loved ones. They have to be fine still. Somewhere.”
David refused to look up at me.
“Go ahead, Sam,” Naomi said quietly. “We’ll let everyone know the extreme circumstances. Bruce deserves…something. More than this shit hole can offer. Just, please don’t choose Gone with the Wind or something that’s six hours long.”
“I won’t. An hour and a half, tops.” I turned to David again. “I’m sorry…”
He gave me a slight nod, and then disappeared back inside the gym.
“Dammit,” I mumbled. “There I go again.”
“He’ll be okay,” Naomi said, turning back to her laundry. She began spreading the clean clothes out on the benches to dry. “He knows you meant no harm by it.”
I sighed. “Wouldn’t be so bad if our alien guy would at least talk to us. We don’t know if they’re safe or if the entire city’s caving in on us.”
She finished with the laundry and put her hands on her hips. “Doesn’t do us any good to start fussing. You know that. Now, I’m gonna go attempt to make chicken salad.”
“Chicken?” My eyes lit up as I momentarily forgot about David’s frustration.
“It’s just the canned shit. I’m gonna add some dry pea soup to it.”
“That sounds…interesting. I think I’ll stick with the mac ’n’ cheese Kisana is making. Tell David I’m sorry. Please.”
“Will do.” Naomi tossed me a quick smile then started to head inside. “Don’t forget dessert!” she added, cheekily.
Chapter 16
My dad’s face was pale through the gray-tinted glow emanating from the tiny television with a built-in DVD player that sat in front of us. The four of us watched Roy Rogers in My Pal Trigger inside Bruce’s tent. The TV was perched on a cloth chair. My dad lay on his cot, propped up by pillows with Marge at his side, holding his hand. I was at his other side with Simon on my lap. Kisana was in a chair next to me, our fingers meshed together.
On the screen, a field of clouds roamed overhead. Roy tried to reassure Trigger, his young colt, that life was a balancing act of good and bad, wins and losses, and fun days and hard times. He had just shot Trigger’s mother, who was badly hurt and wouldn’t survive. Trigger whinnied, attempting to find the sense in it all.
It was a black and white movie, one my father had enjoyed as a young boy. He’d always loved movies about what he referred to as the “good ol’ days.” As annoying as the shoddy camera work, bad special effects, forced dialogue, and terrible overall sound quality could be, I found myself enjoying simple movies like this at times. Their messages were simple, yet somehow profound. People were good to each other, and when they weren’t, they paid the price.
In My Pal Trigger, Roy gets wrongfully arrested for shooting a horse he’d wished to use as a sire for his mare. Roy, of course, eventually finds out who the real shooter is and raises Trigger to be the finest horse there ever was. Justice is served, Roy is rewarded, and they all live happily ever after with twin colts. Growing up, my dad had loved showing me movies about horses and puppies. It was probably one of the reasons I loved animals so much even though at the time, I had watched them while scowling.
Bruce and I hadn’t exchanged many words during this visit. His vision had seemed to glaze over while I’d asked him mundane questions about his pain, if he had enough blankets, and if he was sleeping well. A spark of light had shown in his eyes when I’d asked him if Marge was treating him well.
“Oh yes,” he had said, nodding his head enthusiastically.
I smiled. That nod must have taken quite a bit of energy.
I watched the two of them interact and couldn’t help but be reminded of how he and my mother had acted when I was little. Marge did everything for Bruce. She had to because of his condition, but also because she wanted to. He was actually polite and appreciative toward her, which had been missing from his and Sara’s relationship for the last six years of it.
My dad hadn’t freaked out about Kisana being with me although I wasn’t entirely sure he understood how close she and I were. I introduced her as my girlfriend, and we’d been holding hands the
entire time, but I think the idea of me with another woman was so foreign to him that he pushed it aside as far as he could. Either that, or he really was feeling too terrible to fight it.
On the TV screen, Trigger paced around his stable, being a good, nervous daddy while his two baby colts were born in a different pen. He, of course, didn’t know they were supposed to be twins, so when two came out instead of one, he fainted, falling to the hay. My dad smiled through the dim light of the TV, and I couldn’t help the smile that took shape on my own face. Kisana squeezed my hand.
The credits started to roll across the screen, and I stood up to flip the TV off, kicking Simon off my lap. The cat flicked his tail at me and left the tent in search of food. David and Naomi weren’t exactly happy about our decision to do this for Bruce, but I didn’t care what anyone thought. I’d rather have had this hour and a half with my father and his pale smile than an extra hour or two suffocating in agony as poisonous gas entered my lungs and killed me.
Bruce’s tent seemed dark without the light of the TV. Kisana left to grab her lantern, and Marge turned on both Bruce’s and hers. I had a single tea light candle shoved in my pocket, along with a cigarette lighter I stole from Donna. I took the candle out and lit it, setting it on the TV tray next to Bruce’s bed.
My dad turned to me and caught a glimpse of the tiny, flickering candle. He smiled again. “Thank you, Sam,” he whispered.
I joined him at his bedside then reached out and grasped his hand. It was cold and shaking slightly as I held it in mine. His skin was so pale it was almost translucent, and his breathing was labored.
“No problem at all,” I said, squeezing his hand. “It was the least I could do.”
He opened his mouth as if to speak, but no words came out. Marge hovered over him on the opposite side of his cot. Her aged yet pretty face was etched with worry, but she didn’t say anything.
“Shh,” I told him, “if it’s too hard to talk, don’t. Save your strength.”
He shook his head forcefully. He managed to croak out a few words, his voice hoarse. “Is she…the one…for you?”
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