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“That’s probably a good idea,” I tell him.
“It’s a great idea.”
“Should I be expecting anyone else for dinner?”
“Not a chance. If any cars drive up this driveway, I’m shooting the tires out.”
“What?” I yelp, jerking my eyes up. I’ve been staring at the counter this whole time, blurring my eyesight and just getting a fuzzy image of him in the background so I wouldn’t have to fully look at him.
Now my body is really buzzing.
“Kidding. I don’t own a gun. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t scare you like that.”
“You could probably booby trap it so an improvised spike belt would shoot out of the gravel if a certain wire were tripped.”
He blinks, those lovely dark eyes suckering me into wanting to keep staring into their warm, butterscotch depths. “I like it. I’ll see what I can fab up.”
“That was a joke too. You better not. What if someone accidentally trips it?”
“It would always be accidental. That’s the point.”
“I mean someone who isn’t one of the people you want to keep out. Like the mailman or someone just coming to deliver a package.”
“I get my mail in town. Packages too. No one comes this far out to deliver,” he says, looking a little smug.
“Well, the donkey then. Or a chicken. That wouldn’t be good.”
He rubs a hand over the stubble on his jaw, which makes the internal flames inside me flare hotter. It’s just the lack of AC that makes me feel like I’m melting. “You’re right. That wouldn’t be good. Well, I’ll give it some thought.”
“What about your own cameras? One at the top of the driveway? Or a gate?”
“If I installed a gate, my family would just climb over the fencing. Or under it. The barbed wire isn’t so high all around the fields, and in some places, there isn’t even any. They’d find a way through, even if I had this place closed up like a bank vault. That’s just their way. The cameras would only give me advance notice that they were coming. Bust a few of their tires, and they might get the message.”
I want to tell him that they’re his family and that he should love them no matter what because they obviously love him, but the camera incident is still pretty fresh, and the marriage contract isn’t going away. It’s still the both of us who have to make the decision not to get married, and now that we know the consequences of doing it, it’s going to be that much harder.
The thought of turning my back on my parents, even if it isn’t fair to me for them to decide my life that way, even if a marriage should be for love and not just because, even if this and even if that, and even if they werewrong…well, it’s incomprehensible because I love them.
All of a sudden, it’s not my lady bits that are hot. It’s my eyes. They’re burning and prickling. And everything is catching up with me. The long drive across the country, the way I fled out of my parents’ house, not saying more than a few words to them, and being out here totally on my own when I’ve always lived with them. I’m so, so close to my family. Now that the sense of betrayal is fading, I realize how much I miss them.
I realize it all at once, and all of it weighs down on me. The sadness, the loneliness, the fear of what’s coming, the uncertainty of not knowing what the heck is coming next, and what other not-so-great surprises are going to come my way. The past few days have just beena lot.
I felt this way when I finally got here and found Thaddius. But it’s worse now.
This time, I can’t stop the tears.
They come like hot rivers. Like a flash flood sweeping through the kitchen. At least I’m far enough away from the bowl that I don’t cry into the burgers. I don’t need to make good on those funny expressions about flavoring things with tears.
“Oh god. Oh no. Please…please don’t do that. Please, please stop.”
I’m not stopping. I can’t stop. I wish I could, but tears aren’t actually waterworks, and they can’t just be turned off neatly. They’re more like a busted-up pipe or a fire hydrant gone haywire.
“I—I’m sorry,” I stammer with a hiccup. I swipe at my cheeks, but the tears keep on coming. Any moisture I wipe away is quickly replaced. At least I’m not wearing makeup. I never did like most of it, but there’s also the fact that when I really get laughing, I either laugh until I pee myself or cry. And since peeing myself when I’m often in public isn’t a great scenario, I’d rather tear up a little.
“It’s going to be alright. Somehow, it will be,” Thaddius reassures me as he approaches. I see his big shape getting closer through the blur in my eyes. Thankfully, it’s just tears so far—no wrenching sobs, no snot, and nothing grody or dangerous. One big hand comes down on my shoulder.
Pat, pat, pat.
He taps my shoulder lightly like how he petted the donkey this morning when it stuck its head through the window.
