by K Larsen
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing,” she says shaking her head.
“Say it.”
“Is there any buzz at The Black?” she asks. Liam stiffens next to her. He hasn’t been back to the club since he disowned his father and I know it’s a touchy thing for him. It’s not a place you casually bring up in public. It’s more like a dirty secret you keep from the world. Shady dealings and dirty old men have no place in the normal world. “What?” she says to Liam. “I know about it and I know people talk. Maybe… ”
“There’s no chatter, Nora,” I say. “If there were any leads at all on what happened, I’d be all over it. I promise.”
She bites her bottom lip and nods.
“Enough of this shit,” Eve says and slaps both hands on the table. “Aubry would be appalled at this boring dinner.” She looks around the room shaking her head. “Seriously. I know you’re all thinking it too. This is exactly what she wouldn’t want.”
Lotte nods along with her sister’s speech. “We should have a dance party. Or, watch a movie with treats. We should do something to make her proud.”
Despite my mood, I smile, because Aubry would love both those ideas. Fresh tears roll down Nora’s cheeks but she too smiles through them.
“I’ll pull up her playlist,” Nora says. Eve and Lotte begin clearing the table and Liam pulls me aside.
Driving rain beats against the glass of Liam's office window. He's talking but I can't focus on his words. The rain, it mesmerizes me. Forces me into a memory.
I'd taken her to the movies. Some horror flick she was dying to see. I'd picked her up at dusk and as she bounded down the stairs to the car her black hair had cast a blue-tinted halo around her head. She was stunning, even in jeans, sneakers and a white tee shirt.
At the theater, she'd dumped a box of peanut M&Ms into the bag of popcorn. I'd refrained from saying anything, but she'd caught my horrified expression and said: "Don't judge till you try." With a laugh.
"Do you bring all your women on movie dates?" she'd asked during the previews. I leaned in close enough to inhale her intoxicating scent of freshly peeled oranges and whispered, "never." And it was true. The other women weren't movie date kind of girls. Purebred trust fund bunnies were only good for two things, partying and sex. Sure, they were from my world of wealth. Sure, they understood the game and played along at galas, they knew the rules; look pretty, keep their mouth shut while the men spoke. They understood the politics of high profile events—but that was all. There was no intrigue there. There was no depth. They weren't Aubry. The world she came from was so vastly different than mine but I didn't care.
Every few moments I stole a glance at her. Aubry fascinated me. The way she popped the popcorn into her mouth, the feel of her hand against mine when we both reached into the bag at the same time. The way her eyes widened and she gripped my arm at scary parts. I laughed when she threw popcorn at the screen when the villain was finally revealed. She was light and life—pure vibrancy.
It was pouring rain when the movie let out. She'd turned to me wearing a devious grin and bolted out the doors toward the car. I hollered at her to wait. That I'd bring the car around but she just stopped, rain pelting her and twirled around—face pointed at the sky and laughed. By the time we were both in the car, water dripped from the ends of her hair, her soaked through T-shirt clung to her and I couldn't tear my eyes off from her.
“You gonna start the car or just stare at me?” She’d bit her lip then and I thought I might die of pent-up arousal. Instead of kissing her like I wanted to, I started the car. I didn’t miss the sigh she let out before the radio filled the space between us.
Dimly, I’m aware of the cell vibrating in my hand. “You going to get that?” My head snaps up, focuses on Liam. He leans back in his chair, loosens his tie. I look at the phone in my hand, blink. “Shit.” The call stops, I missed it. I really need to get my shit together.
“Where’d you go just now?” He asks, raising his eyebrows at me. I shrug him off.
11
Aubry
I’ve adjusted. Adapted to my life here. Kinda. Something still feels off.
The humidity is near unbearable most days but I make due. I build fires. I cook for myself. I swim in the river under the stars. I’ve explored the area and taken in the incredible sights. I do not enjoy battling foreign creatures and bugs of unusual sizes but there isn’t much I can do about those things. The days often feel never-ending. Days bleed into nights but there is no real sense of the passage of time.
There is a certain kind of magic being detached from reality, from real life. I am present. Living in the moment. I have no societal obligations. No deadlines or responsibilities outside of keeping myself alive and thriving. There are no distractions here. No TV or mindless social media sites. There’s nothing but nature. Just me and time. I’ve never had so much time to ponder myself. I’ve never really been on my own before. It’s occurred to me that I’m codependent in nature. Or I was. Doing everything for myself has made me really dive deeper into my feelings about my mom, my family, me.
Being a single mom. A single person responsible for three kids—doing it all—with a smile to boot is incredible. It’s made my curiosity about my father wane. I used to want to find him. To make him see me, love me, know me. To have him realize what he walked away from. I felt like I had to prove myself to him but now, now I understand that I don’t. That my mom gave me everything I needed in life. It’s a freeing feeling.
I miss people and relationships, I crave something other than the deafening silence of a remote location, but I find I don’t miss things. I’ve come to rely on my senses more than ever before. I see better in the dark; I hear more acutely. My sense of smell seems heightened.
Mike comes every few days, but he never stays more than a day. Sometimes only hours. He updates me on my mom and Aimee. I get little updates on Nora and Liam sometimes; but often, I have to hold up a hand, tell him to stop, because hearing the emotional distress they’re all going through makes my blood pressure skyrocket. I want to scream, here I am! I’m okay! Don’t worry. But they can’t hear me and Mike can’t tell them. He tries to reassure me that he’s making progress at home. That soon he can bring me back. He has become my soft place to land. I think of him when I feel like I’m losing my way—losing myself. When I’m tired from the battle, when I’m shaken and scared of losing control, I cling to the idea of Mike coming back for me. He always comes back. He makes me sweat, my body burn. I breathe him in like smoke. I can see him shining through the dark. Guiding me so I don’t lose sight of myself. I dream of the clouds opening wide and Mike standing up there in the clear abyss smiling down at me with his hands jammed in his pockets and his dimples showing. In the silence, I dream of letting go. I dream I’m standing in a bonfire; my fireproof flesh no match for the flames. I walk out the other side, unscathed, into Mike’s open arms. But every time he leaves something inside chips away at me a bit more. He won’t tell me when we can leave here. I ask, he avoids. I push, he gives a non-committal response. I don’t know what he’s waiting for and sometimes it drives me nuts. Other times, I’m just so damn happy to have company that I shove it all under the proverbial rug of my life.
He’s holding me against him. Lips grazing softly over the delicate skin between my ear lobe and collarbone. His flesh presses into mine and I’m at ease.
“I dreamed you'd come to rescue me but now we’re here and I feel like I’m choking on my own tears when you’re gone. When you’re here, your voice is a fork scraping a plate, but it also makes my knees weak. I want you to bring me home and I hate you for not doing it, but I want you here with me too.” My voice is soft and breathy. “Everything inside me is conflicted.”
He looks at me with a newfound sadness in his eyes. “If you trust me, I will give you what you need. Do you trust me?” he asks.
I shake my head. “I will though. If you want me to.” I have to, if I don’t, how will I survive?
Mike groans. “That’s not trust, Aub.”
I let out an airy huff. I know that. I know he’s right but I’m so far removed from normal life, from the real world that for me … it could be. I need to reclaim my soul. I want to banish the broken bits from my bones. Manifest a better me, but I can’t do that here, secluded away.
In order to survive, I will have to say goodbye to the old me, a fairly innocent girl. I will have to find inside myself, a woman who is tough enough to inhabit a world as ugly and dangerous as the one I was born into—a woman I didn't know existed. The woman who, when she emerges, will surprise even those who know me. I lie back. His fingers graze my exposed skin. The rain against the tent fills the silence. It rains nearly every day at some point. It lulls me to sleep. It doesn’t matter what time of day it is, when the rain comes, I nap.
“Don’t fall asleep on me now,” he says. “I just got here.”
I look at him. The lines and curves of his face. The way he looks at me. I can’t help but wonder what he does when he isn’t here with me. Is he living a double life? Lying to our friends about me? Where do they think I am? What do they think happened to me? Or has he divulged the secret to those who matter? Maybe he hasn’t been home; maybe he goes to a seedy motel or vacation home to avoid everyone while pining for his return to me.
“What’s going on up there?” He taps my forehead gently.
I smile through mixed feelings. I don’t think I’d like the answer if I asked him my questions. I don’t think he’d like being asked my questions at all and at present, I just don’t have it in me to start another fight about a tired topic. I’ve pushed before. He maintains the same answer, which is no answer at all. It makes me feel like a different kind of captive.
“Nothing. I’m just happy you’re here.”
12
Mike
As I taxi down the runway, I can’t help but wonder if I’m doing the right thing. If I’m helping or hurting. I’ve got no exit plan, just a GO bag and fat stacks of cash. People are hurting, while I’m worrying about my own situation, and although many might assume I’m a selfish prick, I’m not. Party boy, sure. But that’s only the outward persona. I don’t let many close—and for good reason. With great wealth comes great greed and I decided a long time ago to protect myself and my heart from gold diggers.
The glint of the sun and the feel of the plane lifting off the ground—the sheer force of it—puts a smile on my face and eases my gut. There’s nothing in the world like flying.
“When do I get to take control?” says the entitled pimply faced teen next to me whose voice in my headset startles me. I was lost in thought so deeply I forgot I was giving a lesson.
“Hang tight, Tiger.”
He mumbles something I can’t distinguish into his microphone but I don’t bother asking for clarity. His sulky expression and arms crossed over his chest speak volumes.
I take us up, higher, near seven thousand feet before I instruct whatever-his-name-is to take the yoke. He leans forward as he follows my instructions and I’m reminded of the elusive feeling your first piloting experience gives you. His mouth is open, an ear to ear grin takes over and his eyes dart all over the horizon before us. Awe. It’s one of the many reasons I became addicted to flying. It’s also one of the many reasons I became addicted to Aubry. Her awe toward life, the spunk and excitement she exudes reminded me so much of flying. We hit an air pocket and the plane dips. The pimpled kid squeals, which makes me chuckle and take control of the plane back.
“We’re fine, kid. But always remember to have a healthy fear of flight.”
The same is true about Aubry, I remind myself. Anyone who underestimates her should be afraid. She’s a master at grudge holding. A guru in beating you to death with a question you can’t answer. She’s practiced in the art of pushing buttons.
13
Aubry
When Mike arrives, I am in the river bathing. I wave at him wildly, excitement coursing through me. He hops down from his plane and by the time we reach one another we collide with such force that it takes my breath away.
“I’ve been so lonely.”
He kisses the side of my head. “Sorry, babe. I came as soon as I could.”
I inhale his scent and nuzzle my face into the spot where his neck and shoulder meet. He leans back just enough so that my feet are lifted from the ground and spins us around.
“What’s for dinner?” he asks setting me on the ground.
I jab my fists into my hips and glare at him. “Do I look like your cook?”
Mike laughs. The sound is deep and joyful and it almost makes me forget that while I cling to him here, alone in the jungle, I don’t know why I’m still here. I don’t know if Mike is truly my savior or just another captor. He works for the bad guys. Or, contracted for them. I’m free of harm but not free and my mind goes round and round with questions.
“Lucky for you, I brought some groceries.”
I roll my eyes and slip on my flip flops while Mike picks up the bags he brought. I can smell the bread even though it’s still packaged.
“I killed a spider yesterday all by myself,” I say. “It tried to attack me in the tent.”
Again, I’m graced with Mike’s laugh. “Another Daddy Long Legs?”
“No! I swear. It was brown and had a funny pattern on its fat ass. I grabbed my flip flop and beat it to death in a fit of fury.”
“Aubry, you have to be careful. That sounds like a poisonous spider. You have to be better about zipping up the tent all the way. What if it bit you when I wasn’t here?”
“Exactly,” I shout. “What if it did? Jesus, Mike, you can’t leave me out here alone forever. When are we going home?”
He kicks a pile of leaves, his big boots making a dust cloud at his motion. “Aubry, we’ve gone ‘round and round on this.”
“With no real answer. I want to go home.”
“I know.”
“Do you? You can’t know. You get to go home. I’m the one stuck here. Eating shitty camping food and shitting in the jungle and having God knows what kind of bugs attack me.”
He’s biting his bottom lip, stifling a laugh and I want to throttle him. I charge him, my flip flop clad feet kicking through a small leaf pile as I go.
“Ouch!” I crumble to the ground and clutch my ankle before seeing the offending pain causer and screaming. Mike’s eyes bug out of his head and in true hero form, he’s scooping me up and running us away from the creepiest little yellow and red snake I’ve ever seen. At the campsite he sits me down, propping my hurt ankle up on his knee.
“Are you okay?” He asks as he inspects. “It doesn’t look red or swollen.”
Too caught up in watching him worry over me I say nothing. “Aubry?”
“Yeah, I’m okay. It really just hurt when it happened. It feels fine now.”
He massages the area around the bite. “We should check to see if it was a poisonous snake.”
“And how do you propose we do that? Do you suddenly get internet out here?”
Mike blows out a breath, eyebrows drawn together as he bends over yet again to inspect my wound.
“Are you sure you feel okay?”
“Yeah. It just stung. It’s ok now. I swear.”
He drags a hand through his unruly curls. “God damn that freaked me out. I left the grocery bags.”
He stands and I grab his wrist. “Don’t go back. What if it’s still there?”
“I can’t let all that food go to waste, Aub. Plus, snakes usually, only attack if provoked. You did kick it.” He shoots me a pointed look.
I pout, but release his wrist. He bends and kisses my forehead. “Maybe I should give you a crash course tonight on how to fly the plane just in case I kick something. It’d be a shame for you to let me die out here.”
I widen my eyes and stand up. “You? You?! What about me? If anyone’s going to potentially die out here, statistically speaking, it’s me.”
“Calm down, woman. I was
just joking.”
He’s on his way back to the bags. “Would you teach me to fly, really?” I call out.
“Yeah. Sure.”
While he’s gone, a tiny seedling takes root in my mind. If I can fly the plane, I can go home. I can take charge.
We’re lying on the riverbed, staring up at the black, velvet sky, adorned by thousands of sparkling stars. My hand is in Mike’s. He let me sit in the cockpit after dinner. He showed me the flight deck and tried to explain what each gauge was on the instrument panel and how the various controls aided flight. The yoke, or as I wrongfully called it the steering wheel, and how to gently push or pull it. Listening to Mike teach me was fascinating. A side, a passionate side to him that I’d never really witnessed before. If anyone was meant to be in the sky flying, it’s him.
“Let’s head back,” he says.
I try to lift my head while answering, “Sure,” but the word comes out slurred and I think I’m still flat on my back in the sand.
“Aubry?” Mike face appears over mine. Two of them. I blink rapidly trying to clear my vision. I don’t feel right. I don’t feel right at all.
“I don’t know what’s wrong,” I say. But the words are garbled, even to me, and I can’t sit up. I can’t move. Panic steals my breath as tears stream down my temples into the sand. Mike’s lifting me into his arms. I can’t move. I can’t see straight and it’s becoming harder and harder to breathe.
14
Aubry
Memories rain down around me like ashes from a fire. Faces. My mom. Aimee. Nora. Lotte. My eyes dart from one to the next. Wide smiles. Piercing eyes. I try to catch them but they dissolve on my fingertips. Voices slip through me. Laughter and tears and words; sharp as a knife—choke me. I gasp—struggling for air. I’m coming, I think. Don’t leave me here. My blood burns beneath my skin. The hands of the clock on the wall speed forward. The hall is lined with doors. I pound on them furiously. Each one is locked. I turn slowly—knowing I’ve been waiting on this moment my whole life. The corridor is dark as night, black. I’m caught up in a daydream. Nothing can wake me. Squeezing my eyes shut—I tilt my head to the sky and scream. Tears stream down my face. A snap sounds—like the way my mom would snap a crisp sheet over the bed. And then, like the sheet, I’m floating.
