Levi
Thoughts of her hadn’t left my mind, and restless sleep had filled the night before despite the soothing shots at the bar. Memories haunted my dreams.
My father had died.
I sipped my drink at Town Tavern, waiting for my older brother to meet me. The funeral had been minimal. Our father wasn’t a well-loved man in the community. After years of public drinking and known child abuse, the notice of his untimely death could have drifted in the bitter winds around the lake surrounding our small town, if not for the weekly housekeeper who found him. The United States Army released me to attend his funeral. The general demanded my presence.
Put him to rest, if for no other reason than to put yourself at ease.
Sharp amber liquor cut down my throat. Where the hell was Caleb? He promised he’d meet me here, after he did a few things at the house. I drew the line at entering the hovel which had once been our home. Home, I laughed bitterly. There was nothing homey about the place that I’d had to bear for three years, alone. Three years before I enlisted and left and hoped to never look back.
The jingle of a bell notified the bar of someone’s entrance. The night was rather young, but darkness filled the sky in late fall. I had nowhere else to go despite knowing every inch of this small town. I stared at the television until another jingle at the door alerted the slowly filling space of additional entrants. Twisting only enough to catch a glimpse of straw-blonde waves and bright blue eyes, a warm smile crossed swollen pink lips and then her eyes shifted to the growing number of occupants at several tables pressed together.
“Katie?” Without looking, I recognized the voice of someone who had once been my oldest brother’s friend. I hunched my shoulders, hoping not to be recognized. Dressed in regulation uniform, I stood out in the comfort of the local bar, but this was a place accustomed to travelers, tourists, and those who passed by. In my opinion, if you didn’t have to stay there, you wouldn’t, and that’s why the army appealed to me.
“Katie girl, you aren’t old enough to be in here yet.” Tom Carter’s voice boomed over the titters and giggles of a proud family gathering for a weekly reunion. This was tradition for the famous Carters. Even I, now considered an outsider, remembered the ritual.
Katie Carter. Her name was a distant memory to me. One of foolish games, too much drink, and the excitement of a new life mixed with mistaken identity. And idolism.
Will you be a hero one day?
An innocent question burned sharper than the whiskey crawling down my throat.
“How you holding up?” Nothing got past Calvin. The bald-headed bartender could recognize a Walker. The sheer magnitude of our alcohol consumption was a giveaway. Calvin had known my father all too well.
“It’s been a long twenty-four hours, sir.” The address so rote, the title slipped out. Calvin’s bushy eyebrows rose as he poured me another. The flight from base to here by way of Washington D.C, Detroit, and the small Cherry City Airport in Traverse City wasn’t something I looked forward to repeating in reverse tomorrow. But back to the dry heat, sand storms, and brown surroundings of desert I would return in another twenty-four hours.
I drank down my whiskey at the thought. A giggle behind me sent a shiver up my spine. How long had it been since I’d known the touch of a woman? Forget tenderness, how long had it been since I sank into one? A second ripple of laughter tickled up my neck and my body trembled. I squinted in the mirror behind the bar to catch a glance of the assailant. Blue eyes met mine. On deeper inspection, I recognized those eyes. I’d seen them before on a shy child. A slow smile graced her lips before her eyes lowered to the table. Something drew her attention to the left.
I watched inconspicuously as two girls stood, Katie being one of them. Blue eyes flicked up to me again, and I turned away. In the reflecting glass, which highlighted bottles of colored liquid behind the bar, I watched her walk to the back of the noisy space. My chin lowered before I rolled my head to follow her exit from the main area over my shoulder.
I can’t make it. My phone pinged with the text from my older brother.
How am I supposed to get back to Traverse?
Walk.
Fucker. I took a final swallow, placed a bill on the bar, and headed for the back door. My feet wouldn’t travel fast enough to get me out of this town. Pushing through the exit, I entered the small lot behind the tavern to find one girl lighting a cigarette while the blonde faced her friend. The ember-circle of light triggered a painful memory, but I quickly shut down the thought. Burn marks still coated my skin, which had been covered with tats. Being in this town messed with my head, and the twenty-four hours back to the desert couldn’t come soon enough. With a brief inspection, I realized the two were younger than I originally assessed. I tipped my chin as the blonde sought my face again. Instead of making contact, I continued walking toward the back alley. Screw Caleb.
A brief cough quickly turned to heavy hacking behind me.
Don’t look back, my brain warned me, but I turned anyway to find the girl with the cigarette bent over at the waist. The blonde patted her back, soothing her. I shook my head, closed my eyes, and willed myself to walk away.
“Are you okay?” My voice roughly addressed the choking brunette. Stupid teens. I stepped back in their direction when eyes the color of the deep lake froze my approach. I wanted to dive in and float in the soothing blue. I couldn’t move, although I tried to suck in air. White teeth tugged at the corner of her lower lip as her eyes searched my face.
“Haven’t you learned smoking can kill you?” The coughing spree proved my point. The brunette lifted her head, long waves falling haphazardly over her red face. Her hand wrapped around her throat.
“I just sucked in too much at once.” Her attempts to fool me failed. Her eyes watered from the smoke attack.
“Maybe you need some water.” She nodded and stood taller before stepping away from the blonde and re-entering the bar, mumbling she’d return in a moment. The blonde didn’t move.
“Are you home on leave?” Her voice was soft, just like she looked. Too young, my head screamed, but there was something that drew me to her, just like that night long ago. She couldn’t be more than seventeen, maybe eighteen. I was twenty-four.
“Funeral.” I don’t know why the word slipped out. I didn’t need the pity that would follow. The few who attended Dad’s funeral were there out of obligation. Church women. Assistant to the mortician. The minister. They all shared that look.
“I heard about your dad. I’m sorry,” she said.
“Don’t be.” I snapped, watching her eyes shift downward where she played with the zipper on her sweatshirt. It was too cold for something so thin, and if I had a coat, I’d cover her. My own protective layers would have to suffice as I walked the fifteen miles back to Traverse City.
“You should probably go check on your friend.” Run, I wanted to scream. Run, before I step forward, like my heavy feet want, and wrap myself around you. Run before the dirt of a Walker taints you, you innocent thing.
“How long are you home for?” The tenderness of her voice trembled with her conviction to continue a conversation. She dropped the zipper of her sweatshirt and slipped her hands into the pockets. Her hair fell in waves off her shoulders. Her delicate form shivered.
“It’s cold out here. Go back inside.”
She continued to stare at me. “Do you remember me?”
No, I wanted to scream. Don’t even try to recognize me.
“Nope.” I shook my head as I held my breath. She stepped closer to me, and I inhaled the fresh scent of her. Something crisp, wintery, like newly fallen snow. She shivered again and my hands reached forward to rub up and down her arms, feeling her thin shape, while bright innocence stared up at me.
“Are you a hero yet?” The honesty of her question startled me, and my throat struggled to hold the laughter scrapping inside. I’d never been a hero to anyone. While I pondered her question, her hand cupped my face, before one set of knuckles slid down my neck to scratch the newly grown stubble. The motion brought me comfort and cold skin melted under the sudden heat. A separate part of me sprang to life.
“I…” My mouth opened to speak when her soft body brushed up against mine.
“Thank you for your service,” she muttered before soft lips rubbed over mine. As she pulled back slowly, but too soon, my mouth followed. Metal to a magnet, she drew me to her and my mouth covered hers. I was a soldier, trained for capture, but the inexperience of these lips beneath mine told me I’d have to march forth with caution. I tugged at the bottom petal curve and slipped my tongue over the open seam, asking for surrender from her. Lips parted with a quiet squeak, and I stilled before a hesitant tongue met mine. A subtle swirl, a shuddering sigh, and my mouth lost control. My hands cupped her neck, just under her jaw, tipping her head to allow access to invade. Pillaging her mouth for its warmth, I savored her tongue, ravaged the comfort of a connection with someone alive. I sensed it in the very nearness of her. This girl wanted to live an exciting life. Her hand slipped down my jaw, rounding my neck, and I pressed her to me as I drank in the sweet innocence of her. A girl representing everything this town could be, and everything I wanted to leave.
A girl. Only seventeen.
I pulled back swiftly. Her hand slipped from my nape, but her eyes remained closed, her face flushed. Slowly, the lids rose, revealing the dazed gaze of one dreaming, fantasizing. I swallowed hard, caught between wanting to be her prince and knowing I was no hero.
“You stay safe,” she whispered. “Stay alive. I’m still waiting.”
Shaky fingers came up to her mouth, tracing over lips now rosy from pressure and pleasure. She stepped back as the door to the bar opened.
“Katie, are you coming back inside?”
Katie. My heart reached out to envelop her name, holding it pressed to an organ slowly beating with a painful life.
* * *
We’d had a great day. After the initial shock of my invitation wore off, and awkward silence turned to compatible quiet, Katie and I fell into a rhythm of walking toward the zoo. The distance was much farther than I anticipated. My need to run outweighed geographic logistics, but I couldn’t sit in the apartment with my thoughts of her any longer. And yet, there she stood on the street, as if waiting for me. My thoughts tormented me with hope that she still waited for me.
AJ’s interest in the animals distracted us from the silent weight of last night’s kiss. Mistake number five million in my life, but I paused at the count. That wasn’t true. Kissing Katie hadn’t been an error. Those innocent eyes looking up at me, those tender lips moist with need, and the scent of her was something refreshing and promising. My emotions coiled, circling between hope and doubt. I didn’t know how to broach the topic of last night, and Katie didn’t acknowledge it either, so observations of lions, tigers, and polar bears filled the tender pressure between us.
“Let me take a picture of you with AJ,” I offered, noting the light on her hair caught her highlights. She was so beautiful, and I wanted to remember this day. Photos were my thing, although I wished I had my Nikon instead. I loved photography. It captured a moment. It froze history. It held time. My phone wouldn’t do her smile or her shining eyes justice, but it was the best I had.
When Katie’s eyes met mine through the lens, I forgot my name, my location. All thoughts zoned in on her lips, and I swallowed hard with a desire to taste her under different circumstances. The fact her eyes followed the roll of my throat sent a zing behind my zipper, and I couldn’t remember what we were discussing.
“We should probably figure out a plan.” Katie broke into my thoughts as we stood inside the gorilla exhibit, her attention drawn to the large creature cradling a baby.
“A plan?” I blinked.
“For our project. The history project. Delving into the past.” Her focus hadn’t left my face, and I had trouble thinking past the present. The here, the now, the fact I wanted to reach for her cheek and rub my thumb on her skin to see if it was as smooth as it appeared.
“The past.” How my mouth formed those words was beyond me. Nearly in a cold sweat, I shook it off as a chill from cooling down an hour before from my run and not showering yet. My hand twitched and I took in our surroundings. The space was confined, people huddled too close. Noises zoomed in and out of my hearing.
What the…?
A child screeched. The giant gorilla in the cage rushed the window. Panic seized me. I reached for Katie, placing myself between the window and her, my back to the gargantuan animal. I pressed her against my chest, braced for a collision, holding my breath as I melded her to me.
“Levi.” The sound came to me as if underwater, as if in a dream. Warmth caressed my neck, tickling, scratching, as if struggling to get free. I released my hold, attempting to swat at my throat, when my hand hit something solid. The impact wasn’t hard, but the object was.
“Levi?” My name whooshed through my ears like I’d broken the surface of water. Delicate fingers cupped my jaw. Her thumb stroking down the stubble under my chin. The sensations reminiscent of a time too long ago.
“Katie?” I blinked, staring down at her, her body against mine. Her other hand rubbed the back of her head.
“Levi, are you okay?”
“I…” I turned left to see the thick barrier of glass, holding the gorilla hostage. I turned right to see a swarm of children and parents visiting the exhibit. I looked down to find AJ asleep in his stroller. I looked up, and Katie stopped rubbing the back of her head. Had I hit her?
“I…” I couldn’t find the words to tell her I’d had a panic attack. Too much in my head, thoughts of the past, then the sound of the children, and the presence of too many pressing bodies. The imaginary threat of attack present, I over-reacted. My breathing was erratic, my chest rapidly rising and lowering against hers.
“Are you okay?” Her thumb caressed the heavy scruff at my jaw. The scratching brought me comfort, slowing my heart rate as I concentrated on the strokes. Up, down. Up, down.
“I…”
“Maybe we should step outside for some air?” Her concerned tone startled me even more. Suddenly, I was irritated. Mad at myself, mad at the panic, and mad at Katie Carter for being the start to something that hadn’t happened to me in years. I hadn’t reacted this way in a while, hadn’t panicked with need to protect for a long time.
“I’m fine,” I barked. Katie blinked in surprise and stepped back. The loss of her body made my hand twitch, instantly wanting to pull her back against me. Her presence was like a warm blanket, covering me.
“I’m sorry,” I grumbled, but Katie only nodded, her brow creasing in concern. She reached for AJ’s stroller and pulled it away from the window, positioning it toward the exit.
“I got it,” I offered, reaching around her to take the handle, but landing on her hands instead. My body surrounded hers again, selfishly drawing heat to my cold shakes as her back pressed to my chest. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” I muttered into her neck, nuzzling her hair. Her head fell back to my shoulder for the briefest of seconds, as if lulled for rest before she caught herself and snapped awake. Cognition taking hold, she stepped under my arm and out of my embrace.
“You didn’t hurt me.” Her tone was chilly, distant. I’d never hurt her, I wanted to tell her, but I knew it wasn’t true. Physically, I’d never harm her, but emotionally, I didn’t trust myself.
It wasn’t until we were outside and walking toward the zoo exit that she spoke again.
“Maybe we should sit for a second before we walk home.”
My mood sobered. I’d ruined a distractingly perfect day by having a panic attack. Nodding toward a bench, we sat to look at the flamingos, a strikingly unusual bird to find harbored in the Midwest.
“Want to tell me about what happened?”
“Not really.” I sat forward and braced my elbows on my knees. I looked up at the strange pink birds, many standing on one leg. Oh, the irony. I extended my right leg and twisted my foot side to side, my heel rotating on the cement. More memories flooded me, ones I tried too hard to suppress.
“I feel sorry for them.” Katie’s words broke through the blood and screams within my head.
“Who?”
“Animals at the zoo.” She sighed, still facing the flamingos. Her hands were tucked under her thighs, like she was trying to contain them, as she gripped the bench. Her eyes pinched in concentration on the birds. “I love the zoo. It’s amazing to see animals I’d never see otherwise, but this isn’t a natural habitat and it’s kind of sad that where they live is a cage, holding them in.”
My heart rate had finally lowered to normal beats, but her words set a new pace. What truth she spoke, I thought.
“Ever feel like you live in a cage?” Her question sent my heart galloping again. How could she know? I’d always felt caged in my home. A struggling bird longing for freedom. “It isn’t even physical. Just as if you are trapped inside yourself. It’s like an itch under your skin, scratching below the surface, wanting to be released. It’s dark inside.” Her voice softened. “I don’t mind the dark. There’s a certain peacefulness in the quiet, the solitude, the ignorance. But it isn’t safe there. It isn’t healthy. Whatever that crawling, clawing feeling is, it needs to be set free.” She looked to me, narrowing her eyes. “Does that make any sense?”
I knew exactly what she was talking about, and yet looking at her, her perfect physique, her freckled nose, and her innocent blue eyes that trusted the world, I couldn’t imagine what she knew of dark things in life. I didn’t answer her question.
“I guess that sounds silly coming from someone like me.” She straightened her back and stretched her arms before her.
“What do you mean?”
The soft curve to her mouth wasn’t a complete smile.
“Being from a small town makes me boring.” Her eyes drilled into me, willing me to ask the question we both wanted answered but didn’t dare ask. Do you remember me? “I guess, the girl who hasn’t been in the military or seen the world, isn’t married, and doesn’t have a child is pretty lame.” She snorted softly. “And doesn’t have a real job. I guess that should rank in there as well.”
I chuckled with her remembering the words she dumped for our introduction assignment. “You’re not boring,” I offered weakly. “What do you want to be, anyway?” Suddenly, I had a need to know everything about her, but I was afraid to learn too much. I balanced on a precipice of craving and fear.
“I want to write stories. I have an active imagination.” She shrugged embarrassed as if she’d shared too much. Taking a deep breath, she continued. “It’s not a very realistic job. Instead, I’ve been certified in copy editing and I’m hoping to get in with a publishing company. Work my way up, I guess.”
“So reading others’ work instead of writing your own?” I offered questioning her. She didn’t sound very enthusiastic about that prospect. Her head spun to me and her shoulders fell. Somehow, I sensed I’d hurt her feelings, the pinch written in her wrinkled freckles. “What do you want to write?”
“Modern fairy tales. Knights and princesses. Heroes and queens.” Her eyes narrowed on me, and my heart skipped a beat, so did time before she spoke again. “But, make believe is a hard sell in a world of practicality.” She took a deep breath. “Anyway, we should finish discussing the project.” Deflecting my inquiry, I knew all about that skill, but I wanted to know more about Katie and her fantasies. Instead, she continued. “We should probably figure out what we want to research. A time period, perhaps. A historical event. A…something on a journey.” The last word she air-quoted to emphasize. I hummed in response.
“I have to think on it a bit, but for now, I guess I should get AJ home.” I stood abruptly, good at deflecting myself, and Katie blinked up at me before pressing off the bench. She walked a pace ahead of me, and I twisted my lips in frustration. We reached the zoo exit and suddenly, exhaustion hit. The run. The zoo. The conversation. I was too tired to think.
“Let me call you an Uber.”
Katie’s head swung to face me. Shaking it slowly, she began to laugh.
“Oh, my God,” she muttered, and a hand covered her face. Her shoulders shook like she couldn’t control the laughter.
“What’s so funny?” As soon as I spoke, thoughts of last night flooded to the forefront of my brain. She waved a hand toward me, but her eyes stared straight ahead.
“About last night, I…”
“Don’t turn this into some 80s movie. Don’t think of it. It’s fine,” she interrupted me. Her shoulders suddenly rigid, her hand slipping to her jeans.
“Katie?” I groaned, but she didn’t respond. “No, it isn’t fine, and I really hate those words.” On your lips, I wanted to add, but didn’t.
“Why?” she questioned, a cute, perplexed expression on her face, a gentle huff of air coming from her. The look was more than a question. She wanted answers from me.
“Because fine, is a copout word. Fine was always a lie I told when anyone asked me how I felt, what was wrong, or if I would be okay. You deserve better than fine.” I wanted to add that I thought she deserved all that was good and wonderful, but I couldn’t read the puzzled look on her face. She was biting the corner of her lip. I was already messing this up, whatever this was, and decided I needed to quit talking.
We stood at the corner while I typed in our location on the Uber app. We waited in silence, rode in quiet, and Katie exited the car without a word. A strange type of panic seized me.
“So, I’ll call you about the project?” I asked, holding open the door before she could close it on me. On us. I suddenly didn’t like her not speaking to me, and it reminded me again of a distant memory. Silence. And Katie.
“Sure,” she responded noncommittally, as she looked back at me with a weak smile. “Kiss AJ for me,” she whispered. Instantly, I was jealous of my son. I wanted her lips on me. Instead, I watched her enter the refurbished warehouse when every fiber of my body screamed to follow her. Don’t let her get away, my brain cursed, but I shook away the plea.
How was I going to survive the project with Katie Carter? Professor Erickson, Wayne, certainly had me stumped with this one. A journey into the past. I hated that theme. Little did he know, the past had found me.