His face clouds up. “You’ve got a long way to go, son, before you can even discuss that. Around here, ‘almost’ isn’t good enough. When do you head back to Thailand?”
LEESIE’S MOST PRIVATE CHAPBOOK
POEM #62, EVENING TRYST
Kim arrives with Mark
in orbit around her.
Driving down together.
A unit again.
Happy to join us on a sunset walk.
Phil and Krystal lead us past the barn
with its huddle of pig bodies arrayed
in a perfect circle of white and black,
and up the rutted gravel road,
their interlocked hands swing,
betraying unadulterated joy
that draws your eyes
and makes you sad to look away.
Michael and Mark saunter next
hands in pockets, kicking the gravel,
nothing to say to each other.
Kim and I walk behind—savor the view.
She starts in on how great
make up sex is, but drops it,
gears her tone to my ears alone.
“You forgave Michael last year,
and cheating is a way bigger deal to you
than it is to me.” Her face solemnizes.
“He pledged no more room-mates. I
swore off frat parties and co-ed showers—
We spent the break hunting the net
for an apartment that needs two.
The only bed I want to be in is his.”
I nod, and she laughs at me.
But I can’t imagine
sharing my intimate self
with anyone but Michael.
Him? I have to struggle
to keep myself from imagining
that every time I inhale.
I’m perfecting the art of continual
repentance. Watching
his backside is to be avoided.
We catch up—claim our men.
I breathe in the sweet pine perfume
laced with autumn decay and stinky pigs,
squeeze Michael’s arm.
“Turn right here.” Phil waves us
up the steep hill. “It’s just below the peak.”
In the golden glow of the dying sun,
he leads us into a tangle of overgrown
lilac bushes, vines, naked trees—branches
twisted into thickets.
We tread on a bed of their degenerating
leaves. Phil pulls Krystal close and kisses
her nose tip. “This is the coolest
place on the farm.”
Michael’s eyes
burn through my cheekbones.
“What is this place?”
I point to a rough-hewn stone slab
arched, mossy and black-weathered,
but still standing sentinel.
I squat to read faint letters:
“Planted on earth to bloom in heaven.”
March 6, 1897 – March 10, 1897
An awe of respect and quiet honoring past pain
settles around us in the gathering gloom.
“You should see this in spring.” I gaze at him.
“Green reborn. Teaming with paper white
daffodils, a carpet of thousands,
recreated every year to celebrate
these souls who’ve moved on.”
Phil hugs Krystal.
“I’m getting buried here.”
Michael’s arm drops from my shoulders.
The big sister in me calls to Phil,
“You can’t—it’s old, wrecked, closed.”
Phil laughs. “I’ve got what—
eighty years to change that.”
He turns to Krystal. “What do
you say, angel. Want to be buried
here with me?” She turns as pink
as the sunset that glows in the distance.
“Right on the farm? That would be cool.”
Phil takes both her hands, walks backward,
guiding her like a princess, deeper
into the tangled resting place.
Kim and Mark fade away
on their own journey.
“Your brother has rotten taste
in make out places.” Michael’s voice
is rough-edged with pain
that is more present than I realized.
I touch the chiseled letters wrought with grief,
chip a flake of lichen off the cold rock.
I grasp Michael’s hand and pull him down beside me,
lean my head on his shoulder, inhale the decay
in this silently dying place.
“I love it here. It’s so close.”
“To death?”
“No—to life. The rest of our lives.”
My fingers stop on “heaven.”
“This mom held that baby again, Michael.
And your mom will hold you.
I bet she’s watching right now.
Can you feel her?
Your dad?”
Michael shakes his head. “They
are with me every dive.” His breath
warms my temple. “Thanks to you.”
We stand and hold each other.
His hand searches through my hair.
“It’s not enough, Leese.
I need you with me
every dive,
every day,
every night.”
His eyes leave mine,
encompass the graveyard.
“We don’t belong here.”
He buries me in a kiss
that envelops my eternity.
I pledge to God, angels, and the dying
leaves under my feet to capture
Michael’s forever
like he’s enslaved mine.
Chapter 21
PLEASE
MICHAEL’S DIVE LOG—VOLUME #10
DIVE BUDDY: Leesie
DATE: 12/06
DIVE #:—
LOCATION: Provo
DIVE SITE: Leesie’s dorm
WEATHER CONDITION: cold and clear
WATER CONDITION: frozen
DEPTH: way over my head
VISIBILITY: murky
WATER TEMP.: icy
BOTTOM TIME: no clue
COMMENTS:
Back in Utah. This week went too fast. It’s all going too fast. When I first got here, I worried about being bored to death. Leesie’s a study queen. But I started working on my Asian fish ID while she studies. I can teach it now. Claude will be impressed.
If I’m quiet and don’t bug her and quiz her whenever she orders me to, I can hang out with her every minute she’s not in class. All day every day until we have to say goodnight, and I have to go back to my too nice hotel room. She’s got a crapload of work all the time. Hardly takes a minute off. I bring her food so she doesn’t slip between the cracks in the ugly linoleum floor in their dorm apartment. Not the most exciting thing in the world to sit around staring at pictures ofAsian fish while she works—but I’m with her. That’s all that really matters.
Sundays are great. She hasn’t bugged me to go to church with her until today. She has it way early. I sleep in—go shopping if I get bored. Then we have the whole day together.
I shop when she’s in class, too. At first I had to—no clothes. But some Vans, a couple pairs of jeans, a handful of black T-shirts, one button-up shirt, a jacket and another sweatshirt, and I’m good. Then I started buying Leesie stuff. Socks. Tiny little t-shirts. I spent one crazy hour and several hundred bucks at Victoria’s Secret. Haven’t given her that stuff yet. She’d freak.
Now I’m into jewelry. Provo is the jewelry store capital of the universe. I started out with dolphin shaped gold earrings. She loved those. There’s a nice jewelry store close to my hotel. Easy to drop in there—after the first awkward visit. They sell their diamonds loose. Have hundreds of nice settings. Loads better than mall chain crap.<
br />
Wednesday I went with the guy from the dive shop in Salt Lake up into the mountains to check out a hot spring where they scuba with students. Waste of time. Way too claustro for Leesie. Freak, it was phobic for me. Her first real dive in the ocean has to be perfect. Cozumel or Cayman. Thailand? Maybe.
I try to avoid calendars, but I know I’m running out of time.
Tonight is the big night. I’m meeting her missionaries. She made me go to church with her today. Pretty vanilla. I’ve been before back in Washington, and this was basically the same except mostly everyone there were kids from her dorm. She kept catching me zoning.
“If I did that during one of your dive lessons, you’d be livid.”
If she did that during a dive lesson, she’d be dead. Not. I’d save her. I tried to make sense of what these people were saying, but they speak in another language. Some guy talked about boy scouts for twenty minutes. Absolutely no point to what he was saying—as far as I could tell.
And it’s her fault I was sleepy. Our good night kiss at midnight last night turned into a half-hour make out in the front seat of the RAV4. I got a little gropey. Didn’t mean it. It just happened—reflex. She blocked it, always does, but got mad and bolted. Freak. Like I could sleep after that. The more I didn’t sleep—the more I couldn’t. When I finally did zonk out, Isadore decided it was a great time to kick up her storm. So today I’m psycho, grumpy—easier to zone than try to understand this crap.
I drive up to her dorm and park. She’s staking out the parking lot still wearing her Sunday dress and heels. Meets me at my door. “You came. I thought you might blow it off.”
“That hurts.”
“You were so bored at church today.”
“Weren’t you?”
She leans over and kisses me. “I’m never bored with you.”
I kiss her back. “Now if you did that in church, I wouldn’t have fallen asleep.”
She giggles, elated. I’m forgiven again. She tries to hustle me into her apartment. I walk way too slow. She keeps getting ahead of me, circles back, grabs my arm, and hurries me along.
A plate of brownies sits on the table in their kitchen. “You’re feeding these to the missionaries?”
Leesie colors. The Tawni situation. Roomie wars. Leesie told Tawni and them, and everyone was mad at Leesie. Tawni thought something fake inside her was melting. Kanyon was sure she’d given him a disease. It all ended with Tawni blowing up. Everyone else blowing up. And now they are all best friends.
Leesie puts a brownie on a napkin for me. “These are good.”
Before I can take a bite, there’s a knock on the door. Leesie ushers in a couple of twenty-ish short-haired guys wearing cheap navy suits and thick-soled black dress shoes. White shirts. One guy’s tie is bright orange with yellow flowers on it. The other dude’s tie is the same thing in green. Each wears a small black name badge. Elder this and Elder that.
“Hey, elders.” Leesie ushers them into the room. “This is Michael.”
I put down the brownie and stand, shake their outstretched hands. The orange tie guy’s got a good grip. Commanding. Elder Smith. The other guy. Elder Jensen, barely touches me.
They sit. Leesie gives them brownies. Elder Smith takes a bite of his. “These are great, Sister Hunt.”
“Help yourself to more.”
Elder Jensen does—he’s already inhaled his entire brownie.
Elder Smith puts his down and says, “Well, Michael”—oh, man he’s got one of those fake salesmen voices that I loathe—“Sister Hunt tells us you’re here from Thailand. You don’t look Thai.”
“I just work there.”
Leesie sits up straighter. “He’s a scuba instructor.”
“Cool.” Elder Smith leans back and takes a bite of his brownie. “So I should have studied up on fish instead of Buddhism.”
I grin. “Know anything about Shinto?”
Elder Jensen swallows. “Where do they do that?”
Elder Smith glares at him. “Japan. My brother went to Japan. Crazy stuff going on there. Heavy into ghosts.”
“That’s right. Mormons don’t like ghosts.” I look at Leesie. “But you’re great at angels.” I take a hold of Leesie’s hand.
Smith’s eyes fasten on our interwoven fingers. “What do you know about angels?”
“That they aren’t all in heaven.”
He gets hot—actually blushes. “You don’t really want to talk to us, do you?”
My eyebrows lift. “It wasn’t my idea.”
Leesie draws her hand away.
Smith chucks his brownie on the table, but keeps his voice smooth, controlled. “You’re doing this for her? Going through the motions.”
“I promised I’d listen.” My eyes go to Leesie, but she’s staring at her empty hand.
Smith leans toward me. “But you won’t really listen, will you?”
“Freak, you people are annoying.”
“I’ve just seen too many guys like you.” His hand balls up into a fist. “All promises. No action. No feeling. Do you guys even have hearts? My sister married a jerk like you.” His voice breaks. He stops to get his emotions under control. “I’m sure you love Sister Hunt—as much as somebody like you can love somebody—but you don’t really care about her.”
I sit forward, scowl. “How the hell do you know?”
Leesie takes my hand back. “Listen, Elder Smith, Michael and I have been through a lot together. Let’s just start with the First Vision. Book of Mormon. Come on guys, do your thing.”
“I don’t think so.” Smith turns to his companion. “Come on Elder Jensen, I guess it’s time to pack up our pearls. Nice meeting you.” They get up to leave.
Good. The pompous, self-righteous creep.
Leesie stands up. “What? No. You are not done. We waited a month for this appointment. Michael is going back to Thailand. You can’t be finished.”
“We’re not finished. He is. He knows what we look like now.” He turns to me. “Flag a couple of us down in Thailand if you really get serious.”
Leesie’s eyes go to me then back to Elder Smith. “What are you saying? You’re writing him off? You haven’t taught him anything.”
The dude frowns. “We’ve got a tight schedule. We can’t waste our time on guys who just want to mock us. We’re probably the only elders in the entire world who have that luxury.” I don’t like the way he looks back at Leesie.
“Sit down.” She points to the chair. “You are not finished.”
I stand next to her and take her hand. “It’s okay, Leese.”
“No! It’s not okay.” She squeezes my hand—hard. “They are supposed to teach you. Joseph Smith story—right now guys.”
Smith shakes his head. “Call us when he has ears.”
“He has ears now.” She clenches her teeth.
“Keep praying, Sister Hunt.” He shoots a glance at me that says, die vermin. “We’ve seen worse cases.”
She goes after them—grabs onto Elder Smith’s arm. He glares at her, and she lets go. “Michael has felt the Spirit. He just doesn’t know it. Tell them Michael. Your parents.”
How can she bring them up with these guys? “Leese. Stop it, now.”
“Please.” She looks at me and the elders. Her face is full of dreams crashing into rubble.
“I’m done with this.” I break past her and those goon elders, bust out the apartment, out of the dorm. How dare she? How dare they? How do they know what kind of guy I am?
Leesie comes after me—no coat and three inch heels, so she’s not all that fast. She yells, “Why did you do that?”
I stop, pivot, and advance on her. “Me? I just sat there and the creep started attacking me.”
She jabs a finger into my chest. “You could have been nice.”
“How was I mean?”
“You made fun of them.”
I shake my head. “I called you an angel, and it freaked the guy out. And don’t think hauling out my dead parents is going to make
me believe this crap.”
She steps back. “They were right.” Her lips tremble. “Oh my gosh, they were right.”
“No, no. That guy was too full of himself to see anybody else.” I grab her elbow and pull her closer. “You didn’t see the way he looked at you.”
“That’s stupid.” She rips her arm free. “He’s an elder. Girls are off limits.”
“And he’s obviously feeling the pain.”
She flushes red. “Shut up. Now you’re getting vulgar.”
“Maybe I am vulgar. Hopeless case.”
Unbroken Connection Page 13
