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CHAPTER 7
“Stop fuzzing,” I tell O, who’s once again trying to push the blanket off of his legs. We’re sitting on the porch swing, and I’ve got my legs draped over his legs. Then, I put a blanket over it, obviously. We need comfort. Today is O’s court date. The district attorney is going with death by fault, and O’s attorney is going with it being self-defense.
The attorney says we have a very good chance of that working, because it was. But according to the law, we can’t just let things like this happen without going through the legal hoops. Which is a good thing, I suppose.
For all the movielike things that have happened the last few months, I’d like the getting-away-without-consequences to be real. But it turns out that’s not how life works.
“It’s too hot to be both under you and a blanket,” O says.
“You need double comfort.”
“I need to not spontaneously combust because of overheating.”
“Would save you the trouble of going to court.”
He grunts and rubs both his eyes with one hand. “If only that was a possibility.”
“Maybe we should skip town. Be on the run. Live a life of criminals. That’d work until the bounty hunters would get on our track, obviously. But it’d save you going to court today, so maybe it’ll be worth it?”
He gives me a smile that manages to fill my heart.
I pull the blanket off of us, because if I’m being honest, it’s a little too hot and it’s making me uncomfortable myself. But I’ll never admit it. It’s just that we’re already dressed in court clothes, and they’re a little hotter than my regular shorts or summer dresses. We’re all going to go along. O tried to make us stay back, but I don’t think even Gil has enough restraints to keep me here.
We sit and swing in silence for a while. “I can’t make up my mind whether I’d like my parents to have been here for this, or if I’m glad they’re no longer here so they don’t have to go through all of this with me,” O says as he stares in the distance.
“I think they’d love to fully support you,” I whisper. It’s not like they would blame him or something, all they’d do would be being there for him. “Don’t you have like a place where you can visit them or anything? Today might be a good day.”
He shakes his head. “They were cremated.”
“What’d you do with the ashes?”
“Multiple things. Scattered them on my travels little by little. I found comfort in the thought that no matter where I went in the world, there’d be a part of them somewhere around. Carry some of them with me at all times,” he says, patting on his leg where his tattoo is. “Jonah has some of the ashes, and he has some of it worked into his tattoo as well.”
The idea of him carrying a little piece of his parents with him at all times soothes me. “Isn’t it illegal to mix ashes with ink? Or isn’t it unsafe or something like that?”
“Hey, you’re talking to someone who’s going to court for death by fault. Don’t you know I’m a rascal by now? Scoundrel? Criminal? We might be going on the run. Let’s make it Bonny and Clyde style.”
The idea makes me laugh out loud. After everything that’s happening it’s pretty obvious we’re all goody two-shoes. I think about the Polynesian style tattoo he has on his leg. It’s a hook, like the one Maui has from that Disney movie. He notices where my eyes try to see through his pants.
“I took some of the ashes with me when I went to Hawaii. Instead of scattering them there, I used some to get a traditional style tattoo. You know, when they tap with the needles by hand instead of with one of those tattoo guns. I told this old lady my story, and she came up with this. The hook resembles protection. There’s some smaller symbols in it resembling family. All the different lines have different meanings, and she told me all the origin stories.”
“So in a way they’re always with you.”
He nods. I let my head fall against his chest. “Are you nervous?”
“Shitting my pants.” I can hear the rapid thumping of his heart in his chest.
“Everything will be fine.” I don’t know if it’s him or myself that I’m trying to reassure. Maybe both. I’m nervous myself. I think it’ll be fine, but it’s completely out of our control and I hate that.
O is rubbing circles over my lower back, and I don’t know how it happened that he’s the one who’s comforting me right now instead of me comforting him.
“If this all goes well, I’m going to change what I do with my life. I’m going back to school or something like that, anything. I want to help troubled kids, not sell houses. I want to do something meaningful, and not just try to make as big of a profit as I can.”
The image that produces in my mind is one that fits. Life’s too short to do something you don’t like. I need to remember that, woman up, and tell my publisher I don’t want to write romance novels anymore. I love being a writer, but the trouble my last book gave me isn’t worth it. I want to give writing something else a go, see where the story will take me if I’m not being held back by the notion that it should all be about true love.
“I think that’s the best plan you’ve ever had.” My eyes find his, and I lean forward to give him a soft kiss.
“No, the best idea I ever had was to get my head out of my ass and ask for you to give me a chance.”
