Allegiant

by Sara Mack

  I frown at him. He expects me to believe that? I mean, it is believable, but it doesn’t explain how there is no mark on his skin.

  He turns off the burner. “Let’s eat.” He picks up the pot by both handles and carefully pours the soup into each bowl, not spilling a drop. If I had tried this, I would have been wearing the soup for sure.

  “What is fennel?” I ask.

  “It’s a vegetable. It looks like a feathery plant above the ground, but we’re eating the bulb.” He sets the pot back on the stove.

  All right. I’ll take his word for it.

  He pulls a biscuit from of the pan. “I usually crumble these over the top,” he says. “Would you like yours separate?”

  I pick up a soup bowl and hold it out to him. “Crumble away.”

  He mashes the biscuit over my bowl and then does the same to his. “This way.” He starts to walk out of the kitchen. “You’ll have to sit on your old couch to eat.”

  I follow him. “That’s okay. I’ve missed her.”

  He looks back at me. “Really? With that Cadillac sitting in your front room?”

  Front room? He sounds like my grandmother. I laugh. “I was kidding.”

  I make my way to sit down. He must have hit up a garage sale in the last day or two, because a small table stands in front of the couch. I take a seat, and Garrett sits on the floor.

  “Oh.” He stands back up. “I guess we need spoons.” He leaves the room and reappears moments later with two spoons.

  Hunger takes over, and I taste the soup. I was expecting a vegetable flavor, like potato, but it’s surprisingly sweet. “This is really good,” I compliment him.

  He nods.

  I want him to feel comfortable around me, so he will open up about himself. I already found out a couple tidbits in the short time I’ve been here: he served in the army, and he can touch hot things without being burned. I’m starting to suspect he may be a military prototype, like Captain America.

  Trying to appear casual, I lift my spoon and lick the back of it. “I was researching reiki the other night. It’s funny; nothing I could find came close to what you did the other day.”

  He smiles. “I knew there was a reason you asked me to lunch.”

  “Well, you did blast a trauma-induced headache from my body.”

  “Trauma-induced?”

  Whoops. I don’t want him to think I’m nuts. I resume eating.

  Minutes pass in silence, and Garrett finishes his soup first. He sets the bowl on the table and looks at me expectantly. “Well?”

  “Well what?”

  “Do you want to talk about your trauma?”

  I give him a resigned look. “Not really. I want to talk about your reiki.”

  He tilts his head and regards me for a moment. “I’ll tell you if you tell me.”

  I set my bowl on the table. I’m dying to know what’s up with him, so I concede. “I lost someone recently. My boyfriend. He…he died.”

  This doesn’t seem to faze him. “Life can be difficult when you lose someone you love,” he says. “It really hit you hard the other day, didn’t it?”

  My shoulders sag. “Yes.”

  “You know,” he says matter-of-factly and shifts his weight on the floor, “the connection between the human world and the spiritual world is very strong. I’m sure your boyfriend watches over you today.”

  He’s doesn’t know how right he is. He sounds like some sort of medicine man. “What are you? Some sort of shaman?”

  His eyes light up and he chuckles. “I can’t believe you guessed that. The answer is yes. Kind of.”

  “Kind of?”

  “We’ll just say I’m a shaman. It’s easier.”

  I look at him suspiciously. “You’re not going to tell me about the reiki, are you?”

  “I just told you what I was,” he says. “What more do you need to know?”

  It turns out Garrett is very good at avoiding the topic of himself. As the late afternoon turned into evening, he managed to turn every question I asked of him back on to me. Eventually, he tried to distract me by teaching me to play poker. I was asking him some questions about the army, and he went off on a tangent about what they used to do to pass the time in the field between missions. I told him I was a horrible liar, so poker probably wouldn’t be the best game for me. He insisted that learning it would improve my lying abilities and pulled a tattered deck of cards from his bedroom. We snacked on the remaining biscuits for dinner and, by eight o’clock, I was still confusing a straight with a straight flush. That’s when we decided to call it a night with the promise of future lessons.

  After pulling on my pajamas, I plop down on my couch to think about today. I still have a million unanswered questions. When I sit, I land on my phone. “Ow,” I say to LB, who has jumped up to be scratched. I pull the phone from beneath my tush and see that I have missed text messages. I tap the first alert.

  How was lunch? It’s from Shel.

  Next message. Are you still out?

  Next message. Text me when you’re done. I’m curious.

  There’s a shocker.

  I reply to Shel. Hey. I’m home.

  I absentmindedly pet LB as I wait for her to respond back. I think about Garrett. How can I find out how he became a shaman? LB bumps my hand with her head, and I drop the phone.

  “LB!” I pick the phone up off the floor.

  After a few minutes, when Shel doesn’t respond, I text her again. Lunch was fun. Garrett gave me a poker lesson. I’m not very good.

  My phone vibrates. Poker? You should stick to Crazy 8’s.

  I smile. Don’t I know it.

  So who’s this Garrett?

  Good question. He’s my neighbor. And a classmate. And a mystery.

  Oooo. Sounds sexy.

  I laugh. He may be cute, but he’s not sexy. Um, I don’t think so.

  Take a picture and let me judge.

  Sarcastically, I respond I’ll get right on that.

  What? You don’t think I can judge another man’s sexiness?

  I roll my eyes. I’m sure you can.

  So why won’t you send me a picture?

  Why does she want to see Garrett so bad? Because he’s not hot. And how would I explain taking his picture?

  Tell him it’s for research.

  I sigh. I’m not taking his picture.

  I think you’re hiding something.

  What? I am not!

  Then why won’t you let me see him?

  What is the point of this? Because.

  I’m just curious. What color hair does he have?

  Brown.

  Eyes?

  Turquoise.

  You’re lying.

  Am not.

  He sounds dreamy.

  This is ridiculous. Are you high? I’m telling Matt!

  Why would Matt care if I’m high?

  Lord, help me. Garrett is a friend. That’s all.

  Be careful. We all know what you do with your male friends.

  Is she referring to Dane? Rude much?

  It was supposed to be funny.

  It’s not. It should never have happened.

  I bet you think about it though.

  I decide to confess. I do. It’s the truth. I can confide in Shel.

  How often do you think about it?

  Why does she want to know this? A lot.

  Like every night?

  No! But a lot.

  My phone goes silent for a minute. What is up with her tonight? I contemplate actually calling her.

  My phone vibrates again. So do you think I’m hot?

  What in the world? She’s acting all kinds of crazy. I shake my head and decide to play along. Yes. Very.

  Really? I think you’re hot too.

  Okay. This has gone far enough. Are you psychotic Shel? I was kidding. Why would I think you’re hot???

  Shel? This is Dane.

  Oh my God. Are you kidding me?

  Nope.

  I scroll back t
hrough our conversation and blood rushes to my face. The screen must have jumped to a thread with Dane when LB knocked the phone on the floor! Holy embarrassment! I just confessed I think about us a lot.

  Hello?

  I panic. I have to go.

  Of course you do. He knows I’m running away from the conversation.

  I send him one last message. I’ll talk to you later. Good night. I flop down on my side and close my eyes.

  My phone vibrates in my hand, and I peek at it.

  For what it’s worth, I think about it a lot too.

  Chapter 5

  I spend the next week alone, thinking about Dane, contemplating Garrett, and missing James. On top of homework, I tried to get in touch with Shel a few times, but she started volunteering at a local hospital and her hours are all over the place. When I’m asleep, she’s awake. When I’m awake, she’s sleeping. Her aspirations are much higher than mine. She wants to be a doctor.

  I did manage to talk to her once, briefly, after the Dane text debacle. She thought it was hilarious and a step in the right direction. Me, not so much. I know she hopes that, one day, Dane and I will permanently make it past the friend’s stage. It’s no secret how much she likes him. I wish I could tell her about James being my Guardian and how difficult it is for me to know that he is tied to my every move; how he can see what I’m doing. I still feel sick when I think about him watching my momentary indiscretion with Dane this past summer. Regardless of his limitations in loving me, my heart suspects that is the real reason James has stayed away for so long. I don’t doubt that he feels like I cheated on him. I feel that way, too. Lately, though, the logical side of my brain speaks up, and asks me if I plan to stop living all together. I’ve got a good sixty years or so left, I hope. That’s a long time to be alone, to get over my guilt, and spare James his feelings. Would he really begrudge me any future relationship with Dane? With anyone?

  James once asked me if I could resign myself to a lifetime of solitude, to be known only as the crazy old cat lady. At the time I thought I could, because he would be able to visit me. Now, after spending these last few weeks virtually alone, a lifetime of solitude sounds about as appealing as swallowing nails. How much am I willing to sacrifice to assuage my guilt? James is my Guardian. He can no longer love me no matter how much I love him. I can no longer release him from his Guardianship when I die because I am his Ward. Am I willing to sacrifice happiness in this lifetime and eternity as well?

  I look at LB and sigh. It looks like I may have my answer. I’ve already started my crazy old cat lady collection of felines. Maybe I should get a rocking chair and start learning to knit too.

  “Thanks for your help.”

  “No, thank you,” I say as I stand. I watch Garrett pile his textbook on top of his notes. “This class is going to kill me.”

  He laughs. “Well, Johnson is going to kill me.”

  By the end of the second week of classes, it was apparent that I would need some outside Stats help. I mentioned looking for a tutor, and Garrett told me that he had no problem with Stats at his previous school. He was, on the other hand, having a hard time following Ms. Johnson’s train of thought in Ethics. He received a C on his first essay while I received an A. We agreed to trade tutorial services on Fridays, since neither of us have anything better to do. Plus, I thought it would be a convenient opportunity to learn more about him. Unfortunately, today’s session left little room for other topics.

  Garrett heads toward my apartment door. “Same time next week?”

  “Absolutely.”

  He opens the door to leave as I bend down to grab LB before she sprints outside. “Have any plans this weekend?” he asks me.

  I stand and shake my head. “I’m not much of a socialite.”

  He smiles. “Me either.” He walks outside. “Have a nice weekend.”

  “Thanks. You too.” I shut the door and lift LB up to look her in the eyes. “It’s just us kid. Whatever shall we do?”

  I eye my scattered notes and textbook and decide to clean them up. As I stack everything neatly, I see that Garrett left a few papers. He’ll probably need those. I pick them up and head toward the door and stop. Wait! There are a lot of things he needs…

  I spend the afternoon shopping. Working at Bay Woods this past summer built up my savings, and I’ve barely dented it since I’ve been away from home. I pick up some essentials for Garrett: for the bathroom, a shower curtain and a set of towels. For the kitchen, an oven mitt and a set of four plates with matching glassware. I also manage to find a plain, navy blue comforter on clearance for half off and a bundle of plastic hangers for a dollar. As I carry my purchases to my car, I find myself smiling. Not only does it feel great to help out a friend, but I actually feel like I accomplished something worthwhile with my time. Now, all I have to do is get him to accept my gifts.

  As I drive home, I sing along with the radio. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this good. I pull into the parking area for my building, grab the two large plastic bags out of my trunk, and hum my way to the front door. When I get there, I stop at my mailbox and head inside.

  “Oh no, you don’t,” I admonish LB when I open my apartment door. I block her exit with one of the bags. “Stop trying to sneak out!” Ever since she managed to get into the hallway the other day, this has become one of her favorite games. Every time the door opens she tries to escape. I press my back against the door to shut it while blocking her with the bag and my feet. “Do I have to ground you?” I ask her. I set the bags against the wall and head to the kitchen, tossing the mail and my keys on the counter.

  I open the fridge, find a bottle of water, and take a drink. LB comes in and rubs herself against my leg, as if to apologize for her antics. I crouch down to pet her. “You’re forgiven you little stinker.” She rubs herself against my hand and the bottle, and purrs while I scratch behind her ears. “Do you want to come with me to give Garrett his gifts?” I ask her. “Will that make you happy?” She lets out a tiny meow, and I laugh. “Are you talking back to me now?” She doesn’t answer; she just stares at me with her big copper eyes. I pick her up, kiss her, and set her back down again.

  Standing, I decide to sort through my meager mail. There’s a bill from the cable company and a postcard advertising discounted Laundromat services. I frown as I pick up the third item. It’s a plain white envelope with my name printed neatly on the outside. There’s no return address. I tear it open and pull out a folded newspaper article. It’s from my hometown paper.

  Local Student Returns from Abroad

  Says Environmental Conservation Has Never Been More Important

  Not many people will ever experience what Teagan Meyer has. Teagan, a 2006 graduate of Lake Fenton High School, has returned home after spending nearly a year and a half overseas researching the Amazon Jungle.

  Upon graduating from Wayne State University with a degree in Environmental Science, Ms. Meyer competed for a spot on a ten-man conservation team created to conduct research and evaluate the state of the world’s most famous rainforest. Of being selected out of the more than 9,000 applicants, Ms. Meyer says the feeling was “indescribable” and “a dream come true.”

  Sponsored by educational grant dollars and headed by the World Wildlife Federation, the conservation team migrated through the countries of Brazil, Peru, and Bolivia recording the impact of deforestation in the area. “The rainforest and fresh water systems of the Amazon are incredibly fragile,” says Meyer. “The countries that contain the Amazon are rapidly expanding. Without properly planning the creation of roads and dams, not only are animal species threatened but the livelihood of farmers and fishermen. That’s on top of the catastrophic effect that deforestation has on the global climate.” Ms. Meyer hopes to bring her experience and knowledge to local groups and schools in the area, in order to affect change. “Every generation needs to know how important the rainforest is on a global scale,” she says. “We can all make a difference.”

  While she
says she wouldn’t trade her time in South America for the world, Ms. Meyer admits that she enjoys being back home and the amenities she left behind. She tells us she plans to spend some down time with her family and fiancé before launching an awareness program based on her travels. “It will be nice to finally get the wedding plans under way,” she says. Teagan is the daughter of Luke and Susan Meyer, prominent community members and owners of Legionnaire, a local advertising company. Teagan is engaged to Dane Walker, son of Charles and Lily Walker, owners of the Bay Woods Golf Course.

  I must read the last sentence of the article five or six times before my shaking hands make it impossible to continue. The clipping flutters from my fingers, and I melt to the kitchen floor, stunned. My emotions betray me as the news of Dane’s engagement brings out feelings I’ve been trying so hard to repress. We can never be more than friends. Ever. My brain screams, “But isn’t that what you wanted?” The tears that trail down my face answer that question.

  LB comes to find me, rubbing against my knee. She knows I’m upset. I pick her up and hold her to my chest in an attempt to keep my heart in one piece. It’s doesn’t work. I can still feel it break.

  It doesn’t take long for my sadness to turn into anger. Setting LB down, I wipe the tears from my cheeks. I pick myself up and walk into the living room, toward the couch. I rip off the blankets that I had protectively wrapped around it and throw them on the floor. My eyes find LB. “Have at it.”

  I walk into the bathroom and stare at myself in the mirror. My eyes are puffy, and my face is covered in red splotches. I try to process what I’ve just learned thanks to – thanks to whom? Who sent the article? Obviously not Matt or Shel; they would have told me something this huge in person. Was it Dane? Is this his way of letting me know? He couldn’t man up and tell me face to face, or at least over the phone? What a coward! Of all the low, selfish, and inconsiderate things to do! I thought he cared about me. At least he acted like he did. Wasn’t he just flirting with me over text messages?