Resurrecting Phoenix

by Isabel Lucero

  He looks at me over the back of the couch before getting up and meeting me by the door.

  “Let’s head out,” he says with a smile, positioning his arm in a way so we can hook our arms together.

  I slide my arm into the crook of his and he walks me to the passenger side of his truck. When he unhooks his arm from mine, he grabs my hand and places a soft kiss on my knuckles. I flush as he opens the door and helps me inside.

  I take a deep breath as he walks around and climbs in. “All right, time to explore this little town of yours,” he says as he starts up the truck.

  “Hope you aren’t expecting much.”

  “There’s always a silver lining, Phoenix. And today, even if I find out there’s absolutely nothing that interests me in this town, I have you with me, and you always interest me.”

  My heart feels like it’s beating at rapid fire speed, but he just gives me one of his signature smiles and drives down the road like he didn’t just say one of the sweetest things I’ve ever had said to me.

  He seems perfect, but perfect scares me.

  I’m waiting for the bomb to drop. There has to be one, right? Nobody is this perfect.

  “SO, WHERE WE going?” I ask.

  “Well, I guess it’s not gonna take long to explore the actual town of Breckshire. What is it? A five hundred person population?”

  I guffaw. “Uh. No. It’s like fifty-five hundred.”

  He laughs. “Seems smaller.”

  “Try living here your whole life.”

  “Have you thought about moving?”

  “Not really. I guess like most people who live in small towns, you complain about it, but you can’t seem to leave it either. Plus . . .” I trail off, unsure of whether I should finish.

  “Plus,” Evan encourages.

  With a sigh, I say, “Plus, I feel like I’d be abandoning Gordon if I left.”

  I watch Evan for his response, but he just slowly nods his head like he understands.

  For the next thirty minutes, we drive around town and I point out my favorite places to eat, the places to avoid eating at, and where I went to school.

  “Were you one of the popular kids?” Evan asks.

  “Not really. I just did my own thing. I didn’t fit into any one category. I was well-liked by most of the kids, but I didn’t have any particular clique. What about you?”

  It looks like he starts blushing. “I don’t want to tell you.”

  “Oh, you have to tell me now,” I exclaim. “You’re actually blushing!”

  “No, I’m not!” he says, touching his cheeks.

  “Just tell me. Were you a band nerd? Jock?”

  With a defeated sigh he says, “I was on the swim team.”

  “What? Really?” I ask, my voice rising in surprise. “That’s not embarrassing.”

  He shrugs. “It wasn’t the most popular thing to do then. I got a lot of shit from the football players.”

  “Pft. They’re dumb. Swimmers are hot.”

  He glances at me with raised brows and a grin touching his lips. “Oh really?”

  I smile as I feel my face heat up. “I mean, they just usually have nice bodies.”

  Looking at the road, he lets out a small, deep chuckle. “I think I do remember you checking me out when I was in my towel.”

  My jaw drops. “I was not!” I lie through my teeth.

  “Mmhhmm.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Don’t worry. If you were in a towel, I’d ogle, too.”

  I don’t respond, but a huge smile stretches across my face as I turn and look out the window.

  After about ten more minutes of driving, we begin driving the outskirts of town where there are a couple big lakes. I direct Evan to my favorite one.

  “Why is this one your favorite?” he asks, as he finds a place to park his truck.

  “The scenery is beautiful and relaxing. It’s almost therapeutic to be out here. The trees surround most of the water, and in the fall when they change colors, there’s nowhere else that could beat it.”

  Evan backs his truck up so the bed is facing the water. He comes around and opens my door, lending me his hand to help me out. He surprises me when he doesn’t let go of my hand as he leads me to the water.

  We end up at a short pier that juts into the water about fifteen feet. I gently pull my hand from his when I move to sit down on the wooden planks, facing the serene water. I take notice of the few ducks floating on the water, the birds flying in formation above us, and a few fish swimming slowly below us. We’re literally surrounded by beauty.

  Evan comes to sit next to me and drops a handful of rocks between us. When I look up at him with question in my eyes, he smiles and picks up one of the flat rocks.

  “You know how to skip rocks?” he asks, handing me one.

  “No. I’ve tried, but mine always sink as soon as they hit.”

  “Here, watch me,” he says, taking a rock and holding it with just his forefinger and thumb. The rock stays flat and he draws his hand back and with a flick of the wrist the rock goes flying, skipping on the water at least four times.

  “I’m not gonna be able to do that,” I say shaking my head.

  “Then you just gotta keep trying. Let me see how you do it.”

  I try to hold the rock like he did and then toss it out towards the water. Like usual, the rock makes a plopping sound before sinking down below.

  “See,” I whine.

  He chuckles and hands me another one. “Let me help.” He makes sure I’m not gripping it too tightly and then kneels behind me, bringing my arm across my body while holding onto my wrist gently. “Now, when your arm gets here,” he says, bringing my arm to a certain position, “flick your wrist like your tossing a Frisbee, but make sure you keep the rock flat.”

  I do as he says and to my surprise the rock doesn’t sink. It only skips once, but I squeal with excitement.

  “Oh my gosh! Did you see that?” I screech as I turn to look at him over my shoulder.

  “I did,” he says with a big grin. “Try again.”

  I pick up another rock and do it once more, the rock skips a little better than the time before, so I pick up another and try again. This time the rock skips across the water twice, causing ripples to disturb the still waters. The next one brings my giddiness to a halt as it sinks on impact. I look at Evan with a pout.

  “It’s okay. Keep trying.”

  I throw a few more rocks and end up getting one to skip three times, so I decide to stop while I’m ahead.

  “I can’t believe I actually figured it out!” I exclaim.

  “You can figure anything out as long as you keep trying. The only way you hinder yourself in any way is to give up. I believe in you, Phoenix.”

  I turn to look at him, because I know he’s not only talking about skipping rocks. His message was much too serious to only be talking about rocks being tossed in a lake. He’s talking about me and my life. He’s getting his messages across indirectly, and I know he’s only doing that to benefit me. Perhaps he senses I wouldn’t accept the words if he were to be direct about it. And he’s right. Any time in the past that anybody tried to tell me what I should do, or need to do has only pissed me off, and caused me to stop listening.

  I give him a nod and small smile, hoping I send him the message that his was received loud and clear.

  He smiles back at me and then turns me around, my back pressed into his front, and wraps his arms around me.

  “It certainly is beautiful out here,” he says.

  I relax into his arms. “Yeah. I wish I would’ve brought my camera. The sunset is beautiful.”

  “You have your phone, right?” he asks.

  “Oh! I do,” I reply, digging into my back pocket for my phone. My hand grazes his thigh and the unmistakable bulge behind his zipper. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” I cry, feeling my face flush. It wasn’t like he was hard or anything, but I definitely rubbed up against it. In my haste to get my hand out from between us
, I almost drop my phone.

  “Careful,” he says, using his quick reflexes to catch the phone. “It’s fragile.” He winks at me, and once again I know he’s not just talking about the phone.

  I duck my head with a smile on my face and reach for my phone, but he doesn’t hand it over. Instead he takes a few steps back.

  “What’re you doing?” I ask.

  “Let me take your picture. There should definitely be documentation of this.”

  “Of what?”

  “You, looking like you do.”

  He uses his finger to touch the camera photo in the corner of the screen and pushes up to open the app up. Turning the phone horizontally, he starts taking photos.

  “How do I look?” I ask, feeling self-conscious.

  “Carefree, happy, and beyond beautiful. You’re really a vision, Phoenix.”

  My smile appears, the one that seems to always be present when I’m with Evan. I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear as I look up into his eyes. He snaps a few more photos.

  “Okay, come take one with me now,” I say, not wanting to be the sole focus of all the photos.

  He comes to me at once and stands behind me, stretching his arm out in front of us and takes a few pictures. His free hand is on my hip, finding a place between the material of my shirt and the top of my jeans. I begin to laugh as the soft touch of his hand on my skin tickles, and then I feel his lips on my cheek.

  “I hope we got some good ones,” he says, his lips still brushing against my cheek as he speaks.

  With a small step towards him, I look up and answer in a husky tone. “I’m sure we did.”

  I lick my lips and then bite down on my bottom lip briefly as we stare at each other. I find myself waiting for him to kiss me. He keeps giving me brief kisses that could be classified as friendly or even familial. While I enjoy his pecks on my cheek or forehead, I’m starting to crave the feeling of his lips on mine again.

  Evan places my phone in his own pocket before he puts his hands around my waist, one of them moving to cup my ass and bringing me flush to his body. My hands find their place at his lower back, and I run them up to the backs of his shoulders and down again. He leans down, closing the gap between us, but instead of kissing me, he speaks.

  “I want you, Phoenix. I don’t know how else to say it. I wish I could word it in a more romantic way for you, but I can’t find the words. I know there’s something between us. It’s in the early stages, no doubt, but it’s there and it’s growing. I just . . .” he pauses, running his nose and lips against my cheek and jaw. I feel his beard scratch my skin, but I like it. He tightens his embrace on me and kisses my cheek a couple times before speaking again. “I just want to make sure it’s right. The right time, the right place, and right for you. I don’t want you to have any regrets and run away from me.”

  While I almost feel disappointed for not getting a kiss, what I mostly feel is respected and adored.

  “Evan, I . . .” I begin.

  “Let’s go talk in the truck,” he says, grabbing my hand. “It’s getting dark and it might get cold over here soon.”

  He leads me to the bed of the truck and climbs in first. I watch as he begins pulling rolled up blankets and things from inside an aluminum truck bed chest. He lays down a few blankets, rolls up a few more, and then pulls out a cooler.

  Once he’s done, he comes back and offers me his hand to help me in. “Thank you.”

  “I figure we’d be more comfortable back here, and I brought us some food and stuff,” he says with a shrug.

  “This is really nice. I’ve never had a truck bed date before.”

  “They’re pretty underrated.” He pulls out a few containers that hold sandwiches and a Tupperware dish that has a variety of fruit, and places them on the blanket between us. “I have water and Sprite. Which would you like?”

  “Sprite, please.”

  After he has everything spread out, he stretches his long legs out in front of him while I sit cross-legged.

  “Wasn’t sure what kind of sandwiches to make, so I went with turkey, ham, and cheese. I hope you like that.”

  I smile. “I do.”

  For the first few minutes, we just sit in silence and eat our food while watching the sun go down. It’s definitely a romantic place for a date, and one I’d never think of.

  “There’s so much beauty in simplicity,” I say softly, almost to myself. Evan cocks his head in my direction. “I just mean, people don’t seem to realize that sometimes the simple things in life are the most beautiful. There’s no need to go overboard and extravagant. Being here with you, surrounded by nature in the back of a truck with some sandwiches is something I won’t soon forget.”

  He studies me for a moment with a smile touching his lips. “I agree.”

  Once we finish our food, Evan packs everything away before positioning himself across from me.

  “So, not to sound too cliché, but I think we should talk.”

  I’m instantly on edge, but I know it’s true. If I want to continue hanging out with Evan, he deserves to know more about me, and I definitely don’t want to lose him as a friend. I just fear the questions he may ask.

  I nod my head once. “Yeah.”

  He reaches over to grab my hand and hold it in his. His fingers gingerly stroke the skin on the back of my hand and down my fingers.

  “I meant what I said earlier. I really like you, Phoenix, but I’m also aware that you have a lot going on.”

  “You mean, I have a lot of issues,” I say wryly.

  “I wasn’t going to say that.”

  I let out a long sigh. “I’m going to try to be as honest as possible right now, and I hope whatever I say makes sense to you.” He nods, waiting for me to continue. “The truth is, Evan, I do have issues. I’m well aware of that, and if you spend enough time around me, it’s not hard to miss.” I pause and take a deep breath, willing myself to really be honest. “I drink. A lot. Definitely more than I should.”

  Evan seems to let out a soft sigh of relief, his shoulders relaxing in the process, like he was waiting for me to admit it and wasn’t sure if I ever would.

  “I figured you did.”

  “I wasn’t always like this. I only started drinking a couple months after Gordon’s death. I told you I had a hard time coping with what happened and had a few public meltdowns. After his funeral, when everybody came to my house, I broke down upstairs in my room. I thought I was getting away from everybody so I could go cry, but when I saw his things and pictures of us, I just got angry. Not at him, of course, but in general. I was pissed that he was taken from me, and on our anniversary of all days. I didn’t know what we had done to deserve something like that, so I flipped out. I screamed, I threw things and broke things, and I cried like a baby. A few people had come upstairs to see what was going on, and that was my first meltdown in front of people.

  “The second one was in the grocery store. Our wedding song had come on while I was trying to shop and I collapsed in the aisle and cried. A couple girls I used to be friends with, along with a lot of other people, were witnesses to that, but there wasn’t anything they could do. They didn’t know the song is what made me curl up and want to die. I ended up leaving and overheard my so-called friends talking about me.”

  “Phoenix, you don’t have to tell me everything,” Evan says, his voice gentle while he grips both my hands in his and stares deep into my eyes.

  “I want to. The third one was in the bar, the one you saw me at. I’d had enough at that point. I wasn’t sleeping, my parents weren’t being as supportive as I needed them to be, and I felt like I had nobody. I was just lonely and miserable. I wanted to forget, so I went to the bar to drink. I got pretty wasted and ended up being a sad and miserable drunk. I don’t really remember much of what happened that night, but I heard the rumors afterwards. Max had to call Marissa to come get me. After that, I decided I’d just drink at my house and stay away from people.”

  “Thank you for tellin
g me your story,” he says, running his hands up my arms.

  I shrug, feeling somewhat relieved, but also a bit embarrassed by the admission. “I function well enough, it’s just that at night I feel the need to drink to get to sleep. Sometimes, on the really bad days, I drink just to make the day go by faster. I know it’s not okay, and that I should stop and learn to deal with my emotions without alcohol. I truly understand that, but it’s easier said than done.”

  Evan nods his head. “My father was an alcoholic,” he says, sending shockwaves through me. “That’s why you’ve never seen me drink.”

  I feel like I’ve just been hit by a freight train. Memories of the times I’ve offered him a drink, only for him to pass them up and take a soda instead. When he saw me having wine at home, and brought me a soda to drink with the meal. At his house when he said he didn’t have any alcohol. It makes sense now.

  “I . . . uhh. I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry.”

  “You don’t have any reason to apologize. He was the alcoholic, not me. I just choose to not drink, so it’s not like you were tempting me anytime you had some.”

  “Why did you go to the bar that night?” I ask, referring to the first time I saw him.

  “I was looking for somewhere to eat and that’s the first place I found that was open. I had some food and a soda before I went back home.”

  “You said he was an alcoholic. Does that mean . . . ?” I don’t bother finishing the sentence.

  “Yeah. He died.”

  “I’m so sorry, Evan.”

  His jaw clenches slightly and he shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

  Based on his reaction—a mixture of anger and sadness—I can tell there’s a whole lot of story there, but it’s not my place to push him to talk about it.

  “I’ve been having a lot of good days, Evan, and I think that’s because of you,” I tell him honestly. “On those good days, I tell myself I don’t need help, because I didn’t need a drink that day, or at least not too many. At the same time, I feel guilty for feeling the way I do about you. The guilt will eat at me, because I’m not sure if I should be happy spending time with you, and I’ll feel the need to drink to stop thinking about it. It’s confusing,” I say, my voice cracking.