Chapter 9 Daisy - Thank you, August. #2
I rub my eyelids, willing my vision to clear and make out what’s causing the commotion in the dark. When I finally gain some sight back and spot the culprit, I attempt to shriek but no sound comes out.
Without thinking, I reach out and grab hold of Gus’s arm in a death grip. “It’s a…it’s a—”
“Fuck, that’s a ‘possum.” Gus moves quickly, trying to move me out of the way while simultaneously—I think—trying to remove said opossum from the tent before all hell breaks loose.
His attempts are futile though because I unfortunately have a front row seat to watch August try to swipe at the critter.
He loses his balance on the wobbly air mattress and crashes into the corner of the tent.
The small opening that the opossum somehow weaseled his way through proceeds to rip all the way up to the top metal pole holding the vinyl scraps of fabric together.
The beady eyes of the opossum go wide, and I swear he looks directly at me, right into my soul, before giving Gus another glance and dashing out of the now-ruined tent.
Leaving the two of us humans in stunned silence.
The only sounds now are from the great outdoors I petitioned to avoid and our labored breathing.
How in the hell no one else has woken up is simply beyond me.
“How did that thing get in here?” I finally ask.
I then hear the faint sound of air escaping, a wheezing that can only mean one thing.
Gus is busy inspecting the damage. A wasted effort, in my opinion, but I choose to keep that to myself. He starts gathering pillows and blankets, mine included, without a word.
“Gus?” I prompt.
He ignores me.
“Gus?” I attempt again.
“Gus, the air mattress popped.”
“Do you think I don’t realize that?” He whips his head to me.
“Do you think I’m not aware that it’s now almost three a.m., I’ve gotten maybe two hours of sleep, and I’m now gonna have to go back and forth with you for however the fuck long it takes to convince you to get out of this now junk tent?
Spare me. This one goddamn time, spare me, and let’s go. ”
He finishes collecting just about everything in the space up into his arms and leaves me sitting on the now half-inflated mattress. I don’t make any moves to follow. Instead, I watch in silence as August gets busy building a nest of comfort in the bed of his truck.
After a few minutes of watching him rearrange pillows and blankets, he turns back to me.
“I told you earlier, you always have a choice. I’m telling you right now, my patience has run out.
You get this one shot to make the right decision, and yes, Daisy, there’s a right decision here, and then I’m passing the fuck out. ”
I weigh my options. I realize I have none.
I sigh and plant my hands on either side of me for balance to hoist myself up, when Gus crosses the space between us and wordlessly offers his hand.
I reach up and grab it and almost fall back from the shock, but his firm grip brings me up into a standing position.
“Must be static electricity. From the blankets,” he mutters. “Sorry.”
“Yeah, must be,” I lamely agree. Neither of us has let go of the other. It’s gotten to the point where it’s definitely weird now.
Gus is the first to break. He stalks back to the truck, kicking off his boots again, hopping into the bed, and crawling under one of the top comforters. I shake off the weird fog that just clouded my brain and follow suit.
I lay my back against the surprisingly comfortable makeshift bed Gus created and look up at the stars. You get a pretty good view of them in Merrymount, but I have to admit, there’s nothing like the night sky at Barefoot Lake.
I peek at Gus from the corner of my eye. He has one arm tucked underneath his head and his other hand is toying with the seam of the comforter. There’s a loose string that he keeps wrapping and unwrapping around his finger.
Refocusing back on the twinkling dots above, I decide to fill the silence with mentions of before, before things with August and me went to shit.
The times that we never bring up or share, on his part because they’re probably trivial, forgotten pasts.
For me, because with to-the-bone honesty, it hurts too much to think about.
“It’s been quite a while since I spent time in the back of this truck,” I admit.
“Listening to the sound of your voice and you fidgeting with the blankets kind of makes it feel like it was just yesterday,” Gus says after a long pause.
“The stars look the same,” I breathe. “Still shining bright and beautiful. Still there as a guide to who-knows-where.”
A trick of the light makes it look like Gus’s focus is solely on me when he says, “I was thinking the same thing, Daze.”
I hate to admit how much the nickname only works when it’s coming from him. Whether it’s said in anger or affection, it’s always had the same effect on me. Can’t explain it, not going to try.
“I just want to say thank you, August. For helping me out tonight, despite all of the drama that came with it. I can replace your tent. And the mattress. Lord knows I’m going to have to get a new one for my parents anyway.
Because even though the thing hasn’t been touched in years, it broke on my watch. So, it’s my problem now,” I ramble.
Gus scoffs. “I’m not arguing with you right now, Daze. Go back to sleep.” He removes his arm from underneath his head and folds his pillow in half, a thing he’s done all the while I’ve known him. It’s another thing that’s remained the same. Just like the stars.
I drift off shortly after that, without a care in the world that there’s no barrier between us, or that August Burton, of all people, saved the day. I don’t think about the fact that this isn’t even close to the first time I’ve come face to face with this kind of reality.