Sol
Love In Translation (Book 1)
Leslie McAdam
Photograph of Taylor Lotre, copyright Cory Stierley, used with permission.
Cover design by Michele Catalano Creative.
Editing and ebook formatting by L Woods LLC.
Paperback formatting by Shanoff Formats.
Copyright © 2017 by Leslie McAdam.
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual living or dead persons, businesses, events, or locales is purely coincidental.
To our veterans, including those in my life: my husband, Thomas M. McAdam, Jr., my father, Joseph D. Wells, my brother-in-law, William Hodge, and my friend and cover model, Taylor R. Lotre, as well as so many others. Thank you for your service.
Contents
Quotes
1. Trent -- Fairytale
2. Trent -- Search terms
3. Dani -- Class list
4. Trent -- Flight
5. Trent -- Student
6. Dani -- Army of one
7. Dani -- Bolt
8. Trent -- Mentos
9. Dani -- Running
10. Trent -- Tetería
11. Dani -- Alhambra
12. Trent -- Tortilla
13. Dani -- Comfort
14. Trent -- Big spoon
15. Dani -- Airborne
16. Dani -- Barks
17. Trent -- Baptism
18. Dani -- Yoga
19. Trent -- Pranayama
20. Dani -- Freedom
21. Trent -- Therapy
22. Dani -- Power
23. Trent -- Amor
24. Dani -- Degan's Letter
25. Epilogue
Acknowledgments
A note from the author about the cover
To my readers
“The opposite of love is not hate, it’s indifference.” — Elie Wiesel
“The opposite of courage in our society is not cowardice, it’s conformity.” — Rollo May
“Forgiveness is the fragrance the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it.” — Mark Twain
1
Trent -- Fairytale
“There is no death, Trent. We are universal beings. There is only one consciousness. Don’t you feel it? All the good vibes?” Dani’s honeyed voice lilted up, drifted back, and reached somewhere deep inside me.
As usual.
And as usual I didn’t do anything about it, even though I wanted to.
I clenched my jaw and took a deep breath, holding it in. She was just right here, right beside me, but not mine to touch. Remember that.
The brook glinted below us in the dappled shade of the trees. As if demonstrating just how much she felt the rhythms of the Universe, she stopped right in front of me on the middle of the log that served as a bridge, closed her eyes, and lifted her open-palmed hands toward the lofty tips of the trees, all the while balancing on the wide trunk.
I’d been following close behind her and checked myself before I ran into her, resisting the urge to grab her by the waist for balance. At eighteen years old, I wouldn’t dare. She was twenty-two…a goddess, too delicate, too precious. An object to admire from afar—even when I was so near.
But she always charmed me. Of course she couldn’t deal with death the way everyone else did. Of course she couldn’t simply cry and huddle into herself like, oh, ninety-nine percent of the population. Of course she had to process things in her own bohemian way.
And of course she had to smell like some exotic spicy perfume. Kind of like chai tea, but on a person, sweet and alluring at the same time.
I knew from when I caught her hiking with drooped shoulders and slack arms that her blasé words were a brave front for the grief. That she twinkled despite the pain.
“You’re gonna make him roll his eyes so far back he can see his brain.” Degan, her younger brother and my best friend since we were eight, picked up a stick, threw it into the underbrush, and stepped on the shaggy redwood log, the last to go over the stream.
Dani’s white-blond, spun-sugar hair and slight figure contrasted with Degan’s dark, sticking-up hair and tan, sturdy body. Her beauty had taunted me most of my life. Her luminous, crystal blue eyes, ringed with makeup, often made me forget what I was saying, and the ethereal gypsy skirts she wore drove me to complete distraction. Especially on a day like today when I’d glimpsed her slim legs silhouetted in the sunlight and imagined the beauty I’d explore under her clothes if given the go-ahead.
She opened her eyes and smiled at me while paused on the tree-bridge, her eyes locking onto mine. “Oh, Trent understands me, don’t you?” But a quiver in her smile betrayed her confidence.
I nodded, wanting to reassure her. “Yeah.” At this point I would have agreed with anything she said. She turned, satisfied, and danced over the rest of the bridge. I stood in the middle, transfixed, watching her move. She might only be four years older than me, but she’d forever be out of reach.
It struck me how she shimmered in the golden filtered light—the movement of her clothing, the light on her hair, the glow to her skin. She always shimmered, just by existing. Even in her moments of darkness, her brightness came through.
Then I snapped out of it and remembered to finish going across.
She usually had these silly hippie-girl sayings. I honestly had no idea what she was talking about. “Wait, what’s wrong with a ceremony to honor someone who has died? It’s dignified and respectful,” I said.
“To have all these people who don’t know you come and say a bunch of bullshit they don’t mean? To force all these people to cry? No. Not for me,” she said mildly. She skipped along like a wood sprite, pausing to coo at a particularly fairytale-like red mushroom with white spots on top. “I’m not saying it’s wrong to have a ceremony. I just don’t like the way we do it. I don’t need that kind of convention in my life.”
“Or any convention,” said Degan. “Except a convention of international flower children.”
Now it was her turn to roll her eyes, then she stopped to admire a blue-purple delphinium.
After Degan made it across the brook, we continued hiking in the lush, foggy redwood forest north of San Francisco in Marin. The spongy path covered in coast redwood needles quieted our footsteps to a dull hush. The whole day we’d been almost whispering as we walked, unwilling to disturb the majesty of the towering and ancient trees.
She regarded the trail ahead. “I miss him. Dad, I mean. The way we used to walk through here together on weekend mornings. He’d hold my hand when we were kids and point out all the different names of plants and flowers.” Her lower lip jutted and trembled, her eyes filled with tears, but she inhaled and controlled her emotions, as was her habit. “I love him. Just because I don’t like funerals doesn’t mean I’m not heartbroken. I am. I just don’t like traditional ceremonies.”
“What’s wrong with tradition?” I asked.
Dani spoke softly, but with conviction. “‘The opposite of love isn’t hate, it’s conformity.’ Someone said that. I’m not sure who. But it’s true, you know? You can love and hate with equal passion, but if you conform? You’re just giving up. You’re not even trying. I’m not gonna give my dad a funeral just because you’re supposed to. I’ll find a better way to remember his life. Mindlessly doing what other people do is just not my thing.”
“What is your thing?” I couldn’t help but ask.
“Living life, of course. Feeling the deep vibrations of the Universe. Teaching others to do the same.
Helping people to understand each other.”
“Like, what? Does that mean no funeral for you then?” Degan asked.
She ran her fingers along the edge of a fern frond on the side of the path. “Right. And no wedding either.”
“Noted,” I said and kept walking, internally shaking my head.
A mile down the path, we made it back to the trailhead. I pulled Degan over to the side and put my hand on his shoulder while Dani refilled her water bottle from a spigot. “Listen. I’m so sorry your dad passed away.”
He gave me a grateful chin lift. “I’m kind of numb about it right now. I’m sure it will hit me. Probably on the plane when we leave. It was time, you know, but still, I wasn’t really ready. When you wait to have kids until you’re older, well, I guess it’s expected…” He trailed off, blinking, hiding a tear escaping his eye by gazing at the parking lot over to the side.
“I get it,” I said, squeezing his shoulder. “Still, I’m sorry.”
Kicking at the signpost for the entrance, he muttered, “Thanks.”
“Do you think Dani’s going to be okay by herself?”
He pursed his lips. “I don’t know. She pretends it’s all okay, but we really know it isn’t.”
I gave him a tight nod. “What’s she going to do now?”
“Since she just has a few more weeks as a Banana Slug until she graduates, she’s gonna finish up, and then she’ll travel.” Dani was a Spanish major at U.C. Santa Cruz, which had the completely appropriate banana slug mascot. “You know how she’s spent every summer at a different school in South America teaching English? I think she’s gonna go do that. At least for a little while.”
“You think?”
“I do. I’m convinced she’ll regret selling the house and come back here eventually. She talks all this nonconformist bullshit, but you know as well as I do that underneath it, she’s not like that.”
I narrowed my eyes and thumbed my ear, but I shouldn’t argue with him. Especially not after the morning we had at the funeral parlor watching them sign papers to have their dad cremated.
“Are you going to miss her graduation?” I asked.
“Yep. It sucks. Boot starts the week before.” That meant I’d miss it, too.
“Do you guys need any help with the arrangements for your dad?”
“Nah. The house is already in escrow. Three offers on the first day it was listed.”
“Man. That house. I spent my childhood at your place, you know?” Degan and Dani’s home wasn’t huge or anything, just a 1960s tract house across the street from mine, but I knew every hiding spot, every place to play. I’d eaten countless meals there. It’d become my second home.
“I know. I’ll miss it too.” He scuffed his toe against a rock.
“How many bowls of Cocoa Puffs did you eat in there?”
“Well,” he said, pretending to calculate, “if one had two boxes a day during one’s entire life, it adds up to eleventy billion.”
I shoved him, joshing. My best friend had a problem with dried cereal. Other people mainlined drugs. His substance of choice was anything by Kellogg’s, General Mills, or even those generic trash bags of cereal at the bottom shelf of the supermarket, the more sugar the better. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, didn’t matter what meal, that dude practically ate only cold cereal for the past eighteen years. His mom used to replace the lyrics of the Madonna song “Material Girl” with “Cereal Boy.”
Because you know that we are living in a cereal world, and you are a cereal boy.
My mellow best friend had already suffered too many losses with his mom passing away when he was fifteen from a rare blood disease. They’d had more time with her than they’d expected, but it wasn’t enough. After that, he and Dani got used to hiding their sorrow.
I fumbled for words, wanting to say more, and crossed my arms over my chest. All I could muster was, “I still can’t believe that house will be gone. You can always come over, you know. Use my parents’ address as your permanent one.”
A weak smile hit his face. “Appreciate that. We’re gonna be in the barracks before the house closes.”
“Airborne.” I held out my fist.
“Airborne.” He gave me an exploding fist bump.
We continued up the path, and I thought about boot camp, little metal springs bouncing in my stomach. Degan and I had joined the army and were headed to Fort Benning, Georgia together. I’d already packed my bag, even though we had a few days to go before we left. When I got on the plane, I could come back home and crash at my parents’ house until I figured out where I’d go next. College, probably. Him? With the house sold and a sister who traveled overseas, he’d never be able to go home again.
Man.
Degan shuffled on the path, his feet heavy. I was torn between wanting to take him somewhere to forget all these changes—or talk about nothing but what was going on. And my own nerves were popping when I thought about leaving. My entire life I’d wanted to be a soldier. My grandpa was career military. So were my uncles. My dad served. Now it was my turn. I could barely stand still thinking about it.
We joined up with Dani and got in her beat-up old silver Subaru. I always made a point to sit in back, because then I could watch her without feeling like a creeper. “You guys hungry?”
“Famished,” said Degan with a fake whine.
Dani gave him a teasing look as she started the car. “He faints if he hasn’t had his cereal for four hours.”
“This is true,” he admitted.
“Let’s see what we can find on the way back home.” Dani took off driving, paying more attention to the sights than the curves of the road. Typical Dani, the one to live in the moment and damn the consequences. After white-knuckling it for miles, a brewery came up on the coast.
“If we feed you pizza, will it shock your system?”
“Nah, all good.” Degan chuckled.
Dani agreed. “Sounds great.”
We parked and walked in, blinking at the lights and the noise.
Unfortunately, it was karaoke night. We learned how bad “Bohemian Rhapsody” sounded sung by a dozen drunk women. After the sacred quiet of the forest, the karaoke struck me as especially profane.
Luckily the three of us all liked the same pizza—plain old pepperoni. I’d half expected Dani to ask for organic tofu on the pie or some such nonsense, but she easily agreed and sat next to Degan in a booth, across from me. Throughout dinner, she got quieter and quieter, picking at the straw wrapper for her Coke, not saying anything.
Was grief catching up to her?
Likely.
She slumped in her seat, her face distant. Yet I could just reach out and touch her if I had the nerve. With deft fingers, she rolled the paper wrapper, then set it down, fingering her earrings.
With a sigh, she gazed off to the side.
She was just so goddamn beautiful. I’d wanted her too long. I’d wanted to kiss her for so long. To tell her how much I liked her.
Was I gonna be able to bear not seeing her in the foreseeable future?
Shit. No.
Adrenaline spiked in my body. I needed to act, do something. Fuck this passive bullshit. I had enough of holding back. She needed to know how much I liked her. So much. So, so much.
If I didn’t do it now, I didn’t know when I’d ever be able to tell her. I didn’t want to be fatalistic, but if I was going to the Middle East, well, I might not come back. And it would be worse than death to never live. To never know what she tasted like.
For the rest of our dinner, I waited for my chance, trapped in the booth. I ran my fingers up and down my pant legs repeatedly.
“You alright, dude?” Degan asked.
“I’m fine,” I said, as I scraped my hands through my hair, my palms sweating.
Then I knocked over Degan’s empty cup.
“Relax, killer.” He stood. “Anyone else want a refill?”
I handed him mine. “Can you get me a Coke?”
Dani handed Degan
her glass to be refilled and slid out after him. “I’m going to the bathroom.”
Opportunity.
“Me too,” I said, calling after Degan, who headed up front to refill our drinks.
Fuck it.
I got up, followed her to the back room full of arcade games, and waited for her to get out of the restroom.
The door opened.
I looked down at her and smiled. She eyed me, no longer subdued. Now, she was kind of pissed, kind of grinning, hand on her hip. Tiny thing.
Biting her pretty lip, she asked in a quaking voice, “You’re really going off to the war?” Her artfully ripped off-white T-shirt slipped down her shoulder. That lip trembled. Then she straightened her back and shirt up, and sucked in that little show of emotion.
Typical Dani. Everything was happy happy, joy joy. Never anything wrong.
I leaned against the wall next to her. Her breath hitched as I got closer, and her eyes widened. A new karaoke singer sang “We Can’t Stop” by Miley Cyrus decently well. My favorite.
“Yeah.”
“I’m not happy about that,” she said, her hand shaking slightly. Her shoulders squared. “I’m just not into the military. I don’t really think we need one. I think everyone should just turn in their guns.”
What did she think of me, then? I couldn’t imagine life without a strong defense. I gaped at her, horrified. “What? You’re crazy. Without a strong military, there is no security. I don’t feel safe at all unless we’re better, stronger, in every way. That is the only security.”
She sagged into the wall and touched her fingertips to her mouth. “We go overboard on defense. I don’t wanna be ruled by fear because we are all human beings. We don’t need to shoot each other. We just need to understand each other. I only feel safe when I am free from fear, not focused on it.”
Sol (Love in Translation Book 1) Page 1
