MORE HONEY,
MORE HONEY,
MORE HONEY THAN I CARE FOR.
OH, AND SHE GOT
MORE HONEY,
MORE HONEY,
MORE HONEY THAN I NEED.
OH, SHE BLEW MY HAIR BACK.
MY MIND SAID LOOK AWAY.
I DON’T WANT NOTHING TO DO WITH THIS PLACE.
IT AIN’T MY SOUND,
AIN’T MY SCENE,
AIN’T MY TASTE.
BUT, OH, IF SHE HAD HER WAY.
AND SHE DON’T KNOW ME.
SHE DON’T KNOW ME AT ALL.
I sit back on the bed and look around while his song continues.
Maybe Sabin was nervous about seeing me and everyone else again, and he panicked a bit or something. Whatever it was, I feel better now that we’ve gotten past it. And I feel even better when I see that he has a picture of the two of us on one of the shelves here.
Last summer, Sabin persuaded a local fisherman to take us out on his boat, so we could avoid the more touristy charters, and we spent the day fishing until we both caught a surprisingly good number of bluefish, cod, and striped bass. We had so much success that we ended up freezing plenty.
The picture shows us both sunburned, our hair windblown and wild, but we’re smiling and very happy. He’s got an arm over my shoulder, and mine are wrapped around his waist, holding him closely. We’re looking at each other with so much contentment, and we’re so obviously physically comfortable with each other that anyone else looking at this picture might think we’re a couple.
I’ve seen this picture a thousand times, but still, I’m compelled to pick it up and study it, studyus. My finger traces our outline while I think. The photograph, the dynamic between us, looks different to me than it has before. I can’t get a handle on why that is…or evenhowthat is.
“Lady Duchess Mademoiselle Señorita Blythe?” Sabin yells from downstairs. “Are you ready to discover your inner cowgirl?”
I set down the picture, inexplicably rattled.
“B? Did you ditch me?”
“No, I’m here. Coming down.”
We walk the path back to the car, and Sabin points out all the different trees. Avocado and orange trees are starting to blossom, and I love the idea that he’ll be able to simply go outside and have fresh produce. People who live out here probably take things like this for granted, but I find the whole idea delightful. It turns out that the trees I thought belonged in dinosaur times are actually banana trees.
“I’d have hundreds of these planted at my house if I lived here,” I tell him. “What else do I need to know about California?”
The weight of Sabin’s arm over my shoulder feels good, as does the kiss he lands on the top of my head.
“I don’t know that I’m an expert yet, but…you might see a lot of lizards—cute ones, not disgusting huge ones. You might—and don’t freak when I say this—see a rattlesnake. The weather is pretty amazing, as you can tell. I hear this is warm for this time of year, so yay for climate change. But, man, the fall here? October was really beautiful. What else? Um…I originally thought I’d want to live downtown, but then this job came up, so I’m little more north than I planned. But it’s only half an hour or so to get in to downtown, so that’s cool. The restaurants are amazing—or so I hear. I’m mostly a taco-truck dude.” He claps his free hand over my mouth before I say anything. “Yes, yes. I know I’m fat.”
I lick his palm, and he yanks it away.
