Story Girl (34 page)

“You really were in the park,” I said.

“Pardon?”

“Part of you. Close enough. Your essence reached me before you did. But you were coming for me.”

“I have always been coming for you.”

We laughed a little, but I felt like I might fracture into pieces of stunned wonderment.

“We’re just two small souls,” he said. “And we jumped into the bubbling stew to save ourselves.”

“From what?”

He shrugged, “I don’t know – maybe the quiet peace that comes with the acceptance of mortality.”

I stared at him like he was some sort of magical well, so much deeper than I thought.

“So I wonder what Mitch will think,” I said.

“There’s nothing left to prove.”

“Exactly. So my motivation is pure.”

And on that note, I was able to chew the first bite of the greatest meal I had ever known.

chapter
50

J
AMES WAS WATCHING
me suck on a water chestnut.

And I was straining to hear my father’s voice.

“Tracy?”

“Yes.”

“If I don’t touch you soon, I’m gonna collapse. Right here on this ratty old carpet, and you’ll have to call the paramedics – but by the time they arrive it may be too late.”

But if you touch me, I might lose my mind. The part of my mind that is still my own
.

“Oh.”

“Is that all you can say – oh? What are you so afraid of?”

“Nothing. It’s just that I’m hearing Lucy’s cries in my head. She’s going to want her dinner soon and I’m not there.”

“You haven’t been away long.”

“But I have to feed her.”

“She’s fine, Tracy.”

“She’ll only eat her tuna if it’s in a light syrup and a black bowl.”

“After everything we’ve shared, you still want to close up on me?”

He got up from the table, turned on a bright light, and sat in front of the television. I went and stood beside him, not exactly sure what to do.

“But we didn’t share it together – at the same time. You just sprang it all on me, and I need some time to catch up.”

He turned up the volume, “Fine.”

“What I’m trying to say is that I’m just terrified – that’s all.”

He turned off the television and stood up slowly, never taking his eyes off of me; I was only an inch or so shorter. We were millimeters from each other but he put his hands behind his back.

“Lucy,” I whispered.

“No –
James
.”

“But – ”

“Let go, Tracy.”

I wanted to run for the bathroom but my knees felt like meringue.

He put his hands up over his head and brought them down to rest on my cheeks.

“James?”

“Thanks for giving me a chance.”

He kissed me tenderly on the mouth. My body finally freed itself from my brain and my hands let the quilt and towel drop to the floor. We fell on the bed but not before I was able to flick a switch on the lamp cord and plunge us back into darkness.

His hands were all over my face and skull and then my arms and back and ass. His tongue was opening my mouth, searching for the truth beyond words. Before I could think another thought and get the situation back under control, I felt his mouth on my breast – circling my nipple without a care in the world. And I forgot entirely what it was I had wanted to protest.

And then we were back on the expanse. Still walking. There hadn’t been a tree for miles, no sign of anything life-giving. My mouth was parched; the sun boiled my skin. I was slowly dying from
dehydration. But then we heard something that sounded like water, and we started running as best we could in that direction.

My eyes stung with the sight – the yellow flowers and orange birds. The red berries and green melons. But it was the water that amazed us most – gushing forth down every possible face of rock – gushing forth to wash away the barren dry dust that had so long coated my throat in pain.

And then I was on top of him – and it was so hard and it hurt but then it melted into me – like something I’d needed for so long. All I was aware of was feeling full and then more full, like there wasn’t a molecule of space left inside. And we were rocking and pushing and he was lifting himself up and pulling me down until we both exploded at the core, the sweet scent of milky water everywhere. We found each other’s mouth and we gulped in life and we laughed and there were no more words.

Only silence.

James and I woke up stuck to each other. I removed my sticky limbs from his and turned over to look at the time. The motel clock read 12.15 a.m.

“Tracy?”

“I’m right here.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes. I haven’t done that for a while.”

“Is that why you’re not sleeping?”

“No. I’m thinking about the script.”

I turned back to him and placed my hand over his hairless chest.

“What about it?” he asked.

“I don’t know. It makes me sad – how he can never come back.”

“His choice.”

“But he didn’t have all the information.”

“None of us do.”

I gently ran my finger along the line of his jaw.

“Do you want to change it?” he asked.

I dug my fingers into his armpits in an attempt to tickle him, and then tried to pinch a stomach that was nothing but muscle.

“It’s still your story, Tracy.”

“It’s ours now.”

“What should we write about next?” he asked.

“So this partnership continues?”

“Yes, but this time we’ll collaborate together in real time. Naked and happy.”

“How about people who live together for years but don’t really know each other at all. Something like Strangers Together.”

“Sounds like a made-for-T.V.”

“What’s wrong with television?”

He drew me closer to him, and I could feel my extra softness against his hard body. I tried to pull away without him noticing.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“I want to see you, Tracy.”

“I’m here.”

“I want to make love to you and be able to see you at the same time – not in the pitch black.”

“That’s how I’m comfortable – you can feel me – why do you need to see me too?”

James pulled me closer to him, but I pulled away.

“Tracy?”

“Will you still love me if I’m just myself?”

“That’s the only way I can.”

He rolled on top of me, and looked me in the eye. And then he buried his face in my neck, eyelashes on my skin. And then gentle lips along my collarbone. And once again, I was too supple to argue; all my rough edges were blurry. So I got up, turned on the light, and shut my eyes against the extra weight and odd blemishes that he could now fully scrutinize.

“No hives,” he said.

“Not funny.”

“You are so beautiful.”

I turned away from his gaze, “This makes me uncomfortable. But a little less so than it would have a week ago.”

I opened one eye and could see that he was hard again.

“James.”

“Come here.”

I went to him and he helped me maneuver him inside.

“Just relax,” he said. “It’s okay. It’s me. You have to be yourself – whoever she is or decides to be – or we won’t have a chance.”

“I know.”

“And I’m not perfect, and I can’t ever be. But I try, Tracy. And I can feel, and I feel you.”

“I really want to let you in, James.”

“I know you do.”

He rocked me tenderly, and I held his cheek against my own. And soon he was inside as far as he could go.

chapter
51

J
AMES AND
I were playing games.

Of the healthy sort. I watched him prance around naked, stopping only to strike a
Saturday Night Fever
pose in the center of a room that was probably furnished the very same year the movie was released.

We were smiling at each other like goofballs, still lit from before by the considerable afterglow.

“Do you think Mitch is reading it yet?” I asked.

“Not yet. Give him a year.”

“I don’t have a year.”

“You have many years.”

“We could cut down on the effects, streamline everything.”

“Do you think your father heard us?” he asked.

I looked at his naked body, a thin layer of sweat starting to take shape.

“I muffled myself – remember?”

James turned the room fan to the max. He was dancing again – whirling around like a dynamo, but I was staring up at the paint flecks that were now clinging desperately to the ceiling.

“You don’t need your father’s money.”

He stopped dancing.

“It weakens you.”

I couldn’t believe I’d say such a thing after what we’d just done. But maybe it was because of what we’d just done.

“It’s just that you look so strong and beautiful, James. And now that I know what you’re capable of, it just seems like it’s holding you back somehow.”

“How?”

I sighed, “Because the wealth is like a sneaky thief. It will steal your motivation. And with a dream as big as ours, we need motivation more than we need anything else. We need our drive, and our perseverance, our insatiable hunger and unquenchable thirst. Without it, there is no fuel and we simply run out of gas. And the dream just sputters out and dies on the side of a lonely highway.”

“God, Tracy.”

“I’m sorry, James – but it’s true. And you know it.”

“Even knowing that we’re already worthy, you have ambition so big?”

“Especially knowing it.”

“I need to go for a walk.”

“That’s okay – I need to make a phone call.”

He put his clothes back on and left the room. I grabbed my purse off the floor without leaving the bed, and rifled through crumpled notes until I found my cell phone. I wanted nothing more than to hear the voice of my baby sister.

“Hello?” she answered.

“Hello, Jenny – it’s me. Where are you?”

“South Dakota. It’s after one in the morning.”

“I’m so sorry. You left without saying goodbye.”

“You weren’t around.”

“You could have called.”

“Is Dad back home?”

“No. He’s going to Alaska.”

“With Mom?”

“No – with Bud from the motel.”

“That stupid fucking motel.”

“I’m here too – at the motel. With my boyfriend.”

“Your what?”

“He flew in from L.A.”

“Don’t play games with me.”

“I’m not. His name is James.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t think we were going to work out.”

“You and him or you and me?”

“Jenny, you’re my sister.”

She started whimpering.

“Why are you crying?”

“Talk about something backfiring. I tried so hard, trying to honor their union. What a fucking joke.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” I said.

“What, Tracy? You want to tell me I’m a laughing-stock? Or that you win? That you’re so much smarter than I am? What?”

“None of those things.”

“Well a trip to Hollywood sure beats the fucking shed – if I’d known it would have led to my parents’ demise, I would have just stayed home.”

“Can I just say what I wanted to say?”

“Go ahead.”

“I think that you’ve fixed something.”

All I could hear was her aggravated breathing.

“Jenny?”

“Are you being sarcastic?”

“No.”

“I don’t get it then.”

“Look – something was fundamentally broken. But it wasn’t so much the marriage that was broken – more like our perceptions. There’s stretching room now. You helped expand something.”

“That wasn’t my objective.”

“Jenny, listen to me. By bringing us together at this exact time, by forcing us on each other – you made us deal with stuff. You
initiated something new and different and good – whether you wanted to or not.”

“Good?” she asked.

“Yes. You instigated a healing process.”

“I did?”

“Even I feel better about everything. And it’s all because of what you did for us. Your timing is impeccable. You’re a healer, Jenny.”

There was a dead silence and I thought I’d lost the connection.

But then, for the first time in as long as I could remember, my sister released a big, sweet, and sincerely happy laugh.