Page 29 of Anywhere with You

Lane was right. We couldn’t miss it. There was a single gravel path leading from the back door, through the cactus garden, and out into the desert.

The air smelled clean and earthy, with an almost herbal scent. I bent over some cacti and breathed deeply.

I worried that the day would be too warm for the hot springs to be enjoyable, but when we reached them, half a mile from the house, neither Cara nor I hesitated. We pulled off shirts, shorts, and shoes, left them in a pile on the rocks, and eased ourselves into the clear, warm water.

I wore a plain black one-piece that was advertised as slimming , if such a thing can ever be said about two square feet of fabric.

Cara’s swimsuit was red with orange hibiscus.

It was two-piece, and it didn’t quite contain the voluptuousness of her ass, the faint tan line separating warm brown and soft-looking paler skin, so I had to restrain both my voice and hands until she was submerged.

Had we never even changed clothes in front of each other on our days of travel?

We’d spent so much time rushing from tourist attractions to hotels, taking turns showering and falling asleep quickly.

Had I realized how enthralling her curves would be beneath those sundresses and embroidered jeans, I would’ve paid more attention.

There were several recesses in the rocky ground, some deep, some shallow, some comfortable, some that I’d use to heat up soup but would never get in myself.

The whole area smelled faintly of sulfur, but very faintly.

The absence of a chlorine smell was actually the strangest part.

I rarely swam in lakes or rivers or the ocean.

Most of the water I’d touched in my life had been treated with chlorine, whether a little out of the tap or a lot in the city swimming pool.

“Dear goodness,” Cara moaned in a way that made my mouth water. She slid down until her shoulders were covered in the warm water, her head resting on the rocky ledge. I forced myself to stop searching for another glimpse of her butt, but dear Lord.

I was not a butt person. I was very much a boob person, if anything, though I’d like to say for the record that all humans are beautiful, and personality matters so much that I’d rather get slapped in the face with a live porcupine than date most of the good-looking people I actually knew in person.

However, I’m also not one to ignore a wonder of the natural world.

I pressed my eyes closed as I tried to stop my brain’s obsessive fantasies. What had Cara said? Oh yes, dear goodness . Before I could imagine a few other situations that might elicit the phrase, I turned toward her.

“What do you think? Is it worth a ruined vacation in the redwoods?” I asked, slipping a little as I eased myself deeper into the water.

“No,” she said, “but all of a sudden, I don’t mind as much.”

I took her lead and submerged myself up to my chin, letting the heat gently flow over me. When I stopped moving, I could see little fish darting between us.

“How can they swim in this without cooking?” I asked.

Cara watched them, grinning as they darted around us. “They’ve adapted,” she said. “There are even microorganisms in Yellowstone’s boiling springs.”

I stopped. “Wait, are they really boiling?”

“Not all the time, but yeah, sometimes. All that volcanic activity isn’t as far under the surface as you’d think.”

I looked around. I don’t know what I was checking for. Magma? Smoke? But everything around us was calm. There was only the faintest hint of steam over some of the pools.

For a time, we relaxed in silence, listening to the gentle sounds of the water, the wind rustling bushes and trees, the occasional skittery sound of what I chose to believe were lizards and definitely not snakes or javelinas or giant, hairy scorpions.

Cara’s eyes were closed. “I don’t know the last time I went somewhere I couldn’t even hear cars.”

I thought about that, about the people driving in and out of White Sands, even the distant noise of traffic at the Gila cliff dwellings. I snapped my fingers, “Got it. Walking in the pouring rain after your car broke down. Not a car around for miles until Mildred and Jeffrey came along.”

Cara nodded. “True, but not exactly a moment to relax and enjoy the nature sounds.”

“Hey. Tornadoes and coyote packs make nature sounds, too.”

“By that logic, the noise coming out of your mouth would qualify, and I guarantee you, it doesn’t.”

I laughed but shut up. I didn’t know if she was joking, but I was enjoying the quiet, too.

Soon, I got out of the water just long enough to grab the wine and water. I was shivering by the time I got back into the hot spring. I didn’t know if the water was that much warmer, or if the day was beginning to cool.

Cara and I passed the wine bottle back and forth.

It had a Canada goose on the label, which made me smile, remembering my conversation with my dad about Canadian sweet potatoes in the brownies Mom made.

I’d have to make sure to send him pictures of this place.

I doubted either of my parents had bothered to download Mesmio.

But he needed to see this. Dad was every bit the comfort traveler.

He and Mom had pictures in hammocks on sandy beaches, eating fancy chocolate, and taking trains through beautiful countryside.

There were no photos from the tops of any mountains, none that involved trekking through rainforests or sweating more than was absolutely avoidable.

I half suspected that he’d only agreed to attend my college graduation because I’d raved about the foot massage place down the street.

We’d have plenty of opportunities to take pictures and make videos now, I supposed.

Cara and I would have several long days of boredom at the vacation house, unless we were going to spend all day every day out here in the hot springs, a plan that sounded good until I noticed the pink tint on the top of Cara’s nose.

Maybe there were some parasols tucked away in that well-stocked house.

I suddenly regretted not getting the inflatable life-size alien I’d seen in Roswell. It would’ve made a perfect addition to our hot springs videos.

By the time the wine bottle was empty, the sky had started to take on an orange glow.

“We should head back,” Cara said, but she didn’t move, her legs stretched out in front of her, the fish darting across her stomach, her bathing suit top thin and clinging.

Dear goodness.

I cleared my throat and tried to focus. The wine wasn’t helping. “We have the flashlights,” I said. “Let’s stay awhile.”

It was hard to comprehend how quickly the heat went out of the desert air when the sun began to set.

It was like there was no atmosphere to hold it in.

The sun was either baking you, or it was gone, and there was nothing, no source of heat but the water.

Houston was hot all day and all night. During the worst of summer, it was never below ninety degrees, not even at midnight.

But Houston also had some serious light pollution. Above us now, like a city waking up in the predawn darkness, stars lit up the sky. First, there were a handful. Then, there were more than I had ever seen. And they kept appearing, making the dome of the world feel alive.

The sky next to the shitty motel had nothing on this masterpiece.

I watched them breathlessly, and when I realized Cara hadn’t noticed, I pointed overhead, showing her Orion and Cassiopeia, the only two constellations I could regularly find.

Even the Big Dipper seemed too sparse in this mess of stars.

I kept thinking I’d found it, only to find it again somewhere else.

“It’s remarkable that any of those stories are remembered,” I said. “So much time has passed, but also, I could find a million shapes up there. I’d find a new one each night, a new story.”

“Of course you would,” Cara said with a little laugh.

“You don’t have the kind of mind that can be satisfied with the same old boring story.

Even if you told the same one twice, it would be from someone else’s perspective.

We know what Poseidon thought of Cassiopeia, but what did she think?

What did her daughter Andromeda think? By the time you were done, we’d have the whole story. ”

“Thanks?”

“It’s a compliment, believe me. As for me, I’d remember those stars and that they were Cassiopeia, chained to a chair and destined to drown. I’d remember, and pass on the story, and add nothing new.”

I wanted to disagree with her, but I wasn’t sure how. Maybe Cara didn’t see herself as creative, but that was fine. Not everyone was.

But she loved new experiences, even when they scared her. And she had planned out this adventure for us with almost no notice and a very limited budget. And she sang along to the songs on my playlist.

Maybe she wouldn’t add to the stories, but they wouldn’t be the same without someone like her to clap and laugh and try to understand them in her own way. They wouldn’t be the same without her.

I didn’t know how to say any of that, so I asked her questions about aliens and how far the planets and stars were and what dark matter was and whether it was real, to which she reliably replied, “I teach biology, not astronomy.”

The temperature continued to fall.

I sank lower, covering my chin and lips and breathing through my nose. I was about to say that we should probably go back to the house, when Cara broke the silence.

“Nine years, and he never washed a dish.”

I sat up, sure that I’d gotten water in my ears and misheard her. “He what?”

“We’d talk about it. He’d say, what’s the big deal? He’d say, why are you getting upset? And nothing would ever change. Eventually I gave up.”

She stared out at the night without moving, hardly seeming to breathe.

“It’s just one thing. I mean, there were lots more, but it’s what I keep thinking about.

I told my mom once, and she laughed it off.

It’s just dishes, after all. I didn’t know how to tell her that it was this small thing, but it was every day of my life.

Every day, he was saying that his time was more important than mine, that he chose the convenience of a live-in servant over changing this small thing that bothered me.

If I’d given it to him, if I’d said I don’t mind dishes, just leave them in the sink, then we could’ve been happy.

But it wasn’t something I gave. It was something he took from me, just a small piece, every day of my life. ”

I reached over and took one of her hands, holding tight to it under the water.

She didn’t pull away. “Honestly, that was one of the best parts of him cheating on me. Suddenly, he wasn’t around after work. I’d cook and eat and clean up, and it made me feel lonely, but that was still better than how he made me feel when he was there.”

I didn’t move, just listened.

Cara shook her head. “I’m silly. I know.”

“No,” I said immediately, fiercely. “You’re not silly. You’re right. You tried to communicate, which is all you could do. He was a shitty partner. That’s all.”

Tears fell from her eyes, dripping down her cheeks and chin to plop soundlessly in the hot spring.

“Cara, you deserve someone who communicates, too, someone who respects you, and who loves you more than they love themselves. Cara Espinoza…are you listening to me?”

She nodded, and I held her hand until her tears stopped.

“Thank you,” she said at last. “Thank you for believing me and not brushing me off.”

“Well, you are quite the drama queen.”

She gave a soft, wet laugh. “I’m also a compulsive liar.”

“Really?”

“No.”

I laughed, and after a second, she let go of my hand and pushed me playfully, smiling.

“I can’t believe we spent all these years not really being friends,” she said. “I mean…”

“I know. Me, too. We could’ve been hanging out and having fun while Bridget and Lorenzo were being boring.”

Cara grinned. “We could’ve been ditching them and going on adventures, this whole time.”

“We could’ve gone to see the boiling fish in Yellowstone.”

Cara seemed like she was about to correct me, then just shook her head. “We can still do that. Barbados, too, like Doug recommended. It was a very good suggestion. And we’ll try Muir Woods again, sometime.”

“Definitely,” I agreed, then bumped her shoulder with mine. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you, when I first found out about Bridget and Lorenzo.”

“It’s okay,” Cara said. “I knew. I mean, we found out around the same time, so it didn’t make a difference.”

“Still. I wish I’d been there for you.”

“We weren’t that kind of friends then, Honey. But we are now, aren’t we?”

I grinned and hugged her, lifting her inches out of the water, squeezing so hard that she squealed, then laughed.

And I…well, I fought to stay on friendship mode and not focus on the feel of her body against mine, the way my hands slid across her wet skin as I reluctantly let her go.

The dream I’d had about us had lingered, deepening into fantasies that were so much more than that.

I didn’t just want a night with Cara, though I thought about it so much it bordered on meditation.

I wanted her friendship, her conversation, her road trips, her morning breath, her bad music.

I wanted it all, and I wanted it enough to wait, enough to hope, that someday she’d want it, too.