Brent
THEY WEREN’T THE best tortas I’d ever eaten, but I couldn’t exactly cart the girl to a food truck on the side of the road with any kind of guarantee that it wouldn’t make her sick.
It was the risk you took for a really good torta.
“This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten.” She moaned, talking more to the sandwich in front of her than me.
“They are. They’re one of my favorite things to eat when I come here.”
Her eyes flicked up to me. “You come here? To Los Angeles? Often?”
“I do. I’ve got some things that must be handled in person. Not a lot, but I enjoy the city from time to time.” I let the silence fall between us before getting up the gumption to ask her some things I’d been wanting to know.
After all, she knew everything about me. Or, at least the things that counted.
“Can I ask you some questions, Viv?”
Her shoulders squared, and her hands became tense as she put down her food and with a stiff motion wiped her mouth with a little too much force.
“Brent, I…” She took a deep breath and looked around the room. “Yeah, I guess. Why not? You’re my husband after all.”
She may not have liked the words on her tongue, but I loved hearing her call me that for the first time.
“I don’t even know where you live.” I confessed. “For all I know, you don’t even live in the country.”
She made a ‘pfft’ sound. “Of course I do. You can’t get peanut butter and jelly in other countries.”
The girl ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch ever since I could remember.
“You still eat those?” I laughed, remembering all the times I’d almost reached out as a boy to wipe the jelly from her face. Even as kids, she was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
“Of course. Except now it’s almond butter and sugar-free jam with low carb bread. Bastards. If I close my eyes tight enough, I can convince myself it’s the same thing.”
“Viv, you managed not to answer my question – again.”
Her lips made a strange shape. “Oh. I did, didn’t I? I’ve become diplomatic in my profession. I guess I can trust you – to a point. I live in Washington state. Way in the woods in a cabin.”
The way she said it made it sound like she was neighbors with Mick Dodge.
“Do you forage for your own mushrooms and eat elk jerky all day? When you say ‘in the woods’, I imagine you with a fur bikini on.”
I didn’t mean it to be flirty, but it made her blush all the same. The red blooms in her face made me tingle from head to toe. It wasn’t a new sensation but one that had been missing from my life for some time.
The first time I made her blush was when we were heading home in my truck from a group date. I had reached across the bench seat, grabbed her hand, and asked her to sit closer to me.
I almost lost control of the wheel that night when I saw how I affected her.
I already knew how she affected me.
She put her hands on her waist. “Bikinis are for wusses. I only wear a loincloth.”
I laughed a little too loudly for the tiny restaurant we were in and got a few looks from the patrons. “Well, in that case, book tour canceled. I need to see this in person.”
Whatever I’d said sobered her.
“It’s not like that at all. It’s a cabin, but you know me, it’s got all the comforts of a city house. I even have a housekeeper. I’m one spoiled brat living in the middle of nowhere.”
I reached across the table. “You don’t have to live that way anymore.”
It was a stupid gesture. She jerked her hand from mine and grabbed the check from the folder the server placed on the table. But I knew better. I’d already paid the check and left a little extra in case she wanted dessert.
I knew she wouldn’t.
She’d been fussing about her sugar intake since we got to the place. Maybe before that.
Before I knew it, she was out the door and away from me.
She was quick. I’d give her that. By the time I caught up to her, she was almost sprinting down the sidewalk, hailing a cab.
“Come on, Viv, get away from the curb. You’re gonna get yourself run over.”
She put a hand on her hip and sneered at me.
“I do this all the time. I’m a big girl now. You don’t have to protect me.”
One of my eyebrows raised, even I knew it was bullcrap coming out of her mouth. “Oh yeah? You hail down cabs in the loincloth?”
She growled. “Can you please stop saying loincloth?”
“Can you please let me be your husband while I can?”
“I never wanted a husband,” she whispered under her breath while letting her hand fall from calling a ride.
“I know. You’ve made that quite clear.”
I went to the curb and with one wave of my hand, I called a cab. We spent the ride in silence, listening to the cab driver’s mix of disco hits.
When we got back to the hotel, she went into the bathroom and shut the door. I put my phone on the charger and saw I had several text messages from my grandparents and friends. I sat on the bed and called home.
“We were worried, Brent. You okay?” My aunt Daisy never answered with hello. Never.
“I’m fine, Aunt Daisy. I’ve actually got some good news. Do you want to put me on speaker?” I knew everyone else was around. I could barely hear Aunt Daisy over the roar in the background.
“Sure can. Hush up, everyone. Brent’s got something to tell us.”
It took a full ten minutes to get everyone to quiet down. It was always like that. I thought getting away would be a good reprieve from all the noise at home, but the silence of my predicament was more deafening than even a family Christmas.
“I met someone while I was here. We got married. You know Vegas. Couldn’t help myself.”
There were a lot of gasps and some laughter. They thought I was kidding.
“I’m not kidding, y’all. I’m married now.”
The whole place fell silent. A clearing of a throat signaled I was about to get a severe tongue lashing from my uncle Roger. I kind of knew it was coming.
“I’m assuming there wasn’t a prenuptial agreement stand standing right next to the chapel, am I right?”
“No, sir. There wasn’t. She’d never take my money. She’s got money of her own. She’s a real independent gal. Pretty as all too.”
“Well, I guess there’s nothing you can do about spilled milk. When do we get to meet her?”
That was the real question. Would they ever get to see Vivian as my wife?
A FEW MINUTES after I got off the phone, she came out. She’d taken off her makeup and changed into some pajamas.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. Sorry. I’m not used to answering questions that dig deep.”
I shrugged. I wouldn’t apologize for asking my wife hard-hitting questions. I called things like I saw them and that was that.
She sat next to me on the bed. “I think that’s why I finally wanted to do a book tour. I mean, other than the constant whining from my agent and publicist. I think, deep down, I needed some human connection. I don’t know.”
I took a risk and pulled her closer with my hand on her waist. She came willingly and melded into my side like we were two puzzle pieces being joined.
She belonged there.
“I can’t imagine how lonely you must’ve been. Sometimes I crave human contact. Didn’t you?”
A drop of wetness fell onto my arm. No matter how strong of a front she put on, there was still something fragile inside her.
“I denied it for so long. I thought I was strong enough to do without it.”
“No one is that strong. And they shouldn’t have to be, Viv. Food, water, sleep, and human contact.”
She nodded against my side and encircled my waist with her arms. I almost didn’t want to breathe, thinking that it might break the spell.
“I do miss this,” she said so softly it reminded me of her old self.
“I miss us – sometimes.”
“Me too.”
“You always write your characters showing a lot of affection. Is that why?”
She looked up but didn’t budge. “I never thought of that.”
We must’ve sat there together for an hour before saying anything. “You want to watch some TV? It’s been forever since I had a veg-out night.”
“Sure. You choose.”
I thought that would be it. One hour was all I would get. Instead, I moved to sit against the headboard while she sat cross-legged, flipping through channels.
“Any requests?”
“Whatever you want. I don’t watch a lot of TV either.”
She settled on some kind of true crime show about wives who had killed their husbands. I figured it was research. The real question was research for fiction or real life.
I tried to be cool, waiting to see if she would come to me again.
“I’m getting a blanket.” She commented and vaulted off the bed, running to the living room area of the hotel room to grab a blanket from the couch.
She kicked off her shoes and jumped back into the bed, quickly snuggling up to me as she had been before.
“Okay, cover me up.”
I couldn’t believe I had forgotten that. She used to do that all the time when we would watch movies in the dark living room. Viv would get completely comfortable and then make me cover her up so she didn’t disturb her comfort.
“As you wish.”