Fallout

  But I am a pretty good judge

  of character, and I can see

  you’re a special kind of girl.

  Special kind of girl? “What

  does that mean?” And am

  I as pea soup green as I feel?

  Don’t get all huffy now. All

  I meant was, you’ve got a look.

  In prison, we’d call you a fish—

  someone new to the scene.

  I figure you’re new to getting

  laid. Probably how you ended up—

  Before I know what my mouth

  is doing, it opens and out spills,

  “I know how it works! I wanted to …”

  We both realize I’ve said too

  much. Trey is quiet for a time.

  Finally he says, You can’t keep

  someone who doesn’t want

  to be with you. Not that way.

  Not any way. Believe me, I know.

  ON THE FAR SIDE OF BISHOP

  The highway begins

  a long, lazy climb up

  toward Mammoth

  and June Lake. Up

  toward the clouds.

  Ten or so miles up

  the grade, snow

  starts to fall in soft

  flurries. It doesn’t

  seem to bother Trey,

  who continues, You

  probably don’t want

  to hear this, but I’m

  going to tell you anyway.

  I was so in love with

  your mother, my heart

  could barely hold it

  all. The crystal, yeah,

  that was an issue,

  right from the start.

  Messes with your head.

  When we went to jail

  for trafficking, we had

  no choice but to do

  time, crashing hard.

  I was glad to be clean

  when they let us go.

  Especially when I found

  out she was pregnant

  with you. I proposed

  right away, and you

  could have knocked

  me over with a burp

  when she said yes.

  It was the happiest

  time of my life. When

  you were born, I thought

  nothing could tear us

  apart. And then we let

  the monster back in.

  Part of me was so

  scared for you. More

  of me wasn’t scared

  of a goddamn thing.

  And Kristina? She had

  more balls than any guy

  I’ve ever known. What

  she didn’t ever have

  enough of was love.

  Not for me. Not for you.

  Not for anyone who

  came before—or after—

  us. She used who she

  could to get what she

  wanted. And then she

  tossed them like trash.

  HE WAS RIGHT

  Not what I wanted to hear.

  But what exactly did I want

  to hear? That this little reunion

  was going to end up a fairy tale?

  Darn right that’s what I wanted

  to hear. I sit, semi-stunned,

  watch the snow begin to fall

  harder. “Does she want me or not?”

  I wish I knew what to tell you.

  I don’t know what she wants,

  and even if I did, I couldn’t

  speak for Kristina. I know she thinks

  she has the right to know you.

  That my father and Cora were

  wrong for keeping you apart.

  And I agree as far as that goes.

  But I seriously doubt she has

  the ability to take care of you,

  if that’s what’s on your mind.

  Small steps, honey. One at a time.

  AS HE TALKS

  We crest the summit. The snowflakes

  blossom, grow into half-dollar-sized

  white petals, pirouetting to collect

  on the ground. Despite its heavy

  frame, the Cadillac begins to fishtail.

  Trey pulls off the highway, behind

  a collection of semis and other two-

  wheel-drive automobiles. Time to

  chain up, I guess. He gets out

  to attempt the complex process.

  I stay in the relative warmth

  of the car. Close my eyes.

  Hear Trey say, Small steps,

  honey. Honey? Seriously?

  And, in case he hasn’t noticed,

  which no doubt he hasn’t, up

  until the last week or so, I’ve

  taken nothing but baby steps

  my entire life. And even those

  were mostly guided for me.

  This trip was a giant step. I’ll

  deal with what’s on the other

  end the way I always do. Deep

  and deeper breaths, gathering gold

  flecks to keep from going insane.

  Then there’s the monumental

  step of having a baby. Bryce or

  no Bryce, I will never put anyone

  or anything ahead of my child.

  Substances? No way. That includes

  alcohol. I will never touch a drop.

  Not as long as I’m pregnant and

  not if some tiny person’s life

  depends on me sober. Baby?

  Are you listening? Are you really

  alive inside me? Oh God.

  If you are, how will I ever take

  care of you? My fingers go

  tingly. My breath falls shallow.

  Small steps. One at a time.

  BISHOP TO CARSON CITY

  Is about three hours in good weather.

  This is not good weather. Talk about

  initiation by blizzard. Even Trey

  is impressed. I’ve seen it come

  down pretty good, but never

  quite like this. Hope a plow

  comes through soon. Chains aren’t

  going to help much otherwise.

  Eventually, one does catch up

  to us. Trey moves as far to one

  side of the road as he can to let

  the guy pass. Looks like just him and us.

  Late afternoon. Christmas Eve.

  Snow forming a dense white curtain.

  Oh, yeah. We’re pretty much alone

  out here. “Stay close to the plow, okay?”

  Trey laughs. Don’t worry, little girl.

  I won’t let anything bad happen to you.

  TOO LATE, DUDE

  But I don’t say that. In fact,

  I don’t say much of anything

  the rest of the way into Carson

  City. Nevada’s capital, all wrapped

  up in white for Christmas. Your

  grandparents live just a little

  north of here. Maybe we should

  get a room and clean up?

  We check into a Holiday Inn

  Express on the far side of town.

  It’s kind of pricey, says Trey.

  But hey, Merry Christmas.

  I shower first, to let my hair

  dry. While Trey goes to wash

  off his guy-stink, I change into

  my pretty Aunt Cora skirt, top

  with a jade angora sweater.

  I stand sideways in the full-

  length mirror hanging on

  the closet door. Flat tummy.

  ALL PRETTIED UP

  We head out the door, where

  the snowfall continues unchecked.

  When we get in the car, Trey slams

  the door. He starts the car, puts it

  into reverse, and I begin to shake.

  “Wait.” Icy tentacles thread my veins,

  choke-hold my lungs. They scream for

  breath. And my
heart punches

  against my chest. “Please, wait.”

  Trey slams on the brakes. What?

  His voice is taut, his eyes frantic.

  Are you having a heart attack?

  I shake my head, close my eyes,

  concentrate on finding air.

  And suddenly, it’s there.

  I suck it down. “P-panic attack.

  I’m o-okay now. We c-c-can go.”

  But we can’t. Because just as we

  start to turn onto the highway, a big

  flashing sign overhead warns:

  Whiteout conditions. Road closed.

  Summer

  NOT MUCH ROMANTIC

  About living homeless.

  It’s hasn’t even been a week.

  We reek.

  No showers for six

  days would be bad enough

  on its own, but Kyle is

  sweating

  out the last vestiges of

  meth in his system. For me,

  he says, though as yet

  we barely speak

  about what that really

  means. That he’ll never

  do drugs again? Will he be

  forgetting

  how much pain he’s put

  up with the last couple

  of days as soon as

  the tweak is

  calling out to him again?

  What I need to know is

  how big a

  part

  of Kyle the crystal is.

  And I need to know

  how big a part it is

  of us.

  I NEVER THOUGHT

  That much about it before. When

  you’re not around someone

  twenty-four/seven, you

  cherish every minute

  together, no questions.

  No “Why are you so

  sweet-natured most of

  the time, foul-tempered

  the rest?” No “How much

  of your emotion is fueled

  by artificial means?” No

  “What would we be

  if you cut yourself

  off from something

  you’ve relied on

  just to see you

  through the day?”

  And the biggest

  of them all: No

  “Who are you really,

  and do I love

  that person too?”

  I KNEW HE WAS USING

  He never tried to hide it. In fact,

  offered to share. But even if he

  hadn’t been honest about it,

  his mood swings were obvious.

  I just never realized how big

  a part of his life it was. Not

  sure why I didn’t see it. Guess

  when you choose to be blind,

  you really are. Don’t think it

  would have changed a thing,

  had I known. And now, seeing

  him fight his demons for me,

  I love him all the more. Even

  if he is a complete grouch.

  It’s the nature of the crash.

  Better now than years down

  the line. I never got into

  it that much, he swore.

  But without you, who knows

  where I might be tomorrow?

  HOPEFULLY, BY TOMORROW

  We’ll be in a hotel room

  in Mammoth, reward enough for

  a week sleeping cold in a pickup truck.

  Three nights at Lake Isabella, hoping no

  one would come looking for us.

  Kind of surprised when

  nobody did. Another

  three nights camped just west of

  Lone Pine, in a sage-carpeted camp-

  ground, more primitive than the first.

  It was there, listening to coyote

  song and eagle cry, that

  Kyle crashed like iron

  for two days. I gave him a wide

  swath of privacy, exploring the brush,

  gathering firewood, and otherwise

  tending camp while he slept

  morgue-dweller sleep.

  When he woke up,

  all groggy and weird, he was

  so hungry he finished off two-thirds

  of a bag of jerky. His face flushed

  with color and the shivering

  slowed. Resurrection!

  THAT WAS YESTERDAY

  And when we made love

  last night, a blanket of frost

  settling over the sleeping bag,

  it was different than ever

  before. Slower. Gentler.

  Less demanding, more giving.

  Hearts quickening in lockstep.

  Breath like moth wings aflutter

  against moonlighted window glass.

  I love you, he sighed along

  my skin. And I love you,

  desert wind blown into my hair.

  And when we were finished,

  we drew into each other’s

  arms, warmed within our harbor.

  Something happened in

  the night, happened as we

  dreamed. Something unexpected.

  For on awakening, blinking into

  the murky dawning, needful love

  had transformed into blissful love.

  MAYBE IT HAD SOMETHING TO DO

  With sleeping under the Christmas

  star. Yeah, I know it’s actually a planet

  or something. And I know if it were

  really the Christmas star, it would

  be shining tonight. But whatever it is,

  this morning it looked like a platinum-

  set diamond in the lightening sky.

  I burrowed into Kyle’s body heat,

  ignoring the quite randy smell.

  “If you believe in wishing on stars,

  you’ll never get a better chance,” I said.

  “That one belongs to Christmas.”

  I have to believe in wishes, or

  I wouldn’t be here with you. Right?

  Then he laughed. Even if you don’t

  exactly smell like roses. Phew!

  “No offense, mi amor. But I smell

  a hell of a lot better than you.”

  Guess you’re right. Definitely bath

  time. You up for Mammoth?

  WITH LUCK

  We’ll be there tonight. Sooner

  is better than later. The trail mix

  is stale, the jerky gone. A hot meal

  is my idea of heaven right now.

  I dig in my backpack, count every

  penny. “Sixty-six fifty-two.

  Think we could get McDonald’s?”

  I hate McDonald’s. But I hate

  stale trail mix even more.

  Kyle exits his shell of silence.

  I think we can do better. I’ve

  still got a few bucks myself.

  “Enough for a room, too?

  Just think … a hot shower.

  Soft, warm bed. Reality TV.”

  He laughs. We’re living reality

  TV. But yeah, we’ll find a cheap

  room somewhere. Looks like

  winter has arrived up there.

  The resort will open soon.

  I’ll put in an application.

  I turn on the radio. Not much

  available out here, despite

  Kyle’s monstrous antenna.

  Don’t use “seek,” he instructs.

  Try dialing by hand. I do,

  and from a distant city, through

  the static, I discern a familiar voice.

  You procrastinators don’t have

  much time left. Santa’s almost here….

  “That’s my brother,” I tell Kyle.

  “Hunter. He works at a station

  in Reno.” Nostalgia whacks me.

  Really? How come you never

  told me you have a br
other?

  He turns up the volume, but

  the meager signal has dissolved

  completely. “I have three brothers,

  actually. Oh, and a sister, I guess.

  I hardly ever see my brothers, and

  no one bothered to tell me I had a sister

  until a couple of weeks ago.”

  Wow. That’s tough. I love my sister.

  Can’t imagine not … His voice

  catches as he considers what

  he’s about to say. Can’t imagine not

  seeing her, let alone not knowing

  she even existed. How’d you find out?

  I shrug. “My dad got drunk—

  that night he got the DUI, in fact—

  and it kind of just slipped out.”

  Kyle thinks that over. Finally says,

  My dad was drunk when he told

  me about my mom going into the river.

  Said we were better off without

  the bitch. If I had been as big as I am

  now, I would have made him sorry.

  No wonder he hates his dad.

  Mine’s a major screwup, but

  at least he isn’t corpse-hearted.

  WE STOP AT A DINER

  In Bishop. Splurge on a meat loaf

  dinner, the Christmas Eve special.

  That’s a little weird, I guess, but

  hey. Special is special. And cheap,

  too. I eat every bite, mop the gravy

  from the plate with the last crumbs

  of a big homemade biscuit. Good

  thing the place is semi-empty.

  I probably look like exactly what

  I am—a homeless person

  who hasn’t eaten much in a week.

  The waitress comes over to check

  on us. She smiles. Hungry, eh?

  Can I get you another biscuit?

  Then, to Kyle, Don’t like meat loaf?

  I hadn’t even noticed that he’s sort

  of just picking at his. It’s fine. Guess

  I’m feeling a little under the weather.

  He looks it too. Parchment pale

  and a bit shaky. She’ll have a biscuit.

  I WAIT FOR THE WAITRESS TO GO

  “You okay? It would be better

  if you could eat something.

  You’re running on empty.”

  I know. I’ll try. It’s just the last

  of the shit in my system making

  me queasy. He does force down

  a few bites while I polish off

  the butter-slathered biscuit Jeanine

  returns with. “A good night’s sleep

  in a big ol’ bed will make you

  feel better,” I predict. “Tomorrow

  is Christmas. Our first one together.”