Page 8 of Taken by Storm


  She keeps scribbling. “Just a guy in our branch.”

  “Your branch?” i snatch the pen out of her hand.

  She pulls another one out of her bag. “Branches are tiny LDS congregations. We meet in Rockford, a couple of towns up the highway.”

  “And LDS is?”

  “Latter-day Saints. Official nickname for Mormons.” She starts writing again.

  i steal her second pen. “You have an old boyfriend at church?”

  “No.” She sits up and puts her hand out for her pens.

  i shake my head.

  “Okay. This guy, Jaron, and I grew up together. He’s kind of like a big brother—gave me rides to regional church stuff in Spokane. Dances mostly. He’s in Brazil on a mission teaching people the Gospel.”

  “You dated big brother?” i put her pens on the coffee table next to my laptop.

  “He always had girlfriends in the wards, big LDS congregations, up in Spokane. We went out once before he left. Just for fun.” Her creamy cheeks turn their pink. “He kissed me goodbye and asked me to write.” She grabs for her pens.

  i catch her hand and won’t let her go back to work. “Do you write to him?”

  “Some.” She slumps back into the couch cushions. “We’re friends.”

  i play with her hand. “You’re blushing about it. i’m not sure if i’m cool with that. What other secrets have you got lurking behind that pure facade?”

  “Secrets? Me?” She frowns and sits up, reaches for her pens on the table. “Jaron and I are real friends.”

  “i guess i believe you.” Why does it bug me that some Mormon nerd kissed her? “So what was it like? The kiss. Was it any good?” i lean over and nuzzle her neck. “If it was just a peck, it doesn’t count. i’m the first.”

  She slips the band off her hair. “Better than a peck”—fruity hair scent flows into me—“but not like you.”

  i think about Mandy—at least she trained me well. “i had a good teacher.”

  Leesie covers my mouth with her fingertips. “I don’t want to hear.”

  So i show her. The no-tongue thing makes for a creative challenge. i suck softly on her cheek and kiss her jawline. My lips explore her neck, careful not to leave a mark that will get her in trouble. i lift her hair and tunnel under it, kissing the soft back of her neck, rubbing her leg with my other hand.

  Leesie arches her back and shifts her body so her lips get the action. She digs her hands into my hair and draws me in. i kiss her closed eyelids and then press hard on her mouth again, pushing my body into hers, forcing her prone on the couch.

  She immediately twists out from under me. “Are my feet on the floor?”

  i roll onto my side and look down. “One is. Almost.”

  She sits up and puts both feet firmly on the floor.

  i ease myself behind her. “Lesson over?” i drip the words into her ear.

  She kisses my temple. “Recess.”

  Later, i drive her home, kiss her good night at the front door, take my time about it, afraid of what will happen when the door closes and i’m alone. i want to let my hands slip north so she’ll know i appreciate her As, but i don’t want her to freak and think i’m a creep like Troy, so i control myself, keep her rule.

  My toes are numb by the time i catch sight of a pixie peeking at us. “There’s a little face at the window.”

  “You better go.”

  “The fish?”

  “My mom’s miracle baby.” Leesie kisses me one last time and opens the door.

  “Kissing, kissing, kissing,” swirls singsong into the night.

  Leesie scoops up the kid and twirls her around. “Be quiet, Stephie.” She stops twirling long enough to say, “Good night,” and kick the door shut.

  i watch them through the narrow window that flanks the door. Leesie throws the kid on the sofa and tickles her. She looks beautiful, laughing and happy, playing with her sister. i stand there like a creep peeping Tom, can’t tear myself from the scene. i never wanted a sister or brother. Only child was cool—Mom and Dad and me. Easy to travel with just three. Stephie runs up the stairs, probably still singing her kissing song. Leesie chases after her.

  i stare at the empty room, hoping she’ll come back.

  chapter 19

  PIECES

  LEESIE HUNT / CHATSPOT LOG / 10/8 11:03 P.M.

  LEESIE HUNT / CHATSPOT LOG / 10/8 11:22 P.M.

  chapter 20

  ADDICTION

  LEESIE HUNT / CHATSPOT LOG / 10/27 10:15 P.M.

  LEESIE’S MOST PRIVATE CHAPBOOK

  POEM #32, AN ADDICT’S CONFESSION

  gray eyes silver steam

  sunday afternoon dream black lashes

  crowding me, crowding me off the page.

  my page-plotted perfect possibility before

  gray eyes silver steam my nights

  into jimble, jangle, jazzed desire

  descending, bending, sending me

  scattered, shattered, smattered,

  flattened, rolled, bent,

  sent, spent, meant,

  mean to, seem to,

  dream to,

  scream.

  chapter 21

  NEW PRESCRIPTION

  MICHAEL’S DIVE LOG—VOLUME #8

  The nurse calls, “Michael Walden?”

  Leesie squeezes my hand. i leave her to the dingy green waiting room sitting on an orange vinyl couch with a duct-taped slit that stretches clear across the back cushion. This guy is the only doctor for about six tiny towns. He’s only in on Wednesdays.

  The nurse gives me a gown. “You can leave your underwear on.”

  Nice. “i’m just here for a prescription refill.”

  She glances at her clipboard. “You’re down for a physical.” She takes my blood pressure and temperature and leaves me to undress. i don’t bother with the gown.

  The doctor comes in. He’s tall and has a greasy comb-over. He listens to my heart and lungs, pokes and prods, and makes me cough.

  Thanks, Gram. i really needed this.

  The guy examines my foot. “This has healed nicely. Any tenderness?” He presses on the raw red scar.

  “No.”

  “Good.”

  The nurse steps back in with a clear plastic bottle in her hand. “We’ll need a urine sample.” She writes my name on the bottle and leaves.

  Dr. Drab sits on a low rolling stool and leans back with his hands locked behind his head. “You seem healthy enough. You want medication?”

  “The doctor who treated me in Belize gave me these.” i hand him my empty prescription bottle. “i’ve got symptoms. Sleeplessness, nightmares, and i’ve started having flashbacks.”

  “If you’re sleepless, how can you have nightmares? Get your story straight, kid.”

  My fists ball up. “i’m not making this up. i really wish i was.”

  “I don’t believe in over-medicating young people.” He leans forward and pats my knee. “You’re a strong boy. Get through this on your own steam. I prescribe time, a dose of fresh air, and regular exercise. You look a little pale.”

  “i dive. Scuba. Free diving.” Sun, water, sea breeze. Just what he says i need.

  Dr. Drab frowns. “Most kids around here play basketball. I’m sure Coach could use your height.”

  i shake my head. “i dive.”

  “No diving.” He scribbles away on my chart.

  “What?” i couldn’t have heard him right.

  He shakes his pen to get it to write. “After consulting with your grandmother”—he rolls his stool over to a small desk and searches in the drawer—“I’ve decided you should not dive until you’re more stable.”

  “Stable? i’m perfectly stable.”

  He whips around with a fresh pen in his hand. “You just admitted to nightmares and flashbacks.”

  “This is just wrong.”

  “Your grandmother has had reports of dangerous, erratic behavior.”

  “This is insane.” i’m talking too loud. “Diving is per
fectly safe. i know what i’m doing.”

  “I’ve done some reading.” He’s right in my face now. “Nitrogen narcosis makes you feel drunk, doesn’t it? If your judgment is already impaired—”

  i take a deep breath and let it out, force myself to speak calmly, reasonably. “i’ve done hundreds of deep dives. i never get narc’ed. My judgment is FINE.”

  “No diving. Period.” He scribbles, then looks back up. “I’ll reassess in six months.”

  “Six months?” i’m shouting again. “i’m not doing that. You’re freaking—”

  Dr. Drab stands up, towers over me sitting there in my boxers. “It’s my job to keep your grandmother alive. Don’t you go making it any harder than it already is. Understand? Don’t make the same fatal errors your father did. He was always so reckless.”

  “Sitting on a boat is reckless?”

  “In a hurricane? I’ll say it is.”

  “That’s out of line.” i’m on my feet now. Back in his face, anger bubbling through my pained-hazed psyche.

  “Control yourself, young man.”

  i step back. Freaked. What the hell is going on here?

  “You will not dive, understand?”

  “No way.” i slide on my jeans and grab my T-shirt and shoes. “No freaking way.”

  “Just let me say this. You are all Mrs. Walden has. And you’ve stressed her enough already. No diving.”

  “No way.” i bang out of examination room and burst into the waiting room, still carrying my shirt and shoes. A kid snickers.

  Leesie jumps up. Her face clouds when she sees mine. “What’s wrong?”

  i grab my coat and slam outside. i make Leesie drive Gram’s car home. There are tiny snowflakes in the air. i don’t drive in snow.

  “Michael, talk to me. We’re not going to Spokane?”

  i pull my T-shirt over my head. The dive shop. That’s ruined. “Turn up the heat. i’m freezing to death.”

  She cranks the heat, doesn’t talk while i put on my shoes. i’m sucking air in free-dive cycles to calm myself down. She’s learned not to interrupt that.

  “He says i can’t dive. He called me unstable. Gram fed him a bunch of crap.”

  “Don’t get mad at her. She’s concerned.” Leesie bites that lower lip of hers i practically own now. “Slow down and think about it. She’s lost a lot, too. You’re not the only one hurting here.” She passes a slow car and keeps accelerating—despite the snow. “What actually did he say?” She shoots me a worried glance.

  “He got nasty about my dad.” My voice breaks. “Seemed to think he drowned on purpose.”

  She hisses something under her breath. She must be livid. She never swears. “That’s the problem with small towns. Everybody has known everybody for generations. Your dad probably beat him at football or something.” She shakes her head. “Stupid man.”

  “So you think it’s dumb, too?”

  She doesn’t respond.

  “He wouldn’t give me any pills, either. He suggested i go shoot hoops and get some fresh air.”

  “Did he refer you to a psychiatrist?”

  “Maybe i can get the shrink from Belize to write him and tell him he’s cracked. i can’t not dive.”

  “What shrink from Belize?” She touches my knee. “You never told me about him.”

  “Do i have to tell you everything?”

  The color drains out of her face, and her hand goes back to the steering wheel.

  “i’m sorry, Leese.” i stroke her suede jacket sleeve. She’s my only ally. Last thing i want is to turn her against me. “i don’t know how to explain it, but i know. i need to dive. i’ll crack up if i don’t.”

  “You tried that.”

  “Not really.” i stare out the window at the endless hills of brown rolling wheat fields. “i need to get back into the ocean. Feel salt water on my skin again. Taste it. Breathe it. i miss it, babe. i really miss it.”

  She glances over at me. “Maybe in the spring you’ll be up to it.”

  “i’m up to it now. You’ve got to help me.”

  “How can I help?” She frowns. “If you’re not supposed to, you’re not supposed to.”

  i smack my fist into my palm. “Turn the car around. Let’s go to the dive shop after all. To hell with Dr. Drab.”

  She doesn’t slam on the brakes and flip a U-turn. “Listen, I’ve got a youth activity again tonight. If we skip Spokane, we can go to that.” She fakes excited. “We’re cleaning out an old lady’s barn.”

  i slump in my seat. “Sounds like something i’d like to miss.”

  “Please, Michael.” Her hand slips off the steering wheel and connects with mine. “It would be good for you to get out.”

  “i want to go to the dive shop. i’m not interested in going to church with you.” To her church is the answer for everything. “When are you going to stop asking me?”

  “When you say yes.” She squeezes my hand.

  “i’ll say yes when you do.”

  “What do you mean?”

  i bring her hand to my mouth and suck on her knuckle.

  “Oh.” She scowls so i can’t see how much she likes what i’m doing. “That.”

  “You’re driving me insane.”

  “Not Isadore?”

  “You and Isadore.”

  “And Dr. Drab.”

  “Everyone. Everything. Something’s got to give.”

  “I’m sorry. You know—”

  “i’m not going to say it’s okay.” i’ve said that a thousand times. “i can’t today.”

  “Let’s make a deal, then.”

  i stop chewing on her hand. “Really?”

  She draws it away. “If you promise to take me to the big regional church dance Thanksgiving weekend up in Spokane, I’ll quit bugging you about going to the branch.”

  “That’s hardly what i wanted to hear.” Her face goes rosy, which makes me want her even more. i try not to get angry, remind myself how hard this is for her, how scared she is. “You think i’m a creep. Just like Troy.”

  “i think you’re human. How can you help wanting this?” She frowns down at her flat chest.

  “You’re a lot sexier than you think you are.” i reach across the seat. Her jacket’s undone. i find the edge of her safe zone, stroke the bottom of her bra through her sweater.

  She goes scarlet. “I’m going to crash if you don’t move your hand.”

  “Pull over.”

  We’re driving through the tiny town just before Teacup. She turns left at a bank and parks under a big tree. She takes my offending hand, turns it over, and kisses the palm.

  “Come here, babe.”

  She slides across the seat, and i roll her into an embrace.

  She keeps one toe pressed to the floor mat. “Isn’t this better than a dive shop?” she whispers before she plants her lips on me.

  i kiss her back. “Nothing’s better than a dive shop.”

  “Thanks a lot.” Her next kiss is more urgent.

  “Okay, this comes close.” i suck on her lips one at a time. “Why can’t i have both? The doctor’s an idiot. i’m not doing it.”

  She sits up, both feet on the floor now, combs my hair out of my face. “Don’t rattle poor Gram. You’ve got me. Do you really need to scuba?”

  “But i don’t really have you.”

  She frowns. “Be nice. The time you can’t dive will fly by, and you’ll be better.”

  “i’m not sick. i’m totally healthy.” i lay some major lip action on her.

  She breathes, “Maybe a little too healthy,” back at me.

  “Are you sure i can’t have more of you?”

  She pulls back. “Let’s start with the dance.”

  “We’re way past dancing.” i slip my lips down her throat, but she’s wearing a turtleneck. “i hate this sweater.”

  “Oh. Sorry.” She dumps her suede jacket and rips off the sweater. She’s got a tank on under it.

  “Whoa, babe.” My heart is still revving. “i
thought my fantasies were about to come true.”

  She slips her jacket back on. “Not a thrill. Trust me.”