Paint My Body Red

by Heidi R. Kling

Chapter Forty-Eight

  We ride along in a still sort of sadness before I say, “Back at home this kind of normal doesn’t exist. It’s life in the Silicon Valley: start-ups and venture capitalists and New Innovative—you know, leaving your mark, the next mountain to climb, the vast importance of acing this test or winning this meet or adding this volunteer job to get into that school to get into that internship to get that job…” I flashed on Ty and what he said about his mom. And Elena.

  That was me before, too. Before all the deaths screeched my ambition to a halt. I wasn’t just scared to make the next step—I was scared to move at all. Scared to breathe for fear I’d be next.

  “That makes more sense then,” he interrupts.

  “What?”

  “The way you are about entering this rodeo. You’re dedicated, but it’s not just that. It seems like you’re all about the end game. The win instead of the experience.”

  “That’s…” I frown, taken aback. “…Is that true?”

  His shadow shrugs.

  “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to win.”

  But even as I say it, I know I don’t believe it’s the whole truth. Kids at home wanted to win so badly they lost it all. On their way to the top they fell and lost everything.

  “The first time you tried, you were in bed two weeks. Tonight you were lucky.”

  It was easier being honest in the dark. “As much as you guys think I have a death wish, I don’t. And it’s not just about the win. I promise. I thought I was living in California, but I wasn’t. I was in constant motion but that isn’t the same as feeling alive. This. The way I feel when I’m with Scout, the way I feel in the morning looking at the eagles in the sky…the way I feel when I’m with…”

  You. I look at him, and he catches my eye. He knows exactly what I’m thinking. I don’t look away or hide from it. How can you hide from something so true? He doesn’t look away, either, and I keep talking.

  “Before at home I was stagnating. I was surviving. Barely. I wasn’t even eating. You know I wasn’t even hungry? Here I’m starving…all the time. Surviving isn’t the same as living, Jake. You know that. You told me that, so don’t ask me to stop now.”

  “I’m glad you’re happy here. I just don’t want you to get hurt again.”

  “I don’t want me to get hurt either. And now I’m sick over my dad wanting to die before I got here. What if I hadn’t come? I almost didn’t. I wouldn’t have if circumstances weren’t so bad there that I didn’t have another choice. I can’t even think about that right now.” I take a deep breath. The headlamp only shines light on what was directly in front of my horse’s steps, nothing farther.

  The crickets do their thing.

  The wind does its dance.

  And we do ours.

  “Do I look different now, Jake? From when we were kids?”

  I see the two of us at the fishing hole: Me in pigtails. Him mop-haired in ripped blue jeans and a red flannel shirt. He pretends to study me in the darkness. “You look the same.”

  “So do you. But everything else is different.”

  “Then we’ve got to change the things we can.”

  “And the things we can’t?”

  It’s a beat before he answers, and I’m afraid to hear it.

  “The things we can’t, well, I reckon we gotta let those go.”

  We don’t say anything else, not with words anyway, until we make the final ascent through the mountain pass and arrive on top. They talk about views being breathtaking, and this view feels like a punch of beauty square in the chest. Glowing illumination. The hovering Grand Tetons look close enough to touch. The full moon casts a broad light off the rocky cliffs flooding the meadow, reminding me of lights on a football field.

  But the most breathtaking thing is the way Jake is looking at me.

  A smile plays on his mouth as he concedes with a happy sigh. “Maybe if you could get her to wear the bridle…”

  Yes! If I weren’t on top of this horse, I’d throw my arms around his neck and hope he’d swing me around.

  “Jake, thank you! But remember, she doesn’t like all that stuff. She wants to be free. If we could just…”

  “Sometimes we have to do stuff we don’t like to get to the good parts.”

  I raise an eyebrow. His message is clear as the night sky.

  “But listen,” he goes on. “If she still won’t take to it, there’s a competition in rodeo. It’s relatively new. A champion rodeo rider, Stacey Westfall, coined it when she won the 2006 Championship. It’s called ‘Freestyle Without a Bridle.’” He scans my face for a read before continuing. “If you’re up for trying it again once we get her back into the ring, we could give that a thought.”

  “Is there prize money involved?”

  “You bet there is. But there’s also a fair amount of danger.”

  “Will you help me?”

  “Of course.”

  I start to say something else but my words are lost under a bang of thunder so loud, Ole’ Blue rears up with a startled whinny. Jake reaches over, from his horse, grabbing my reins, but I’m not stable. I’m slipping off the side like in the creek. Jake hops off his horse and stops my fall, but Blue lurches again and I catapult onto him. We land hard in a tangle of brush. Jake breaks most of my fall, catching my elbow, but my hip hits the dirt while my face lands in his chest, his protective arm around my head, the other hand bracing the fall against the dirt and bush.

  “You okay?” he asks into my face.

  “Yeah, are you?”

  “Yep. You have a”—he plucks something out of my hair—“blackberry in your hair. Ripe too.” His fingers linger on my face a second longer than necessary, but then another thunder-like noise erupts, rattling my knees through the earth.

  “What is that?” The sky above us is black and clear. I can see every star, but the thunderous roar is coming closer. “A plane?”

  Jake stands up, offering me a hand. “It’s the herd.” His voice is tense.

  “Cows? But it’s so loud.” I have to raise my voice to be heard. On instinct, I step a little closer into Jake’s chest.

  He’s looking over my head and keeps a protective arm around my shoulders. “Not cows, horses.”

  Horses? “Where’s Blue?” I’m suddenly worried.

  “Probably halfway down the mountain by now.” His voice sounds light. “He spooks easy.”

  The crescendo of approaching horses hits a high and as they finally come into view. It’s so loud, I press myself back into Jake’s chest. “They won’t run us over will they?”

  “I don’t think so. Hey, look who decided to pay us a visit.”

  I follow Jake’s pointing finger and smack in the middle of the crowd of wild horses, Scout is running back and forth under the full moon in a wave of tails and hooves and beauty.

  “Oh, that naughty girl.”

  “Seriously.”

  “She looks like she’s having the time of her life, though.”

  Jake and I watch her—the wild beauty—running free under the countless stars.

  “Hi, Scout!” I call out, which makes Jake chuckle.

  “Like she’s going to pay any attention to you.”

  But she does. She looks up, her eyes meeting mine, before neighing into the sky and thundering down the mountain, the rest of the pack dusting after her.

  “Whoa.”

  “Wild, huh?”

  “Yep.”

  I don’t want this conversation to end. If I stop talking, Jake will likely get right to work. So I say, somewhat uninspired and obvious, the only thing I can think of that rings even partially authentic. “What a crazy day.”

  “Not any more eventful than yesterday was or tomorrow will be, I suppose.”

  I crane my neck and the side of my head nudges his jaw. He’s that close. “Do you have to have the perfect one liner for everything?” I snap, and he laughs.

  “How can I answer that without risking your condemnation? I swear you’re ju
st as bad as that horse of yours.”

  It’s the ultimate compliment and my grin is so wide that he plucks a berry off the bush and pops it in my mouth. He watches my mouth as I chew in that careful way only Jake does. Heat crawls from the back of my neck. We lost our headlamps in the fall, and I’m glad he can’t see me blushing in the dark. I finally let go of his hand, pretending I need to wipe sticky blackberry juice off my palms.

  After the last sounds of the running herd have faded from the mountain and all is still and quiet again, I admit. “I don’t want to go back.”

  He sounds surprised. “You want to spend the night up here?”

  “Can we?”

  He’s smiling again. “I brought gear just in case.”

  “You did?”

  “Sure. I always bring it along if I’m going this far in the evening.” I love how he pronounces evening. It’s like e-ven-ing: long and lyrical—a word with infinite potential.

  “Did you bring other…provisions?”

  He laughs. “I brought canned food and canteens of water, if that’s what you mean, but I don’t have your fancy coffee along this time. You’ll have to make due with the good stuff. Genuine cowboy coffee. No more pampering if we’re going to get you ready for that rodeo in time.”

  My eyes fly open. “You mean it, Jake? We’ll try for the freestyle competition?”

  “If you manage to get your wild ‘stang back, we can try. Now stop your happy dancing and get over here and help me unload our grub.” I do. Then, after, I ask somewhat sheepishly, “Where do you, uh, want me to roll out your bed?”

  “Next to yours is fine.”

  I hope my face doesn’t look as stirred up by the thought as my heart feels.

  “Who else is going to protect you from bears and those mountain lions you city slickers are always talking about if I’m over there under the tree?”

  I’m sure my blush is deeper than the flames of the fire Jake made in a center of rocks he found. “You make an excellent point,” I mumble, hiding my grin.

  We work together, easily. I’m keyed up but trying hard to keep it mellow. He hands me the can opener, and I flip the lids off two cans of chili. I hand them back to him—a little worried about the amount of beans we’ll have to consume on this trip—and he spoons the contents into a small pot, holding it over the flames, just enough to warm it up. Jake leans closer, until our shoulders are touching, and shows me how to hold it perfectly over the flame. I’m eager and nervous and delighted, and for once don’t try and resist these positive feelings.

  “What about the horses?” I ask.

  “Oh, they’ll entertain themselves,” Jake says, waving off my question in his nonchalant, joking manner.

  “I wasn’t suggesting we put on a puppet show for them.”

  His chuckle is low and genuine. “What’d you mean, then?”

  “What are we going to do about them? Scout in particular?”

  “Let her do her thing tonight. We’ll rustle her up in the morning and try and convince her to come along home with us.”

  The flames rise and fall in the fire. Despite the heat, I shiver.

  “Would you like some coffee?” he asks.

  “It might keep me awake if I drink it this late.” I’m going to have a hard enough time sleeping under the stars next to Jake. Nodding, he offers some herbal tea instead. Herbal tea. Jake the cowboy. He thought of everything. It was like he knew we were going to be up here for the night. Is he as flipped out over it as I am? If so, he sure hides it well. Ever the gentleman, he waits, patiently, until I say, “Sure. Thanks.”

  We drink out of little tin camping cups, making eye contact over our sips of lemon tea, and when we’re finished, we watch the fire until its low flames fade to embers. We don’t talk, but it’s fine. Comfortable. After, he goes off into the woods; then I do, which is hilarious. I just try not to sit on poison oak, or worse, over a snake hole. I tell Jake this when I return, and we laugh about that, as he tells me a story about a rattler episode when he was a kid.

  I watch him while he fusses around with more of the gear as I sit on top of my bedroll, just watching, watching, as he purposefully moves around the camp. I could watch Jake move around all day. He moves with such grace. When he finally sprawls down on his sleeping bag, I feel so nervous I unzip my zipper and jump, startled by its abrasive and awkward sound. “Jesus!”

  He laughs. “What’s got you so spooked?”

  “Maybe the snake story. You didn’t really need to tell me that one. Now I’ll be worried every time I head to the bushes.”

  “Come on, you loved that story.”

  “I did.”

  Pause.

  “I love all your stories.”

  His jaw moves back, surprised. “Well, that’s nice to hear.”

  “It’s true.”

  I don’t let go of his gaze, and he holds mine. In front of us, the flames lick at the dry wood.

  “This is nice,” Jake says.

  He’s looking at me with those clear blue eyes.

  “It is nice,” I say.

  Nice. It’s more than nice. It’s Jake and me spending the night together. But it also scares me to death. What if something happens between us and ruins everything? I came here to break free of toxic relationships. I’m not healthy enough to start a new one. But Jake is looking at me with those eyes of his, and all I want to do is fall into his arms and try and forget everything.

  “Good.” He lies on his back, and like last time, sets his cowboy hat over his face.

  I’m wide awake.

  Wide. Awake.

  I bite my lip. Fiddle with my fingers. Is he really going to sleep? There’s no way I can sleep now. He’s so close to me I can practically feel his heartbeat.

  “I took an astronomy class and had to memorize some of the constellations,” I blurt out.

  “Oh yeah?” he says from under his hat without lifting it off his eyes. “Tell me one.”

  “Well, that one right above us is Pegasus. See his wings? Jake. You’re going to have to take that hat off your face.” Chuckling, he does as he’s told. “Better,” I say. “Okay, see that? And that one is the Archer. Can you make out his bow and arrow there? They’re only in the sky like this during the summer. In the winter the constellations are different.”

  “I like that. The shift.”

  He’s looking at me again. His gaze is steadier. Holding on to mine tight. So tight, I never want to let go.

  “What?” I say, in a small voice.

  “Nothing. I’m just glad you’re here.”

  I swallow. I tell the truth. “I’m glad you’re here, too.”

  He flips over onto his stomach, and still looking at me, reaches his arm toward me. I don’t waste a moment before wrapping my hands around his forearm.

  “Jake?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Thanks for bringing me up here tonight. This is exactly what I needed.”

  “The ladies seem to like my tea.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “I know.” Somewhere close by, a horse cries into the moon. “And you’re welcome.”

  “Jake?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you think…if it came down to it? To deciding to cut off the machines. Do you think he would’ve done it?”

  He leans up on his elbow. “That stubborn ole’ coot? No way.”

  My heart leaps. “Really? You aren’t just saying that to make me feel better?”

  “Two things you need to know about me if we’re going to continue in this fashion. One, I won’t ever lie to you. And two, I’m also a pretty damn good—how did you put it earlier? Bullshit detector? And your old man’s as stubborn as you are.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning, he’s not gonna give up on anything he loves without a fight. And this life?” His eyes shift to the patterns of summer stars—Pegasus, the Archer—back to me. “Sure is worth fighting for, don’t you agree?”

  “But what about the DNR.
Isn’t that giving up?”

  “Think that’s more about us than it is about him.”

  “You think he…” My throat closes. “Thinks he’s a burden on us?”

  “I think he doesn’t want, in the state he’s in, to live any longer than he should. Hooked up. If he’s unable to communicate with us anymore, that’s all he has left. If he loses that, that isn’t really living, is it?”

  I nod, a tear slipping down my cheek.

  My hand slips down his forearm and my fingers tangle in his. Though my whole body is alive and pulsing in this close proximity to Jake, I don’t move any closer, and neither does he, as if we both recognize the fragility of the moment, and how very small we are under the vastness of the universe. How one tiny move could ruin everything. How one tiny move could shift the order. How as much as I wanted to press my body into his, how I longed for his lips on mine, his large hands on my face, we aren’t ready for that yet. I feel something on my face. Something warm and wool that smells like Jake. Smiling, I lift it off. Jake’s cowboy hat. “Go to sleep, Cowgirl.”

  My dreams are not about death. My dreams are not about trains, or wheelchairs, or my father choking on baby food. They are not about a boy pressuring a girl into something maybe neither of them ever wanted. Instead, they are something else all together. My dreams are wild mustangs running on clouds. My dreams are hooves clapping thunder under a full moon’s light. My dreams are Jake and me teetering atop the Tetons high cragged cliffs, questioning if we want to dive off together into the warm water pools below.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  The next morning, Jake finally gets the rope bridle around Scout, but from the way she’s tossing her head around trying to shake it off, it’s clear she thinks of it more like a noose.

  With each harsh toss of her neck, with each defiant neigh, I question my decision.

  I touch Jake’s shoulder. “Maybe we should just leave her here.”

  “She’ll get used to it.”

  “What if she doesn’t?”

  “She will. We can’t leave her up here, and we gotta head back.”

  “But she’s so happy up here with her herd.”

  “They aren’t her herd. She’s only half mustang.”