First Love

by G. L. Snodgrass

  “So that’s where you’re headed. Your Mom’s”

  I nodded my head, afraid if I spoke out loud I’d start balling and totally lose any respect he might have for me.

  “Yes, Not only had he betrayed me. But he’d hurt her. Stopped her from getting well by keeping me away from her. I think that upset me even more. It was like she didn’t exist and didn’t matter.”

  “Maybe he was only trying to protect you?”

  I snorted. “My dad only ever worried about himself. Besides. It’s not his right. Those letters were addressed to me! She tried to hurt me! I should be the one to decide.

  “What did he say when you told him

  “I didn’t. I left as soon as I finished the last letter. I couldn’t stay there. I couldn’t face him.”

  “You mean you just walked out. Didn’t say goodbye, didn’t yell at him. Nothing.”

  “I left the letter she’d sent to him opened on his desk and took all the letters addressed to me. He knows what happened.”

  “What about his side of the story,” Michael asked.

  Here my insides tightened up again. I didn’t want to know his side. Didn’t want some bullshit explanation. The man was a liar I couldn’t trust anything he said.

  I shook my head. “No, I know him. He’d have talked me out of it. Charmed me into believing she was still crazy. Maybe had some of his friends follow me, make sure I didn’t leave. I couldn’t risk it. My friend Jeanie helped. This is her knapsack, she gave me a few things for the road. Girl stuff, I was going to get what I needed with …”

  “His credit cards,” Michael finished shaking his own head.

  “Yeah, well, that might not have been the smartest move. But I couldn’t stay. I need to get to my mom. She needs me and I need her. And I think he’ll do whatever it takes to stop me.”

  A rather large tear dripped down my cheek, I wiped it away before he could see.

  Without warning he started to slow down and pull to the side of the road. “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “I thought you might need a shoulder to cry on.” He said. His eyes looked at me as if I was a fragile doll ready to shatter into a million pieces and only he could help me.

  My heart dropped and my fist clenched. “Don’t you dare,” I yelled. “I don’t need your large shoulders. I need to get to my mom. Don’t stop. Do you hear me?”

  He looked over with a confused frown as if someone had just punched him in the gut for no reason. Great, the one guy in the entire world I might be able to trust and I pissed him off. He’d dump me as soon as he got a chance. What he didn’t realize was that if I started crying on his shoulder I’d never stop.

  Chapter Seven

  Michael

  Screw her and those long legs of hers. All I did was offer some comfort. Not a big deal and she threw it back in my face like a sour dish rag. Well to hell with her.

  Punching the radio button, I leaned back to the easy sounds of a salsa station out of Juarez, trying to forget about her. Who needs her anyway? I’d drive her where she wanted to go but that was it. It’s just a ride Michael. Get over it. To her you are nothing more than a glorified driver.

  We continued on. Neither of us speaking, each lost in our own world. The deadening silence in the truck cab was finally interrupted when she turned to me and said. “I’m sorry if I upset you. I really am okay.”

  I took a deep, then nodded, accepting her apology.

  “Maybe you were right. This whole getting to know each other thing might not have been the smart way to go.”

  She laughed and said. “I don’t know. I like the idea of knowing you were a rock star. You never know when that might come in handy. We might have to sing for our supper sometime.”

  “Do you sing?” I asked, surprised.

  She laughed again. “Like a duck on opium. Off key, and off time, I’m all over the place. My dad used to say that I had a voice that could lull bricks to sleep but not much else.” Her face turned pensive at the mention of her dad. Jesus. I thought I had it bad. I couldn’t imagine dealing with a mother that wanted to kill me. An embezzling felon sure, an insane child murderer no.

  We settled back into a silence. Not as deep, not as tense but I could tell that neither of us were very comfortable. We’d done enough talking for a while. Better to just leave things alone and let them rest.

  “So? You can’t sing and you have no money. Tell me again why am I giving you a ride?”

  “Because you couldn’t keep your eyes of my legs,” she said with a knowing smile.

  “Yeah, that must have been it. Okay, settle in, I want to make about seven hundred miles today.”

  She smiled and relaxed. It seemed our little fight was over.

  .o0o.

  The road was endless. A long black ribbon laid flat across the earth. Filled with families on cross country excursions and giant eighteen wheelers looking to make their quota for the day. I found my mind drifting and thoughts wandering.

  Sasha and I talked, and we didn’t talk, it didn’t matter. It wasn’t important stuff. More the little things, comparing schools, friends, funny stories and good times. Almost as if both of us needed to separate from the bad times. Slowly the tension eased, falling behind us like broken glass.

  We talked of music and books. Movies and video games. We started a game to see who could see the most different state license plates. Anything to pass the time. I was surprised to realize how smart she was. Her insights and understanding of stuff was intelligent. ‘Airhead’ would not be one of her many personas I realized.

  Man, Seven hundred miles is a long day.

  “What do you wish you had done that you’ve never done?” I asked. The need to find out more about her surprised me. I figured she’d talk about some concert she’d wanted to attend. Some boy she’d wished she’d dated.

  “I wished I’d gotten my driver’s license,” she said with a small frown. Her cheeks turned a slight pink. God she was gorgeous when she blushed.

  “You don’t have your license. But you wanted to drive the other night.”

  “I offered to drive, I didn’t say I was legal to do so,” she said with a tilt of her head as if asking me why I couldn’t understand the difference.

  I laughed and shook my head. I’d never figure her out.

  Around noon I pulled into a gas station to fill up. Sasha jumped out and made us a bunch of sandwiches while I got the gas. We both made a quick pit stop in the restroom and within ten minutes we were on the road again. As we were pulling out of the station a state patrol car passed us. My stomach jumped.

  Would I be feeling this jittery gut heave every time I saw a police car? Or only until I got to Philly. Sasha saw the same car and raised an eyebrow at me.

  “Do you really think they are looking for you?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. I don’t think so, but I don’t know. I don’t like not knowing.”

  We hadn’t gone twenty miles when a big black BMW pulled in behind us. Sasha saw me staring into the rear view mirror, turned and saw the car. Her eyes got as big as dinner plates. She gave me a quick look, silently asking me if I thought it was them.

  I sped up, the car sped up. I slowed down, the car slowed down. My gut tightened into a ball. Had they found us? Where was that police car when I needed it?

  After several minutes the black car moved over to the passing lane and slowly crawled up even with us. Sasha sank down in her seat. I glanced over and let out a small chuckle.

  A husband and wife sat in the front of the car. Two teenagers sat in the back, both with headsets on, ignoring their parents. About as far from the Russian mob as you could get.

  Sasha heard me laugh and glanced over to see what I saw. She smiled and relaxed. It was going to be a long few days if every police car and every BMW made us jump.

  Chapter Eight

  Sasha

  The campground was almost empty. The middle of the week, two months before school got out. This seemed to be the best tim
e to travel.

  Michael picked a spot on a small bluff overlooking the lake. There weren’t any trees. Lots of green grass but no trees within sight. Hey it was Kansas. We were lucky to find a hill to break the flat monotony and offer a little privacy.

  “This looks nice,” I said with a smile. The crystal blue lake, sandy brown bluffs, and green grass. If I’d been an artist I’d have painted the scene.

  He smiled back at me and jumped out of the truck. Within a few minutes he had us registered, the tent up, and our stuff unloaded, including the giant crowbar placed just inside the flap of the tent where he could find it if necessary.

  He glanced my way when he got the sleeping bag and blankets. But he didn’t ask. Just set them up inside.

  All this time he was doing stuff I stood around with my hands in my pockets. What did I know about camping? The closest I’d ever come was a day trip to a spa at some mountain retreat. I wondered how long I would have lasted on the road if Michael hadn’t picked me up. Where would I be, what would I be doing.

  “Let’s go get those showers,” he said as he stepped back out of the tent and threw me a beach towel. I caught it with one hand, grabbed my pack, and followed him up the path to a cinder block building.

  The showers weren’t communal, thank you god, and they weren’t the most hygienic place in the world either. But not much worse than high school. As I let the warm water pound into my shoulders I could hear Michael singing in the next room. His voice was rich and deep as he sang some sea shanty about drunken sailors and captain’s daughters.

  I laughed to myself. I felt good. For the first time in days I felt good. We had gotten away. My father had no idea where I was. Michael would help me get to my mom’s. I didn’t need his help, but it was nice knowing it was there. I would see my mom soon and we’d work everything out. Life was good.

  A picture of Michael with water dripping off that hard body jumped into my head. Maybe it would have been nice if the showers had been communal.

  On the way back to the campsite neither of us said a word. We just shot each other looks from under our brows then quickly looked away. He cleaned up nice. His wet hair had been combed back. His skin had a fresh gleam and he smelled of sandalwood. It was exactly what he should smell like.

  “You hungry?” He asked as we reached our campsite.

  “Sure,” I said as I sat on the picnic table and watched. My hands under my knees, my legs swinging back and forth. It was fun watching him do stuff. He moved like a taut leopard, no wasted motion. There is something special about having a man cook for you. A girl could get used to it.

  Squatting next to the fire he soon had a meal of canned stew heating up. Once that was going he wrapped up a bunch of potatoes in tinfoil and placed them around the fire then placed a pot of water to boil off to the side of the flames.

  “Why so many potatoes?” I asked.

  “Tomorrow’s breakfast,” he answered. That’s Michael, always looking ahead. He’d come up with this plan to get across the country without being found. I wondered about his life. So alone, so self-reliant. What must it have been like being left to fend for himself at fifteen? He’d turned it into something good. He seemed like the type that always would turn bad into good.

  Christ Sasha, give it a rest. You will not become enamored of this guy. In two days he will go his way and you will go yours. To never see each other again. Do not become attached.

  It was hard not to though. He might be a jerk at times, and a little bossy. But overall, a nice guy in a great body with a sharp mind. Not a bad combination.

  I glanced over at the tent. What about tonight. Would he try something, if he did, how was I going to react? Should I let him? Admit it girl, you want to. But he’d be gone in a couple of days and how would I feel then. What if sleeping with him made it awkward and prickly around each other.

  These thoughts were intermingled with thoughts of him in the shower. Wondering what it would be like to kiss him. Would it make my toes curl? I had a feeling it would.

  What if he didn’t try something? Totally ignored me. What then? For some reason that was the most scary thought of all.

  “Come on, let’s eat,” he said lifting the pot from the fire.

  “What’s the water for?” I asked.

  “For you to use when you wash the dishes.” He answered with a smile.

  Fair enough. It was the least I could do.

  The stew smelled delicious. The warm steam rising from it lured me in. The first bite was nirvana, warm, savory, with a meaty, hearty taste. It might be out of a can but it was good.

  “Something about the fresh air,” he said. “It always increases a person’s appetites. Makes a person want things. Makes all of the senses more aware, more alive.”

  Is that it? Am I feeling all of these feeling because of the fresh air? I didn’t think so.

  After I had finished cleaning up we sat by the fire as the night grew dark. Each of us lost in our own thoughts. Mine kept jumping to the tent and what might happen.

  The night sky filled with stars. So many it took my breath away.

  “Is that the Milky Way?” I asked pointing to a fluffy streak of white across the black sky.

  “Yes,”

  “I’ve never seen it before. Eighteen years and I’ve never seen my own galaxy.”

  “Yeah, well you’ve got to get away from the cities and their light.”

  Michael spent the next few minutes pointing out the constellations, Orion, Leo, and all the rest. It was nice, talking about things outside of us and our problems.

  “Just think, only two hundred years ago, the Native Americans might have been camped next to this very lake and looked up at those very stars. Puts things in perspective.”

  “What? That we are small and insignificant?” I asked with a frown.

  He laughed. “No, that our problems are small and insignificant. But we are here to appreciate wonders like the night sky, a bird in flight. Mountains and a pretty lake. To marvel at things like a sweet kiss. The curve of a pretty girl’s hip and the pleasure of being with someone else. Someone you care for.”

  That last part he said with a knowing smile as he looked directly at me. My insides turned to mush as our eyes locked over the fire. I licked my lips. My mouth had suddenly gone bone dry. It took a great deal of effort but I was able to pull my eyes away and return to staring upwards.

  Had he been flirting with me? Why?

  How does a girl respond to something like that? I had been around enough boys to know what they could be like. Words and showing off. Preening like peacocks. Saying and doing whatever it took to get a girl’s attention. But Michael wasn’t like that. He didn’t need to be. Just being near him drew a girl’s attention.

  Quiet fell over us as we let the fire burn down. I shivered in the cool night air and pulled a blanket around me tight. A distant owl hooted, and a coyote yapped in answer making me jump. But they were all far away and Michael was here.

  My deep wandering thoughts were interrupted by Michael standing, stretching his back.

  “I don’t know about you,” he said. “But I’ve got to get some sleep. It’s been a long day and we’ve got another tomorrow.”

  I nodded and stood also as he poured water on the fire which hissed and puffed in resistance. Once it was out, the night grew even darker making me feel even more alone.

  He held the tent flap open letting me go in first. I knew he was looking at my bottom as I bent to climb in. That mention about a girl’s hip hadn’t been totally random.

  Once I was in and settled he followed and plopped down on his side of the tent. I lay on my back waiting, wondering, it was as if I was a regency virgin on her wedding night. Waiting, with no idea what was to come next.

  “Goodnight Sasha,” he said as he rolled over to face away from me.

  What was that all about, I wondered? Why all the flirting and suggestive talk about caring for someone and hips and stuff. I gritted my teeth and turned over. Whatever
you do I told myself, do not wiggle your way across the tent and end up in his arms again tomorrow morning. He doesn’t deserve it.

  I lay there in silence, biting my lip, unable to go to sleep. I couldn’t find a comfortable position. The ground was harder than a granite countertop and the boy next to me was a jerk. I twisted and turned but nothing worked. To make it even worse. I knew he was still awake. He hadn’t started snoring ten seconds after laying down like last night.

  I could hear him over there. Breathing. His shoulders and chest rising with each breath. I could smell the sandalwood and campfire smoke. It was a strong, sharp, manly smell that embraced me and held me close. Each breath, each little movement made me aware of him.

  It went on like that for what seemed like hours but was probably closer to minutes. I found myself turning over and staring into those deep green eyes. He’d been watching me twist and turn.

  “Can’t sleep?” he whispered.

  I shook my head in response. My voice had forgotten how to work. His face was so handsome, A cross between tough and solid with touch of tenderness. It was enough to make me forget about my worries. Forget about pretending I didn’t want him.

  Before I could think, before I could talk myself out of it I leaned forward and kissed him. I had to, my body and soul wouldn’t, couldn’t stop me.

  Our lips met, and my world exploded, and toes curled, as his arm snaked around my back to pull me closer.

  “Oh Sasha,” he breathed.

  I melted at the way he said my name. As if it was the most important thing in the world to him.

  This is where I belong. This is what life is for. Our lips gently explored each other. I heard myself moan and would have died of embarrassment but I was too focused on the pleasure and wonder of his kiss.

  The moment grew. Becoming more intense as our hands wandered, exploring, learning each other. I felt his hand caress my lower back then move to my bottom to pull me in tight next to his hard body. I became lost in him. My world existed of Michael and what he was doing to me. Nothing else mattered, my mom, the future, the fact that in a few days he would leave me. None of it mattered.