Like The Wind

by Bengtsson, J.

  “I know I have a flashlight in here somewhere,” she said, before suddenly pulling one out. “Boo-ya! Check me out! A flashlight and a battery powered lantern. It’s from Halloween but that’s okay, right?”

  I shrugged. “I mean during blackouts I prefer Christmas lanterns, but I suppose that one will work.”

  “Okay, smartass.” A smile illuminated her face as she flicked the lantern on. “I think I have just enough charge left on my phone for us to let our families know we’re okay. My friend, Mason, has called fourteen times.”

  I thought about my own family, my dad and the guys, and how they probably had no idea what had happened on that ocean view hilltop. In fact, it might take days for the word to reach them since none of us were the types to keep up with the happenings of the world. That’s when it hit me. They didn’t know. In exchange for my near-death experience, I’d been handed a ‘get out of jail free’ card. I could go anywhere, be anyone, even go in search of long-lost relatives without the fear of being tracked down by my father’s cronies. But in order for that to happen, no one could know where I was. At least for a couple of days.

  “Breeze, before you call… would you mind not mentioning me, at least by name?”

  She seemed confused by my request, so I was forced to elaborate.

  “I just don’t want the press to know where I am. They’ll have cameras poking through the windows in no time.”

  “Oh, yeah. Sure. I won’t say anything.”

  And she didn’t. I listened to Breeze calm her family while ensuring them she was fine. She mentioned me in passing as a man who stopped to help, but never dropped my name like some less principled people might have done. When she’d finished her phone calls, she passed the device onto me.

  “Here, your turn.”

  “Thanks,” I said, in no need for her phone but not willing to share with her the reason why. I stood there staring at the screen.

  “Oh, crap. Sorry. You probably want some privacy. I need to take a shower anyway.”

  Once Breeze left for the bathroom, taking the majority of light with her, I was suddenly alone… with my guilty conscience. I wavered on whether what I was doing was right, and if keeping my father out of the loop constituted cruel and unusual punishment. It wasn’t like he was going to find out about the fires tonight anyway. I’d just be waking him up and needlessly worrying him. Although, that’s what he’d want me to do… what I should do. But that was the problem. My whole life I’d always done what was required of me regardless of whether I’d wanted to or not. Being selfish was never an option.

  Until now.

  I wasn’t doing this to make my father suffer, and certainly I didn’t want him to think I was dead. But as with all difficult decisions, sometimes there was collateral damage. I’d been on the receiving end of Tucker’s poor decision-making skills more times than I could count, so if I needed to carve out some time to myself, I would do it without guilt.

  The decision made, I sank to the floor, my back propped against the wall. While I would have preferred the sofa, I didn’t want the toxins clinging to my body to be transferred onto Breeze’s couch. Looking around her place, I tried to get a sense of who she was but, aside from the outlines of furniture highlighted by the beam of the flashlight, Breeze remained a mystery.

  A rustling sound caught my attention and I turned in time to lock eyes with the Chihuahua.

  “Hey you, have you come to finish me off?” I asked before noticing a change in the small dog. He was worn to the bone. I could only imagine the fatigue that came with barking – all fucking night. And even though I wasn’t a member of Little Dick’s fan club, certainly I could sympathize with another living thing in need.

  “Come here,” I offered, patting my leg. To my surprise, Sweetpea jumped up and settled onto my lap. The pup had given me his trust and, I’m not going to lie, I’d never felt so worthy. He blinked at me a few times, his eyes heavy with sleep before he laid his head down and accepted me for what I was, a safe place to slumber.

  Running my hands over his coarse fur, it occurred to me that comforting the dog had the same soothing effect on me. My body relaxed and a strange lightness filled me to the brim. Growing up, pets were not allowed, so I’d never understood what all the fuss was about… until now. Were they the calming force that kept people sane? No wonder dog walkers always seemed so damn cheerful. I needed to get myself one of these.

  “You know what, Little Dick?” I whispered. “You aren’t half bad after all.”

  10

  Breeze: Team Edward

  I slipped into the bathroom, bursting with excitement. Bodhi Beckett was here, in my cottage, one wall away, and somehow I had to pretend it didn’t matter.

  I’d never been good at acting. I was the kid in the school play who ended up in the back row dressed like a tree. And now I had to keep Bodhi’s existence in my kitchen under wraps.

  Pushing aside the intrigue, I held the light up to the mirror, illuminating my face so I could examine the knot on my forehead. The bump was tender to the touch, sporting a little heartbeat of its own. I could only imagine the color scheme I’d be working with in the morning. Although I’d planned on applying a little makeup to the area after my shower, it was clear that nothing short of spackle would do.

  Not that it mattered, since first impressions had already been formed. If my whole damsel in distress bit hadn’t been enough to electrify Bodhi, I was pretty sure the horn in the middle of my forehead would do the trick.

  But who was I kidding? Bodhi hadn’t accepted my offer to spend the night because he was eager to bang a mythical creature. He just needed a place to lay his weary head.

  Sighing, I quit worrying about my appearance and turned toward the shower. Just as I was about to undress, the world swam out of focus, and a sharp pain lanced through my chest. A tremble shook my legs and spread like a tiny earthquake. Swallowing hard, I gripped the sink, gasping for air.

  You’re going to die.

  Random thoughts flickered. My mom and Terrance. Mason.

  Help me.

  A scream exploded in my head—mine. And then the pounding—thump thump thump—and Bodhi’s voice.

  “Breeze?” More pounding. “Breeze! What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

  “I just… I c-can’t breathe. I-I’m freaking out.”

  “Open the door.”

  I would if I could, but my feet were glued in place. Oh, god, was I paralyzed? “I-I can’t.”

  A muffled curse, and then Bodhi’s voice again. Calm. Reassuring. “Listen to me. You’re probably having a panic attack. I can help you.”

  Yes, help me.

  “O-okay.”

  “All right. Cup your hands over your mouth and take a deep breath. Hold it a second, then slowly let it out. Do it now.”

  Dutifully, I followed his directions. Once. Twice. Five times. Slowly but surely, the panic receded, the fog lifting by degrees. When the feeling came back in my legs, I stumbled to the toilet, closed the lid, and sank onto the unyielding plastic.

  “Talk to me, Breeze.”

  But I couldn’t. Words failed me.

  Minutes passed and I wasn’t sure if Bodhi was still with me until I heard his voice floating in from the other side of the door. Soft and melodic. He was singing. To me. Not some pop melody or top 100 hit. This was a lullaby. Closing my eyes, I let the words soothe me.

  When you feel afraid

  When you lose your way

  I’ll find you

  Just try to smile

  And dry your eyes

  I will bring back the moon

  Into your skies

  When he finished, I found the strength to wobble to my feet. And when I opened the door, Bodhi was there, sitting on the floor, his back pressed against the wood. Slanting his gaze to mine, he smiled.

  “Hey,” he said quietly as he climbed to his feet. “You okay?”

  I didn’t say a word, just walked into his arms and buried my face in the bronzed hallows of
his neck. Had I given my actions more thought… or any thought at all, I probably wouldn’t have forced my affection on him. But tonight was one of firsts, and I figured why stop at a panic attack when I could go for broke and cross the ‘no touching the celebrity’ rule.

  Bodhi’s arms banded around my waist, and he began to rock me.

  “What was that song?” I whispered.

  He was silent for so long I wondered if maybe he hadn’t heard me. Lifting my gaze, I searched his eyes for an answer, but found only pain.

  “Did I say something wrong?” I asked, appalled at my misstep even though I still wasn’t sure what it had been.

  “No. It wasn’t you. I don’t even know where that came from. You were scared and I wasn’t thinking.”

  “The song helped me. It was nice, soothing… like a lullaby.”

  He nodded, his eyes far away as if lost in a memory. “When I was young someone close to me used to sing it when I was afraid. It’s been so many years. I can’t believe I even remembered it.”

  From his tone and the awkward tilt of his body, it was clear—this person was no longer in his life. Suddenly, I wished I’d paid more attention to him in the media. It might have helped me piece together the puzzle.

  “Well, it must be the magic cure because it helped me recover. I honestly don’t know what happened to me. One minute I was fine and the next, it felt like I was dying.”

  “Definitely sounds like a panic attack.”

  “Maybe. How did you know what to do to stop it?”

  “I’ve had them before—a lot actually.” The minute the words left his mouth, I could tell he regretted them. Tilting my chin with his thumb, he gazed down at me with serious eyes. “This is just between us, okay? Please don’t share this information with anyone.”

  Just the fact that he had to ask was proof enough that we lived in separate worlds. No one would give me a passing glance if I admitted to suffering from panic attacks. But for Bodhi, such knowledge had the potential to be broadcast live to an overly eager audience.

  “You can trust me,” I said, wondering how many times he’d heard that hollow promise in his lifetime.

  Bodhi held my gaze for a moment before finding whatever assurance he needed in order to continue. “When I was a kid I was pushed into things I wasn’t comfortable with and panic attacks became my way of dealing with stressful situations. It was terrifying. My heart would race, my chest would constrict, and I felt like I couldn’t catch my breath. All the symptoms you were describing to me.”

  His admission opened up so many more questions. I wondered if he’d had someone to help him through the fear? I didn’t think so.

  Emboldened by his faith in me, I gently cupped his cheek. “Thank you for helping me through it.”

  Bodhi’s expression softened as he brushed his thumb over my goose egg. “Maybe you should have that looked at. Does it hurt?”

  “I mean it doesn’t not hurt,” I replied. “But I’ll live.”

  He nodded. “We both will.”

  * * *

  Handing the towel to Bodhi, I pointed him in the direction of the shower, but he remained rooted in place, conflicted. Was it just me, or was tonight’s shower time particularly fraught with complications?

  “Everything okay?”

  “Sure.” Bodhi grinned. “I was just wondering how you felt about nudity.”

  I stopped towel drying my hair and cast him a questioning glance. “I mean I’m not one hundred percent opposed. Why?”

  “I don’t have any clothes to change into.”

  “Oh.” I let out a relieved breath. As dreamy as he was, I wasn’t quite ready for dangling bits. “No worries. I’ve got you covered.”

  “Really?” He perked right up. “I just assumed by the looks of the dollhouse you live in, you didn’t have any men’s clothing laying around.”

  “Oh, that’s what you wanted? Yeah, I haven’t had men’s clothes in an apartment of mine since I gathered up all my ex-fiancée’s clothing and donated them to the homeless shelter.”

  “And when you say donate, did you have permission to give his shit away?”

  “Technically, no.”

  “But un-technically, you had his permission?”

  “Um, no. Not that way either. Let’s just say he wasn’t thrilled to find Dumpster Donnie wearing his leather jacket.”

  His mouth curved wryly. “I hope your ex deserved it.”

  “Oh, he deserved it, all right. My only regret was not getting my hands on the pieces of his wardrobe that had already been relocated to his lover’s place.”

  Bodhi winced. “Ouch.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And he was your fiancée?”

  “Yes, and she was my cousin.”

  He choked out a laugh before our eyes met and the smile faded from his face. “Wait, are you serious?”

  “Unfortunately, yes. It was quite the scandal. But, you know, it was a long time ago and I’m over it. Let’s go find you some clothes.”

  An awkward silence settled between us. Maybe he was trying to come up with an appropriate response but I wasn’t looking for sympathy. That was an emotion I’d tired of long ago.

  Rummaging through my dresser, I tossed t-shirts at him, but he vetoed every one of my choices. Either they were too small, too pink, or too form fitting. Finally I found a grey regular cut t-shirt in a size large and flung it over to him.

  “This is it, Bud. Take it or leave it.”

  He held it up, grimacing when the beam from the flashlight revealed the slogan on the front. Team Edward. “Oh my god.”

  “What?” I asked, feigning innocence. “I got it on opening night.”

  “And you didn’t pick a Team Jacob shirt? What’s wrong with you? Werewolves beat vampires any day of the week.”

  I held my hand up to stop the blasphemy. “No. Just stop. Team Edward is where it’s at. End of story.”

  Bodhi sighed before wadding up the t-shirt and tucking it under his arm. “I’m not going to like these sweatpants you speak of, am I?”

  “Probably not.”

  After considerable effort, I found a pair of sweatpants in a larger size and walked them over to him.

  He didn’t even wait for the spotlight before he complained, “These are yoga leggings, not sweatpants.”

  “Same thing.”

  “No, so incredibly not the same thing.”

  Grinning mischievously, I shoved a pair of flowered panties into his hand. “For you.”

  Bodhi barked out a laugh and tossed them back in my face before disappearing into the bathroom with his Team Edward t-shirt and a very flattering pair of butt enhancing yoga pants.

  “So, is that a ‘no’ on the panties?” I called out.

  Silence was the only response.

  * * *

  Bodhi emerged from the shower a new man. Not only did he appear relieved to have the ash and soot gone, but the decontamination proceedings had given him a surprisingly cheery disposition. Instead of sulking about in his unflattering post-catastrophe outfit, Bodhi fully embraced it, modeling his new body positive wardrobe on the makeshift catwalk he’d created smack dab in the middle of my tiny living space. Careful to keep my voice to acceptable landlady-levels, I whisper-hooted my approval as he whirled around in his skin-tight sweatpants.

  “Universe,” I lifted my arms to the heavens. “Hold me back.”

  You would have thought he was swinging from a stripper pole the way I was carrying on. If I’d had cash readily available, it would have already been tucked inside his waistband.

  After the show, Bodhi collapsed onto a kitchen chair, a wide smile splashed across his face.

  “You seem to be feeling better,” I said, fanning myself for effect.

  “I could say the same about you.”

  “Me? No. I always perk up when hot guys strut their stuff in my living room wearing Twilight memorabilia.”

  “How often does that happen?”

  “You know, not as often a
s I’d like.”

  We smiled, a comfortable camaraderie settling between us.

  “Damn, I feel good.” Bodhi slapped his hand on the table. “Like I can take on the world.”

  “Don’t you take on the world on a daily basis?”

  “I wish.”

  “You’re a pop star. I hardly think you lead a boring life.”

  “I didn’t say it was a boring life, just highly structured and hectic as hell. It just feels good to have nothing to do… nothing to worry about. I’m free.”

  I studied him a moment, not sure what he meant by ‘free’, but it certainly seemed a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. I wondered what the burdens of a person who lived a sun-kissed life with money, talent, and unlimited women at his fingertips looked like.

  “So, this free world you speak of… do you mean free as in ‘liberty and justice for all’?”

  “No, free as in ‘I almost died so now I’m really going to live.’”

  “Until the sun comes up and life goes back to normal,” I said, not realizing how pessimistic I sounded until Bodhi’s sails deflated. Deep in thought, he traced lines on the kitchen table with his finger.

  I touched the moving muscles in the back of his hand, surprised by the quiver that sizzled up my spine. “Hey, I’m sorry.”

  “I get where you’re coming from, I do, but here’s the thing, Breeze. I don’t want things to go back to normal. I’m done doing the same old shit. Why can’t we just be whoever we want to be?”

  He could. There was nothing holding him back. Bodhi was an adult with loads of cash to make any dream a reality.

  “I already am who I want to be,” I answered honestly.

  Bodhi stared at me like I was some rare white tiger. “Really? You’re happy with your life?”

  “Yes. I mean of course I hope there are surprises along the way, but overall, I’m happy. Why? You’re not?”