Nobody but Us

by Kristin Halbrook

  I slam my hand against the steering wheel, and Zoe jumps. She stares at me, but I shake my head at her and she goes back to slumping against the passenger door.

  I’m a fucking prick for thinking that about her.

  No one should live afraid like that. We just gotta get through this so she can feel how it is to not be scared all the time.

  I sneak a glance at her. She punishes herself for her mom’s death, I know that. Anyone could see that. It’s like those crazy monks who whip themselves. She’s always punishing herself, thinking she deserved to be smacked around by her dad. But she was just a kid who wrongly blamed herself for the way things were, even though none of it was her fault. A girl doing what she could to get by.

  I know about that. About forgetting things on purpose. But me and Zoe, the scars don’t let us forget for long. Those ghosts are gonna haunt us forever.

  That’s why we gotta think about the future. As much as we can. I take her elbow, slide my fingers down her forearm, grasp her hand.

  “How many kids you want?”

  Her mouth twitches and I want to laugh like I ain’t never laughed before. Live the moments while we have them, like there ain’t nobody following us and we’re free as wild animals.

  It feels like a long time ago we talked about it, on a night after I’d asked her to escape with me. She climbed out of her window, falling into my arms. The full moon lit our quarter-mile run to my car, parked far enough away so her dad couldn’t hear it.

  We sat in the backseat, ’cause it was too cold outside. She laid her head on my shoulder.

  “I’ve never felt this way before, like I could make arrangements, look forward to something. Is this what planning for the future feels like? Like windows wide open to the wind?”

  “Sure. We can do anything,” I said. “Make any old plans.”

  We threaded our fingers together. She never held my hand unless I grabbed hers first. But she never let go first, neither.

  “What kinds of things do you want to do? Where do you see yourself in ten years?”

  I let out a low whistle and rubbed the stubble along my jaw. “Ten years is a long time. Gotta have a job. And a place to live. A nice one. Big-screen TV.” She laughed softly. “My car, but fixed up. You. A family.”

  “You want a family.”

  “Don’t everyone want one?”

  “They don’t always act like it.”

  “Yeah,” I said, detaching my hand from hers. I ran my thumb over her palm. “But we ain’t like those people, are we? We got shown the wrong way. We know pretty good how to do it right. Just do the opposite.”

  “Two little ones,” she said. “I would treat them so well, love them so much. It’s not fair how some people who don’t deserve kids get lots of healthy ones while others who desperately want bunches can’t even have one.”

  “Life ain’t fair.”

  “Such a cliché.” She sighed.

  She breathes heavily again now. “We’ve talked about this before.”

  “I know. Tell me again.”

  “Two. A girl first, then a boy.”

  “I want nine.”

  “I know! Insane. You don’t have to have them, that’s why you want that many.”

  “I want that many ’cause it’s a baseball team.”

  She sits up a little and a slow smile spreads across her face.

  “That’s why!” she exclaims. I laugh at her. Damn, it feels so good to laugh again. I feel all hopeful suddenly. “But you wouldn’t get nine boys, probably. Not that I’d have nine.”

  “So? Girls can play baseball.”

  “Better believe it. But I’m still not having nine kids.”

  “We’ll adopt. Take care of some kids who need it.”

  She moves closer to me and I can feel the pity growing in her and I want to put a stop to that. I look away, out the window, see the shadows of a roadrunner standing guard on a boulder.

  “I’ll build a big house.”

  “What, out of cardboard?”

  “You think that’s all I’m good for?”

  “The way things are go—” She shakes her head, changes her mind. “You’ve never built a house.”

  “So?”

  “So, yeah, that’s all you’re good for, then.”

  Please don’t stop teasing me. Not ever. No matter what happens, tease me, Zoe.

  “All right, then I’ll invent something to make us rich and I’ll pay someone else to build us a big house.”

  “What are you going to invent?”

  I’ve never thought about inventing something before.

  “Mind-reading devices.”

  She snorts, closes her eyes, presses her fingers against her temple.

  “All right, tell me what I think about that idea.”

  “I ain’t invented it yet!”

  “I can tell what you’re thinking.”

  “Oh yeah? What am I thinking?”

  She opens her eyes and gives me a look I ain’t never seen from her before. It’s wide eyes like she can see through me and her lips barely open like she’s getting ready to say the most important thing in the world. I don’t care what she says, I’m agreeing with it.

  “You’re thinking you’re really going to do it. Go after your dreams. Figure things out. Get your big house. Your kids. And, uh, a nanny.”

  “You’re good.” And she is.

  “You’ll do it. You’re such a hard worker.”

  “We’ll do it, babe. We will.”

  She smiles to herself, a little sad. She’s like that for a while, not talking or nothing, but thinking. About good things, I hope. Stuff about me. About how we’ve got all these hours together in this car, more hours alone together than we’ve ever had before. It ain’t never been like that, just time that we could spend doing nothing. Real time. Our life together was built during lunch breaks and walks down the hallways and every second we could squeeze out before and after school.

  Sometimes, once or twice, she would tell her dad she had to stay after to tutor some kid in science. He’d get mad thinking the school was using her for free labor, but it was better than him knowing how we’d hide away, talking for hours ’cause we had these whole lives to tell each other about and we were dying to know everything.

  But now I get to learn the things she wouldn’t think to tell me ’cause she never realized them. Like the way her smiles fade into a land of her own making when she stops thinking about happiness and thinks about other stuff. Stuff I don’t know about and a place I can’t follow her to.

  I touch her hand, but she’s in that place now and I’m lonely in this desert.

  ZOE

  MY MOM. THE BIG PICTURE IS HAZY. IT’S THE DETAILS I remember best. Warm hands that smelled like lotion. Thin wisps of hair that fell in her eyes as she bent over her work. Clandestine whispers urging me to stay in my room, where I sat behind my closed door and just listened, listened, and the shadows and tears on her face when she finally opened the door to say it was okay, I could come out now.

  I remember thinking I was in trouble when she sent me to my room like that. I don’t think I ever figured it out that trouble wasn’t the reason she wanted me to hide. Not until the day I saw her bruises staring back at me in the mirror. Then I knew.

  Then I loved her more than I thought possible for protecting me and also hated her for never taking us away from him.

  My mom didn’t have any family. Her own parents had long given up on having children when my mom came along unexpectedly. They were old, she’d told me, and didn’t live long enough to see their only grandchild.

  When they died, she married the first man who promised to take care of her.

  He sure did.

  I look at Will. His face is a study in concentration as he grips the steering wheel, but I don’t think he’s focused on his driving. I can only imagine the thoughts running through his mind. He must be so afraid, so angry, so frustrated. He helped me walk away from my dad, from blame, from being li
ke the woman who couldn’t, wouldn’t, survive, not even for me.

  He’s the first to promise to take care of me.

  I flick the ceiling light on and pull the ID he gave me out of my jeans pocket, studying the face, the birthdate that makes me three years older than I really am. I think again, stupidly, about why he did this for me. Why I needed to be eighteen as we ran across state borders together. I want to tug my hair out for not seeing it, for being so caught up in the thrill of flying that I never considered what this meant for Will, how much trouble he could get into. How could I have been so dumb, so selfish?

  All this time I’ve been fleeing the problems in my life while Will adds more troubles to his. How can I give him what he needs when I’m bringing him down even more? How can he be mine if he can’t get out of the dark place he’s in? If the FBI tracks us down, decides we did things on purpose, decides we had other choices, when we didn’t, Will and I will never be together again.

  I pick up Will’s cell phone.

  “Smile for me,” I demand, aiming the camera in his direction.

  He startles and looks at me curiously. “What are you doing?”

  “I miss your smile so much.” My voice cracks. I clear my throat. “Smile for me now and I’ll take your picture so I can look at it when things are tough.”

  “I can’t think of nothing to smile about right now.”

  “Not even me?”

  The tension in his shoulders deflates a little and he puts one hand on my knee. “Yeah, for you I think I can come up with something.”

  He tries.

  “That. Is pitiful. Come on, Will. Pucker up. Work the camera.”

  His mouth twitches, but I want more. I kiss him.

  “Not enough.” I take on a sleazy Hollywood voice. “Baby, don’t you want to smile for me? Say … ‘Zoe makes me hot and bothered.’”

  “It’s true. You do.”

  “Yeah, but say it!”

  “Zoe makes me hot and bothered.”

  “Ugh.”

  “What?”

  “If I didn’t know better, I wouldn’t believe you.”

  He laughs a little and I snap his photo. “Pathetic. But it’ll have to do for now.”

  His hand’s on my cheek. “I know. I’m sorry. It’ll get better. Believe me?”

  I can’t answer him. I look down to avoid his eyes and slip the phone into my jeans pocket. “Can we stop for a sec so I can mark a cactus?”

  Another tiny laugh, but his eyes are wary, questioning. He wants to know if it’s going to be like the last time we stopped. I turn away from him.

  “I drank a lot of water,” I mumble, “and the road’s bumpy.”

  He doesn’t sigh like I expect him to, but quietly says “okay,” and pulls to the side of the road again.

  He waits in the car while I get out and pick through the shrubbery. I find the only bush taller than my waist and creep behind it, pulling the phone out of my pocket. I shiver. Dark circles of fallen tears polka-dot the ground. How can I do this to Will? Can I convince myself I’m doing it for him, not to him? What if he really does need something … professional? If his mom left behind the worst of her when she dumped him? What kind of man could he be with the help he needs? Would he even get it? Is it possible for two people who never really had a chance to find someone who could turn us around? What if they take him to prison? What would my Will become then?

  They’ll have to know it was an accident. I’ll make them know. Make them see the Will I know, the goodness and effort and compassion that is the real him.

  I dial Lindsay’s house. It doesn’t matter anymore who might be listening in or tracing my call. Lindsay picks up after the second ring.

  “Zoe?”

  My hand trembles and I drop the phone into the sand. I search for it, praying a scorpion or poisonous snake bites me before I can find it so I don’t do this. I brush the edge with my pinkie and pick it up.

  “Zoe, is that you? Will? Hello?”

  She sounds so far away.

  The metal of the phone melds into my hand as it warms to my temperature. I wrap my fingers around it.

  “Are you okay? Where are you? What’s happening?” Lindsay’s pitch is higher, the words coming out faster. The panic goes straight to my heart. I should hang up. I shouldn’t do this. I should let her wonder, assume, hope I’m okay. I should tell her things are fine, I just wanted to hear a familiar voice. What am I doing?

  I press the phone to my ear. It’s gritty and hard.

  I swallow. Choke on the bile in my throat.

  I’m going to puke.

  Will hollers out the window, asks if everything’s all right.

  There’s sand in my mouth. I lick my teeth.

  Oh God, if I do this—

  If I don’t?

  “Lin? We just left Vegas. We’re headed to Barstow.”

  I hang up.

  WILL

  THERE’S ONE LAST TOWN OF FLASHING LIGHTS AND casinos, then we leave Nevada and drive into California. And, man, I feel like I can breathe again. So many places to get lost here. Hell, we could hole up in the desert with a tent if we had to.

  The sun’s coming up behind us, glaring at me in the rearview mirror. It’s barely over the horizon, and the shadows of the shrubs, the hawks on the telephone poles, the car, are long and skinny.

  Zoe’s been quiet for a long time, and I’m trying to convince myself it’s one of those comfortable silences, but I ain’t so sure about that. She stares out the window as though she can’t bring herself to look at me. I’ve done too many things wrong. I couldn’t look at me, neither. I wonder if I can change this road we’re on or if it’s too late. It always feels too late for me.

  “You getting hungry?”

  She shakes her head.

  “That’s good. Don’t look like there’s much coming for a while.” She don’t smile at the half-assed joke. I twist the wheel in my fists. “I’ve done some pretty bad things. I’m sorry I ain’t this amazing person for you. You deserve better.”

  She faces me, finally, with big eyes and a trembling chin. “You’re everything,” she croaks.

  I have to get us out of this. Find that freedom we had the first day we left North Dakota. We can get through this. It’s all I want her to believe.

  “I think I’ve figured out who my dad was. I think he was the devil. It runs in my veins. Still think you want to be with me?” I grin at her, try to change that look on her face. But I can’t even do humor right now. She looks at me all sad, sadder than before, and I know I’ve failed at everything. “I’ve learned a lot about what not to do, you know? I just have to get down the part of what I should be doing.”

  She nods at me. “I want you to get that part down, too.”

  “I know. I will.”

  I rub my face, dragging the back of my fist across my eyes. They’re heavy. I’m used to being tired in my muscles after working all day, but this staying up for days is dragging on me. I swear I’m seeing a wet road in front of me, even though there ain’t been rain since we got to the desert.

  “Take a look at the map. Pick someplace for us to stop in California, would you? We’ll get you something to eat and take a nap or something.”

  “I’m not hungry, really,” she says, but she reaches for the map book and thumbs through the pages. She ain’t really looking at them, though. She takes a breath. “Will, maybe we should turn around.”

  I raise my eyebrows at her. Her next words spill out in a rush.

  “Go back to Vegas. You’re right, it’s a big place. How would anyone find us there? Maybe … maybe we should stick to our original plan. Instead of all this … so confusing. We don’t know where to go in California. What to do. Who will be there. What are we doing there?”

  “C’mon, Zoe, you’re supposed to be the steady one. What do you want me to do? We can’t go back the way we came, remember? We got no one.”

  She sucks on her lip for a second before letting her shoulders slump. “No, we can�
��t go back. I just … don’t know if I want to go to California anymore.”

  A nagging builds up inside me, like a roach creeping along my arm, and it’s tough to find the words I need.

  “You don’t want to go to California … or you don’t want to go there with me?”

  She fixes me with a gaze, and my head’s spinning with not knowing what she wants or don’t want.

  “Being with you, that’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

  “So let’s stop right here. Build a shelter and rough it in the desert. What do you think?” She laughs at that. Finally laughs. “Okay, maybe not. We’ll keep going. A little while longer. But we’ll stop soon, ’kay?”

  She stares at me for a while, not answering. I look at her once, twice, checking on the road in between glances. Something’s going on in her head. I hate not knowing what. There’s cars behind us, red and blue. A little sports car, a pickup truck. No shiny black sedan, no white car with flashing lights. There’re cars in front of us, too, putting on their brake lights, and I wonder if there’s an animal in the road or something. What could be big enough to stop traffic out here?

  “Are you sure you want to keep going?” She’s sitting up straight, eyeing the road. We get closer to the truck in front of us and it’s hard to see around it. “Are you sure you want to see what’s up there? Will?” And now she’s close to me, and I can smell her and taste her in the air. She’s sweet like ripe fruit. I lick my lips and kiss her temple.

  “What?”

  “You want to do the right thing?”

  I let out a breath. “Yeah. Figure there’s a first time for everything, right?” I attempt another grin, but Zoe ain’t having it. She takes off her seat belt and scoots onto me, wrapping her arms around me and planting her lips on mine. I press the brake to the floor and ignore the honking cars behind us. They can all go to hell.

  She pulls away, a centimeter away.

  “I love you.”

  “I know.”

  “There’s cops up there.”

  I pull her body harder against me.