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Though, there’s something about the sky here. It’s different. The constellations are still there, in the same distinct pattern I’ve studied since I was a child, but a part of me feels like it’s not the same.
It’s like I’m looking at a different sky. It makes me feel like a different person entirely, like who I was is not who I am now.
The guys constructed me a makeshift bed outside, made of sticks and stones. I sleep out here most nights, unless the air gets too cool. But I like it out here, the night is silent with the occasional coyote howling in the distance, or the sounds of horse hooves pounding against the earth.
But no traffic. No pollution. No people.
Just us.
Sometimes Willie sleeps outside with me.
Willie.
What is Willie? I don’t know. A boyfriend? Absolutely not. A friend? Something in between? Probably.
He makes my heart hurt a little less and hurt a little more at the same time. He’ll never behim, and I knew that the moment I met Willie. But his long blond hair and cheeky smile make him so boyish, no girl would be blind to his charms.
My fingers subconsciously go to my necklace, the chain hot in the sun. I want to take it off, once and for all, but I know even telling myself that is a lie, because it’s just as much a part of me as the rest of my body is. I can’t separate from my soul, as much as I beg myself to at night underneath the stars, crying into the night because all I want is to be free of him. Be free of this love and pain that I feel day and night. But that freedom never comes. My love is too strong, too sure.
The pain and love mingle together and run through my blood, hot as fire. Nothing will stop it.
Nothing.
I shake my head, clearing these thoughts as I finish the dreamcatcher.
Pressing my toes against a slippery rock in the creek, I push myself back until I'm flat on my back.
"What do you think?" I ask, showing the dreamcatcher to Neil and Willie behind me.
Willie checks out my stomach, his eyes grazing from my rib cage all the way to the waistline of my skirt. My nipples protrude, poking through my white shirt that I've shredded to crop right below my breasts. Out here in the desert, less clothes are better. He settles his guitar on the ground, crawling over to me in his shorts, no shirt. His blond hair fans around his face as an evil smile crosses his face.
He bends over, kissing me upside down. His hand slips beneath the collar of my shirt, tweaking my peaked nipple in his fingers. I roll away from him, a sharp bush poking me in my naked side. "Ouch."
"You shouldn't have rolled away from me, then," he chuckles.
I roll my eyes, sitting up and sliding the dreamcatcher into my satchel with the pile of other ones I have. We'll probably drive down to Globe tomorrow, the Wild West town with the mines and all the cowboys. It's a smallish town, reminds me of home a bit. The locals and tourists love my dreamcatchers.
I need to sell them because we're running low on our canned foods. We cook outside, around our makeshift firepit in front of the Winnebago.
My skin still can't tan, not even in the hot sun of Arizona. I turn red with a burn that hurts for days, even the slightest touch causes pain, then once the burn subsides, I'm back to my palish hue—the milky-white skin of someone who doesn't ever see the light of day.
We sleep by the stream, because most of the other canals in the area are dried up, only filling after a heavy rain. We have to boil the water, cleaning out any contaminants, but it's better than packing our things up and driving into the closest town for water.
We live off the land.
A part of me loves it, this feeling of living completely different from everyone else. Being able to sleep, eat, and bathe in the wild. We live in a place that isn't full of pollutants, chemicals, metals, and everything else wrong with the world. I've learned a lot about the good and bad of the world on my travels. We've been to Flagstaff, Phoenix, Globe, and my favorite, the Apache Trail. It's all so much different, but one thing remains the same.
Every place I go, the moment I leave, I still feel a little lost. That part of me that I search for remains missing. That piece that I desperately search for between the dried bushes and on top of the red mountains, it’s not there. Whatever I’m looking for, it just isn’t here.
I’m worried that in the bottom of my heart, I know what it is I’m looking for. Or rather,whoI’m looking for. I don’t want to be tied to him; I don’t want to need him as much as my soul aches for him.
I don’twantto want him, even if I know he’s the only one I need.
Crossing the border, I only felt a loneliness that dragged my heart across the state lines, leaving fractured pieces along the way. I can't lie about that, and my friends all know I left something behind that was soul-crushing, so hard that I've never been able to speak about it.
Unfortunately for me, I've come to realize that what I had with Roman was love, and I don't think I'll ever experience it with anyone else. Not with anyone else.
I don't know where Roman is. I don't know if he's still singing. I stay away from the newspapers and televisions and radios whenever they're around. I'd prefer not to speak of it. And the rare times I'm able to call my parents to check up on them, they know not to bring him up.
