Chapter 11
Villain
I sit on the dirt with my back against a tree, legs stretched out, a half-empty bag of kale chips sagging in my hand. These shits ain’t even coming close to hitting the spot, but Ariana seems to be enjoying the nuts. She’s crunching loud as fuck.
I don’t know if it’s a good or a bad thing that I still have an appetite. I’m still seeing Ms. K’s face. Dropping dirt on top of her. It’s running on a loop in my head so much, I’m real close to popping a few pills to make that shit go away.
What am I gonna tell her kids? She has two, a son and a daughter. A fine ass daughter that I didn’t fuck out of respect for Ms. K. That’s how much that woman meant to me.
I clear my throat. “How your leg feelin’?”
Ariana shrugs. “Doesn’t hurt as much as before.”
“Cool,” I mutter. “You used the bathroom today?”
Her eyebrows go up. “Really?”
I stare at her, confused by her confusion.
“Fine. I didn't,” she admits. “I haven’t had to go. I’m probably dehydrated.”
I pull a bottle of water out of the pile and hold it out to her. “You can die from that, shorty. Drink this.”
She shakes her head.
“You gon’ make me have to bury you, too?”
That gets through to her, it seems. She reaches out, taking the bottle from me, her fingers brushing against mine in the process.
It’s just her skin against my skin, no more than a second’s worth of time, but it burns like fire.
I feel like I’ve been starving for contact and didn’t even know it.
I was just touching all on her leg yesterday, but that didn’t feel like this.
I don’t move right away. Neither does she. Then she jerks her hand away, eyes dropping to the ground.
I swallow hard, wondering what the fuck that was and if she felt it, too.
She unscrews the cap, takes one sip, then says, “I think we should try to conserve water.”
“We leavin’ today, so it don’t really matter.”
She doesn’t respond, just presses her lips together.
But I guess her silence is an answer in itself.
I watch her take a few more sips, looking like she hates every minute of it. Her lips are dry and her skin looks about as pale as a brown-skinned black woman can look.
But damn if she don’t look beautiful still.
“I got a question.”
Her eyebrows lift.
“Who you got back home that’s missing you?”
Her shoulders slump a little. “My twin sister. My nieces. My parents.” She pauses, then says, “My boyfriend.”
“Oh, you really got a nigga? I thought you just said that to my cousin to keep him off you.”
Her lips twitch like she wants to smile. “It’s new. I really like him, though.”
“You love him?”
“It’s new,” she repeats. “I’m sure that’ll come eventually.”
“What’s his name?”
“Luca.”
I snort. “Stupid ass name.”
She shakes her head, but I catch the corners of her mouth tipping upward.
Then she flips it on me. “When’s the wedding?”
“Supposed to be this weekend.”
“You don’t seem all that excited.”
I shrug. “I got more important shit to worry about right now, don’t you think?”
“Fair enough.”
I finish my bottle, then set it aside, thinking the oddest thought, that maybe I should create some kind of trash system so that we’re not sitting around in a pile of empty bottles and packages. But then I remind myself I’m doing too much, because we’re leaving today. Any minute now.
“I’m thinking about going to find the ocean,” I say. “It’s gotta be nearby. I could start a fire to attract attention. Or spell out help in seaweed or some shit.”
Ariana laughs right to my face. The sound is like a blade cutting through my flesh. “I’m starting to think you watch too much TV.”
My teeth grit. “You know what? Fuck you.”
Her smile vanishes. “You’re oversensitive.”
“Nah,” I snap. “I just recognize when muhfuckas look down on me. I been dealing with that shit my whole fuckin’ life.”
She crosses her arms in front of her, pursing her lips. “I’m sorry, but you’re immature. And spoiled. And young-minded.”
“That’s cuz you older than I am. How old are you?”
She squares her shoulders. “I’m thirty-seven.”
“See, that’s what I’m sayin’. Of course you see me like that.”
“Don't put that on me. You only have yourself to blame for how people perceive you.”
“Whatever.” I stand abruptly, brushing dirt off my palms. “I’m going to get my muhfuckin’ Dora on. You sit yo ass right in that spot and drink that goddamn water.” I give her a stern look. “You better be ready to pee when I get back.”
She laughs again, even louder this time. “You’re hilarious.”
For some reason, the sound softens something inside of me. As I walk away from our little camping spot, my chest puffs out. I’m kinda proud of myself for making her laugh like that, especially after everything we’ve been through.
Damn.
We done been through a lifetime’s worth of shit in two days.
It don’t even feel real yet.
I start walking. The forest swallows me fast. It’s green and thick, with hella paths that blend into each other. It’s peaceful out here, but the deeper I get, the more I realize I don’t know where I am or what the fuck I’m doing.
I wonder if knowing what to do in the wilderness is something people are born with. Or maybe fathers teach their sons how to do it, like when they teach them how to hunt and fish. My daddy didn’t teach me shit about survival. Or anything, really.
Birds scream overhead, sudden and sharp, making my heart pound. I keep moving anyway, breaking branches to mark my path. My shirt clings to my back. Sweat stings my eyes. The ground dips, then rises, uneven enough to twist an ankle if I’m not careful.
I stop and listen, keeping my body still. The ocean sounds a little bit closer, but I can’t tell what direction the sound is coming from.
I look around, noting how the light shifts in different spots. But everything else looks the same—same trees, same rocks, same tangled vines. I glance behind me, searching for the branches I broke, but I don’t see them.
My chest tightens.
I walk in a circle, I think. Ten steps this way, twenty steps that way. Panic is setting in fast, whispering in my ear that I fucked up and I’ll never find my way back.
Deep breath.
Focus.
I remember seeing a jagged rock that looked like an arrowhead, and a patch of yellow flowers I brushed against. Now I’m retracing my steps, looking for them. They’re my lifeline.
That shit sounds dramatic as fuck, but it’s real. People die doing shit like this. Usually white people, I would imagine. Niggas don’t walk into the jungle on purpose. We got too much shit goin’ to be out here creating excitement like that.
I’m moving slow. My steps are deliberate. I’m scanning my surroundings like a fucking robot.
Throw me in a concrete jungle and I’m making my way out, no doubt. I grew up in the A. Not the rough parts exactly, but I put myself in places I ain’t have no business being and lived to tell it. But this shit here is even more dangerous. My mouth is dry now, so dry I can’t even swallow.
I could sit down right here and just wait for death to come.
Maybe get chewed on by bugs until an animal comes along to finish the job.
It would make the pain go away, that’s for sure.
I wouldn’t have to think about my cousin and nephew burnt to ash in that plane, or Ms. K laying in a shallow grave near the wreckage. It could be good. It could be peaceful.
But shit, I got a lot to live for. And if I don’t make it back, that would be like killing Ariana with my own hands. That’s a strong woman, but we all got our breaking point. I wouldn’t wanna put her through that. She don’t deserve it.
Shit.
I think I know this branch.
I stare down at it, smiling as I realize the lighter part of the wood is from where I broke it.
Snatched that shit down to the white meat, and thank God I did.
Relief floods through me, so strong I almost go to my knees on the dirt.
I follow it, one branch to the next, until the trees start to thin.
The air shifts, then I smell it…the smoke from our spot.
When I step out from the trees, Ariana is there, staring at me with her arms folded.
“Where the hell were you?” she snaps, her voice cracking a little.
I shrug, trying to play it cool even though I’m damn near crying inside. “Told you. Exploring.”
Her nostrils flare, her eyes narrow, and I realize what I’m looking at.
She was scared.
For me.
I can’t lie, that does a little something to me.