Page 35 of Road Refugees

“Ah,” he said, looking to one side. “I had a fiancée. She died.”

Good God in an evil world. What sort of painful Pandora’s box had I opened? I stood and took two long strides to face him. “Lord have mercy, Town! I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you think of anything hurtful.”

I had thought he might look stoic, set his jaw that was already damned square, and write it off. Instead, he lifted his hand to my chin, stroking it with the backs of his fingers. “You do remind me a bit of her. In all the good ways.” His eyes sparkled, so maybe he was over the pain.

I didn’t cringe from him. “I hope I wouldn’t be a stormy love. I’m pretty even-keeled when some man isn’t beating on me.” I had no idea I was going to mention that, yet I still didn’t pull back from him. In fact, I sort of leaned into him, our crotches meeting.

He looked from one of my eyes to the other. “I didn’t think you’d be stormy. But you look like her, the long caramel hair, the tone of your voice, your . . . shape.”

Oh, dear. I did know what that meant. I finally looked down in shame. “My rack is rather large for my size.”

His fingers turned my chin so I faced him again. “Why do you call it a rack? Is that some Cornucopia thing? That’s derogatory.”

I had to think. “Yes . . . my husband.”

“Then stop. Call them breasts.” A smile flitted across his mouth. What deep layers of experience were contained in those eyes. “Or boobs, if you’re some halfwit in the army.”

We both grinned like morons at each other. With the fronts of my thighs plastered against his, his packed crotch perfectly molded against my pubic mound. My inner channel bloomed with pleasure, like it used to before Orson had angrily tossed my vibrator.

I think Town might have even kissed me, but some shouting that was completely out of sync with our spirits interrupted us.

“Cap’n!” yelled the moron. “Permission to enter?”

Without taking his eyes from mine, Town barked from the corner of his mouth. “Permission denied.” How . . . sexy he was when he acted authoritative! I had never appreciated a commanding tone before. In fact, I had shied away from it, understandably.

Slappy entered anyway, his long arms swinging at his sides. He even saluted, his taut hand trembling against his caterpillar of hair. I, too, stood at attention next to the captain. What else could I do? I’d been caught in a compromising position! But Slappy didn’t seem to notice. “Cap’n! I’d like to inspect the premises!”

Town waved. “Go ahead. There’s nothing really, yet.”

Slappy’s eyes were like solid eight balls, black and glimmering. “I’ve been microdosing for days. I’m using it to improve my focus and attention.”

“Taking what?” Town folded his arms.

“Purple Haze. Can you believe that shit’s still around? I only took one gram of your Dickwater’s shrooms.”

Town chuckled and loosened up. “Yeah. We took two grams.”

And bam, just as Town said that, I started feeling the effects.

Against the grimy greenhouse windows, I saw what can best be described as stars. The giant pane of glass became a universe full of glittering points. As the men talked, I wandered to the far end, a receding tunnel of oblivion I wanted to bravely explore. I didn’t feel threatened or scared by the darkness—it was like the darkness that came with chloral hydrate, a welcome relief. As I accepted it this way, the stars dissolved into a powerful display of bursting colors. I’d never seen such flaming beauty, not even in the sandstone canyons where I often hid out. They were like spectrums of color I’d never noticed before, and therefore can’t describe.

The blazing hues streamed into one another, creating even newer shades, knitting a mosaic. To paint such a scene would take forever, if it was even possible!

“Heaven.”

Someone touched my arm, and I opened my eyes. “Oh!” I cried. I hadn’t known I had my eyes closed. Now I knew the greenhouse was just a greenhouse, even though the glass walls continued to breathe and ripple. “I want to paint!” I proclaimed, like a little kid.

Slappy looked blank. “Paint . . . a greenhouse?”

The sun was setting, perhaps causing some of the contrasting light and dark tinctures I’d seen through my eyelids.

Town filled in for me. “No, paint landscapes. Right?”

“Exactly!” Impulsively, I rushed from the grow room, bypassing a relaxed Linus. He lay, paws crossed, next to an adorable fluffy white dog. In the brief split second I saw them, it was like I knew their entire story. They had been playing together all day, someone had fed them, and now was their kicking back time. They were utterly glutted and mellow, watching us humans enact strange plays.

A tree stump was the perfect spot to jump up and orate. Luckily, Town followed me. Stoneman Lake had receded in recent years, Pippa had told me. Because of its shallowness, it dried up easily in drought times such as this. Elk grazed without a care on the muddy shallows, nestled in reflective ponds that looked like giant water lilies, sheets of brilliant yellow flowers and rocks crusted with dried moss.

I spread my arms wide and proclaimed, “This will be a hibernation period for me! I will finally get religion because it will finally make sense. No hypocrites saying one thing and doing the other. My new friends are related to the mysterious universe, their duties and destinies twined with mine. They are my religion. I will have time to repair machinery, hook rugs, and mend harnesses.”