Page 64 of Hero Hair
I untangle my hand from hers and drive toward the freeway and try to remember the directions Teala gave me only moments before. She silences the static filled radio and looks out the window as we go. She asks me questions as I drive. Not about anything she knows I can’t answer. Simple things. Like where will she get food and clean water and what about electricity and normal living things, and her bank and money, and her apartment. I make up responses the best I can. She believes every single one even though they were only things said to placate her. It’s what I do for my parents and maybe she knows I’m doing it because she’s seen it firsthand, but she doesn’t remark. She squeezes my hand tighter and leans her body as close as she can to mine.
Her mother’s road is bare of cars when we arrive forty minutes later. I was right in my assumption. The melee isn’t as severe out here. Or at least I tell myself this as a comfort tool. “You’ll be safe here,” I explain.
It’s not a steel ball, but at least they’ll have each other. The neighborhood is filled with older houses. This blessedly means residents have more property and can’t hear their neighbors fucking like animals. She points to a tall red brick Tudor with a high, rod iron fence surrounding it on all four sides. The gate is locked and there’s a box to buzz. Viola must be watching for us because the gate opens before I lean over to punch in the code Teala rattled off.
Her shoulders relax and her breathing evens as we roll down the long, black winding drive. Trees line it on either side and they meet each other at the top. A tree tunnel. “I like this more and more,” I say, mostly for my own benefit.
I’m nodding when she asks, “Why?”
“There’s only one point of entry and it’s locked. It doesn’t mean people can’t get in, but it may detract them.” I have no idea what to expect and no one knows the extent of the damage still ongoing. I pull the car behind a red sedan and throw the shifter into park. Sighing, I face her. “I don’t want to leave you here and I don’t want to tell you what to do.”
Teala is antsy. I can tell she wants to get inside to her mother. That’s what I need. “I won’t leave here. If you tell me to stay, I will.”
I glare at her. “Not like this morning?”
She looks down at her lap, a small smile playing on her lips. It vanishes quickly. “I had no clue when you told me then. Had you said the world was ending I probably would have listened,” she explains, using her hands. “Or better yet, demanded you take me with you.”
There it is. She wants what I want. Something I can’t accomplish.
“I wish I could take you with me, Teala. The president is drafting orders as we speak. Martial law will go into effect shortly.” I explain the basics. About how typically there will be a curfew and checkpoints on roads. No one will be allowed out at dark and our military takes over completely. It’s scary for civilians. Congress has never declared martial law. My mind whirs in a million different directions as I sort the information.
I help her out of the car and into the house. Her mother gives her a tearful hello, hugs me, and disappears out of Teala’s room to leave us alone. My phone rings three times while I’m in the house. Each time it’s someone telling me more bad news. I try to keep my composure for Teala’s benefit. It’s business as usual. I repeat that several times. I close the door behind us.
Teala is pacing back and forth in between her bed and the window covered in white, gauzy curtains. It’s her childhood bedroom and it looks as if it’s untouched by all the years in between eighteen and now.
“Look at me,” I say, my voice thick.
She stops pacing and spins on her heel. “How is this real life?” she asks. “I’m practical. I’m going to do the things you told me. I’ll be okay. I will. That doesn’t mean I can’t wonder what in the ever loving fuck happened, Macs. I think God is punishing the world because I’m happy. Why am I happy right now despite the amount of death?” She waves her arm to the window. “Don’t leave me here, Macs. Please.”
I swallow hard.
“God has nothing to do with this,” I say. “Bad guys do. Ones that I have to take care of. If I don’t, who will?”
“Someone else can. It’s selfish and rude and I feel like a heathen even requesting it, but I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t ask. Do you understand? I want you to be with me,” Teala says. “Don’t leave me. Not like this.”
Tears are pouring down her face and I’m more uncomfortable in this social setting than I have been in a really long time. Explaining won’t do any good when her emotions are so heightened. She wouldn’t understand, and I can’t fault her for that.
“I’m scared, Macs. Don’t leave me.”
I cross to her and take her in my arms. “You’re going to be okay,” I lie.
How can anything possibly be okay after this? Nothing will ever be the same. Catastrophes change people, which in turn shape the world. Instead of spinning in a nice round circle, it might hiccup here and there. It doesn’t go away. It’s a forever change.
“You’ll be safe here,” I amend.
I breathe in her hair. I kiss her neck, her collarbone, the place where her ear meets her cheek. The truth is when I leave here I have no idea when I’ll be back. If ever. I love my country. I agreed to die for it. If I only get to feel this for the short time we’ve had, I’ll die a happy man. She leans back to peer into my eyes—my soul.
Teala’s stopped crying, but her face is wet and I lose my breath. Her tears are for me and that changes everything. She strips her tank over her head and steps out of her tight pants. I wasn’t planning on having sex with her, but she’s so sad and it might be the last time, so I don’t fault myself the delay. She hits her knees and unfastens my belt and unzips my pants.
“I’ve always wanted to fuck a man in uniform,” Teala says.
She’s hiding from the truth, and I won’t deny her. Hell, I wouldn’t deny her anything I could feasibly give her. It doesn’t scare me anymore.
“And I just want you. Always, only you,” I reply, cradling the sides of her face. She slides my boxer briefs down to my ankles and pushes me to awkwardly walk backward until the back of my legs hit the bed.
Teala crawls up me, her naked body a swath of warm, delicious skin, and I make a point of erasing my mind of everything but her.
It surprises me how easy it is. She is peeling off my skin, separating muscle, coiling around the untouched places reserved for darkness and depravity. Her light is inside me.
That makes her mine.
