14. Boondocking

14

BOONDOCKING

LIKE REAL PEOPLE DO, HOZIER

Manny

“I understand you’re upset but I told you we’re handling this,” I argue, not actually knowing if anyone is handling anything. The contrast of the peace and quiet around me with the loud voices on Virgil’s side of the line is astounding. I can hear the sharp tone of everyone around him and the grunt of his words could make the earth shake. But I’m not going to turn into an ass like him. I’ve got to control the situation.

“What are you handling? Are you still on vacation? Are you back in New York?” he asks, like I need to be physically somewhere to do my job.

“The market conditions have been extreme lately. You wanted to take an aggressive approach and not preserve cash flow. Sometimes it backfires and sometimes it works. It looks like it’s backfiring, but we’re watching the market to make sure we do what’s best for you. The setbacks are hard to predict but we are working on it,” I add. It’s like talking to a little kid who’s not getting his way. This is the worst part about this business—when people don’t understand that they won’t always win.

A loud clap of thunder echoes through the trees, and when I look up, the sky is rapidly turning ten shades of gray. The weather in this area is so volatile, way more than I expected.

“Extreme conditions or not, this is a disaster and not a solid investment. And now I’m looking at significant losses.” Virgil’s anger is clear, echoing through the phone line. I could go on and on about how we diversify and employ risk management strategies and how the market has affected even the most stable investments, but that won’t help.

“Virgil, we’re actively working on a revised strategy to mitigate these losses. Would you like me to call you in forty-eight hours with some options?”

His voice is a mix of skepticism and exhaustion as he replies, “I need concrete steps and a timeline for recovery. If things don’t improve, I’ll have to reconsider my options.” This man has been with me since we opened the company. He’s just trying to act all tough.

I look up and see Cara picking everything up because the sky just went from gray to almost black and the rain could start any moment. “We will provide you with a comprehensive plan and timeline by the end of the week. Your trust is important to us, and we’re doing everything we can to restore it,” I say, and he hangs up. Maldito hijo del que lo parió ? 1 .

I rush to help Cara with everything. “Here, here, I’m sorry—let me help you.” I grab the bag from her hands and run with her to the van. The rain starts to fall, cold and wet on my cheeks as we run. I usually hate rain. People don’t know how to drive, making it impossible to get anywhere in a decent amount of time. My sister had a weird crash last year on a rainy day and that doesn’t help either. It also reminds me of how sad life can be. As if the planet gets it too and it gives us rain so we can remember her tears. After I open the back door and we put everything in, I turn to hear giggles from Cara. She’s run back out to the middle of the grassy area and is spinning in circles, letting the rain fall on her.

I lean against the van, my gaze fixed on this ray of sunshine personified as she twirls and laughs, sticking her tongue out and letting the rain soak her. There’s thunder rumbling in the distance but nothing seems to be phasing Cara in this moment. Her laughter rings out like the sweetest melody mixed with the rhythm of the now-heavy rain. The flowy dress she’s wearing is clinging to her body, showing off her soft curves and her hard nipples peeking through the light fabric. But my eyes focus on something else . I focus on the bright smile she wears as she dances and moves in the rain. There’s nobody here but us, the dark sky, and the rain but she makes it seem like the world is her stage and we all just exist to watch her. Like the rain is falling just so she can dance in it. As if the sky is darker so she can shine even brighter. She’s the sun, we’re in her orbit, and the entire planet knows it.

“Manny! Come dance with me!” she calls out, her voice bright and cheery despite the downpour.

“It’s pouring, Cara!” I shout, my heart racing both with the anticipation at what she might do and with the sight of her carefree self enjoying this moment instead of hiding from it. The rain keeps getting more intense and her laughter gets louder.

“Don’t be a chicken, Manny! Come on,” she yells, stopping her twirls and facing me. When she sees me shaking my head, her face lights up and she starts running toward me. I’m still mostly dry considering I’m standing under the giant tree we parked under. But that doesn’t stop her from throwing herself at me. Cara wraps me up in her arms with her soaking wet body and not a care in the world.

I tense under her cold wet touch as she continues, “It’s just rain, Manny. Just a little rain. When was the last time you danced in the rain?” She pulls me by my hands but without moving me. Never, I want to say, but I don’t because is that really what she needs to hear? I almost say no and run inside the van to hide from it all but then I notice the bracelet and remember her words. These always remind me to take a breath and slow down. The pink bracelet wrapped around my wrist makes me stop and wonder: do I want to hide from this moment or have I been wired to think that? Have I been wired to think that rain is bad and that dancing under it is childish and annoying?

“It’ll be fun, I promise!” she calls over the rain, her eyes sparkling with joy and invitation. It’s impossible saying no to her so I push myself off the van and run with her.

The rain intensifies and now that we’re in the middle of the clearing, Cara stands in front of me and smiles. She opens up her arms, letting her head fall backward and closes her eyes.

“Have you ever felt this free, Manny?” She grabs my hands and twirls under my arm, dancing with me as I stand still. The cold water splashes on and around us, creating a pattern that’s music to her ears judging by the way her body moves.

“No, Cara, I haven’t,” I confess and she stands still for the first time in the past ten minutes, looking me in the eyes and letting out a deep breath. She adjusts her dress and I try my best not to look down, knowing how little her dress covers now that’s see-through.

“Then dance with me,” she whispers, moving a piece of hair away from her face.

I grab her hand and pull her toward me, close enough to touch. I bring my hands to her lower back and her palms land on my chest, resting carefully there, like there’s no turmoil happening under her touch.

My heart is pounding in my chest so hard I’m afraid it will come out. Cara looks up, her green eyes gazing into mine, and her lips part slightly as we sway with the percussion of the rain on the ground. I lower my gaze to her lips as she licks the rain off of them, like she knows I’m dying to kiss her and to find out what the rain tastes like on her skin. My eyes linger there, wondering if her lips are as soft as her hands or if they’re as warm as her heart. I wonder for a second, then two, then three.

The energy in the air is electric and I wonder if it’s from the storm or whatever is pulling me to her. We keep swaying under the water, falling into movement with each other matching the rhythm of the rain. I lift my hand, tracing up her back and her arm slowly. Goosebumps form on her skin from my touch. I reach for her hand and intertwine her fingers with mine. We don’t say anything, but our gazes never falter.

Cara lifts to her tiptoes and lifts her face closer to mine. A small movement but enough for me to notice it. Enough for me to wonder what she’s doing. She tilts her face and now her lips are close to mine. I may not understand what’s happening between us on this trip, but I know what this is. Lust.

She’s feeling all the energy around us, and the rain touching every inch of her skin is causing sensations that her brain is always craving. Her brain is seeking more. Hence why she’s trying to kiss me. And if it was anybody else, I would take the opportunity and taste her lips. And that would lead to me tasting her skin and every inch of her body. Eager to learn what makes her scream, bit by bit. But this is not just a random hook-up or a girl I won’t ever see again. This is Allie’s best friend and as much as I would like to, I can’t.

I turn my face, dropping my hands from holding her body and feeling the emptiness under my fingers immediately. I grab her shoulders instead and whisper, “Cara, we can’t.”

I see the panic on her face but I don’t get time to say anything before she exclaims, “Oh my God! I’m so sorry, Manny, please ignore me.” Cara slips out from my hold and leaves me wet and cold as she runs toward the bus. She climbs in the back and shuts the door, closing the privacy curtains and leaving me out here. I’m sure she’s changing so I don’t want to interrupt her but I also don’t want to just leave her like that.

“Cara!” I shout as I pound on the door, hoping she’s not completely overthinking things in there but knowing damn well she is.

A few minutes pass before Cara opens the door. She’s wearing an oversized shirt now and her hair is wrapped in a towel. “Come in, come in, quick!” she shouts.

I step in, trying not to soak the floor or her cute decorations. There’s not enough space for both of us to change clothes without crowding each other but the storm is picking up and I’m thankful she let me in.

“Cara,” I say, my voice low and deep.

“Manny, don't worry about it. I got carried away. Just get dressed.” She climbs into the front seat and turns around, giving me privacy.

After I change into dry joggers and a different shirt, I sit on the bench behind the front seat and ask, “Cara, can we talk, please?” The rain intensifies outside and the loud taps on the roof of the van makes it sound even louder. Like Mother Nature is screaming and she wants us all to listen. Lightning flashes, illuminating the dark sky followed by a loud rumble of thunder in the distance.

“Manny,” she whispers, closing her eyes and shaking her head. “Please, just let it go, okay? I said I got carried away. You said you loved to hear me talk but that you would respect me if I didn’t want to. I don’t want to. So, let’s just go wherever we’re going next.”

I hear the regret in her voice and I just want to hug her and tell her that it’s okay and the reason why I couldn’t kiss her. But she’s asking me to drop it and I will respect that. I can pretend like nothing was happening between us—try to forget I wanted to kiss her too.

Stop 7: Jackson Lake State Park

“How far do you want to drive today?”

Cara is currently wrapped in a blanket on the front seat, scrolling on her phone. The rain has not let up so I’m driving slower to try to keep us safe. Far too many people die every year on highways in car accidents and I like to avoid them as much as possible.

“Wherever, really. I just need food and some place to sleep,” she answers. Her voice is shallow, like she’s trying to stop herself from saying something she doesn’t want to. I need to get her out of her head and I might know just the thing. We’ve been sitting in silence for the past hour and a half so when I keep driving she doesn’t question me.

I pull over to park when I find the spot I’m looking for. It looks like a lot of nothing in the rain but I’m hoping by the morning it’s clear and we can watch the sunrise. I also hope she’s not going to yell at me for what I’m about to do.

“Where are we?” Cara asks as I park the van under the canopy of trees.

“We’re staying the night here. There’s a bed and we have food, the two things you asked for,” I say nonchalantly, rolling the windows down slightly and turning the van off.

Cara rolls her eyes. “There’s one tiny bed in the back, Manny, you won’t even fit there.”

“I will, I promise. Don’t you have something on that checklist of yours called boondocking?” I ask with a smile, and when her eyes open wide and her brows furrow, I know I got her. Busted.

“Yeah but I didn’t take you for the kind of person who would do that so I didn't mention it . How do you even know?” she asks.

“What boondocking is? I Googled it…” I laugh and she does too, finally breaking up some of the tension.

“No, silly. How do you know I had boondocking on my list?”

Because I’ve memorized it, I want to say, but instead I answer, “I read it by accident the other day. Let’s just get ready.” I let her through to the back and as she goes past me, I notice she’s not wearing anything under her shirt. Fuck me.

The entire backseat area is as whimsical and cozy as her home. A mix of vibrant and pastel pink and purple flowers everywhere and cushions and throws lie on top of the fold-out bed in the far back. She shuffles some things around, pulls the sofa out, turns it into a bed, and then climbs on it. Book in hand, she pulls the soft pink blanket over her bare legs and lays her head on a couple of pillows and goes straight to reading. Her book has a couple holding pinkies on the cover in what looks like a campground and it’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen.

“How fitting,” I muse .

“What is?” she asks with a puzzled look, lowering her book so she looks at me.

“You reading a camping book while we stopped in the middle of nowhere for the night,” I tease.

“Ha, not camping at all. Actually, the female main character hates the outdoors but she’s trying her best.”

“Interesting. Are you liking it?” I ask, looking closer at the cover. Over the purple hues of the sky, there’s the title A Lodge Affair by Rachel LaBerge right above a campfire and a couple of chairs. The cover is pretty and it matches Cara perfectly. What is it that she says? Her aesthetic , it matches her aesthetic.

“Are you mocking me, Manny?” she deadpans.

“I could never,” I gasp, my hand over my heart. “Remember I grew up with my mom, her library and Allie devouring books. I don’t love reading but I think it’s so cool that people can get lost in books.”

“Well, I love this one,” she adds, lifting the book again and going back to reading.

I take the opportunity to climb over the seats, cursing everyone who built this tiny fucking thing that they call a bus before making it to the back. What I should’ve done is ask her more about what she’s reading. What I should’ve done is even take the book away from her hands and set it on the table just so I can have her attention solely on me. Maybe even give her that kiss she tried to steal earlier and kiss her so deeply she’d want to get a new bracelet just so she can remember it, over and over again. That’s what I should do but just because I can do those things, doesn’t mean I should. So instead, I pull my laptop out of my bag and get to work instead.

1 ? Son of a bitch or motherfucker