Orbit Beach

by Jane Etarie

  Venus

  She had no idea that I wanted a new place, and I mean really, neither did I. But she was more than happy to help. Of course she would show me around. She's got a perfect listing for me. I was going to love it. It was about an hour out of town. A great place to start a family, to raise a kid, but still close enough to the city to commute.

  I was late. I was halfway up the path and Natasha had the door open and was all like waving at me. And I was starting to say sorry but she's all like, Come in, come in! Hurry! It's freezing out! So I followed her inside and she's hugging and rubbing her arms like she's cold, and then she sort of laughs and says that maybe she shouldn't have invited me in. And then I get this jolt of panic like I've never felt in my life. Like a headrush and my heart stops and I can't see. And then she's all like, You're not supposed to invite vampires into your home, right Bella?

  And then I get it and probably laugh a little too much. And she smiles and apologizes for her dumb joke, but it's crazy how much I look like Bella from the side she says. And so I'm all like, Ya, No... You don't have to worry about me... I'm just a girl.

  And then she asks if I made it here ok. Was it snowing anywhere yet? She heard it was supposed to start snowing today or tomorrow. And I apologize again because I'm like twenty minutes late. Traffic was shit through the city and I got a little lost once I was in the neighborhood. And then she tells me no worries— she didn't mean it like that, and that she tried calling me, but she must have gotten my new number wrong. It kept saying it wasn't in service.

  And I'm all like, Oh that is just so weird— I've had that happen to me all week. And I shake my head like I'm sad, frustrated, disgusted. Like I've just had enough. Like I've just been strip searched and cavity searched in front of everybody at the airport for no good reason. And I go on about how I've been kept on hold with these phone company shitheads for hours, how they still can't figure out why my account keeps getting deactivated. I've only been with these animals for like two weeks, and I already want to cancel.

  So Natasha's nodding, like she's all sympathetic, like she's going I know, I know, me too, me too. And then she says that she feels horrible— that she tried getting a hold of me— but would I mind it so much if we had lunch tomorrow? She has to show this place again in a half hour. She feels sick about it.

  And I can tell she feels bad. She really wanted us to check out this gastropub, Ice³, on the way back into town. Like to eat, not to drink. It's getting great reviews. A real modern dining experience. The tapas is supposed to be just awesome. Real sophisticated.

  And she explains that this married couple who were supposed look at the place yesterday had an emergency and asked if they could reschedule for today. But she tells me not to worry about it. That if I want the place, it's mine. Just a formality unless I don't want it.

  No worries, I tell her. We can go anytime, I understand.

  Then she cheers right up, and tells me to follow her— she'll show me around.

  So she starts showing me around, and it's not like I'd know, but she's really good at her job. She knows everything about the house. The granite countertops, the double wall oven, the geothermal heating and the types of flooring in every room. There's like a school just a few blocks away that consistently ranks in some top ten. How she figures the house would qualify for some LEED certified bullshit.

  And she doesn't want to pressure me in any way, but she says that really— now is the best time to buy a house. The market hasn't recovered yet. The owner's a distressed seller. The interest rates have never been this low. Everything's lined up in my favor. Like it's in the stars, like some magic window's been opened. In ten years, if I want to sell, I'll be very happy. Sometimes, Natasha tells me, we have to take advantage of opportunities like this. We have to take advantage before they slip away. Then she wants to show me the wood stove, how perfect it is on a day like today.

  So I'm following her, but I feel like we're being led along some track. Like we're being carried on karmic wheels, on cosmic gears. And she keeps talking but I can't understand what the hell she's saying anymore. My head's in a different place. It's like I'm floating, watching everything from outside of my body, like an air Shiva or air Kali or some shit. Like I'm on some primordial plain. Time is gone. And I'm living in the moment.

  I grab something off a side table. I recognize it. It's one of those Venus figurines. Like a fertility statue of some pregnant bitch— or it could just be a fat chick. I don't know, there's like different opinions on their purpose, their meaning. The real ones are some of the oldest art in the world. They're a bit of a mystery, really. But whatever— it'll do.

  Natasha's guiding me, walking in front of me. And I mean, I'm not totally sure, but I think that this is going to be ironic for one of us.

  Keys to happiness

  She's fine, she's ok— she's just a little sick... she has violently explosive diarreah... we're lesbians... we're trying to have sex... can you please just leave us the fuck alone?

  I didn't know what the hell to say. I just wanted to tell him to fuck off, but the best I come up with is Hi. And the kid's just standing there like a retard, straddling his dirtbike and staring at us with his squinty rat eyes. I was parked by the river on the dirt road, standing by the open back door, and Natasha's legs were hanging out. I guess it did look kind of weird.

  But for real, what the fuck was he doing riding his dirtbike around in the freezing cold for anyways? No helmet. Just a scarf and a wool cap. And he didn't say anything, he just kept looking at us, with his dumb red face. I hoped he'd get frostbite.

  So I was all like, Cold out, isn't it? And I smiled. Then he kind of grunted and kick started his bike and took off up the road. And when I couldn't hear him anymore, I pulled Natasha off the back seat. She looked like Snow White or Sleeping Beauty or some shit. Like some dead Eastern European prostitute. But she was still alive. And I didn't want her getting up, so I shoved another rag full of halothane into her face. Her beautiful bitch face.

  And I was having a real shitty go. It was hard pulling her across the rocks, across the dirt. Dragging her by the hair across hardwood flooring was easy compared to this. But eventually I got her to the river, to this spot where like nobody could see or hear us. And I had my clean towels and gloves and shit all ready, but then I couldn't find the boxcutter.

  I looked everywhere for it. Behind the seats, on the floor, under the seats. I checked all my pockets. Nothing. And then I looked in my handbag. A bottle of halothane, a mickey of vodka— both plastic. Cigarettes. Toilet Paper. An egg that I forgot was in there and didn't want to break— the face looked so real. All useless. And then I looked at my keys.

  And I admit it— it was messy. It was gross. There was like blood everywhere. Like a lot of blood. Natasha really wasn't looking alive. And if she was still breathing, it was just barely. But it really didn't matter anyways— I wasn't going to drive her to the hospital. I mean, I'd thought about it, but I couldn't. She almost knew who I was. So I dragged her across the rocks and the sand, over to the river.

  The surface was mostly frozen, and I pushed her halfway into this hole. The water pulled her the rest of the way under. It was so quiet. Maybe she'd float away— drift off and become frozen in the ice somewhere— and they'd find her a hundred years later.

  I rinsed myself off a bit. The water was fucking freezing, like my hands were going to fall off with frostbite or some shit. Then I grabbed her handbag, her phone, the duct tape and anything else I could think of, and I threw all of it into the river. I took off my bloody afterbirth sweater and pants and threw them into the river too.

  I got back to the Escalade real quick to heat it up, it was so fucking cold out. And I was about to stick the key into the ignition but I noticed the blood on it. So I wiped it off and stuck the bloody asswipe under a rock. I wasn't going to get that shit in my car. Then I threw on my yoga pants and hoodie as fast as I could and checked the baby. She was still alive. And I mean— I'm no doctor— but premat
ure kids are born in ditches all over the world, and I thought she was looking pretty good, and that I did ok with the bellybutton.

  I wrapped her up all snug and tight. I just wanted to keep looking at her, but I knew we had to leave fast. Leave before it started snowing. Leave before that retard got back. Leave before anybody found us.

  A few minutes later we got off the gravel and onto the pavement. The smooth road made me feel a lot better. I sucked back probably half a mickey of Grey Goose and popped a couple of pills— I don't even know which, I just found them in my hoodie. The first flakes of snow started drifting across the windshield, and the sky was getting darker. For real, it was all pretty good timing.

  Shampoo

  She was quiet when I let her out of the suitcase. I was almost scared she was dead, but she wasn't.

  I got her cleaned up and settled into the motel room with her. We would spend the night, out of the freezing cold. I wasn't sure about tomorrow, or the day after that. I hadn't figured everything out yet, but I wasn't worried. I'd figure it all out later, like I always do. Right now the plan was to drink my vodka, to calm down, to go to sleep. I had a couple of bottles ready, and a thimble for her too, if she started crying.

  But she was so quiet, she never cried once. She was a good baby. So tiny. I had to keep her warm. I held her between my tits. She smelled so clean. Like strawberries. Like the strawberry shampoo I used to bathe her in the sink to get the blood and placenta and cunt from that witch off her. My clean baby. My angel. My gift from the universe.

  And I would protect her. No one was going to take her from me. Ever. I mean, I wasn't worried about it, but if I had to— if the cops found me, if they knocked on that door and had us surrounded— they wouldn't get us alive. It's like, I don't know quit, I don't— but I swear to god— I would drink the rest of that fucking shampoo and lie down on top of my sweet baby if I had to. They would never take her from me.

  But I wasn't worried about that. I just couldn't stop smiling at my baby. And I thought of Oprah again. My first liberator. My inspiration. And I thought of her farewell show. I've seen it like a hundred times and I cry every time. I have her goodbye speech almost memorized. And now I was like seriously thinking about naming this little angel Pharo after her.

  So many things that she said, in so many ways, validated everything I'd done. Oprah said there was a difference between thinking you deserve happiness and knowing you're worthy of happiness. And with all my hard work, all the preparation— the joy— that I'd put into this— I knew I deserved it.

  This is what she encouraged all of us to do— to follow our hearts, to listen to those whispers that tell us when something isn't right, when we're not doing what we should be doing. When we're not where we should be in our lives. It is god revealing itself. Setting us on our true path. Helping us find our spark, so that we can illuminate the world. To be a beacon in our own way.

  And she said that there are no coincidences, only the manifestation of the grace of god. The divine order. And that she had no regrets. And really, neither did I.

  She finished by saying that we had been her safe harbor for the last twenty-five years, and now she hoped that we would be a safe harbor for somebody else. To love somebody. To like, make a difference in their lives.

  I was going to be my angel's safe harbor. I was excited about the future. I was going wake up every morning, thinking, How can I be an awesome mother today? How can I make my baby's day better? I felt like we were on the verge of happiness. Like I finally caught up to that silver lining on the horizon and was looking over it. Things were looking good. The fun we were going to have, Me, Baby, and Boo.

  ps

  Hey,

  I'm going to be gone a while longer. My family won't let me go back, on account of my warrant. I haven't told them about the baby yet, it's just too complicated right now. I'm still looking for work. I'll send some money when I can.

  —Robert

  ps— Don't change your contact information.