Forgive Me (17 page)

J
ason and I spend our nights at the fire pit, warming ourselves and finding new ways to share an Adirondack chair. Our days we waste fishing, and reading, and swimming in the too cool lake. I play music all week that Jason hates, but only changes half the time, and we bask in each other.

I nap in the hammock and by Wednesday I’m finally rested. I wake to the sight of Jason taking his pocketknife out and carving the tree at my feet.

“Marking it. The way I wish I could mark you,” he says, and continues carving until he backs up and I can see
J.L. + A.O.
carved in it.

“Who’s A.O.?” I ask playfully.

“Some buckle bunny,” he says, and I burst into laughter.

“What the hell is a buckle bunny?”

“It’s a rodeo groupie. They travel around to different rodeos and have favorite cowboys they root for. And when I say root for, I mean in the biblical way.” I am in awe of this information.

“Why, Jason Leer, you are a bona fide celebrity, buckle bunnies and all. I’m not worthy,” I say, and he smiles back at me. The smile that tells me I am the center of his universe. No one and nothing will ever hurt me.

From my shady hammock I see the sky, a perfect porcelain blue. Three giant black birds soar in a circle above us, their wings barely moving. They’re a perfect pinwheel in the sky.

“Turkey buzzards,” he says, and I squint to see better. I’ve never seen a beautiful turkey buzzard. They’re always on the side of the road picking at carcasses. “They’re looking for death.”

“Maybe we should move around,” I say, and Jason turns his gaze to me. He’s the happiest I’ve ever seen him. “What a horrible existence,” I say.

“That’s how they were created.” The buzzards continue in their circle and I’m mesmerized.

“They’re so high you can’t tell what they are. That close to heaven they’re beautiful.”

“You’re beautiful,” he says, and I release the birds completely from my gaze. “And this is close to heaven.” A blue jay lands on the branch above Jason’s carving. It hops and sings, and is full of life as the turkey buzzards soar above us. The little bird is simple and sweet, and steals my attention from the symbol of death.

“You can’t die, Annie.” I abandon the blue bird and find Jason watching me. “You can’t leave me here alone. It will be hell…again.”

And there it is. The answer to all our fights. Someone else might be afraid to lose me, but the last person Jason lost, he lost forever.

“I’m not going to die. I’m as full of life as this blue bird.” Jason climbs into the hammock with me and I roll onto my side, my arm across his stomach, holding him until the ideas fade from his mind.
I’m not going anywhere.

On Thursday the temperature hits eighty degrees and we take the kayaks out and explore the lake. I’ve never seen a lake so big. We find an island and Jason makes love to me on the beach, and I name it “Lovers Land.”

I run my hand in the water as my kayak drifts past his on our way home.

“What is it with you and the water?” he asks.

“What is it with you and the land?” I retort. “Without water there’d be nothing.”

“Same with the land,” he says, and I consider his point of view.

“But you’re okay with lakes?” I ask.

“They’re surrounded by land.”

“Of course,” I say, and forget his point of view. I’ll have a lifetime to try and embrace it.

We return to the cottage and Jason mixes me a Jack and Coke while I make a salad for dinner. He pulls my hair to the side and kisses the back of my neck until I’m covered in sweat. He bends me over the kitchen table and takes me from behind. He runs his tongue down my back, his dick inside of me, and I decide to drop out of Rutgers and buy this cottage. This is probably how the Unabomber started to fall off.

I straighten up. I’m swollen, bruised, and ripped apart. My nipples are so sore air touching them hurts.

“We can’t have sex for a while,” I say, and cut the tomatoes. Jason is standing next to me before I have a chance to gauge his reaction.

“Why is that?”

“My body can’t take much more. It needs a break. I’m sure there are other things we can do.”

“Annie, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. It’s just a lot of activity after being completely alone for a month. I’m sore.” Jason lifts me up and tosses me on the table. He spreads my legs and pulls me toward the light performing some crude OB/GYN exam and I shake my head.

“Oh. You’re so red and swollen.”

“I know,” I say, and he lowers his head and kisses my bruised labia, causing the swelling to throb. He takes me in his mouth and sucks, and my breath catches.

“This isn’t exactly”— I breathe—“The break I was talking about, but it’s so good.” His hand finds my breast. I lay my head back on the table and let his tongue heal me. He slips a finger in me and even this is difficult, but once in he turns it to the ceiling and strokes me. His tongue, his hand, his finger.
I am so glad I brought this up.
I reach down to touch his hair and with my other hand I cover my eyes as I come and Jason tickles me with his tongue. Screw dinner. I’m just going to lie here on the table the rest of the night.

“Let’s take a bath,” he says, and pulls me upright. “It’ll make you feel better.” I sit up and now this even hurts. Jason leads me into the bathroom and starts the water running into the enormous claw foot tub in the middle of the room. I go to the living room and grab my phone and portable speakers. I watch as he smells a jar of bath salts and pours them in with no regard for measurement as I turn on the music I’m sure he will complain about.

“Where’s your lighter?” I ask.

“You gonna start smokin’?”

“To light a candle,” I say, exasperated.

“I’ll do it. You get in while it’s hot.” I undress and look at myself in the mirror. I’m well-rested and rosy-cheeked from the sun; the picture of health, until you see the rest of me. Car accident? Losing end of a paintball game? Sex with Jason Leer? I’m battered and bruised. I run my hand along the inside of my thigh and shudder at the thought of the things he does to me. Jason stands behind me and stops my hand with his own as he whispers in my ear, “Get in the tub.”

I do as I’m told and climb into the tub. I lower myself until the water touches my torso and lift back up wincing.

“Too hot?”

“I just need a second to get used to it,” I say, and lower myself again. I rest my arms on the sides and sink in, laying my head on the edge. Jason undresses in front of me, to my delight, and then goes to change the music.

He stands by the cabinet listening and I wonder what he’s waiting for. His tolerance for any music I like is limited at best. He tilts his head and listens to the lyrics, and looks back at me. He likes the song.

“I feel beautiful when you look at me.”

“You are beautiful, Annie. Surely you know that. I’ve heard you told a hundred times before.”

“Understanding the way others view my appearance and the way I feel when you look at me are two totally different things.” Jason lowers his magnificent self into the tub.

“What else do you feel when I look at you?”

“I thought you didn’t want me to think about us?”

“That was then,” he says with no need to finish the sentence. That was during a time when he protected me from thinking about anything. Jason’s eyes tell a different story now.

“Transparent,” I start, trying to decipher how I feel. “Alive. Condemned. Wanted. Safe. I feel like nothing bad can happen to me if I’m with you.”

Jason holds my foot in the air and rests it on his shoulder and washes my leg with a sponge.

“It scares me, the control you have over me.” This he finds humorous.

“That’s interesting because it’s the complete lack of control that keeps me awake at night.” He places my leg back in the water and raises the other one. I could watch him touch me all night long. So gentle, here on Cedar Creek Lake in the fine state of Texas.

“What are you going to do after graduation?” The question comes out of nowhere and I have no answer.

“I’m just getting used to the idea I’m back in school. I haven’t considered after. It’s common to have a Masters in Statistics. Maybe I’ll do that.”

“So common.”

“Probably not as common as Philosophy majors.” I smile as I mention his major. “What are you going to do?” Fear grips me with this talk of the future.

“I won’t graduate for another year.”

“Why?”

“Light credits, especially in the spring. Makes it easier to miss four days a week at rodeos.” Ah, the rodeo. It’s not just a sport, it’s a lifestyle. One that I don’t understand.

“Do you ever think it would be easier to date a girl from Oklahoma?” I ask.

“Every day you’re away I think it.” I’m taken aback. “They’re close. I could have them every day. They understand rodeo,” he chides.

“They have dirty shoes,” I interject.

“They listen to good music,” he says, and I recognize how much easier life would be for him if he was with someone else. I stare into the bubbles in front of me. Jason slides forward and lifts my head.

“No matter what, I can’t get past they’re not you. You’re in my blood and I’ll never let you go.” I should be insulted, or offended, or worried, but I understand all too well.

“Condemnation,” I say.

Jason slides me around so my back is on his chest, his dick is resting between my cheeks, and washes the front of me with a light touch I didn’t think this cowboy was capable of.

“Close your eyes and, if you promise not to use it against me, I’ll tell you why I love you,” he says in my ear, but my eyes are already closed. I lay my head on his shoulder and he kisses my neck.

“I promise.”

“I love you, Annie, because when most girls would fall apart, you get pissed off. You don’t understand the concept of surrender.” I float up, not realizing I’m arching my back at his touch. “And you can’t be tamed.” He pulls me back to him “And yet I’ve never met someone with a greater ability to see the good in people. You are the perfect mix of courage and mercy.” Jason rubs the sponge down the front of me and back up. His lips graze my neck and slide to my ear.

“Come to Oklahoma, Annie,” he whispers, and I realize turning me around was a gift to one of us. He’s letting me hide my eyes.

“Haven’t we been over this?”

“Not now. Spend the summer there with me and move there after you graduate. Spend my senior year with me.” A thousand reasons not to go to Oklahoma run through my mind. The tornadoes, the heat, all the white people—this I smile at, unsure of what my problem is with white people. No friends, no ocean. I’ll be an alien there. But he’ll be there.

“I’ll go. I’ll spend the summer there and if it works, I’ll move there after graduation.”

“You will?” He turns me around.

“On one condition.”

“I would say anything, but it’s you so I’ll just ask what the condition is.”

“You’ve got to back off of me for the next year.” Jason frowns. “Trust my instincts. Believe that I’m surrounding myself with good people. Give me some credit.”

“Annie, you have to admit your behavior is a little scary.”

“I live smack dab between Philadelphia and New York City. If I want a tranny hooker dressed as a nurse to deliver an eight ball of cocaine to me, I can get it in an hour.” Jason’s eyes widen. “I’m fine. I will get high. I might try ’shrooms. I’ll most definitely stay up too late and possibly not drink enough fluids, but I’m going to be okay. You have to trust me.” Jason still looks like he wants to protest.

“You make me want to lie to you about what I do,” I say, and it hits him like a punch to the face. He leans back in the tub shaking his head in defeat.

“All right. I’ll try.”

Our last full day on Cedar Creek Lake arrives in a flash of lightning. I lie on a towel at the edge of the dock listening to the water lap against its pilings. I want to spend every day like this. Jason’s above me, holding a fishing rod in one hand and smoking a cigarette with the other. I shake my head. He’s probably scaring all the fish away with the smell of burning nicotine.

“What?” he asks.

“You know you can’t catch fish without water.”

“You can’t cook them without land,” he retorts, and I lie back staring at the sky. The southern sky is covered with wisps of clouds, brushstrokes, but the sky directly above us is filled with the threatening kind, and each one blows fast to the east. Too fast. This beautiful day is moving out, like us tomorrow. I look at Jason again and he is the happiest I’ve ever seen him, skipping around here since the minute I said I would move to Oklahoma. I feel like I’ve done something wrong. It sits in me with a dull tone I can’t quite pinpoint the origin of. Do I not want to go?

“What’s wrong, Annie?”

“I’m not sure,” I answer honestly.

“Our last day on the lake?” he asks, but he doesn’t seem convinced.

“Probably.”

The clouds move in and darken the north end of the lake first. Everything is moving fast now. The winds pick up as if responding to a command in my head. The trees near the dock blow and my hair covers my face as I look to the sky.

“Is it supposed to rain today?” I ask.

“Looks it,” He says, and I can see lightning in the distance, still up in a cloud, not touching the ground.

“We should go in.”

“Right, you’re safety girl.”

Jason pulls his line from the water and fastens his hook on the pole. We settle into a large bench on the back porch of the house as the deluge arrives. The rain sweetens my mood by drowning out any hint of guilt in my head. The drops hit the leaves and fall to the ground surrounding us with its calming music. Until the thunder booms and I jump in Jason’s arms. He laughs as the rest of the rumble finishes.

“Surprised me.”

“You surprised me when you agreed to move to Oklahoma,” he says, and I’m in shock.

“Did you think I would say no?”

“I know you love it where you are. I know how much I’m asking you to give up,” Jason rubs the back of my hair and I sit up to face him.