Page 54 of Tastes Like Watermelon Moonshine
I follow him silently to his truck. “I’ve got a blanket in the back, and a lantern, in case it gets dark early. You ready, Sunshine?”
I love it when he calls me sunshine. “I’m excited for our picnic.” The words almost get stuck in my throat. The sadness and excitement wage a battle inside me, and I know it shows on my face and in my voice. I climb up into the truck and slide to the middle of the bench seat and Austin sets the picnic basket on the seat beside me. In seconds, he’s around to the driver's side, sliding in, then pressing against my side, his scent enveloping me.
“Do you have to go?” I finally whisper a few minutes into our drive.
“I want to stay. I want to be here with you.” His hand finds mine and settles on my thigh. “But this is a dream come true–not that you aren’t,” he rubs his thumb over my knuckles. “I have to do this, Rae. I have to follow this dream. And one day, you’ll join me, I’ll see your face after every home game, and we’ll celebrate every win together.” He stops the truck and looks me in the eye, his hand on my cheek. “Let's go have a little picnic, watch the sunset. Then we’ll say goodbye. But I promise we’ll see each other as soon as the season ends.”
“Every day will feel like a lifetime until you get back or I get to be with you.” I don’t hide my tears and he wipes them away. “I feel like you’re choosing baseball over me. Don’t I matter? Don’twematter?”
“Ihaveto do this. I promise everything will be okay.” He starts to drive again, heading toward my favorite spot on myparent’s ranch. “Let’s just think about right now, enjoy what we have right now, okay?”
“I want to know, Austin. I want to know that I matter to you.” I pound a fist against my thigh. “Are you choosing baseball over me? Why?” I sound so ridiculously selfish right now. But I don’t care.
His hand squeezes mine. “We’ll talk about it later, Rae. Right now, I just want to be with you.”
I’ll accept that for now, since he obviously won’t tell me what I really want to hear. I want answers. I want to be his whole world. I want to know why he isn’t giving me a full answer. He’s choosing baseball, and I just have to accept it? I feel like we aren’t a team anymore. He’s gone solo and I’m left all on my own. Or maybe it’s more like I want to change his mind and make him stay, but he won’t entertain that thought.
My favorite tree comes into view as we near the pasture, a large cottonwood that I’ve loved to sit under since I was allowed to ride my horse on my own. I try to think about happy memories and all the parties I’ve had with the girls under that tree. All the dreams I dreamed there with Cocoa, my horse.
The farm road gets bumpier the closer we get to my tree. I lean into Austin, trying to stay steady. We don’t talk, and there’s no music playing aside from the cricket and cicada symphony through the truck’s open windows.
Austin parks the truck under my cottonwood’s massive branches, and spreads out the blanket in the bed of the truck. I climb up and set down the picnic basket, my heart racing and sadness sitting low in my stomach. I made the same meal Austin made for my birthday celebration; fried chicken, potato salad, pickles, chips, and two slices of cake that had been made the day before. After today I’ll either want to eat this meal every day and think about Austin, or I’ll want to never eat it again until he’s back with me.
Pulling out the mason jars of watermelon lemonade I give them a swish. It’s pure luck that I found them in the extra fridge since Mom and I didn’t have the chance to make a fresh batch this afternoon. They were sitting, hidden in the back, next to some watermelon moonshine that Dad likes to occasionally drink in the summer months.
“Want me to pray and we can start eating?” Austin brushes a strand of hair from my face. His voice is soft and sweet. I nod, not trusting my voice.
I make it through the meal, my stomach clenching every time I think about the fact that this is our last night. Austin raises his glass of lemonade and we clink them together in a toast. This batch tastes stronger than normal, the watermelon flavor is the same, but there’s something else there as well. Maybe this is a batch with some sort of sugar substitute.
We sit with our backs against the cab and watch the sun make its descent toward the horizon. The sky is red and purple. It’s beautiful, but right now the desire to give in and have a pity party is overwhelming.
We’ve barely said a word. Our communication has been silent glances and gentle hand touches. I sit with my head on his shoulder, our empty cake plates set beside us. The crickets and birds sing us a melody. It’s beautiful, yet sad and haunting at the same time.
Austin’s thumb brushes a cake crumb off my lip and electricity runs from where his finger brushed me, down to where it settles in my belly. A tear escapes my eye and he swipes that away too. I don’t want to sit here and blubber on his shoulder, but I feel like I can’t do anything but blubber. If continuing to cry means he’ll continue to touch me, I may not stop the tears.
I grab my lemonade and take a big swig. It burns, and makes me think of a doctor’s office. It’s all we’ve got for drinks, so I takea few more sips. My head begins to feel like it’s floating, and the tenseness that had been present in my back wanes.
Austin sets down his empty mason jar, his gaze far away and unfocused.
“Did yours taste different? Almost like an alcohol wipe?” I think about it a little more and gasp. I’m certain that this jar was supposed to be watermelon lemonade. But mom and dad must have mixed some of the two together and never told anyone, thinking they’d be the ones to drink it.
“Yeah, mine has a strange aftertaste.” His eyes widen. “You think it’s gone hard? Or was something else in the first place?”
My head is buzzing, and I debate answering his question. “I think it got mixed with some moonshine.” I say slowly as I cover my eyes with one hand. I’m embarrassed. I never thought my first drink would be an accident. I was going to wait until after I was twenty-one to even decide if I ever did want to try alcohol.
Austin strokes my arm, his fingers running from my shoulder down to my fingertips and brushing against my thigh. I know it’s dangerous territory, especially with us being alone, and in the bed of a truck no less. But we’ve always stopped in time before, and I don’t know when I’ll see him again.
He clinks his bottle against mine. “Well, I guess we’ll make the most of it, celebrate in a way.”
Something inside of me says not to. To stop drinking it. But this is my last night with Austin until who knows when. And I’m not going to waste a minute of it. Right now, he wants me more than baseball. So, I ignore that voice and continue on.
Austin’s leg presses against mine as he shifts to get comfortable. His arm on my shoulder pulls me firmly against him and my eyes fall closed as his heartbeat thrums beneath my ear.
A small fire begins to burn in me as his fingers move from my arm and travel down my thigh to my kneecap where he drawscircles around it. The movement tickles, and a breathless giggle escapes me. I feel nervous, yet relaxed.
Tilting my head back, I turn so I can look into his eyes. His eyes shift back and forth, seeing down into my soul through my eyes. I lazily blink and bite my lip. This moment could stretch into eternity and I wouldn’t mind. This connection, this feeling. I know he loves me. And right now I’m more important than baseball. He could be packing his bags, but he’s here, with me, for now.
His eyes darken, their focus shifting to my lips. I lose myself in his eyes and my lip pops back out from between my teeth.
