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THAT’LL TEACH THE SHERIFF to interfere. I loved the look on his face as I wheeled Shelley away.
Shelley. She smells good, but I can’t place the scent. It’s as if she’s dipped herself in a fruity wine—it’s intoxicating just breathing her in. I think she might’ve had a few beers herself. I wish I could to speak her. She hasn’t said anything yet, just pointed this way and that as I roll her around. She hasn’t even looked at me, which is depressing, and I hope she does not feel indifferent about me because I can’t walk.
Of course, she could’ve gotten off a few blocks ago. Instead, she keeps adjusting herself in my lap. I can tell she’s uncomfortable, yet every time she wiggles her arse against my crotch, I get excited and she doesn’t seem to mind.
We reach the end of town and hit a dark, seemingly endless, road. This is going to be a long ride and there’s no way I’m going to push her that far without her even looking at me. I bite her.
“Ow!” she says rubbing her arm and she finally twists her body to me, still remaining seated. That’s good—that she won’t get off. “What did you do that for?” she whines.
I stop the chair, cock my head, and motion with my hand from my mouth, encouraging her to speak.
She squints under the moonlight. “You want me to talk?” she replies. I nod and start pushing again. “What do you want me to say?” she mumbles.
I point at her but she turns away, facing forward, and wiggles her bottom in my lap again. If she keeps this up, I’m going to do more than bite her.
“I’m not an interesting topic,” she shrugs. “I think we should talk about you. You’re the dark and mysterious one.” Her voice softens. “By the way, thank you for taking me home, but I could walk. I’m getting sore sitting like this.”
I stop the chair and reach forward to grip her legs. She helps me to turn them sideways, placing them over the side handle, so she’s sitting across me in my lap. She smiles and wraps her arm around my back.
“Thanks,” she says and grins, finally making eye contact with me. “That’s much better.”
I push her, carrying her on my lap, for a while in the dark where all I can hear is her breathing and the rolling of the wheels against the smoothed black pavement. I can tell she’s thinking about something, deciding what to say, and thank the gods! She finally opens her mouth.
“Where are you from?” she asks.
I look up at the night sky and I find the North Star over the dark horizon. Calculating my position in accordance with the other stars, I point in the direction of England.
“That way?” she asks and I nod. “You’re from over there?” she asks again pointing near the same direction, but not exactly and I nod again. Her face looks curious. “You were studying the sky to find your direction. You’re a seaman, aren’t you?”
I chuckle as I smile and she looks proud of herself.
“So, you’re a world traveler?”
I nod then watch her hand as she reaches to her chest, picking up the coin to dangle it in front of me. “You say you gave this to me? Where did you get it from?”
I don’t know what to tell her or how. I push the chair a little faster.
“The librarian says this coin is magical. It has magical powers and can control mermen. Have you heard anything about that in all your travels?” she asks.
I still don’t know how to respond so I keep pushing us along the side of the road.
“First, you wanted to talk and now you’re not responding,” she says with a bit of ire behind her tone. I rub the tip of my nose on her arm, which startles her at first, but she calms down. “Sorry,” she says. “I don’t blame you for not answering. I’ve had a few too many beers and I’m sure I sound like a crazy person. My aunt used to talk about mermen all the time—it was embarrassing. I thought after she died it would be the end of all the torture, but somehow the issue keeps coming back to haunt me. I feel so stupid just bringing it up.”
I stop the chair and lightly grip her chin to turn it towards me. Looking her in the eyes, I shake my head. I want to tell her it’s not stupid. I feel her pain—this is torture!
“Am I hurting you?” she asks.
I shake my head, no.
“I’ve been in your lap a long time,” she says.
I feel the crotch of my pants get tight and I wonder if she even notices what’s going on under her thighs.
“I think I’m drunk,” she mutters and bats her eyes.
I shake my head, yes.
“You’re really hot,” she says and I had no idea I was giving off such heat.
She kisses me. Traces of booze enter my mouth and I want to get drunk. I wrap my hand around her back and it lands on her plump little arse. I pull her tightly towards me and her entire body leans in as she rubs her hands over the top my head.
She pulls away. “What happened to your hair?” she asks. “Yanka cut it?” I sigh, nod, and start to push. “I like it,” she says and I’m relieved. “Do you like her? Do you like Yanka?”
I’m not sure what to say. I do like Yanka. She’s the first real friend I’ve had in a long time.
“I have something to confess,” Shelley says and my heart beats with anxiousness. “I didn’t think much of you until I saw the two of you together. I guess I should’ve been more open and not so judgmental, but you did try to attack me in the hospital.”
I stop pushing and I can’t help but cringe and shut my eyes at the thought of what I did. I guess I did scare Shelley climbing up to her wheelchair to get her attention. I figured the moment she saw me, she’d remember how we met and how I saved her.
“Are you okay?” she asks and I open my eyes to look at her face.
I’m not okay. The sight of her makes me not okay; she’s so fair, glowing in the moonlight with her hair, curled from the humidity of the air and draped past her shoulders.
There is something too familiar about her. The moment I saw her atop the mountain hiking towards the Peak, I knew we were connected, but I was not okay then. I could not control the thunder or the wind and rain. It was as if the elements took control of me. She took control of me and I knew she was the one.
