Chapter 20 #2
Marissa’s hand, carrying exactly three potato chips towards her mouth, briefly stops, suspended in the air, before its owner urges it to continue. I rub my moist palms against my thighs and return my leg to its initial position. I reach out for the bowl of chips.
“And now you think you’d be a good one,” she teases as she hands it over.
“I would,” I say as I unflinchingly meet her gaze. I let her see the honesty and determination in my eyes. “I’m ready to love, protect, prioritize, and spoil my wife.”
Marissa looks away, untangles her legs, and sits up. I fear that the spell between us is suddenly broken.
“Have you known many such husbands?” The disbelief in her voice breaks my heart.
“A few. Prez. My grandfather on my mom’s side.”
“Not your father?”
“My parents were two people living parallel lives under one roof. I don’t know if that was because of what happened to Mandy or if they’ve always been like that.”
“Wow,” Marissa says after glancing at the clock. “I can’t believe it’s nine PM already. What do you think DJ’s doing now?”
“Sleeping.”
She smiles. “You think?”
“I hope,” I smile back.
“Thank you for distracting me.”
“I also have a plan for tomorrow, if you’re game. A hike in the Superstition Mountains.”
Marissa frowns. “Aren’t you going to the Grand Canyon ride?”
“Eh, I’ve seen the Ditch many times. I’ll send Hammer in my stead. He needs time to think anyway.”
“You never told me what happened?”
I tell her how radiant and happy Lucy was, celebrating her win in the bikini contest, when she was approached by a frowning, angry Hammer who scathingly reminded her she was a mother and that it wasn’t appropriate for her to expose herself to all these bikers like that.
They argued, and when Hammer shouted that she was pathetic for making a fool out of herself to get his attention, after he’d made it very clear that he didn’t want her, nor would he ever want her, Lucy just clamped her mouth shut and walked away.
“Although he seemed to regret his outburst, I’d be surprised if Lucy ever looks at him again,” I conclude.
“That’s depressing.”
“That’s why I didn’t tell you earlier,” I say with a wink. “So, about the hike?”
I see the exact moment when Marissa stops talking herself out of it.
“That sounds great.”
*
“They said it’s supposed to be in the low 90s today,” Marissa tells me on the drive.
She’s once again overthinking her clothing choices, while I’m trying not to kill us both by staring at her bare legs instead of watching the road.
“Do you have a hat? You can take mine if you want,” she continues, and I smile.
“I do have a hat, I always keep one in the trunk. And I put sunscreen on my head, don’t worry.”
“I thought…” She breaks off and presses her lips together.
“You worry about my bald head, that’s sweet of you. I’m not embarrassed of it.”
Marisa shoots me a grateful smile but doesn’t pursue the topic further. “Do you hike a lot?”
“I try to. But between life, work, and riding, I don’t always find the time. And when I do, you have to be careful to avoid the heat and the flash floods and the haboobs…” I shake my head. “As beautiful as she is, Arizona ain’t for the weak.”
“Amen,” she agrees.
“Did you hike a lot in Tucson?”
Marissa scoffs. “Hiking was the last thing on my mind,” she shakes her head. “But now that I suddenly find myself with all this free time on the weekends, I should try new things.”
“Well, I picked the perfect route for a newbie. It’s only a mile and a half, scenic, fairly easy, but very rocky, so watch your feet.”
It’s pleasantly warm. The scent of soil and various wildflowers flavors each breath I take.
Other than me reminding Marissa to drink water, we don’t talk much. I guess we’re both focused on watching our steps.
“This is here year-round,” I tell her, pointing to a pool of water. “The waterfall at the end flows only after several days of heavy rain.”
I take her hand to help her over some slick rocks, and I don’t let go afterwards. Neither does she.
We quickly reach the carvings on the cliff. I gaze up at them reverently. Marissa squints, trying to make out the shapes.
“What are those?” She asks.
“They’re called petroglyphs,” I explain. “They’re ancient rock carvings, over a thousand years old, made by the Hohokam people. And that’s where the waterfall would be.”
“Wow. So, this is like an archeological site?”
I nod. “No one is supposed to touch the carvings, since skin oils can damage and degrade them.”
“But they survived all these years, despite the elements?”
I nod, but she seems skeptical. She’s looking around like she’s trying to puzzle something out.
“What do they represent? I doubt someone idle was sitting here, doodling for fun.”
“Who knows?” I finally let go of her hand in order to put my hands on my hips. “Could be hunting markers, a wayfinding system, a religious thing…”
“We’ll never know,” Marissa concludes.
“Do you think that makes it more or less special?” I ask her, and she considers the question for a moment.
“I think not knowing allows us to project our own ideas onto these carvings. Now, whether that’s good or bad is debatable.”
We smile at each other like we’re two lovesick idiots. Well, one of us definitely is.
“Should we have our lunch here?”
“We have lunch?” She seems surprised.
I take off my backpack and gesture towards a flat slab of stone. “We have two sandwiches, a bag of potato chips, baby carrots, some more water, and two apples.”
“Thanks,” she says as I hand her a sandwich.
Marissa closes her eyes and turns her face to the sun as she chews.
“I have to admit that this is better than spiraling in my room,” she tells me.
“You’re welcome,” I reply casually, and she slaps my arm.
There is a new side to her in this moment, an unburdened quality that I haven’t had the chance to see before.
I briefly wonder what she was like when she was younger, before the tasks of adult life and motherhood.
Something tells me that she never had much freedom to just... be.