Page 50 of The Last Man on Earth
And he’s a rapper, too?
He best get the taste out his mouth, because it is not happening.
But as I drift off the sleep, all I see behind my eyes is him.
Which isn’t so bad.
Maybe we’ll make love in my dreams.
Day 7
Chapter 23
Vincent
Breakfast is a handfulof half-melted, half-crushed macarons. Pale green, pink, purple, and tan. Looks like some shit Ari would eat. They all just taste like sugar to me.
She sits cross-legged across from me, chewing quietly, her hair coming out of her braids a little around her edges, which is hella cute. I stare at her for a while before saying, “I think we should go ahead and move today.”
Her eyebrows lift, curious. “What changed your mind?”
I swat an ant off my leg. “Last night, I got to thinking. I realized that we keep putting shit off out of hope instead of doing what makes sense for us right now. I mean, it sounds good to say,if nobody comes for us tomorrow, or the day after, or next week…but that ain’t helpin’ us. It’s keeping us stuck.”
She stares down at the dirt beneath her. “You might be right.”
“I know I am. Remember last night, when I said something about avoiding the inevitable? I mean, that was about something else, but what if the inevitable is about us being stuck here for a while?”
She closes her eyes and exhales. “I haven’t even wanted to think about that,” she says. “Much less say it.”
“Me, neither,” I admit. “But the truth is, words must ain’t gotthatmuch power. Folks always talk about manifesting shit and speaking things into existence, but what about the things wedon’twant? Staying quiet about bad shit ain’t never stopped bad shit from happening.”
She nods, her eyes glistening. A tear slips out when she blinks and rolls down her cheek. She wipes it away quick, her eyes fixed on the ground below.
“You can cry,” I reassure. “It’s okay. Cryin’ about it don’t make you weak.”
“I’m just…processing,” she says with a sniffle.
“Yeah. I know. It’s a hard pill to swallow. But once you get it down, the rest of your life gotta get lived.”
She looks away, breathing deep, trying to pull herself together. It’s weird how it feels like I’m strong when she’s weak, and vice versa. I wanna reach across and grab her and pull her to me, but I stop myself. She needs some time with her thoughts.
I had mine last night.
Laying beside her, staring into the darkness, frustrated as hell because she was right there, close enough to touch, close enough to smell, knowing I couldn’t do anything wastorture. My body wanted her in a way I don’t remember wanting anything or anyone else. I didn’t sleep at all. Just laid there until I realized it—that we might really be stuck here for a while.
Laying there in the shelter I built, in the place I thought we’d only have to sleep in for a night or two, I think I went through all the stages of grief. It took the sun rising for me to reach acceptance, but I’m there. Now, I’m trying to getherthere so it’s not too hard on her.
“Okay,” she says quietly. I look over at her and see that her face is calm again. “What do you need me to do?”
Together, we pack our shit. It takes longer than I thought it would, but we get what we need into four suitcases. I estimate needing two trips, maybe three.
First trip is easy. Light bags, clothes, and the food we have left. We pick a spot about a two-minute walk from the ocean. Ari didn’t wanna be directly on the beach. She said she needed the cover of the trees to feel safe. She ain’t wrong, either. It feels like the right balance between survival and sanity.
Second trip is heavier. I broke the shelter down, and all the pieces are heavy when you’re carrying them bitches for fifteen minutes. Ari totes all the leaves and small branches. I get the rest.
The third trip ‘bout kills me. I have the last of the logs perched on both my shoulders, feeling like the hardest workout I’ve ever done. About halfway there, I happen to look up, and I notice some of the trees have small round fruit clustered on the branches. I make a mental note of a potential new food source and tell myself I’ll double back tomorrow to check them out.
When I get back to the new spot, Ari’s already clearing out our new living area. She’s using the axe to clear brush and rocks, and it’s funny seeing her prissy ass doing something strenuous. It’s cute for about a minute, and then I think she should be somewhere resting while I do the hard shit.
