4. Levi
four
Iwoke the following day with a splitting headache and a mouth full of cotton. Thank goodness Thea had cut me off after five drinks, or I’d be bowing to the porcelain god in my hotel bathroom.
Thea was incredible — like every teenage boy fantasy I’d ever had and buried. Her dark purple, almost black hair was fantastic, and her fuck everything attitude had my head spinning.
Okay. Maybe the head-spinning came from the hangover and not Thea. Still, she was cool. She reminded me of the kind of girl I would’ve made out with at an MCR concert if I’d ever been allowed to attend.
Durango was a good random choice. Thea was cool.
I winced as I recalled a few moments toward the night’s end. I knew I’d talked her ear off about Mormonism. That probably bored her half to death. Also, did I call her a sandwich? I had no game.
I splashed a little water on my face and reached for my razor. Somewhere along the line, Mormon culture dictated that God liked clean-shaven men more than bearded ones. It’s ironic, considering that most early church prophets, including my namesake, sported full beards. I gripped my razor’s smooth, black handle but didn’t lift it to my face. I’d been shaving daily from the age of seventeen but never once stopped to ask myself if I liked how my face looked.
After examining myself in the mirror, I determined that I didn’t like shaving. I set the razor on the edge of the sink and ran my hand over the stubble on my jaw and chin. Gina hated it when I missed a day shaving. “It feels like sandpaper!” she’d whine at me. “You look like a homeless man.”
It was fitting since, technically, I was homeless now. Gina got to keep the four-bedroom house we were supposed to fill with children.
I blinked at my reflection, waiting for the pain to surface. Gina and I couldn’t have kids, no matter how hard we prayed or how many fertility treatments we tried. I allegedly had a low sperm count, and Gina suffered from endometriosis. Our chances of procreating were slim to none.
Every unsuccessful pregnancy attempt pierced another hole through our fragile marriage. Sex quickly became a source of anguish for us. Usually, simply the word pregnancy would send Gina into a tailspin of depression, and it would fill me with pain. She’d never call it depression, though. Faithful Mormon women didn’t get depressed. They smiled and served and exemplified the light of Christ. Room for depression didn’t exist.
That still made me sad for her. And somehow, I felt responsible for her pain. I should have fixed it. I should have given her all the babies she wanted.
Holy shit.
All of the babies she wanted.
We tried to get pregnant every time she brought it up. I never did. We discussed fertility treatments and adoption when she wanted to—I never so much as googled the processes. I’d never made a baby names list. I had zero opinions on crib or stroller brands. I didn’t even hold my nieces and nephews when they were born.
When I closed my eyes and pictured my future, there were never kids running around.
What if I’d never felt pain? What if that ugly feeling I’d had all of these years was guilt over not wanting the children we couldn’t have, over causing my wife so much anguish?
Huh. Wow. I didn’t want kids.
Should I sit down for this?
I waited for the realization to hit me like a ton of bricks. This was huge. But instead of bricks hitting me, they lifted off my shoulders.
I shook my head and made for the kitchenette. I’d had a whole lot of self-discovery for one morning. Now, I needed some protein and coconut water. I’d read that those helped hangovers.
While I fried myself a couple of eggs, I saw the black phone number scrawled on my wrist. The ache in my stomach made me never want to consume alcohol again, but the thought of green eyes and purple hair had me feeling pretty confident that I’d head to the bar again tonight.
Unfortunately, that meant I’d have to call or text Thea. I hadn’t asked a girl out in over twelve years, and even then, it didn’t require an ounce of courage to invite Gina to dinner and a movie. Everyone expected us to get married after I returned from my mission. My mother practically dialed her number for me and handed me the phone.
I tried to ignore the nerves already taking root and forced myself to eat the breakfast I’d prepared. My head and stomach approved of the nutrition and hydration. I took a deep breath and picked up my phone. The new background, a photo I took at Kolob Canyon, stared up at me. I’d changed it from the photo of Gina months before she suggested divorce— proof that I subconsciously knew things were over between us long before we signed the papers.
I shouldn’t feel guilty that Thea made me smile and sent my heart racing.
But 10:45 am was too early to text. And I could text because she said I couldn’t use her number for a date. You were supposed to call for dates, but texting for hangouts was fine.
Unless the rules had changed?
“Dang-it,” I whispered to myself.
I typed out a text message but waited until 11:07 to send it.
Hi, Thea. It’s Brigham — or, I guess it’s Levi now. :) I had fun hanging out with you last night. Would you be interested in meeting me at The Station again tonight?
I hurriedly sent a follow-up.
It’s totally fine if you can’t.
I stood and paced. I should have waited until later this afternoon to text. Reaching out in the morning made me look desperate. I set my phone on the table, wishing I could unsend the messages, and continued pacing.
When my phone dinged a few seconds later, I lunged to grab it.
She texted back. I smiled like an idiot.
Hey, Levi. Sounds fun. You can tell me more stories. Meet you there at 8.
I smiled like a bigger idiot.
I was still in awe that Thea had agreed to meet me at The Station. It felt surreal that she now sat across from me with a glass of water and a devilish glint in her icy green eyes. We’d chosen a quiet table in the corner tonight. Then she’d ordered me some fruity drink, teased the hell out of me for it, and ordered herself water, claiming that alcohol sometimes made her fibromyalgia flare up.
I didn’t know much about the illness, but I didn’t like that Thea suffered from chronic pain. When I tried to show her a little sympathy, she’d said, “Nope. Shut up. Don’t want your pity.”
Thea reminded me of an angry, wounded goddess filled with hidden secrets. Underneath all of that anger was a beautiful, almost ethereal glow. It pulled me in like a moth to a flame. Yes, I found her attractive. She had gorgeous hourglass curves, and Thea’s low-cut black shirt sparked plenty of interest, but her glow kept me entranced.
I’d never tell her, though. She’d probably stab me.
“Okay, make me a bucket list of all the things you’ve never done that most regular adults have. I will help you cross off as many as possible these next two weeks.” Thea unfolded a white napkin and dug a Sharpie out of her bag. “There you go, Levi.”
“Hmm, okay. It’s going to be a long list. You’ll have to spend a lot of time with me.” I grinned at her while she sipped her water.
Thea shrugged. “That’s alright. I like ya, kid.”
Now, I laughed. “Kid? I’m pretty sure I’m older than you.”
“Maybe in years, but not in experience.” Thea smirked, daring me to argue with her.
I rolled my eyes and got started on my list. “Thea, I’m going to get awkwardly real with this list. I hope you can handle it.” I started writing, the black marker scratching against the white napkin. I knew she’d laugh at me, but I looked forward to it. Her laugh felt genuine, and I craved that realness more than anything.
Say fuck out loud
Get blackout drunk
Kiss a stranger
Get high
Get a tattoo
Gamble
Get addicted to coffee
Watch an R-rated movie
Attend a punk rock concert
Watch porn
Masturbate
Have a one-night-stand
I paused before writing the last thing on my list. It made me feel like a jerk, and it would kill Gina if she knew, but I’d made a commitment to authenticity when I left the church. I wrote: Fall in love and capped the Sharpie.
Church leaders counseled Gina and me that any good Mormon boy and any good Mormon girl could build a successful marriage with God at the center. Gina and I had known each other since we were kids. We liked each other, but we never shared love.
I exaggeratedly sighed and slid my list across the table to Thea. She greedily snatched it up, and I watched her pale, emerald eyes sparkle with delight as she read each item. “Oh, Levi, this is worse than I thought!” Thea grinned. “You poor, poor child! Okay, no way am I helping you with any sex or love stuff, but I feel like we can make everything else happen.” She turned the list back to me and pointed to the first thing. “Dude, this one’s easy. Stand up and yell fuck at the top of your lungs. No one will even hear you.”
“My older brother got his mouth washed out with soap for saying that dirty word.” I laughed and made light of it, but the memory traumatized me. I could still see the rage in my mother’s eyes as she scrubbed, and I could hear the gags and cries of my much cooler, tougher brother.
Thea raised a single eyebrow. “My aunt said, ‘Atta girl, let it out,’ the first time I said it at age seven.”
I laughed. “We come from very different worlds, Thea.”
“That we do.” Thea patted my hand with an almost sympathetic smile. “Okay, on the count of three, yell fuck.” She held up a finger to start the countdown. “One…”
My heart raced as she counted down. It’d been beaten into me never to use curse words or unclean language. I’d thought the word, but would my mouth even form it?
“Two… Three!”
When she pointed at me, I yelled, “Fuck!”
No one in the bar even batted an eye. Thea grinned and slow-clapped for me.
I laughed out loud and threw my arms up in the air, “Whoo! Damn, that was liberating!” Liberating. Invigorating. Life-altering. How funny that these minuscule moments could change things. How funny that one little word and a pair of laughing green eyes could make me feel like I deserved to take my life back— that decisions could be mine and that I could trust myself.
Thea laughed so hard that her shoulders shook, and she covered her mouth with one hand. I wished she wouldn’t. I wanted all of her laugh. That glow coming from inside of her almost blinded me.
“Okay, okay,” she finally said when she caught her breath. “I have never seen someone so happy to say a word in all my life.” Thea picked up the Sharpie and drew a thick, black line through the first item on my list. “Next, you’d like to get blackout drunk.” She shrugged. “That’s not as fun as it sounds, and it comes with a hangover that makes you think you died and went to hell. I’ll help you out, though.”
I shook my head. “No, we have to save some things for the rest of my vacation. Besides, I still have a headache from last night. What about you?” I pointed to my list. “Do you have a list of things you’ve always wanted to do?”
“Nope.” Thea folded her arms across her full chest. I tried not to notice the line of cleavage created by that movement. Of course, she didn’t have a bucket list. Thea didn’t mess around. I could tell she did what she wanted when she wanted.
“Nothing?” I prodded, sliding a blank napkin and her black marker toward her. “Not even one little thing?”
She rolled her eyes. “Fine.” Thea picked up the marker and scribbled on the napkin:
Ride a dinosaur
Get abducted by an alien
Write a book about my struggles with Freud’s penis envy
Travel back in time and assassinate Hitler
Find the lost city of Atlantis
Become a mermaid and lure imbeciles to their deaths
Travel back in time and steal George Washington’s wig
Make out with the devil
I laughed out loud, crumpled up her list, and bounced it off her forehead. “You’re a pain in the ass, Thea.” I had to force myself to say ass instead of butt.
She winked and flipped me off.
“That did tell me something about you, believe it or not.”
Thea rolled her eyes. “No, it didn’t. I wrote pure bullshit.”
“You’re interested in psychology, history, and mythology.”
“Or,” she gave me a pointed look, “It was all bullshit and these two weeks are about you, not me.” She folded her arms, and her expression turned stony like this wasn’t up for debate. “Okay, moving on. Levi, what did you do today?”
“I uh…” I scratched the back of my neck. Wow, she had no intention of letting me get close to her. I didn’t want some completely one-sided friendship here. I didn’t want it to be all about me. How could I change that? I studied Thea’s closed expression and answered her question. “I rode the train to Silverton. Then I toured the ghost town and mine.”
Thea slapped the table as she burst into another fit of laughter. “Wow! That sounds like a dream, you know, exactly like an eight-year-old boy’s dream!”
I grinned back at her. “It was. Ask me if my parents ever took me on a train ride, even though they knew I harbored a train obsession as a kid.”
“Okay, I’ll bite.” Thea sipped her water through a straw. She had nice, full lips. “Did your parents ever take you on a train ride?”
I gave her a mock look of surprise. “Thea! I’m so glad you asked!” I leaned forward like I was about to tell her a huge secret. “They did not.”
“No!” she gasped and let a little giggle slip out.
I somberly nodded. “Indeed. You see, we had six kids in our family. That’s a lot of mouths to feed. We also gave the Lord ten percent of our gross income in tithing each month. That doesn’t leave much money for frivolous things like train rides.”
Thea looked torn between laughing and offering sympathy. She settled on both. “Aw, buddy,” she laughed, “I’ll take you on as many train rides as you want these next two weeks. Did you check out the train museum, too?”
“Not yet. I have a lot of time to kill. I figured I’d go tomorrow.”
“I’ll meet you there tomorrow afternoon, and then we can go to my favorite bakery right next door.”
“That sounds perfect.” Trains and the most gorgeous, witty, and exciting woman I’d ever met? That honestly did sound perfect.
Durango was a good fucking choice.