Country got up from the floor and looked through the cellophane which stretched across the broken window. The anger buried deep in his mind resurfaced, bringing with it the subsequent guilt. Taking a shovel, he dug an even deeper hole for his emotions and covered them with a thick layer of well-rehearsed nonchalance.
A blast of hot air greeted him as he descended the stairs. Off to the east, an orange glow lit up the horizon. The emergency management director said the wildfire posed no danger to Los Angeles. Country knew better than to take a government official at his word.
As he passed the courtyard, he took one last look at his couch, the object of both his and Genny’s fury. A lone seal occupied Country’s normal place. In its flippers, it held a magazine, which it was clearly pretending to peruse.
“The reading glasses aren’t fooling anyone,” Country yelled at the seal.
The seal barked a retort and turned the page.
“Stupid seal,” Country muttered. More misplaced anger. It wasn’t the seal’s fault that Country hadn’t regained possession of his beloved sofa. With a simple, ‘Shoo,’ he had driven the rest of the faux manatees off his property. The final one would have left just as easily, but, in a moment of what can only be described as hubris, Country decided to challenge it to a game of rock, paper, scissors – best two out of three – to see who would win the rights to Comfferbuns (the sofa). Country chose rock the first two times.
He shook his head in disgust at the memory. His lone consolation was that no one had been around to see his defeat.
A bead of sweat formed on Country’s brow. He wiped it away with the tips of his fingers and flicked the moisture into the street. Digging his hands into his pockets, he headed down the sidewalk, his shoulders hunched over and his head angled towards the ground. The completely buried and controlled anger somehow found a way to escape. Again.
“I don’t know what I ever saw in that girl,” he muttered to himself. “Just because I grew up with her doesn’t mean we have to be friends. Sure, she carried me to the hospital when I broke my legs in that hot air balloon accident. And she comforted me after the adoption agency told me my birth mother wanted nothing to do with me. Not to mention this fabulous pair of wool undies she knitted.” He stopped and scratched his bum. “But that doesn’t mean I should forgive her for throwing Comfferbuns out the window.”
A terrible thirst scratched at his throat.
“I should get some coffee,” he said.
“You don’t like coffee,” his taste buds answered.
“I’m going to get some if I want to,” he replied. “And if I want to go to that place where Genny likes to get hers, I will. She just better not be there.”
“Sure,” the taste buds said.
Ten minutes or so later, he arrived at The Bitter Brew.
“She better not be here,” he repeated. With a final huff, he opened the door and went in. Crap, she’s here, went his mind. Yay, went his heart.
He walked past her as close as he could, brushing her arm with his pants, but continued straight to the counter without acknowledging her. For her part, Genny simply twisted to one side and kept her nose buried in her Guns and Ammo magazine. Country walked to the counter and ordered his drink. A few minutes later drink in hand, he headed towards an empty seat next to Genny. She sat there, blonde hair tied into a single braid, one leg crossed over the other, a delicate finger slowly flipping through the pages of Country’s favorite magazine. She was once again the girl he grew up with and not the vicious ogre who threw his sofa out the window. A wave of remorse for ever being angry at her passed over him. He reached out his hand and touched her forearm.
“Look, Genny. I’m not really sure what I did to make you so mad.”
Even he didn’t believe the words. Genny shifted in her seat and turned her head away a little more.
“I mean to say, I know I haven’t been the best of friends recently. It’s just with work and school and the ….” He caught himself. “This other project, I haven’t been there for you.”
He took a sip of his coffee and spit it right back into the cup. “How do people drink this stuff?” he said. “Anyway. As I was saying, I guess you’re upset because I wasn’t listening to you the other night. I’m not sure it justifies couch hurling, but … but I’m not sure it doesn’t, either.”
Genny’s right eyebrow arched almost imperceptibly as she continued to turn the pages of the magazine. Country rubbed his face.
“So, what I’m really trying to say is I’m sorry. Can you forgive me for not listening to you? I promise to do better.”
He reached out and touched Genny’s arm. She jerked it away. The move surprised him, and he spilled his coffee. He felt relieved. One-hundred sixty-two of those tiny napkins later – Genny counted them in spite of herself – he cleaned up the last of the brown liquid. Sitting back down, he continued his apology.
“What d’you say, Gen? Do you forgive me?”
Genny’s finger traced the outline of the latest offering from Smith and Wesson. Her heart felt heavy, but she remained silent. Country’s lips twitched with annoyance.
“What is this? The silent treatment?” Country asked, frustration creeping in with each syllable. “Look. I’m not in the mood. I said I’m sorry. Not sure what more you want from me.”
Genny closed the magazine and took a quick look at him. “What I want is for you to leave me alone.”
The words stung. He certainly didn’t expect that response. This wasn’t the first time Genny had become upset with him. In fact, back in Pennsylvania, it was a regular occurrence. He had done much worse back there, and the relationship hadn’t suffered permanent damage. This time, though, it felt different. Worse. Like something fundamental had changed between them. Something that had nothing to do with their fight or the couch. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he knew. He squeezed Genny’s hand.
“What’s going on, Gen?”
“Please take your hand off me,” she said. Her voice was even colder.
“Gen? What is it?”
She squinted as she stared him in the face. “You’re not good at taking hints, are you? So, let me be direct. I don’t want to see you anymore.”
“Why? What did I do?”
She stood up and walked out the door. Country followed close behind. Halfway down the block, Genny turned on her heels and stopped.
“Why the hell are you following me?” she said. “Didn’t you hear me back there? I don’t want to see you anymore.”
She turned and started her march again. He grabbed her arm hard enough to twist her back around.
“I don’t know what’s gotten into you, Paisley Genesis Haverford, but I do know you don’t mean that.”
“You know I don’t mean that. Are you sure? You can read my mind now?”
“I think I can,” Country said.
“Yeah? Then, what am I thinking?”
“You’re wondering why no one has invented a bra for cows so they can go to the beach like normal people.”
“Yeah, well, how about now?”
“Honestly? I don’t know,” Country said. He brushed a loose strand of hair out of Genny’s eyes. “All I know is that you’re hurting. I would assume it has something to do with your father and not finding him. Yet,” he hastily added. “But … I don’t think that’s it.”
Genny folded her arms and bit her lip. She glanced up and down the street as though looking for something. Country saw the moment her resistance disappeared.
“Why did you do it?” she asked.
“Do what?”
She held her gaze to see if she could detect a lie in his next answer.
“Why did you kill Siobhan?”
“What are you talking about, Gen? I didn’t kill her. What put that notion into your head?”
“She threatened me. Next day, they found her dead in the alley. He … someone said they saw you running away from the scene.” She let her hands drop by her side. “What am I supposed to think?”
“You’re supposed to think that you know me well and that I would never do anything like that. I’m a little hurt you would even consider I was capable of it.”
“So, you’re saying you would never kill anyone to protect me?”
“Actually, depending on the circumstances, I probably would. But those weren’t the circumstances. All I did was talk to her, tell her to leave you alone.”
Genny’s face turned pale. “You were there.”
Country nodded. “We talked. We got in a fight. She stabbed me. I might have broken her arm.” Country wished his lips would stop moving. Even he began to suspect himself. “But I didn’t kill her.”
“Then, who did? Who would’ve had the motive?”
“I couldn’t tell you. There are a lot of people you hang out with now who don’t exactly have sterling reputations.” He put a finger under her chin to gently lift it up so he could look in her eyes. “They’re not who you think they are. You might want to reconsider your association with them.”
“Those people are my friends,” Genny said.
“No, they’re not,” Country said.
The tenderness of his concern almost made Genny believe him. “They ….” She lowered her head so she didn’t have to look at him. “They told me I couldn’t hang out with you anymore.”
“Who is ‘they’?”
“Pierre and Jorge. Mainly Pierre.”
Country cocked his head to one side. “Why did they tell you that?”
“They said that if I wanted to be a part of their group, I would have to give you up. They said it was either you or them.”
“And you actually considered it.” The hurt of a wounded pride put a knot in his stomach that rose as a bitter ball into his throat. His feet, his whole body really, wanted to walk away from there. A small, quiet voice compelled him to stay.
“They said that if I kept seeing you, they would hurt you.”
“I can take care of myself, Gen.”
“I know,” she said. “It’s not even that. It’s … it’s that you’re never around.” Her chin quivered ever so slightly. “That I don’t exactly have a bunch of friends that want to hang out with me. I’m not like you, Country. I don’t make friends easily. I can’t ever seem to … to find ….” She paused and stared down the street. “All I really want is for someone to spend a little time with me, and the Tortugas do that. They treat me well, make me feel special. Make me feel like I belong.”
“So, you’re saying you would rather hang out with them than me.”
“No,” she said. “Don’t you see?”
Country thought about those last words. For the first time in a long time, he stopped and really listened to her. Not just what she said but what she meant. He should have known, but he had been too focused on his own concerns. Wrapping them in the bow of ‘I’m doing this for her’ didn’t change the fact that he had ignored the deep hurt eating away at her, that, perhaps deliberately, he had missed the signs. The constant, random chatter and the increased absurdity of her comments. Lashing out at him over apparent trivialities. How she would stare out over the waves for hours as though her hope waited at the edge of the horizon but no vessel existed that could carry her there.
He felt his chest rising and falling, and he watched hers do the same. Loving her had always been messy, somewhat more difficult than a person like him, who preferred things he could fix, liked. But she didn’t need him to fix her. He saw that now.
“OK, Genny,” he said. “I hear you.”
She turned her face towards his but didn’t respond. The breeze played games with the loose strand of hair. Up in the hills, a coyote howled at the burning sky.
“Look,” he said, “you know how I feel about your friends, but I think you’re making a mistake hanging out them. They’re not who you think they are.”
Genny started to protest, but Country wouldn’t let her interrupt.
“But you’re a smart woman who can decide for herself what’s best. Just know that I will be there for you if you need me.”
“I know,” she said and offered him a weak smile.
“So, you’re not mad at me anymore?” he asked.
“Maybe a little.”
“Mad enough that you don’t want to accompany me to a Hollywood party?”
Her eyebrows arched. “A Hollywood party? Will Dick Wilson be there?”
“You mean, Mr. Whipple, the Charmin guy?”
“Yeah. I love him in those commercials.”
“You’re joking, right?”
Genny squeezed his arm. “It’s sometimes hard to tell, isn’t it?”
Country stifled both a derisive snort and a foul word. “Is that a yes?” he said instead.
“Yeah, I suppose.”
“You’re not going to get in trouble with your new friends?”
“I can handle them,” she said. “And if not ….”
Country waited. And waited. And …. “If not …?”
“I expect you to come in guns a-blazing,” she said.
“This is California,” he said. “Self-defense is not allowed.”
Genny gave a half shrug as if to say, ‘Oh, well then.’
Country let out a quarter smile (one half of his top lip curled upwards a tad). “Let’s take you home,” he said.