Falling Stars

by J. L. Brooks

  Through the howling, Jarrett walked over and handed me a bottle of water.

  “You will get dehydrated. We are pretty far up and there is little humidity. It can make you cranky. Lotion, chap stick and water are your best friends.”

  Taking the bottle, I guzzled it down and realized I was thirstier than I thought. I nodded appreciatively before looking at Alex and sticking my tongue out. As we walked towards our site, Grant was concerned I took the heckling personally.

  “No, I am glad. It means they really like me. They wouldn’t joke if they didn’t.”

  “Why are you still worried what they think? They aren’t the ones you are sharing a tent with, or a car, or a sleeping bag.”

  “In matters of survival out here, you are correct. In terms of civil society, it is proper to respect one’s tribe. It makes me feel like less of a hooker along for a ride.”

  Slapping my ass and then sliding up to rest on the small of my back, the teacher in Grant surfaced.

  “Civil society is corrupt. But you are right. Community is what counts. They are two very different things. Societies are built on self interest; community is for the greater good. That is why we are here, to experience how it can be. You cannot buy or sell things here at the festival. Only ice and few other things are able to be purchased. It’s a free trade enterprise. You will experience art, music and crafting that has not been replaced by technology, as well as a type of freedom not found elsewhere. If you truly allow yourself to submerge in this culture, it will change you forever.”

  I suddenly understood why this was so important to them. It went beyond camaraderie into a full blown devotion and ideals. These men had spent over a decade ensuring that for two weeks a year, they would stop everything to reevaluate life and get back to what truly mattered. Only death or illness would keep a member of the group from joining along they had said. Suddenly the extra ticket hit me like a ton of bricks. It did not belong to a woman; it belonged to one of their own.

  “Did someone die?”

  The words slipped off my tongue before realizing that they were not just in my head. The men halted in place and looked at me with uncertainty while growing somber. Realizing I had stumbled onto something that was kept hidden for a reason, I quietly finished my thought.

  “Grant had an extra ticket. The only explanation is someone from your group is really sick or has passed. Since you haven’t mentioned anyone, I was just wondering.”

  Jarrett’s eyes welled up as he pulled his phone out and showed me a picture. It was of a man with a bike helmet and his arm rested on Jarrett’s shoulder. My hand covered my mouth as I understood that this year was different for them.

  “His name was Aaron. We have some of his ashes. His family asked us to bring them along and spread them out so a part of him could always be in the places he loved. He lived for this trip.”

  Even Grant’s eyes reddened as he recalled the memory of his friend.

  “Aaron was a librarian. He loved books like they were children and would go on and on about how brick and mortar stores were going out of business and future generations would never know how painstakingly difficult it was to catalogue via the Dewey decimal system.”

  Handing the phone back to Jarrett, I wrapped my arm around Grant’s elbow as we started to walk again. Each guy told me a little bit more about Aaron and the kind of man he was, finally allowing the floodgates of chatter to open.

  “Can I ask what happened? He sounded wonderful, it’s a shame I won’t get to meet him.”

  Everyone paused and looked at Grant. Instantly his comment at the watering hole about being in the hospital made sense.

  “You were with him weren’t you? Oh my God, why didn’t you tell me?”

  He simply nodded and confirmed my theory as we continued to walk. Arriving at the designated camping spot, the men began setting up. Grant took me aside and looked a little nervous giving an explanation.

  “I really don’t want to talk about it. But I wasn’t sure if you would come with us if you knew. It’s kind of morbid and personal, but I took meeting you as a sign of Aaron sending his blessing.”

  “So is that why you felt like you needed to help me? Because it felt like us meeting wasn’t an accident?”

  Pulling me in for a hug, Grant leaned down and brushed his lips against mine.

  “You are most definitely not an accident. This was divine intervention. Aaron was my wing man, so I know he had a hand in this.”

  I scoffed and playfully pushed away.

  “By no means let me interfere with you testing out your game solo. Looks like some hotties are in the house.”

  We turned around to see a group of hippie girls with long dread locks painting intricate designs on each others' naked bodies. The guys wagged their brows and I decided to be bold.

  “Hey, I will be back in a bit, you guys set up.”

  Jogging over to the ladies, I asked if they liked to read. I had nothing to trade in person, but if they had internet I could certainly give them my books. One of the girls squealed loudly and gave me a giant hug despite the brightly colored paint coating her body when I told her my name and that I was the author of The Little Traveler.

  “Oh shit, sorry Maizey, I got so excited.”

  Maizey seemed forgiving of her friend's enthusiasm which destroyed the gorgeous flower pattern across her torso. I offered an e-copy of the book, but it was not necessary. Both girls had worn paperback copies in their camper and immediately went to retrieve them for me to see. Holding them in my hands, and seeing how worn the bindings and crinkled the pages were from continuous reading made my spirit soar. I graciously signed the books and asked if the girls would mind painting me. Feeling comfortable in their presence, they were thrilled and felt as though it was an honor. I balked and tried to shrug it off like it was no big deal. The girl with the smeared paint was named Savannah and spoke the most of the two.

  “You don’t understand, your book validated our lifestyle. You wrote about life on the road so raw and beautifully, like you had grown up on it yourself. I sent it to my mom so she could understand me better. Because of you, we actually talk again.”

  I knew it would ruin the paint even more, yet I reached out and gave her the largest squeeze. Turning to Maizey, she looked at me shyly to share what she gleaned from it.

  “I loved Bebe. She was such a conundrum. You understood why Stanley loved her, and loathed her at the same time. She offered him more than any other woman on the face of the earth could. She was a force to be reckoned with.”

  I hugged her too and thanked them for loving the story so much. Although I was enjoying the conversation, I knew I needed to get back to the guys.

  “Let’s do this!” I said giddily while rubbing my palms together.

  Stripping down, the guys stopped and gawked as I laid on a painter’s canvas under a shaded tarp while the girls went to work on me in unison. Grant yelled at them to stop looking, yet they ignored him, causing us ladies to giggle.

  It only took Maizey and Savannah a half hour to do my entire body in a waterscape with turtles and fish swimming across my torso through gorgeous water lilies and irises. Long tree roots wrapped around my legs as a huge gnarly tree covered my back. Returning with the stride of a cowboy, the guys stifled laughs as I tried my best to keep my damp thighs from brushing together and ruining the design which already looked marred by the bandages on my leg. In the heat it would dry rather quickly but it was so beautiful I didn’t want to take my chances.

  “This submerged enough for you?”

  Speechless, he nodded and studied the girls' handiwork. When I looked back, a small line had formed as people came to receive their own creations.

  “Why did they choose these designs for you?” Grant asked while tracing the shapes with his fingers and eyes.

  “Well, turtles are the animals of adaptation. They can live on dry land or underwater whether it is saltwater or fresh. Their relatives have survived for centuries in the desert. The
y are also one of the oldest symbols of shamanism. They symbolize uniting heaven and earth, trusting the divine path, slowing down. The tree is to remember to stay grounded while reaching for the sky. That’s what they told me. I just know my boobs are covered pretty well.”

  He eyed the guys who were cracking up at his discomfort. Sprawled on the ground to avoid getting paint on a chair, they refused to look me in the eye, unsure of how to act. A part of me felt smug with the tables turned. It did not seem to draw much attention until we realized that I was the topic of conversation while the girls painted. It seemed after they finished each person, they came over to introduce themselves and chat. Grant sat next to me possessively and the others watched warily. Excusing myself to the tent, I crashed down on the sleeping bag exhausted. Although I had drank plenty of water, I could tell the heat was draining.

  Grant joined me and rested his body to the side with this head propped up on an elbow.

  “I’m sorry if I am ruining your trip. I should stop telling people who I am.” I said apologetically.

  Reaching over to tuck my hair behind my ear, his hand traveled down the small of my back and sides.

  “Stop, it’s interesting. Never a dull moment with you, that’s for sure. Aaron would have loved you. In fact I would be fighting him off and most likely losing.”

  I shook my head to dismiss his remark.

  “Are you kidding? You should meet yourself. If I had met you both at the same time I could guarantee I would have felt the same way about you. Besides, I would have driven him nuts with my misuse of the English language and lack of structure. I write like your kids color. All over the place and without a damn care what anyone else thinks. You mean I am not supposed to go outside the black line? Pshhhhh.”

  Grant began to remove his clothes as the fan blew a strong gust of air in the small tent. Having a tent with solar power and a light integrated was a genius idea for a place like this. It was a small luxury, but welcome.

  “How tired are you Lila?” he questioned eagerly.

  Knowing exactly what he was thinking, I grinned wickedly.

  “Lay down, I can’t have you chasing the turtles out of the habitat with sweat and friction.”

  He laughed loudly at my concerns.

  “Whatever you say madam.”

  Three days of bliss had passed and our departure was looming ominously.

  “So you’re really leaving me?” he said softly.

  Grant expressed a fake pout, yet I could see sincerity in his disappointment.

  “I have to. Lorenzo just gave word that he did not have to do very much, and that they are chomping at the bit for my story. I had my pick of publishers; he’s just getting the details. I need to be there by tomorrow afternoon to accept an offer. These things happen fast.”

  Lorenzo Acerbi was a shark just like Dinah, but one who never used me as bait. He told me once his name even meant heartless in Italian. I was devastated when he left Blank Page and I was handed over to the succubus. His final night in the city was capped off with an elaborate dinner at Palma and lap dances at the Diamond Club. With an unlit Cuban hanging from his mouth, he kept pulling strippers over to grind on me, thrilled that I joined him.

  “These girls have nothing on you Lila. I know you are modest, but don’t think for a moment I haven’t watched you and wondered what kind of hell cat you are in the sack.”

  I giggled at his drunken honesty. No longer bound to professionalism, he was laying it all out on the table. A bottle of vodka later I ended up at his apartment and showed him how wild I could be. Waking up the next morning, he rubbed his thumb across my cheeks and looked wistful while giving me the same look that Grant currently held.

  “Well, if tonight is all I have with you, I don’t want to waste a single minute.”

  Lifting back the flap of the tent, I crawled in and immediately stripped. Caught between frenzy and the desire to savor every moment, emotions tangled with our bodies, never seeming to find peace. More than once Grant mentioned traveling home with him to Vancouver to continue our journey. I would be lying if I said I hadn’t entertained the idea several times.

  Pressed against his sweat slicked chest, we knew the massive fire ending the festival was about to begin, and the entire city was congregated in the flats for that pivotal moment. Taking my hand, we walked slowly to the massive wooden structure built to resemble a man. Music played loudly across the desert and the mutant vehicles sped across kicking up dust clouds.

  Staring into the flames, I fought to remain in the moment and not think about everything I would be leaving behind. Always looking ahead, I could have never dreamed of this outcome. Hunter was still there, but no longer a festering wound in my soul. Grant’s presence was healing and gave me the courage to press onward. I was going to miss him more than I let on. A few fleeting thoughts flashed of living along the Pacific Coast, watching whales and dare I say, having children.

  Those were truly crazy thoughts, and the reason I had to distance myself from Grant. Motherhood was never on my radar until I met him, even with Hunter, I never pictured myself having a family of my own. I doted on my niece and nephew, yet my uterus did not tingle with want until now. Contributing it to ancient primal urges, my body recognized Grant as an ideal specimen for offspring. Well muscled, intelligent, attentive, delicious smelling, gorgeous. There was not one flaw to be found. Yet beyond the hormone surges and mundane rut of the everyday, those things would soon fade into the background of what I saw.

  We all become ordinary at some point.

  As the fire raged on, we walked farther out into the flats and laid upon the bare ground taking in the stars. Out so far away from industrialized areas, there was no light pollution to blur the beauty of a desert night. With my head in Grant’s lap, he stroked my hair absentmindedly as the heavens moved across our view. The occasional satellite in orbit and distant airplane was nearly lost in the multitude of twinkling lights. I had thought Moab’s sky was spectacular, yet it was incomparable to this.

  “Thank you” I said appreciatively.

  Grant exhaled heavily before responding.

  “No need to thank me Lila. Just do me a favor. When you get to Vegas, and you sign your deal, I want you to think about where you really want to go, and what you really want to do. This thing that is driving you to finish this story is only out of a temporary circumstance. Forever is a long time, you deserve to be happy.”

  I rolled over and smiled, holding my hand out to him.

  “You are right. I do deserve it. And I will be, starting right now because you are going to dance with me.”

  Standing up and then sliding his hand down my back, he smirked down at me.

  “Is that so? And why am I going to dance with you? How do you know I can dance?”

  I shook my hips following the beat coming from the loud speakers of the festival. With my shoulders moving back and forth, I shimmied against him and giggled.

  “Because of how you fuck. There’s some quote about dancing being a vertical expression of a horizontal desire, I think. It has to go both ways, now show me what you can do.”

  Chuckling lightly, he was teasing me. Flipping my body around and pulling my back against his chest, he began to samba and counting the steps in my ears. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. His hands kept my hips pressed into his groin as he ground hard circles. I squealed in delight at how well he led me through the moves. Under his grip I moved backwards and to the sides without taking my eyes off of his. Once again I had underestimated this man and knew it would cost me.

  An hour passed as we danced away from the crowd. With tired feet and heavy hearts, we began the long walk back to the tent. Knowing the next morning I would be waking up alone in a plush hotel room, I already missed his body sleeping beside me. As we snuggled our dusty limbs into the sleeping bag, the warm tears of sadness fell freely before turning into full blown sobs.

  “I’m going to miss you so much.”

  Grant laughed ligh
tly as I choked the words out, smoothing my hair away from my damp cheeks trying to calm me.

  “Breathe honey. It’s okay. It’s not forever. You can come see me whenever you want. I will come to you if you let me. It doesn’t have to end. This doesn’t have to be goodbye.”

  I nodded in agreement while snuggling deep into his chest. I wanted to freeze this moment in time where I felt safe and cared for. I was about to blow open the doors to a life I had abandoned without notice over two months prior. No one in the industry aside from Lorenzo had heard a single peep, despite multiple phone and email inquiries to anyone who knew me. The story was brilliant. She got her happily ever after, the one she was supposed to go with all along. Her heart was whole and she was loved. I wanted to believe that Grant was my forever, however accepting it seemed impossible.

  After a restless sleep, I awoke to an empty tent and the bustle of people preparing to vacate the desert. The other guys had already disassembled their tents and packed them away, waiting for me to wake before heading into different directions of the wind. Grant was nowhere to be found, making me uncomfortable.

  “Hey. Where’s Grant?”

  The guys looked at each other nervously. Twisting his ring on his finger, Mark came up and placed his hand on my shoulder.

  “Lila, were sorry. He dipped an hour ago. Your stuff is in my truck. We tried to tell him not to do this but he wouldn’t listen. I am taking you to Reno.”

  Horrified, I jerked away and looked all around me. Dust swirled about as reality hit. The fantasy was over and I fucking knew it. I furiously pulled the sleeping bags from the tent and threw them to the ground. The guys stayed near me, yet no one spoke out of fear. I was livid and cursing his name. Jarrett tried to console me, but I refused to have anything to do him. I wanted to get to Las Vegas as soon as I could and get on with my life. I was so embarrassed I ran to Mark's truck after a brief goodbye to the guys.

  “Get me to a town and I will rent a car. I am not your fucking problem.”

  Mark ignored me and kept driving. I couldn’t stop the tears from seeping down my cheeks as I rehashed the night before in my mind.