“Of course not. But he left her there. I've seen people die—a lot of people. It's hard to leave someone to die. I'm not sure it was as hard for him as it should have been. But, God, I hope it was.”
I carved a heart shape into the suds on Bobby's chest. “Could we not talk about this all for while? I just want to be here with you. Make this room is our bubble.”
He smiled. “Of course, beautiful.”
Bobby massaged shampoo onto my scalp as I swatted away the paper-thin curtain that insisted on clinging to us.
“That's what happens when you stay in these world-class accommodations,” he joked.
“And what in the hell is that?” I pointed to a burnt orange stain at the base of the curtain.
“Probably blood,” he offered casually.
“What?” I yelled, flicking my hands at the curtain to keep it away.
“I'm kidding! I'm kidding!” he shouted through laughter. “My guess is rust got on it somehow, probably from rubbing up on the drain. Or blood.”
“I think it's time for us to get out of this gorgeous bath,” I proclaimed, flinging the curtain to the side. We stepped out, dripping wet, and dried ourselves. I put on his shirt and he stayed naked, which I did not protest to one bit. We laid on the bed together.
“So what are we going to do next?” I asked.
“I still want to drive you out west. We can make stops along the way. Then . . . we'll go up and down the coast. Then wherever the wind takes us. Asia or South America maybe.”
“Wow, so much adventure,” I exclaimed. My stomach grumbled astonishingly loud. I gripped my torso and laughed out of embarrassment.
“I take it you're hungry?” Bobby asked sarcastically.
“Would you believe me at this point if I said I wasn't?”
“Good point.” He rose from the bed. “Well, you are in luck, Lil, because not only does this motel include accommodations such as violent shower curtains and possible murder scenes, but I have some bread and peanut butter.
I crawled over to the end of the bed where he stood. “Oh my god,” I heaved. “Please feed me!”
Bobby pulled out a nearly finished loaf of bread from his bag and a jar of peanut butter. He grabbed tissue paper and laid it on the table using it as a surface to prepare my sandwich.
“Here ya' go, ma' lady,” he said, bowing as he handed it to me. I snatched it out of his hand and took two huge bites. “Do you wan bite?” I cackled as crumbs spilled out of my mouth. “Ma mouf is stuck on da peanut butt-er.”
“No.” He winked. “You feast. I'll polish off the jar. And I'll get a Coke at the vending machine so you can swallow again.”
A minute later he returned with the drink, turned on the TV and smacked it on its side a few times until a decent picture came in. Then he plopped next to me onto the hard mattress.
I rested my head on his shoulder taking another bite. “Will it alway be like dis?” I asked through peanut butter mouth.
He turned to look at me. “If this doesn't make you happy. If you want to settle down at a—”
“No,” I smiled. “Dis is perfeck.”
I stirred when Bobby turned and wrapped his arms around me from behind. The shades were drawn in the room and I had no idea what time it was. I turned to face him and his eyes were shut, but then one popped open playfully.
“Morning, I think,” I groaned through a yawn. “Do you know what time it is?”
He reached behind him, feeling for the alarm clock. “It's uhhhh,” he squinted at it for a while as he brought it close to his face. “Eleven . . . seventeen . . . eighteen.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah. I haven't slept like that since I was a teenager.”
“Me neither. And it's a sauna in here.” I stretched out like a cat, inhaling the scent of Bobby from his shirt. I buried my nose in the collar to get more of it.
“Whatcha doing? He asked.
“Smelling you.”
He pointed to himself. “I'm right here, Lil.”
“I know, but I'm greedy.”
“Me too,” he said, rolling on top of me and burrowing his nose into my neck. It tickled like heck and I couldn't stop laughing. Bobby popped his head up. “So, what do you say? Breakfast?”
“I'm starving,” I lamented. “But I don't want to go into a restaurant around here and see anyone. I've got this bump on my head, and everyone knows everyone around here.”
“Makes sense. Why don't I just run to the little grocery around here? Get us some more bread and P.B.? We can find something further out for dinner.”
“That works for me,” I smiled.
“And whenever you want to hit the road, we can. I don't know what I want to do about Rory, but I don't even care anymore. I just want to get out of here with you.”
“Me too,” I agreed. “I hope he turns himself in. If not, we can decide from there, I guess.”
“I still want us to stop at a doctor though. That cut is ugly. Even on a pretty face like yours.”
I rolled my eyes. “Ugh, yes, yes!” I reassured Bobby.
“Okay,” he sat up sharply, “off I go to feed my woman.”
“Yes, go hunt me some bread, you caveman. Oh do you need your shirt?” I asked.
“It looks too sexy on you to take away. I'll just throw on a t-shirt.”
I admired the view as Bobby slid on some jeans over his naked bottom and a white t-shirt over his long torso. He put on some beaten black oxfords.
Bobby glanced over and caught me staring at him. I didn't realize a smile was plastered across my face until he smiled back.
“Come here,” he said, reaching his hand out. I took it and he pulled me to my feet so that I landed against him. His other hand rested on the small of my back.
“You make me happy, Lil. And we are going to live a hundred lives together.” He smiled as he placed the words against my lips.
“A million,” I murmured back.
“Okay, a million,” he smiled, popping a quick kiss on my lips. “Alright, I need to feed you before you get vicious,” Bobby announced as he headed for the door. “Bread . . . peanut butter . . . anything else?”
“Something to drink? Maybe some fruit?”
“You got it, Lil,” he said with a wink.
The door shut behind him, and I sat back on the bed, a satisfied sigh escaping my chest. This is what it felt like. To be on the cusp of the life you dreamed of. To feel so full of possibility and potential. To look at someone and feel like your heart might stop beating because it couldn't handle the swell of joy. To want the best for someone else, who in turn wanted the best for you. For your heart to overflow with love for someone and know just by looking at that person, that theirs did too.
That's when I heard the shots.
We think we know what's happening in our world. That at any given moment, we have a pretty good idea of where we stand with the people we know. That we truly understand our story as if we could narrate it like some omniscient being. But even in our immediate world—the people we see daily, the places we go, the experiences we have—we only see what we want to see from what people choose to show us. And so we only see a fragment of a fragment. Just an angle of any given moment. And that moment is a prism, giving off so many different shadows and colors.
We only see the things we want to see.
I thought I was the only person with secrets: my secret hell, the secret lover who had died and then had come back to life. I was so involved in my own secrets, that I missed a crucial part of my story.