*
Out over the Pacific, the sky was darker than Lucy
had seen since she got to San Diego. The moon had been hanging visibly for
hours before dusk even and now that it was out in that black massiveness over
the heaving ocean, it seemed to be burning with a sun-like warmth. Lucy
stripped down to her swimming suit and lay in the still warm sand for a minute,
trying with every square inch of exposed skin to locate the heat she hoped the
moon was radiating. She remembered the ocean from earlier today and she thought
that maybe her bathing suit retained a memory of the water’s frigidity. Lucy
stood her surfboard up so that it blocked some of the glow from the street and
cast a shadow where she was lying to moonbathe before taking off her swimsuit.
Her breasts were tiny moons that nearly disappeared when she lay down. She was
face up for a while, her skin still aching for the moon’s warmth, her ears
trying to ignore the waves and be alert for footsteps. She turned over, trying
to convince herself that it was just because her front now was cold and she
wanted to enjoy the sand’s warmth on her belly. She grabbed her towel from her
beach bag and used it as a pillow. She wanted it on-hand if she needed to cover
up quickly.
By the time Olivia showed up, clouds reflecting San
Diego’s lights back to it had started to encroach on the moon’s territory and
Lucy was back in her sweater and shorts and a fresh pair of underwear. “Hey.”
Olivia sat down beside Lucy and kissed her on the
cheek. Lucy half turned her head so she could look at Olivia without presenting
her mouth.
“Come on.” Olivia slapped Lucy’s bare thigh.
“Ow,” Lucy said and meant it. Still, she laughed.
Olivia grabbed Lucy’s neck and nearly hung from it
to swing in for a kiss on the lips. Olivia’s crowbar tongue tasted of McIntosh
apples and Lucy turned her head to find a comfortable fit, a place where their
jaws seemed like complimentary puzzle pieces. Or would you say opposing puzzle
pieces? Both, maybe.
Far off there was a smattering of deep, percussive
blasts. Lucy flinched. Out over the Pacific, green and gold and blue embers
drifted down to the water like the tentacles of jellyfish. There were a few
more raining bursts in various colours before some other fireworks screamed
corkscrewing up. Olivia didn’t know why there would be fireworks today. “Maybe
you and me, we set those off somehow. Like our love did it.”
Lucy pursed her lips and blew a pfft through them. Olivia’s looked hurt, so Lucy said,
“Like there was just a pile of fireworks waiting for the next holiday and some
of our sparks happened to find them?”
“Ya, and the people nearby are all like, ‘What the
fuck?’” Olivia kissed her again and there were more fireworks. Rather, the
fireworks continued. “See,” Olivia said.
Lucy had only been in California for a week and it
was only the second time she and Olivia had spent any time together. Olivia was
beautiful, too. Half-Japanese, half-Mexican, ethnically; both sides of her
family had been in California for generations, though. She worked at the surf
shop for women just up the beach and was a graffiti artist heavily inspired by
Os Gemeos, Barry McGee and Margaret Kilgallen.
Olivia put her hand on the upper, inner part of
Lucy’s thigh then started running her fingers to Lucy’s knee and back, slowly,
ticklingly. She kissed Lucy’s neck. Lucy pulled away. “I have to pee.”
Olivia moved her hand. “Okay.”
Lucy stood and started gathering her stuff.
“Oh. Okay,” Olivia said.
“What?”
“I thought— I mean, I would just pee here.”
“Can you let me into the shop?”
“Sure. Then we’ll go to my place, I guess.”
“Is that okay?”
“It’s such a nice night.”
“I’m cold,” Lucy said. “I’ve been out all day.”
Just past Idaho Falls, on her way to San Diego,
Lucy had driven into a nighttime rainstorm and there was snap and a spark by
her left leg and the windshield wipers died. Sharp, toxic smelling smoke filled
her 1983 Civic. She had pulled off the highway and, with her head out of the
driver’s door window, she’d searched for a place to pull over and wait out the
storm. She’d fallen asleep and when she woke the sun was shining and the
windshield was misted and beautiful with trails where drops of water had run
down to the top of the dashboard. A horse was grazing five feet from the
passenger side door. Lucy squatted in a ditch and pissed. To let the moisture
out, she’d opened the doors of the car and she thought they looked like wings.
While she stroked the horse’s muzzle and ate a peanut butter sandwich, a guy in
an old Chevy pickup stopped and asked if she needed help. No. Thank you, she’d
told him, then wished she’d mentioned about the spark and the wipers.
She hadn’t had the problem looked at because she
didn’t have the money. When she got down to San Diego, she’d told Olivia about
it. Olivia knew this mechanic shop that was all women, but since Lucy had no money
Olivia’s brother, Max, changed the fuse for her, turned the wipers on and left
them for like five seconds and declared the problem fixed.
But when it started raining on the drive to
Olivia’s from the beach and Lucy turned on the wipers, they worked for the
first verse and part of the chorus of Father John Misty’s “Hollywood Forever
Cemetery Sings”, before there was a pop and a spark and the wipers stopped
mid-stroke. Lucy pulled over and hand-cranked her window down. Olivia texted
her brother. The raindrops on the windshield turned every light into clusters
of stars, but you could still see enough through the wet glass to be safe. Lucy
drove with her chest nearly against the wheel.
They got to Olivia’s place and made grilled cheese
sandwiches, which they ate with sliced pear and cucumber. Max texted Olivia
back and said that he was in the neighbourhood and could swing by.
“Should I tell him we’ll go to him in the
morning?”
“If he could look at it now, that’s great.”
Olivia typed a message into her phone. Lucy put a
cucumber slice on top of a pear wedge and bit into it. The combination was
surprisingly good. Refreshing. Olivia’s phone buzzed. “He says he’s busy
tomorrow anyway.”
“You asked him if he could come tomorrow instead?”
“I just wanted to see if there were options.”
Olivia smiled. “What? Seriously, that bugs you?”
Lucy didn’t know what to say, but yes, it did bug
her.
“Fuck, come on. Seriously?”
Olivia left the room. Lucy put away the dishes
from the drying rack then washed up the grilled cheese plates and the frying
pan. Olivia came back in a spaghetti strap tanktop and matching grey short
shorts—her pajamas—and said, “You don’t need to do that.” She ran her hand
across Lucy’s stomach below her belly button.
“I’m fine,” Lucy said.
“Hello,” Max called from the threshold.
“Hey Max,” Lucy said.
“What’s up?” Olivia walked to the door.
“Jeez, Livie, you could have at least put some
clothes on.”
Olivia went away again. “Hi Lucy,” Max said.
“What’d you do to her?”
“I don’t know.”
Lucy gave Max her keys and he went out to look at
the car. Olivia was lying in bed facing the opposite wall. Lucy said, “I’m
going to make tea. You want some?”
“I’m tired.”
“You’re going to bed?”
“I think so.”
Lucy started to heat the kettle and went over to
her bag beside the couch. She got out a rolling paper and sprinkled some weed
along the crease, but she held it in her hands for a while before dumping in
back into the bag.
Max had angled the car so the open hood was lit by
a streetlight. He explained that since the fuse had gone twice that it was
probably a short somewhere in the circuit. Using his cell phone flashlight, Max
showed Lucy some wires running here and there. “Only, the truth is, I’m not
that good at electrical stuff. I’ve got a buddy who I texted already. He can
look at it tomorrow or the next day.”
Lucy nodded.
“You guys have a fight or something?”
Lucy shook her head.
“She was really looking forward to you coming
down.”
Lucy stood up and searched the sky. “Hey, you know
why there were fireworks tonight?”
“It’s not July 4th, is it?”
Lucy laughed.
“I have no idea, then.”
Lucy nodded. The low clouds had blocked her view
of the moon. “I’m going to have to go back in a few days.”
“Well,” Max said, “I’ll make sure that friend
looks at your wiring.”
“Never mind, I can’t afford any work.”
Max put his hand on her back and all the nerves in
Lucy’s body were suddenly, maybe all these years, magnetic and his hand was the
north pole. “I’ll talk to him. I bet he’ll do it for free.”
“It’s probably fine.”
“What’ll you do if it rains?”
“Pull over.”
“Let me talk to him.”
“Kay.”
Max walked to his car. “Talk soon,” he said.
“Thanks Max.”
“Tell Livie good night.”
Olivia was asleep. Lucy tried to read on the
couch, periodically looking out the window. She set the book down and started
running her hands through her own hair. She closed her eyes and tried to push
the image of Max out of the way and replace it with Olivia. About to give up,
Lucy lay belly down on the couch, unbuttoned her shorts and slipped her hand beneath
the waistband of her panties.
Toronto, Sept.-Oct. 2015
Emoji sequence: Heidi Valles (née Hazelton), of Mama Reverie and Continual Audial Output
Story: Lee Sheppard
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