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I lose the freakout and give her a nod.
“Guess when we get back to the city, we will get you a new one. So your backup has a backup.”
“Always be prepared. Glad to have you.”
“Me too, baby, me too.” I start the motor back up and head back to where we dock and unload. The guys standing around saw me soaking wet and asked if I took a slight dip. Before, I would have been irritated at their comment, but seeing Phoebe grateful is enough for me to do it again.
Scratch that, probably not.
It starts downpouring at nine o’clock at night. There is a full moon somewhere behind the clouds. I stay in the shower for an hour to make sure I am clean. Even though my mind makes me panic over feeling tiny things on my skin that aren’t there.
“Have you ever been to Florida before?” Phoebe is sitting on the couch watching the rainstorm out the window.
“Nope.” I sit down and dry my hair the best I can.
“One time when I went to Tallahassee, every night it would rain. But during the day, it would be sunny and humid. At night, though, like clockwork, it would pour. Like it didn’t want to ruin anyone’s day, even though it had a job to do.” Phoebe’s eyes shimmer with the lightning sparkling across the sky.
“Can it be saved?” Nodding to the cleaned camera on the table.
“No, but that’s okay. It doesn’t need to be saved so I can use it again. It needs to be saved to keep it as a reminder.” She reaches out and grabs my hand.
“A reminder of what?” I pick up her hand and lace our fingers through each other.
“It’s okay to be scared, but if I trust my fears, I know they will always see me to where I need to be.” She yawns a bit, but I hear the heavy truth come out.
Phoebe crawls over to me, and we watch the storm until it stops and the lightning bugs reemerge. The fireflies wink at me through the thin veil while we sleep, waking to the stars.
I swear I wasn’t going to be one of those guys who fell in love with a girl just because they were fucking. But here I am, repeating the same stupid mistakes I always have.
The problem with this one is she doesn’t feel like a mistake. It doesn’t feel wrong. In the beginning, it never feels wrong until it’s too late. You’re twenty-one, waking up with a chick who hates you and is fucking your neighbor. But you stay because of her little boy, man; he might be the coolest kid you’ve ever met.
Phoebe,fuck me, Phoebe.
God, I hope I never came out of the love spell she put me under. Because it felt good to be the one adored for a change instead of wasting all my affection on someone who thought they were entitled.
Phoebe didn’t wait around for me to do something; she was wildly independent. I looked up to her, admired her lifestyle; it felt easy breezy. She didn’t need me, and I think I loved that about her the minute I met her.
They say you fall in love at first sight, but I was blinded by heartbreak when she came along, or it might have been. But damn, that woman had me agreeing to stranger danger tactics even the child in me believe.
Her scent had me catatonic. The second I picked up on those low notes of evergreen and orange, I silently prayed she might forget about mercy and execute me on the spot.
She is a grenade of excellent, wrapped in bandages of glory.
And I wasn’t ready for her to obliterate my sad, stable, mediocre life with her blunt bravery. I assume she must have hit a point, which is who she became. Who she needed and who I needed as well.
Phoebe is geeking out about her new camera; she won’t even join me to swim at the rental’s pool. The next day we went shopping for a new toy for her. I pick out a strap with colorful swirls on a leather base.
I swim to the pool’s edge and put my arms up on it. My eyes watch Phoebe take part in every piece and examine it, trying to understand it.
“Playing mad scientist?”
“Trying to get familiar with all of the new compartments. The new versions have all the fancy settings my old one never used to have.” She picks it up and aims it at the tree before looking at the digital screen.
“How did you get into this, Phoebe?” I turn to float my legs out in the pool and lean my head against the edge.
“I was wandering around Seattle one afternoon just taking some pictures of random stuff. This couple got engaged, and I happened to be there, so I took pictures in secret. I let them have their moment, and then I walked over to them and showed them the pictures. I offered to email them to him. The guy asked me how much I charged. ‘Oh, I’m not a photographer; it’s a hobby.’” I watch the trees move with the breeze as she talks. “The man looks at the pictures again, looks at me, and pulls out two hundred dollars. He writes his email on a piece of paper, and on the paper, it says, ‘not just a hobby.’”
“You’ve always known you had killer talent, even before you started. Before your pictures were getting recognized.” I close my eyes as the sun peeks through the clouds.
