Nothing But Blue

by Lisa Jahn-Clough

  Jake’s dad’s gallery was in town, but we headed in the opposite direction, toward the bay. Jake drove up the big hill and then finally stopped at the park overlooking the water and the islands. He stopped the car but kept the music on.

  “What about the opening?” I shouted.

  Jake turned the volume down. “Let’s bag it. No one will notice if we’re not there.” He wrapped his hand around my arm. “We can find better things to do,” he said.

  He reached into the glove compartment and took out a joint and a lighter. “You smoke?” he asked as he lit the joint and offered it to me.

  “No,” I said. I knew pot wasn’t as terrible as parents and teachers made out. I knew people who had tried it before, but still, I didn’t want to risk losing control in the midst of my first date. Who knew what a fool I could make of myself?

  “You sure?” he asked.

  “Yeah. I mean, no thanks.”

  “I was sure you’d be into weed. But that’s okay. I like a girl who’s a bit of a straight priss. Kind of sexy. You don’t mind if I have some, do you?”

  I shook my head. Did he just call me a priss and say I was sexy at the same time? I wasn’t sure if I should be offended or flattered. I decided to be flattered. No one had ever called me sexy.

  He took a drag, coughed, took another, then put it out and placed it in the cup holder. I wanted that moment from the day before to come back—when we convened with nature together, when there was electricity.

  I slowly reached my arm out and touched his cheek. He leaned over, bringing his face close to mine. “Where have you been hiding all this time?” he whispered. “I mean, I know you’ve lived nearby and all, but how come I never really noticed you before?”

  I was going to say that he had noticed me once, even gave me flowers and asked me to marry him, but if he didn’t remember that incident, I didn’t exactly want to remind him.

  He grabbed my shoulders and turned me so we were facing. It was awkward and uncomfortable, but I could tell we were going to kiss. His mouth swallowed me whole and I no longer felt anything else. It was a kiss full of tenderness, like he knew what he was doing. A guy like Jake had probably kissed a lot of girls. I ran my hands through his hair like I’d seen in movies, and he moved his down to my thighs. Was this real?

  I’d never thought in a million years that this would happen to me, that someone could like me enough to touch me this way, that it could be someone like Jake, and that it could happen so suddenly with no warning. Why was Jake suddenly into me? Then I felt his tongue and I didn’t care if it was real or why it was happening. I just let my body respond, and the electricity came back.

  Just as I was thinking I could kiss like this forever, a car drove up. Its headlights beamed straight through the window, and we broke apart instantly. A door opened and a voice bellowed, “Police! Come out with your hands up!”

  Jake swore and shoved the remaining joint back into the glove compartment.

  What on earth would my parents do if they found out I’d been alone in a car with a boy and smoking pot? Even if I hadn’t smoked any, they would assume I had. “Can we go to jail?” I asked.

  Jake looked like he was about to laugh, then stopped himself.

  A head peered in the window. “Any left for me?” It was not a cop, but a guy named Bradley. I recognized him from school. He had been one of Jake’s friends who laughed at me during the swim-noodle incident. He was still in Jake’s popular group. At least he had been when Jake left. Jake had changed since then. Bradley had not.

  “Idiot,” Jake said. “You about scared us half to death.”

  Bradley poked his head in farther. He did a double take when he saw me, probably wondering what I was doing there with Jake. He nodded and said, “Hey,” then punched Jake in the shoulder. “Dude, you’re really going for it, aren’t you?”

  “Shut up,” Jake said. They whispered something so low I couldn’t hear.

  Bradley stood back. “I was just leaving anyway. Obviously three’s a crowd. Adrianna is looking for you. Said she had something important to tell you.”

  “What could she possibly have left to say? I told her it was over.” Jake turned to me. “Don’t listen to this dumb-wad.”

  “Whatever,” Bradley said. “I’m outta here.” He got back into his car, beeped twice, then drove away. Jake moved toward me again, but it didn’t feel right anymore. It was all too fast.

  “I should get home,” I said. The magic was over.

  NOW

  Morning becomes noon. Noon becomes afternoon. Afternoon becomes dusk. Then comes the night. At least at night no one can see me, but the dark brings its own share of worry and fear. I don’t know what may be in the shadows.

  I walk by some sort of utility company with large, round containers that glow like fallen moons. It’s all sectioned off with barbed wire and DANGER NO TRESPASSING signs. It’s hard to tell if it’s still in business. The fence is rusty and the grounds around it are grown up with weeds.

  I say to Shadow, “I’m tired. I have to stop.”

  He keeps plodding ahead, though, and I follow in spite of my complaining body. We reach an underpass of a highway bridge. At the top of the incline over some low bushes and a hill of rubble is a flickering of light and voices. I stop, fearful of the people, but Shadow keeps going, so I take that as a good sign.

  It’s hard to tell for sure with their baggy clothes and ragged faces, but I think there are two men and one woman. They are huddled in a circle around a metal garbage can. The light is from a fire inside the can. Embers crackle and rise into the air, making their faces glow. The sound, the smell, the image, all make me uncomfortable. I don’t like fire.

  The woman turns to me. “Getting chilly already, isn’t it?” She beckons me closer. “Come share the warmth. It’s okay. We won’t bite.”

  The two men smile as if to confirm.

  There are empty liquor bottles and bits of trash around, as well as some sleeping bags and mats set up along the ridge under the bridge on a small stretch of dirt. A fourth person is crouched on the ground away from the others. His hands are clasped around his knees, and he’s rocking back and forth, muttering one swearword after another.

  The sound of a car driving over the bridge above echoes for a minute, then all is quiet again except for the occasional crackle of the fire and the crouching man’s mumbling. The others don’t pay him any mind.

  The woman hands me a bottle of amber-colored liquid. “Here,” she says. “Have some whiskey.”

  I take a swig. It’s warm and soothing going down, and then slowly it starts to burn. I cough and hand it back.

  The crouching man lifts his head, suddenly noticing me. He stares intensely. He has long hair and a long beard, a fiery face, and a bulbous nose. He looks like a skinny Santa, without the jolly laugh. His eyes pierce right through me, and I get a prickly feeling. Shadow starts to growl and the man scowls and moves away.

  “Don’t mind Jimbo,” the woman says. “He had a rough day. He needs to sleep it off. You from around here?”

  I shake my head.

  “Traveling, then?”

  I nod.

  “Well, you got to sleep. It’s late and night is no good for traveling alone. Even with a dog. There’s an extra mat if you like.”

  One of the men, the shorter of the two, hands me a can of beans. They’ve been sharing it, all using the same fork. I know it’d be crazy for me to ask if they have a clean one, so I take a forkful and shove it into my mouth. The beans are dry and bland, so when the whiskey bottle comes back to me I take another swig to wash them down.

  They start talking about Jimbo. “Got his ass kicked by some rich kids having their way,” the guy who gave me the beans says.

  Then the second guy: “Jimbo don’t like to have his ego wounded.”

  First guy: “He told me he pulled his knife and cut one of them. That got them running.”

  Second guy: “Serves them right. They were picking on him for no reaso
n, other than he’s old and homeless.”

  “Still, violence isn’t the way.” This from the woman.

  “What is the way, then? Get beat to death?” the first guy says.

  I tune them out. My head is spinning, maybe from the drink or maybe from exhaustion. “Can I lie down?” I ask, even though they’d already offered.

  The woman points to one of the mats. She takes off her trench coat and hands it to me. “Use this for a blanket.”

  It’s dirty and smelly, but I don’t refuse.

  I look around for the creepy guy, the one they call Jimbo, but he’s not there anymore. I walk a few steps to the ridge and lie down on one of the mats. I pull the coat over me. Shadow snuggles with me, and I hold on to him for protection.

  The next thing I know Shadow is sitting up and growling low. It’s still dark but a trace of dawn is in the air. The fire has gone out. At first I don’t see anything, then my eyes focus on a man standing above me. He looks ghostly. The prickly feeling comes back, this time like extra-sharp pins in my neck. It’s Jimbo.

  “What …” I stumble as I stand, clutching my backpack close. “What do you want?”

  He grins. His gums are covered in black spots, and he has a couple of missing teeth. The other three from last night are nowhere around. It is just him and me. And Shadow.

  Shadow curls his lips to reveal his sharp incisors and lets out a long, low growl from deep inside. His hackles rise and he seems to grow to twice his size. He is suddenly large and looming. More wolf than dog. He looks so different, so scary.

  The man steps back. “Control that dog,” he warns, drawing out the words slowly.

  “Sorry,” I mumble. I try to grab hold of Shadow’s neck to steer him away, but he shakes me off. He won’t let me touch him. His growl turns into fierce barking.

  “I’ll kill it if it comes near me.” The man lifts his shirt to reveal a thick knife handle tucked into the waist of his pants. He stares straight at me. “You and I are just the same, you know. Don’t go thinking you’re any different.”

  The man pulls out his knife and waves it in the air.

  I go numb. I am going to die. I have a sudden realization that death might be better than life, if I could only just accept it. I won’t be the only one dead. Others have died. But how? Where? Why?

  Shadow stops barking and stands still. He stares at the man. The man stares back. It is incredibly quiet, as if everything has suddenly frozen. Even the air has stopped. My eyes dart from Shadow to the man. They are in some kind of trance. It’s eerie, like nothing else exists. The only things moving are Shadow’s eyes, swirling like a mad fire.

  It lasts only a second, maybe two. Shadow shakes and things start moving again. The man backs away. “We’re the same,” he hisses. Shadow growls again and the man turns and runs. As he does he lets go of his knife. It falls to the ground with a clunk, but he doesn’t stop. He keeps running into the mist until he’s out in the road and disappears around a bend.

  The sun creeps its light under the bridge. Somewhere a bird calls and another answers. The man is gone and Shadow is normal again.

  I pick up the knife. I wrap the blade in one of my extra shirts and place it carefully in my pack.

  Another day of endless walking, and by nightfall not only do my legs ache, they itch like crazy. My broken blisters rub raw against the canvas of my sneakers. I wince in pain with each step. Forget trying to be the steadfast ant. I am in pain, and there are no cows in the fields to encourage me. Shadow tries—he runs ahead, runs back, circles me, licks my hand, but I merely drag myself along.

  I stop at an all-night convenience store and grab handfuls of paper towel from the bathroom. I sit behind the store and peel off my shoes. As I suspected, the blisters are raw and oozing. First I carefully cut off the flapping skin, using the tip of Jimbo’s knife. Then I wrap the paper towels around my heels and stuff my feet back into the sneakers. The sneakers feel a little tight now, but it’s a lot better than the chafing.

  It is a clear night with a sliver of moon and stars. I chow down on a dumpster dinner of chicken wings and some kind of Chinese egg rolls. I give some of both to Shadow. I climb over the railing and walk into the woods, using the flashlight. Its glow is weak; I don’t know how much longer the battery will last. Shadow leads, so I turn off the light and follow him. The white parts of his fur reflect the moon. He is a ghost dog in the night.

  All of a sudden I snag a root and lose balance. I feel myself falling. I think maybe I can stop the fall and regain balance, but it’s too late. I lose touch with gravity, and down I go. A sharp branch scrapes along my cheek, and thunk. I am face-down in a pile of leaves.

  I lie there, smelling the damp earth. My body throbs along with my heart. I guess this means I am still alive, though I kind of wish I wasn’t. My cheek stings. I feel like an idiot even though no one is there to see me.

  This is my life—walking, fleeing, hiding, aching, going nowhere, having nothing.

  Then Shadow’s warm, wet tongue licks me and the sting lessens. Slowly I sit up. I touch my cheek where there is already a welt forming. I wave the swarms of mosquitoes from around my head, but they don’t stay away for long. They are too keen to suck my blood.

  My knee is scraped. I wipe it off and wipe my eyes with my dirty sleeve. I stand. “I’m okay,” I tell Shadow.

  We walk until we come to a moss-covered opening surrounded by a couple of boulders. I clear away some dead branches and lie down. The moss makes a nice soft padding. Shadow cuddles next to me. At first everything is quiet, and then sounds slowly emerge. The bellow of a bullfrog, the hoot of an owl, the gabble of migrating geese. For a moment I forget my pain, my fears, my uncertainty, and in a strange way, everything is peaceful.

  I watch the stars twinkling through the trees. I’ve never seen so many stars. I know the names of constellations like the Big Dipper, Orion’s Belt, Cassiopeia, but I’ve never actually seen them. I try to make out something that looks like a big dipping spoon or the belt of a man, but there’s no way I can identify anything like that. I realize I don’t even know what Cassiopeia is supposed to be.

  I always thought all stars were the same, but each one has its own identity. Some are bigger than others, some blink, and some shine steady; some are reddish, while others are white. Some are planets, I know, but I don’t know which ones. There is a whole world up there.

  I start to think that maybe we are not all alone in this solar system. How would someone like me look from up there? I’d be a teeny-tiny little ant, or I’d be nothing at all, not even visible.

  I am almost asleep when Shadow jumps up suddenly. He whimpers, staring straight ahead. I follow his gaze through the trees. I don’t see anything, but Shadow’s ears are alert. He is listening and staring intently. He whimpers again and growls low. I grab the light and shine it in his direction. It produces a dim beam and then fades to nothing.

  “What?” I whisper. “What is it?”

  Shadow circles me with his tail between his legs. My heart races and my mind fills with thoughts of danger. If Shadow is scared, then I ought to be doubly scared. After all, I am a girl alone in the woods in the middle of night.

  Slowly I creep my arm over to grab my pack and find the knife. I clutch it to my chest. I hear the crunching sound of feet on leaves. Is it animal or human? I am too afraid to sit up, so I just lie there, tightening my grip on the knife handle.

  I watch Shadow watching whatever it is. We wait forever for something to emerge.

  Then there is a movement in the bushes and the leaves shake. I close my eyes and scream, preparing for the worst. When nothing happens I open my eyes. My mouth is still open, but no sound comes out.

  A little animal pokes through. It could be a possum, a fat rat. I’m not sure. It doesn’t have the black and white markings of a skunk, and it’s not a raccoon. It’s gray with a long, skinny furless tail. It looks just as startled to see me as I am to see it. I’m so relieved, I start to laugh. It stops for a second, fig
ures I am not an enemy. Shadow does nothing more than sniff it as it waddles on by.

  We wait until it’s completely gone. The owl hoots. The night goes back to before. I release my grip on the knife. Shadow relaxes his ears. He circles three times in the same place, then lies down tucked against my shoulder. He lets out a big sigh and closes his eyes.

  “You’re a good dog,” I say. I pat him on the rump and hold him close all night long.

  BEFORE

  Everyone wants to know about sex. As soon as you start dating someone, that’s all they care about. “Did you do it?” “Is he a good kisser?” “How was it?” “Where was it?” “Did you use protection?”

  The thing with Jake—it was more than that. It couldn’t be condensed to a few stupid logistical questions about one act, not that anyone knew Jake and I were going out. I wasn’t even sure if we were. I couldn’t believe that Jake actually liked me. I was in some kind of dream.

  We had gone on three dates, if you could call them that, mostly parking and making out, places where we were almost always alone. He said it was because he wanted me all to himself, which was fine with me because I doubted his popular friends would like me. Once he took me to a fancy sushi restaurant where I ordered chicken tenders while I watched him eat slimy, raw pieces of fish and tried not to gag.

  Our fourth date was Sunday afternoon (our first daytime date), and we were going to the beach. Which meant he’d have to see me in a bathing suit.

  I owned three suits. My regular solid tank was ugly and stretched out already. The string bikini I’d bought but never worn was obviously out of the question. So I settled on a blue tankini. Blue was my favorite color and I figured I’d have the option of showing a little skin if I got bold enough. I wore a loose T-shirt and shorts over it.

  I assumed we would go to one of the pristine beaches out of town, but when I got into the car, Jake said, “Let’s go to the town beach. You’re down with that, right?”

  I didn’t mind the town beach at all. In fact, I kind of liked it. There were always empty beer cans and random litter strewn about, but there was something “real” about it. In the summer kids splashed in and out of the freezing water; in the winter couples huddled together smoking cigarettes. You could do what you wanted there and no one cared. I was surprised that Jake would like it, though. He wasn’t a town-beach kind of guy. He was more a yacht-in-the-Caribbean kind of guy.