Page 62 of Anywhere with You
I pointed. “Even the rocks are beautiful out here. Layers of red and cream and orange in these amazing formations.”
Cara didn’t answer. I put a hand on her shoulder.
“It is beautiful here,” I said.
She stopped and looked at me, then looked around. “Is it beautiful where we live, too?”
I leaned closer to her. “So beautiful. We have millions of trees, oaks and pines and others, I’m sure, but that’s all the tree names I know without making shit up. We have rivers and bayous and botanical gardens. And there are those incredible vines with dark orange flowers that grow up under the overpasses, fifty feet into the air. Have you seen them, Cara?”
She nodded slowly. “I think…I forgot to notice it. Before this week, I hadn’t stopped and appreciated anything in a long time.”
I wanted to kiss her so badly. I swear, her lips took over ninety percent of my thoughts these days.
But instead, I turned so we were standing side by side, looking out over the landscape together.
I felt the same, in a way, like I’d been caught up in my own thoughts too much to notice the beauty around me, but I suspected that for Cara, it had been much longer than a couple of months. She’d been unhappy for a long time, whereas I had been mostly happy, running my store and living my life in cheery ignorance of the fact that my lying slug of a wife was cheating on me.
Still, I wasn’t in a hurry to move from this spot. If I’d tried this with Bridget, if I’d saidHey let’s take a minute and enjoy the view, she would’ve rolled her eyes and gone back inside.
I decided a long time ago that I didn’t need her to pay attention, that I could enjoy the world without having someone to share my joy, and I was right. But damn, it was nice to share it. It was beyond nice, when Cara noticed the blue outline of the mountains in the distance,to hear her breathing change. It was beyond nice, when she looked down, to watch the toes of her sneakers sift the multicolored stones, knowing that she, like me, was watching how the sunlight glinted off the surfaces and how quickly the dirt darkened as she brushed away the top layer, the ground still wet underneath from the rain.
“I used to read Mary Oliver’s poetry every day so I didn’t feel alone,” I told her, the words bursting out of me like a confession.
“Mary Oliver?”
“Oh, that’s right. You’re a science nerd. Not a literary nerd.”
“Or a music nerd,” she said, grinning. “I don’t know why it surprises me so much that you’re a poetry reader.”
“I don’t either. Poetry is music. I’ll show you later. I brought…a couple of her books with me.”
“How many is a couple?” she asked, catching my hesitation.
“All of them,” I confessed. “She wrote about paying attention, about nature, about wonder, about being a person in a world that doesn’t make it easy.”
“The music nerd has hidden depths,” she said with a little laugh. “Don’t forget, later. I want to see all your favorite poems.” Then she took my hand just long enough to pull me forward. “Come on. Hot springs, remember?”
Chapter Twenty-four
Lane was right. We couldn’t miss it. There was a single gravel path leading from the back door, through the cactus garden, and out into the desert.
The air smelled clean and earthy, with an almost herbal scent. I bent over some cacti and breathed deeply.
I worried that the day would be too warm for the hot springs to be enjoyable, but when we reached them, half a mile from the house, neither Cara nor I hesitated. We pulled off shirts, shorts, and shoes, left them in a pile on the rocks, and eased ourselves into the clear, warm water.
I wore a plain black one-piece that was advertised asslimming, if such a thing can ever be said about two square feet of fabric. Cara’s swimsuit was red with orange hibiscus. It was two-piece, and it didn’t quite contain the voluptuousness of her ass, the faint tan line separating warm brown and soft-looking paler skin, so I had to restrain both my voice and hands until she was submerged.
Had we never even changed clothes in front of each other on our days of travel? We’d spent so much time rushing from tourist attractions to hotels, taking turns showering and falling asleep quickly. Had I realized how enthralling her curves would be beneath those sundresses and embroidered jeans, I would’ve paid more attention.
There were several recesses in the rocky ground, some deep, some shallow, some comfortable, some that I’d use to heat up soup but would never get in myself. The whole area smelled faintly of sulfur, but very faintly. The absence of a chlorine smell was actually the strangest part. I rarely swam in lakes or rivers or the ocean. Most of the water I’dtouched in my life had been treated with chlorine, whether a little out of the tap or a lot in the city swimming pool.
“Dear goodness,” Cara moaned in a way that made my mouth water. She slid down until her shoulders were covered in the warm water, her head resting on the rocky ledge. I forced myself to stop searching for another glimpse of her butt, but dear Lord.
I was not a butt person. I was very much a boob person, if anything, though I’d like to say for the record that all humans are beautiful, and personality matters so much that I’d rather get slapped in the face with a live porcupine than date most of the good-looking people I actually knew in person.
However, I’m also not one to ignore a wonder of the natural world.
I pressed my eyes closed as I tried to stop my brain’s obsessive fantasies. What had Cara said? Oh yes,dear goodness. Before I could imagine a few other situations that might elicit the phrase, I turned toward her.
