Honeymoon Hitch hikers – Chapter 2

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Thunder rumbles in the distance, nearly stealing the worn photograph from my hands. Even though I finally captured the perfect shot of the dark water rippling over the rocks, I haven’t been able to pull myself away from view. The support beam of the bridge isn’t doing much to shield me. I should go find shelter so I don’t have to deal with a wet backpack again, but honestly, I would welcome the free shower. I fantasize about taking a dip in the river. I can’t remember the last time I was really clean.

The dark clouds that rolled in from the west a half hour ago have dampened the light to a dramatic, moody shroud. Vague admonishments from my mother about swimming in thunderstorms surface in my mind. Could I just put my feet in? I don’t always realize how sore they are until I stop walking. The tightness in my worn-out boots is hard to ignore right now.

But my stinging eyes are unrelated to any pain in my body.

“I know you always liked the thunder,” I murmur as I grip the photo in both of my hands. Hands that used to hold cameras and lighting equipment, now calloused beyond recognition from years of manual construction and other odd, backbreaking jobs. “You always told your mother and sisters not to be afraid. I wish I had told you the same thing.”

In the west, I would see the mountains if not for the tall buildings of downtown. I wish I could get just a glimpse, just to feel closer to her. Not in a week like I’ve planned, but right now. The ticket I printed off at the library is in my pocket, frustratingly useless in this desperate moment. It would be safer in my oversized hiking backpack, but ever since I bought it,  I need to feel the reminder of it under my fingertips at regular intervals. I feel less shitty about everything when I remember that I’m finally doing “the thing.”. After all these years, I’m keeping my promise.

“Our trip is only a week away, little princess. I’m going to make our movie perfect. You’re all going to love it.”

I breathe in, wishing I could breathe for her. I imagine the crisp mountain air, the pictures of crystalline rivers that eager little hands used to constantly shove in my face. Magazines that I pushed away with promises to look later when I wasn’t so busy. Opportunity after opportunity wasted, until one day, they ran out.

A glance at my beat-up phone makes me grimace. The shelter will be opening soon. I should go line up if I want to eat early enough to stake a claim on my preferred camping spot by the river, the only one that hasn’t given me nightmares yet. I still haven’t gotten a confirmation call about this week’s construction job. I’ll need to get to the library tomorrow to try and find something else. I’m running out of time. I really want to be able to afford a few good souvenirs.

I’m proud of myself for managing to save up for legitimate transportation to Banff, even though I would have rather hitchhiked. But that wasn’t what Sparrow fantasized about. She wanted us all to take the bus so that there wouldn’t be an excuse for me not to look at the beautiful landscapes as we went by.

All of that won’t happen if I let my grief hold me hostage.

I’m  reluctantly tucking the photo back in my pocket next to the ticket when a white streak shoots past me over the railing.

For a second, my body doesn’t realize what is happening. Fortunately, my body reacts much faster. When I blink, my arms are full of a wild-eyed woman in a wedding dress.

We stare at each other. She has dark, glossy hair pulled into what must have been a very fancy updo. Now it resembles a fraying, unspooling ball of silk. Fairly tall, she looks me right in the eyes with a deep, honey-brown gaze full of anguish and despair. When thunder rumbles again, I somewhat come back to himself, automatically sweeping my gaze over her to assess her condition.

“Hey,” I soothe quietly, gripping her waist so she doesn’t try to jump into the water again. “It’s okay. What’s happening?”

She continues staring at me, her eyes slightly glassy now, like she isn’t quite all there. Of all the times I’ve stepped in to keep someone from going over the edge, this is the strangest. She’s barefoot, her sparkly pink toes peeking from under the hem of that white dress. The familiar, innocent colour of her nail polish makes my throat tighten, but I force myself to focus on her. She’s just another stranger in the street who needs a listening ear and a little bit of encouragement. No matter how weird she is, I’m not going to treat her differently than I would anyone else.  

“Whatever is going on must have you pretty scared,” I continue, rubbing her back. “Life can be so scary and awful sometimes.” I suppose even fancy women like her must have problems. She’s still a person, after all. When she still doesn’t speak, I don’t push her. “I’ve been there. But I’ve found that life is worth living, and even though the end might feel like relief, it isn’t. Whatever’s been going on, you’re strong enough to get through it.” She leans into me a little, and seems to be listening, now, so I keep going down the list of consolations I’ve gathered from far too many conversations like this. “Things won’t get better if you end your life. It’s not worth it, even if it feels like you don’t have anything to live for at the moment.”

Her tense shoulders sag, and she seems to collapse into herself. I nearly lose my grip on the slippery fabric. “I’m sorry,” she whispers.

I let go of her waist, and her head snaps up in a panic, like she’s worried I’m leaving. But I take her hands, which are a lot easier to hold onto. They’re slender and tipped with long, tapered fingers, topped with white sparkles. One of them has a gold ring with a tastefully-sized diamond in an intricate setting. The bizarreness tickles me, but I focus on her downcast face.

“Don’t be sorry. Like I said, you’re not alone. Lots of people feel the way you do right now. Can you tell me your name?”

She sniffs, then doesn’t say anything for a moment. I stroke the backs of her hands as I wait, hoping my callouses don’t bother her exquisitely soft, high-class skin. She doesn’t flinch or pull away, so I figure not.

“Lily,” she finally whispers in a voice like broken glass.

Event though she can’t see it, I smile, but I hope she can hear it in my voice. “That’s a lovely name. I’m North.” Dipping my head, I catch her gaze. “It’s really nice to meet you.”

She blinks her long, mascaraed lashes. The ghost of a smile touches the corner of her pink lips. “Must be the strangest meeting you’ve ever had.”

You’ve got that right. “Not even close. This bridge is a popular place for the hopeless. Even though the river isn’t far down enough to do the damage you’re hoping for. I’m glad I caught you before you found that out.”

Her brow furrows, and she frowns a little. I want her to know how serious I am without scaring her. Jumping from this bridge would not be a good way to go, even if she did drown, ending some pretty serious suffering.

She presses one of her hands to her stomach. “I…”

When she doesn’t finish her sentence, I decide to move onto the next step in my amateur protocol. “I’m really curious about what brought you here today. Did something specific happen, or did everything just come flooding in?”

After contemplating me for another long moment, she bites her lip in confusion, then shrugs her narrow, toned shoulders. Elegantly sloped, they are covered in nothing but that flawless, golden skin. “Both, I guess.”

“You look really beautiful today,” I prod. “Did you just come from a wedding? Your wedding?”

She moans, tipping her face to the sky and exposing the slender column of her throat. “From a dumpster fire, yes.”

I’m just about to ask her more, when thunder cracks with sudden, ear-splitting intensity. With a small shriek, she practically jumps into my arms, her cheek warm through the fabric of the jacket on my chest. A distant shimmering sound approaches, and before I can take another breath of her clean, unobtrusively fruity scent, the rain comes upon us like a shower turned on full blast. I regret the lazy wish I’d made for a free shower.

“Can we go somewhere to talk?” I raise my voice over the wind, the rain, and the roiling thunder. “I don’t want to leave you alone until I know that you’re okay. I’ll stay with you for as long as you need.”

“My car is in the lot over there!” Grabbing my hand, she pulls me into a run. I wince at the slap of her bare feet on the cobblestones.

She stops at a beautiful dark green Audi RS5 and pulls open the door. To my shock, it isn’t even locked, the keys strewn haphazardly on floor. I open my mouth to say something, but the last thing I want is to alienate her by lecturing her. Likely, she intended it to be her parting gift to the world.

The seats are soft and the interior smells like a dream. I hate to ruin it with my stench, but there are more pressing matters. Tucking my backpack between my feet, I reach for the picture and bus ticket in my pocket, checking to make sure they aren’t too wet.

She blasts the heat just then, and the air current tugs them from my palm. The ticket goes into the centre cup holder, and the photo just barely misses falling through the crack between the centre console and my seat, instead landing slightly under his seat. I bite off an expletive just in time as I fumble to grab it

“Whoops,” she mutters, instinctively snatching the ticket. She apparently can’t help but look at it. “Banff, huh?”

Clearing my throat, I carefully take it from her hand and put both pieces of paper in the side pocket of my backpack, like I should have done before. “Yes. Next week. I’ve been planning to go for years.”

“It’s beautiful up there. I can never get enough of it.”

Though her offhand comment seems meant to build common ground, I can’t help the sting of envy in my chest. I push it down. I have a job to do, and then I need to salvage the rest of this night.

With some effort, I reach for my softest, most empathetic voice. “Why don’t you tell me what happened today, Lily?”

Immediately, her expression droops, and I almost regret bringing it up again. I wish we could keep talking about the mountains and the beauty of nature and the anticipation of a much longed-for trip, even if I am jealous. Maybe she can give me recommendations. Then again, the kinds of activities she would prefer probably cost more money than I’ve seen in my entire life.

She needs the chance to get whatever is bothering her off her chest. The more I can get her to open up, the better I’ll know how to talk her into seeing a professional.

Her hand curls into a claw on top of the centre console, and I take it so she doesn’t ruin her pretty manicure. “Whatever it is, talking about it will help. I promise you, Lily.”

She fiddles with the ivory silk stretching her thighs, bunching it and smoothing it out, over and over. I wait, still holding her other hand as the rain plays the roof like a tuneless song. “I couldn’t kiss him.” Startling as though she didn’t mean to blurt out the words, she glances at me. When I give her an encouraging smile, she rubs her face and groans. “I knew that I was going to have to. I wanted to try. I thought I could just force myself to when the time came. But when the pastor told us to do it, I…” Her eyes squeezing shut, she shakes her head and puts her forehead on the driver’s window. Her fist presses against her plump, pink lips.

I consider this, stroking my finger over the back of her hand. She’s gripping me so tightly, the warm colour of her skin pales from the pressure of her knuckles. “Is he…unseemly?” I don’t want to insult her by talking down about her man, but it’s the first explanation I can think of.

She turns to me, her delicate eyebrows arched. “Unseemly?”

I clear my throat. Apparently, my diplomacy is too subtle. “Yes. Is he…ugly? Old? Smelly? A smoker?”

A bemused smile touches her lips. “Quite the opposite, really. He could be a movie star, if he knew how to step into someone else’s shoes. He’s definitely not lacking in the looks department.”

I tilt my head. “Alright. So, he’s quite good looking. Is he just a bad kisser?”

She closes her eyes again, leaning against the headrest. “I wouldn’t know.”

“You’ve never kissed him?” I can’t keep the incredulity out of my voice. “Was this some kind of arranged marriage? Did you just meet him today?”

“We’ve known each other for three years. Been engaged for two.”

“And in all that time, you never…?”

She shrugs. “He’s gone a lot. Most of our relationship has been conducted over FaceTime and emails. And when we’re actually together…well, I don’t know that we’ve ever really been alone together. Not for more than thirty minutes. We’re always with my family or his, or at some strategically-critical function. Our honeymoon was supposed to be our time.” She sniffs. “We were going to go to Kananaskis. I’ve been looking forward to it for so long. It was supposed to fix everything.”

I blow air through my lips. Something isn’t adding up. It doesn’t take thirty minutes to kiss someone. But if she isn’t being forced into this marriage, then it isn’t my business to protest. They’re just a strange couple.

Rich people.

Her sleek, forest green Audi seems like a perk, though. I discreetly run my other hand over the leather. She’s going to be just fine. But then I remind myself that rich people have problems, too. Overwhelming, soul-deep problems that make life, however luxurious it may be, feel impossible. This car and that glittering ring won’t comfort her the way her man should, wherever he is. I burn with the need to ask, but this isn’t about me right now.

“How do you feel about trying to talk to him?”

She shakes her head. “I won’t be able to for a while. He left before the reception for a business emergency.”

Ah. It’s a fight to keep my face neutral, even as I seethe with righteous outrage and shame at the hypocrisy of my anger. “So…is the marriage still on?”

She swallows. “It has to be. I guess we’re on a break right now. But he’ll come back, and I’m going to fix it.”

I’m very confused about this situation, but I try not to show it. “It can’t be all on you, Lily. He has to want it, too, right?”

She nods quickly. “He does want it. He’s just busy right now. Today was a disaster, but it’s just one day out of the thousands we’ll have together.”

This philosophy is promising. It’s a good sign if she can focus on personal goals and plans for her future, no matter how strange they sound. “That’s a great outlook, Lily. One bad day doesn’t mean your life is over.” I have to force myself to say the next part, because I can’t squash the feeling that this situation is wrong and that she should run for the hills. If she’s not careful, she’ll end up just like Sage, slowly dying in a lonely marriage. But that’s not my call to make. I’m nothing to her. I can’t tell her what to do. “I’m glad that you have hope for your future, and the motivation to make it happen.”

She sighs. “I suppose I do. But I also don’t know exactly how to fix this. I feel horrible, but part of me is glad that I won’t have to see him for a while. I just need some space to think.”

I nod, secretly praying that she’ll run for her life. “That sounds wise. Do you have someone you can talk to about it? Someone who will stay with you tonight and make sure you’re okay?”

 She glances down, then closes her eyes. “My family has been trying to call me. But I just can’t deal with them right now. I can’t go home, and I can’t go back to the party.” She picks at her dress again, those nails sparkling in the dim light.

“So, what are you going to do now?”

Her hand squeezes impossibly tighter around mine, and her breath hitches. She opens her eyes, and the panic in them makes my own heartrate quicken. I get it. That’s a question I ask myself on a regular basis, and it panics me at times, too.

But other times, the tightening in my chest and the acceleration of my thoughts comes from the windstorm of possibility the question creates. The call to adventure that bathes me in adrenaline and breathless anticipation. So many once-in-a-lifetime opportunities have been the answer to that question. 

She takes a deep breath, her jaw tightening, her shoulders straightening. With her chin tilted upwards, I can see it in her eyes – maybe not breathless anticipation, but a newfound fire and determination that makes my nerves tingle.

“Buses are cramped, smelly, and noisy,” she declares.

My mind trips over itself. “Excuse me?”

“Buses suck. But you like my car, don’t you?”

My face heats. Have I been that obvious? “Umm…”

“I was supposed to go to the mountains today. Kananaskis isn’t that far from Banff, and I was planning on visiting during this trip, anyway.” When I still don’t reply, she nods her head. “I’ll take you.”

I am stunned. Why on earth would someone like her offer to take someone like me anywhere? I’m used to hitching rides with truckers and roughnecks in worn pickups. Never a bona fide lady in a chariot fit for a queen. Having my much-anticipated trip moved up a week makes me feel dizzy, like I’ve taken in too much oxygen at once. Would it betray Sparrow not to take the bus? She loved the thought of the bus. Her little mind thought the seats looked spacious, and the fact that they offered free snacks seemed glamourous.

I stare at Lily, who hasn’t wavered. I can’t do it. Can it?

The spirit of Sparrow’s request was for me to appreciate the scenery, right? Technically, this is glamourous. Even if Lily doesn’t have snacks, this is no different then if the bus had only the driver and me. Right?

No. This is crazy. This is too much.

I glance to the west, toward those fantastical peaks, my breath catching with longing. Sparrow would have loved the opportunity to ride in a car like this.

No. I have to think rationally.

“You said you’d stay with me for as long as I need?” Lil’s voice is quiet, laced with determination despite the slight quaver.

I consider my answer, wary now. How do I let her down gently? Usually, conversations with distraught strangers last a half hour at most. One rare time, I spent the entire day hand-in-hand with a recovering addict, seeing the sights of the city and talking with him about everything and nothing. That man was months ago, though. Now, I feel out of my depth.

Still, looking into her eyes, I can’t deny that I feel a pull toward her, one that I haven’t felt in a long time. I’m not simply curious about her story, or invested in seeing her through a tough moment in her life. Or eager to take a ride in this sweet car. There’s a seed of something buried under her outward fragility that took root the moment she came to whatever decision she’s just made. Something rare, strong and vibrant promises to be beautiful and breathtaking – maybe the most incredible thing I’ll ever see.

She needs me to make it grow.

“Yes.”

I can’t believe I said that, but I can’t take it back. My heart is pounding so fast that I can barely breathe. What am I doing? This is crazy. I’ve spent years learning my lesson not to be impulsive, to really think about the consequences of my actions. I’ve worked so hard to teach myself to be accountable and selfless.

But for whom?

After a moment, she nods at my simple answer. Her lashes lower as her hand loosens on mine. My fingertips sting as the blood rushes back into them. “You’ve been so kind to me. You can get a refund on that ticket and use the money for something else.”

I’m still tongue-tied. When I don’t say anything, she looks up. The flicker of strength has gone out of her like a candle in the wind, but now that I have her brown eyes on me again, I smile. “Far be it from me to let an opportunity like this pass by.”

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