Chapter 14
Ariana
I lay inside our little shelter, staring up at the ragged patchwork ceiling of branches and leaves Villain rigged together. I feel grateful, and somewhat safer. I breathe in heavy air that’s full of salt and moisture, closing my eyes to let the quiet pull me under.
But I don’t fall asleep just yet. The sun is still blazing, and the heat has crept into the house. My thoughts wander, drifting across the faces of the people back home. My sister. My nieces. My parents.
I wonder what they’re doing right now. I’m sure they’re panicking.
I can see Ashara and the girls giving my brother-in-law the blues, begging him to call in a favor with somebody—Tariq works for United Airlines.
My parents are frantic, probably hounding the police and the airline.
Knowing my daddy, he’s probably trying to charter his own helicopter to come find me himself.
Then again, they may think I’m dead. I squeeze my eyes shut and put myself in their position. Would I be resigned to the inevitable, or would I keep hope alive until they were found?
I don’t know.
I suppose you can never really know until you’re in a situation.
As long as I’ve been flying, I’ve never, ever thought I’d be in this situation.
I miss them so much. I miss the girls’ little arms wrapped like anacondas around my neck, refusing to let go. Or the way my daddy cooked me and Ashara’s favorite meals on alternating Sundays; I got spaghetti and fried catfish. She got cornish hen and cabbage.
God, just the thought of either one of those is making my mouth water. I feel like it’s been weeks since I’ve had a real meal, but time is making a mockery of me. It’s only been two days. Three days?
Jesus, I can’t even remember.
I hope I see my family again. The thought that I won’t is making my chest hurt. I let myself drift off, finally, falling into the dark abyss of sleep.
In my dreams, I’m surrounded by fire. Burning alive. Screaming in agony, lungs burning from smoke, eyes melting and teeth shattering as the fire consumes me.
My eyes snap open and I sit up fast, heart hammering, mind still scrambled.
I smell smoke.
My first thought is that the plane caught fire again. My pulse spikes as I scramble out of the shelter, my bad leg protesting a little.
But no…it’s not the plane. It’s closer, and it’s not fuel wafting through the air. It’s just a few yards away. I follow the sight of white smoke until I see Villain standing over a fire, tossing something into it. He looks up when he hears my footsteps, sweat streaking down his temples.
“Hey. You got any trash you need to burn?”
“No.” I frown at the fire, my mind still racing. “Why are you—“
“Just making sure we don’t leave anything laying around for animals to sniff out.”
I nod, staring as he tosses empty wrappers into the fire. They curl, turn black, then disappear into the flames as if they never existed at all.
He’s so…different today. Nothing like the spoiled, immature, cocky rap star I met on the plane a few days ago, the one who treated me like shit and assumed it was his right to do so. This man here is…capable. Responsible.
“I also dug a pit,” he says, breaking me out of my thoughts. “For when we gotta take a shit.”
I look down at the ground, my nose scrunched, my lips curling.
He laughs at that. “Don’t be actin' all high and mighty. Everybody shits, Ariana.”
“I’m aware. Some of us aren’t so crude about it, though.”
“I don’t give a fuck,” he says, laughing. “We out here in the wilderness, baby girl. Back to basics.”
With my arms crossed in front of me, I switch subjects. “Are you still going out today?”
“Yeah.” He kneels by the fire, throwing dirt and sand onto it to snuff it out. “Trying to find that ocean for you.”
He grabs the shirt strips he has hanging from a nearby tree, moving with a purpose, sure of himself in a way that makes me think he might actually make it today.
I watch him disappear into the trees, the sound of leaves crunching under his Jordans.
It fades slowly as he gets further away, leaving me alone in the relative silence.
I make my way back to the supply pile and stare down at the snacks. I think I’m gonna make myself useful while he’s gone. Yes, I’m gonna prepare our food. I’ll have it ready when he gets back.
The thought makes me chuckle under my breath.
If Ashara saw me now, she’d laugh, too. This homemaker nonsense is her department, not mine.
She’s the one who bakes cookies for the PTA meeting and throws cute little theme parties for everyone’s birthday.
I’m the one who orders dinner instead of cooking and hires someone to clean my place before company comes because I’m never in my condo long enough to clean it.
And even if I was, I still wouldn’t, because I fucking hate cleaning.
I’m independent, and I love that about my life. I come and go as I please. No obligations. No responsibilities. For me, that’s freedom. I don’t even know how to think in terms of what I should be doing as a woman.
This thing with Luke is new, but so far, he’s fitting into my life in a way that makes me hopeful for our future. He’s never asked me to cook once. The only expectation he has is to spend time with me.
So this, what I’m doing right now, the careful way I’m arranging this gourmet caramel and sea salt popcorn on this plastic plate with Wagyu jerky on the side feels foreign to me. Are these my fingers working hard like this? If I looked in a mirror right now, I wouldn’t know me.
I just plated a meal for a man.
And then, because why not, because the world is upside down and tomorrow isn’t promised, I grab a bottle of champagne and work the cork until it pops, the sound sharp in the silence.
Foam spills a little over the lip, and I smile as I watch it drip onto the dirt.
There’s nothing to celebrate here. Nothing at all.
But maybe tonight, we can at least pretend.