by Misty Walker
I put my car in park instead of pulling into the driveway and get out to inspect. Sure enough, there are flowers packed tightly into the four by six, cedar lined box. I don’t know what all the flowers are called, since I can’t grow them. I’ve never researched them. I do know there are a wild mix of blues, yellows, purples, and reds. Some tall and some short. To a trained eye, it might look scattered and messy, but since I don’t know any better, it looks primitive and gorgeous to me.
When those descriptors pass through my mind, I bow my head and shake it. I think I know who did this. After taking a moment to compose myself, I look back up and all around, trying to spot the culprit. I see a slight movement behind Mrs. Gutterman’s white alder, just a flash of a bright-patterned skirt.
I cross the street and can clearly see someone trying to hide behind the smaller trunk of the tree. “Trouble?” I call out to the girl who obviously never won at hide and seek when she was young. She still doesn’t come out from behind the tree, but I can see one gilded eye peeking at me. I walk onto Mrs. Gutterman’s lawn and stand in front of the tree. “You aren’t good at this hiding thing.”
She huffs. “How did you know it was me?” Coming out from her hiding space, she folds her arms across her chest like a child throwing a tantrum. Her breasts push even higher than their natural perky height and I can’t help but take a beat to appreciate them. Then I mentally kick myself and snap back into the moment.
“I don’t know anyone who would plant me flowers except one particularly large pain in my ass.” She looks slightly hurt, and I feel bad for saying it. “Let’s get out of Mrs. Gutterman’s yard before she sics her Doberman on us.” I hold my hand out for her and a small smile forms on her perfect Cupid’s bow lips as she takes it.
We cross the street and I lead her onto my porch, where two rocking chairs sit. I don’t use them often. Okay, ever. I don’t enjoy giving neighbors the opportunity to come over and chat with me. I just want to enjoy my house without having to fake niceties. But I like the way the chairs make my house look, so they stay.
“I know you didn’t want to see me again, but I still felt so bad. I wanted to do something nice for you and when I saw the empty planter box, the idea seemed perfect. I meant to finish before you came home.” She looks almost childlike, begging for approval, and I can’t turn her down. Each time we’re together, it gets harder and harder to resist this attraction. I know she must feel it too or she wouldn’t make so many attempts to see me.
“Well, I have to admit they’re pretty,” I say, admiring the big blooms. I sigh. “Thank you.”
Her smile goes from small and hopeful, to huge and glowing. “Does this mean we can be, you know, friends, or whatever?” She’s offering an olive branch and I feel sufficiently worn down, so I take it.
“Sure. Friends or whatever.” We sit and rock in quiet for a moment, before I decide I want to ask more questions about her life. Friends do that. They get to know each other. “So you’ve lived all over, huh?”
“Yeah, mostly the western side of the U.S. In California, the men all did a lot of roadwork. We stayed close to L.A. once. They’re always doing road construction there. In Oregon, they worked the timber lines. In Washington, they picked apples in the orchards, and in Colorado, they worked on a cattle drive. Here in Reno, they’ve been doing construction because of the huge housing boom.” She pushes off the ground and the chair swings big and long. “Basically, they go wherever they can find work that’ll pay them under the table or accept their fake IDs with little questions.”
“And none of you go to school?” I’m stuck on this, because it seems cruel of her parents to chain their kids to the life they’ve lived.
“Leander and Freedom both completed school through grade eight before they dropped out and started working with Dad.” That surprises me.
“What do you do with your time if you don’t go to school or work?” My rocking is gentle and soothing compared to her wayward and fast. It feels like a metaphor for us.
“I help my mom a lot. There’s so much to do at the band—”
“What’s a band?” I ask.
“We call our group a band. Our band only has seven families in it, including us.”
How have I never known these people still exist in modern society?
“Anyway, the sites we stay at are primitive. No running water, no electricity, so the women in our band have a lot of work to do every day just to have basic necessities like food.”
I’m listening intently, so I miss my next-door neighbor advancing up the path to my house. Craig Seymour is a nice enough guy. Him and his wife just moved in and have been good neighbors, but I’m not in the mood for casual conversation. When he calls out a hello, I just give him a slight nod. He looks Thea up and down and it triggers something I’ve only experienced with this woman. Protectiveness and possession.
“Can I help you with something?” I stand up tall so I can look down on his shorter stature.
“Um, I don’t know how to ask this.” He rubs a hand on the back of his neck and looks uncomfortable. “We have one of those doorbell cameras.” He looks at Thea again and I get the urge to pummel him.
“And?” My clipped tone gets his attention. “Most everyone does. What does that have to do with me?”
“It has nothing to do with you, exactly. It’s just we came home and a few… things were missing from our yard, so we brought up the footage. It showed a young woman… uh, digging up some of our flowers.” Craig looks back at Thea and the pieces come together. I sigh and sit back down on the rocker, surveying my little thief.
“You have a camera? In your doorbell?” she asks incredulously, always latching onto exactly the wrong parts of accusations.
“I’m sorry. This is uncomfortable, but my wife just planted them and she threatened to make me stay home tonight and plant her all new flowers if I didn’t come over and talk to you. It’s my monthly poker night and since Lars, the best player in our group, can’t make it tonight, I stand a good chance at winning.”
“No, it’s fine. I’m sorry about this. I’ll have landscapers come to your house on Monday and she can have them plant whatever she wants, on me.” I see Theodora in my periphery. She’s still stuck on the video cameras. I sigh for the hundredth time since meeting her and shake Craig’s outstretched hand.
“Really? That would be great. Thank you so much.” Craig turns to go, but he looks over his shoulder one more time at Theodora. Between him staring at her and the situation, my anger boils over briefly.
“Don’t let your wife catch you staring,” I blurt out. Thea smacks my arm and Craig looks embarrassed. He snaps his gaze away and promptly goes back into his yard.
“Tell me where you got all those flowers.” I dig my fingers into my eye sockets in frustration.
Thea shrinks into herself like I’ve seen her do every time she’s been caught. “Well, everyone has so many flowers. I didn’t think anyone would miss them if I dug up one or two from each yard. I was smart and only pulled from two streets over, but then I saw your neighbor has those cute little flowers you can squeeze the sides together and they open and close to look like they’re talking.” She mimes squeezing the bud of the flower.
“They had Snapdragons?”
“Yes! Snapdragons. They’re so pretty and fun.” I rub at my temples for a moment, attempting to rid myself of the small headache forming.
“Trouble. You can’t just take flowers from my neighbors!” I stand up and pace along the short cement pad of my porch. “I have to live here. Those people might walk by and notice they’re missing a certain flower and oh look! I suddenly have the same one. It wouldn’t take a genius to put it together.”
She just throws a dismissive wave. “No one can prove your flower is the one they’re missing.”
“Except Craig and probably more than half my neighborhood who have security cameras!” This woman exhausts me.
“I don’t live here. They won’t know it’s their flower bec
ause they won’t see me.” She grabs her bag and throws it over her shoulder and walks down the driveway.
“Where are you going? We aren’t done talking about this!” I follow her to the sidewalk and step into her space. Our bodies are inches apart and the electricity I feel whenever we’re this close zaps me.
“Yes, we are. I did something nice and you don’t appreciate it. It’s becoming a trend, so I’ll leave and you’ll let me!” She’s talking through gritted teeth and her words are forceful, but she makes no move to actually leave. I take a step closer. She still doesn’t move. I take one more step and I can feel her exhalations against the skin of my chin. I breathe in her incense scent. Intoxicating.
“Weren’t you leaving?” I ask in a breathy voice. We lock gazes and I can’t even bring myself to blink, but neither can she.
“I am,” she whispers, her face coming even closer to mine. One more inch and we’ll be touching. I reach out and place a hand on her hip.
“So, go.” My other hand rests on the small of her back, pulling her body flush to mine. Her small breasts rub against my thin T-shirt and her rock-hard nipples poke through the fabric.
“I will.” Her hands go to my shoulders and she tilts her chin, preparing for the inevitable. I eat up the distance left between us and crush my lips to hers. She tastes delicious, like fresh-picked strawberries. Her lips part, giving my tongue entry. We duel, each trying to gain the upper hand. Her hand snakes through the longer hair on top of my head and she tugs it roughly. I reach one hand down and grab her butt cheek, squeezing it harshly. It’s not sweet and gentle. It’s the buildup of days’ worth of sexual frustration, all of it exploding into one kiss.
I don’t know how long we stay there, but when a car honks as it drives past and a couple teenagers yell for us to get a room out their windows, we pull apart abruptly. She breathes just as heavily as I do, but her gaze is cast down to her feet rather than making eye contact like I’m attempting to do.
“I should go.” She attempts to dart past me, but I grab her hips, halting her escape.
“Why do you have to go?” My cock could hammer nails right now and the last thing I want is for this annoying girl to leave.
“I need to get home.” Thea still won’t look at me and it’s driving me crazy, so I tilt her chin up, forcing her to see me. When I see her expression, I drop my hands from where they’re touching her. She looks more than upset, she looks disappointed.
“What’s wrong?” I don’t understand what happened. Just thirty seconds ago, we were devouring each other.
“Nothing, I just… I really need to go.”
My first kiss. I just had my first real kiss. And it wasn’t with my future husband. I’m such a fucked up mix of emotions. I look behind me and Law’s still standing there, watching me. I touch my fingers to my lips to keep the sensation there. Tingly and warm, but with every step that takes me farther from him, the less I feel his lips. I drop my hand. It’s no use.
I can’t think of the implications right now. If Wen were to find out, or fuck, if Dad were to find out, I don’t even know what would happen. I don’t know if Wen has had experience, he probably has, innocence isn’t expected of him, but it’s more than expected from me, it’s demanded. If a woman has even so much as touched her own self, she’s considered dirty and impure. After that, no man will take her.
I walk out of his neighborhood and into mine. Well, my borrowed neighborhood. I don’t belong anywhere. I’ve always loved that about our lifestyle, always seeing new places, having new experiences, but things are changing. Changing in my mind and in my heart because when I think of leaving Reno, when I think of marrying Wen, a crushing pain sears through my chest.
I see our compound in the distance. Indiana and Charity chase each other along with Wen’s younger sisters. Mom and Nuri chop vegetables for dinner and laugh at the kids who run around them. I smile as Charity runs past the cutting board and steals a carrot. Growing up like this was always so fun. Sure, there were chores, but mostly we just played, explored, and had fun. I don’t think there is a better way to grow up. Everything we learned was taught through experience and will be helpful in the life we will live. No learning math we’d never use or doing science experiments that wouldn’t help us survive in real life.
Mom sees me first and waves me over. I approach the prep area where dinner is on the agenda and give Mom a kiss on the cheek.
“Hey there, daughter, where you been?” It’s not an unusual question, but considering where I’ve been, I instantly go on the defense.
“What? I can’t leave? You want me to stay here all day and help you? I’m not married yet. I still have a few freedoms.” Not only does my response shock Mom, but I shock myself. I hadn’t intended to lash out. I need to get control of my emotions before everyone sees what I’ve been hiding.
“Of course not. I was just curious. I’ve never asked you to do any more than your fair share.” Mom turns back to chopping, and guilt hits me hard. She didn’t deserve that.
“Sorry. I guess I’m just having a bad day.” I decide lying down in the trailer is a good idea so I can sort through everything before I lash out again. Before I can stomp off, Mom stops me with a hand to my arm.
“Nuri, would you mind if I took a little walk with my daughter?”
“It’s fine, go. I’ve got this covered.” Nuri takes the knife from Mom and shoos her away. I guess I’m going on a walk. I hang my bag up on one of the dead trees littered through our camp and catch up to Mom, who is out by the drainage ditch that runs through the property. Wild horses still roam this land and there is a herd of them taking an early evening drink. We don’t get too close because they’re skittish, but we walk along the opposite edge of the ditch in silence. Mom is the first to speak.
“What’s going on with you?” she asks, straight to the point.
“I don’t know. Maybe just wedding jitters.” I steal a look at Mom and her face is hard, lips in a flat line and eyes trained on the ground. Mom is the most beautiful woman I know. While I have her wild and curly brown hair and gold eyes, she’s voluptuous where I’m slight and flat-chested. She has all the exaggerated feminine curves I wish I had, but recently she has been tired. Lines are appearing around her eyes, lips, and on her forehead. Years of being in the sun have given her skin a thicker appearance.
“Maybe. But I know you, daughter. I think it’s more.”
I give her a partial truth. “Have you ever wanted to grow roots? Not move around. Find somewhere that belongs to you?”
She softens and she reaches over to grab my hand.
“It’s crossed my mind, but I’ll tell you what my mother told me. Roots don’t always have to grow into the ground. Sometimes they grow between people. That can be what grounds you. Your family, your husband, your kids, they’re what ties you to this world. You need not own the land beneath you to belong.” She gives my hand a squeeze. “You aren’t the first one to wonder if this life is for them and you won’t be the last. What you need to think about is what you are willing to give up if you leave. Is it worth not seeing your family again?”
“Nothing is worth having my family disown me.” If I know one thing, it’s this. She’s right, my family is what makes me belong to this world. Mom stops our forward motion and holds me by my shoulders.
“I know accepting a husband your heart hasn’t chosen is… difficult, but it’s the only way. Your father and I wouldn’t lead you astray. We know this is a good match. Wen’s and your hearts will find their way to each other. You just have to give it a chance. The more you fight this, the more difficult it will be.” I know she’s right. Before I met Law, I wasn’t happy to be marrying my friend, but I wouldn’t fight it. Now I have felt the connection to Law and marrying Wen seems impossible.
The answer suddenly becomes so clear. I need to cleanse myself of Law. No more friendly meetups. No more forcing myself onto him. I need to focus on what is and not what I wish to happen. Besides, Lawrence will probably be ha
ppy to not have to deal with my particular brand of crazy anymore.
Mom and I walk back to camp and I help her finish preparing dinner. When I bring out large serving bowls of pasta and salad, I take in the sight before me with a new appreciation. Seven families, fifty-two people, are all here. Talking, laughing, arguing, being a family. I can’t walk away from this on a hunch Law and I could make a go of it. I’ve known him for like two minutes. I’ve known these people my whole life. They’ve grown and multiplied, but so has their love.
I smile and set down the bowls. I take a seat next to Wen. He looks surprised, but smiles anyway and nudges my shoulder with his. This life may not be my dream, but I’m choosing it anyway. And there’s power in that.
“I chose my dress this morning.” I swirl a large forkful of noodles on my plate and shove them in my mouth. He laughs at me and takes his own bite.
“Is it white?” He barely gets out before we both start laughing.
“You’ll just have to show up to find out.” I attempt to flirt.
“Oh, I’ll be there. I can’t wait.” His expression is hungry and I quickly avert my gaze.
“Eew, you two are gross.” One of the other girls in our band, Kezia, is sitting across from us and I hadn’t realized she was listening in.
“You’re just jealous you aren’t marrying me,” Wen says with a puffed chest. I smack him in his overblown torso and he deflates, laughing. Kezia blushes.
“Kez, you’ll be eighteen soon, right?” I ask. I haven’t heard about any potential grooms for her. Usually rumors circulate when the girl turns seventeen.
“Yeah, next month.” She lights up with excitement. Girls around here are usually excited to get matched. Most of the time it’s with a group from a different area. Wen and I are not commonplace.
“Have your parents discussed who you’ll marry?” I ask. Kez is more sheltered than I am. She rarely leaves the site and her parents have been stricter with her, not allowing her to even play with boys. The only time she’s around the male species is at meal times. She has four older brothers and they guard her like everyone with a dick wants to bed her.
