Chapter 15
Hank
Chastity is standingon the zip-line platform over the swamp with her eyes screwed shut. She’s making little sounds of distress.
For once, I’m not focused on her body, even though that harness is cupping her in all the right places. I want her to understand that she doesn’t need to hold back anymore. She can allow herself to have fun.
“Hank, I can’t do this.”
“Yes, you can. I know you’re afraid. It’s okay to feel fear, but you don’t want to let it control you.”
“It has complete control over me. One hundred percent control over me.”
“I’m going to touch you,” I warn you. “Don’t jump out of your skin when I do. It’s not an insect, it’s just my hand. I’m going to touch your shoulder.”
She opens one eye to peer at me. “You know me well.”
I do, actually. In the last few weeks, I’ve learned about who Chastity is, how she thinks, and how deeply she feels. She wears her heart on her sleeve.
She’s worn down and doesn’t even realize how much. Not just physically, but emotionally, from being the strong one all the time, caring for everyone else.
No one has taken care of her.
But she has been having fun. With me. I can give her that. We’ve still been spending time together, as friends, and I want to be present in these moments with her before she meets a guy who will see in an instant how amazing she is and steal her away from me forever.
Conway was right. Once she meets a guy she wants to be with, I’ll be squeezed out of her life entirely.
“I know your fear of bugs is irrational, but it’s a common enough fear. You’re not afraid of heights, though. You said that. This is about you learning to let go.”
We’re up on the first platform, sixty feet in the air. She had agreed to come out here readily enough, but with each step up the platform, she’d grown more and more nervous.
“Josiah depends on me. I can’t die falling in the swamp and leave him for my parents to raise. Which reminds me—I don’t even have a will, Hank! Oh my god, that’s so irresponsible of me!”
“You are not going to die. I promise you. Look at me.” I massage her shoulder.
She opens both eyes and gives me a look filled with hearty suspicion. “You don’t know that.”
I’m not going to point out she could die walking across the street because she’ll spiral. “This is a metaphor, sweetheart. You’ve spent the last five years hanging on as tight as you can with your eyes squeezed shut, trying to survive, but it’s time to ease up your grip, Chastity. Open your eyes. Come up for air. Enjoy your life. Just…let go.”
She must be genuinely afraid because she doesn’t even notice I accidentally called her sweetheart.
“Bad things happen when I let myself get carried away.”
“You mentioned that before, and I don’t get it. Explain it slowly again to me, like I’m five. When we’re done.” I jerk her harness to show her she’s secure. “You’re all locked in. I’ll be right behind you.”
“Hank.” She takes a deep breath.
“Yes?”
“If I don”t die doing this, I’m going to need you to make me some grits. Fear makes me hungry.”
I’d been hoping she’d ask for something else, like an orgasm, but I can feed her. “That’s a deal.”
“Okay. I’m going.” She looks back at the tour attendant. “What do I do?”
“Just let go.”
Total metaphor.
When she does, I’m ridiculously proud of her. She does however scream like nobody’s business and grips the clip aggressively. Her legs are crossed so tight not even a breeze can squeeze between her thighs.
But when she lands on the next platform and comes to a wobbly step, she jumps up and down and seeks me out. “Hank!” she screams. “I did it!”
“You sure did, sweetheart! Step back, I’m coming in.” I launch myself forward, not even bothering to hold on. I love the freedom of ziplining. It’s just sitting back and letting gravity do the work. The air is thick with humidity, and I lean back, taking in the cypress trees and the dank water below.
I wonder what it’s like to grow up somewhere else, like New York City. The smells are all so different, the pace frenzied. I thought for a minute or two in college maybe I’d want to move out of Louisiana, but it never happened, and I never cared. This is home. Now I’m truly home, back in Porte French, where the Otis and Corkys know all my history, my family’s history.
It’s a blessing and a curse, but right now, I choose to view it as a blessing.
Just like my friendship with Chastity.
She’s clapping for me when I land next to her on the platform. “Good job!” she exclaims, like there was ever a doubt I was going down, which amuses me.
I see a hint of the cheerleader she was in high school. The attendant unclips us. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” I ask her.
“No. It wasn’t. Was I screaming?”
She can’t be serious. “Uh, yes. You were screaming. Like a banshee.”
She hits my arm. “I was not!”
I look to the attendant for confirmation. He’s around my age. “Was she yelling or not? Back me up here, man.”
“I’m not getting involved,” he says with a smile, waving his hands. “I stay out of couples’ disagreements.”
“Oh, we’re not a couple,” Chastity says hastily.
Which makes me want to give a hearty sigh.
I’ve never been a guy who craves a relationship.
But I might be craving, just a little.
Like I’m craving her lips not at all that much.
And I barely think about her body.
Or how she looks when she has an orgasm.
Chastity shoots me a look of triumph.
Who the hell am I kidding?
I’m craving.
I’m fucking craving. Thirsting for her.
And not just for her body.
I want all of her. Body, heart, and soul.
Which makes this, all of this, the stupidest stunt on the long list of Hank Williams Young’s idiotic accomplishments.
I’ve gone and fallen for a woman who wants to be just friends.
Chastity only takes a minute to gather herself before leaving the second platform. She still screams, but at half volume. When I meet her, she’s smiling.
Two more platforms, and she’s bouncing on the balls of her feet, beaming, exclaiming over the wildlife she’s seeing. “I swear I saw a gator, Hank, don’t say I didn’t. And an armadillo and a deer.”
“I don’t even doubt it.” I did spot a deer myself, but mostly I was watching Chastity. It’s like watching the dimmer switch on a lightbulb get turned up.
She’s alive, her cheeks pink, her expression joyful. There’s no fear or worry or overthinking.
It’s not going to last. I know that.
She has a life filled with responsibility. But I’m glad I can give her this for an hour and a half.
I’m even more grateful when we reach the bottom, and she throws her arms around me and says, “Thank you.” Her soft brown eyes are filled with something I can’t quite decipher. She kisses my cheek.
And you’d think I won the fucking lottery.