Page 32 of Anywhere with You

We found our swimsuits, eventually, and slept briefly on the rocks at the edge of the hot spring, warmed by the proximity of the water and each other, pillowing our heads on folded towels.

I had thoroughly checked the area around the springs before we lay down and assured Cara that this spot was as snake-free, scorpion-free, and centipede-free as any place in the middle of the desert could hope to be.

Eventually, she was too tired to stay awake, and she refused to let me watch over her.

“I can’t sleep if you don’t sleep,” she said, passing out almost instantly.

I sat for a few minutes, listening to the night.

I didn’t know whether this night with Cara was the start of something or whether it would stand alone, one wonderful memory in a time of my life when everything else in my life was falling apart.

Either way, I was grateful. I might lose Strings & Things, but my world was bigger and more interesting than it had been in a long time.

Also, there’s nothing like a night of great sex in a hot spring to help the breakup recovery process. I didn’t miss Bridget. I had been too angry to miss her. But even the anger was growing more distant. I had better uses for my energy. And my hope.

Soon, I slept, too, and woke to bright sunlight.

I sat up and stretched, looking around just in time to see a gray-brown tail slither out of sight. I didn’t know what it was, but I was going to choose to believe it was not one of Arizona’s thirteen species of rattlesnake.

Cara was still asleep, mouth wide open, curls tangled.

I would sure as hell not be telling her about that wildlife sighting.

I checked the rest of the area for creepy crawlies, took one long moment of appreciating the feel of her body against me, then woke her gently, and we groggily stood and started making our way down the very visible path back to the house.

We split the barely edible peanut butter granola bars and the last of the water on the way, and it wasn’t long before the cactus garden appeared.

Cara opened the door and turned to me in the doorway. “This was perfect.”

I laughed. “I’m pretty sure that we just slept on rocks all night.”

“No,” she said, pulling me close and placing my arms around her waist. “It was perfect. I mean it. That whole night was magical and unbelievably romantic. I will remember and fantasize about kissing you in the hot springs on a regular basis, for the rest of my life. I don’t think you understand how amazing you make everything, how much better you make every adventure. ”

I didn’t have anything to say to that. For some reason, tears filled my eyes.

She kissed me before they could fall, then pulled me to the closest bedroom, into bed, and curled her body against mine as we slept.

* * *

Lane had left dinner for us in the fridge yesterday, with a note: Hope you’re enjoying the springs. Call if you need anything.

“Yes, we are,” I answered the note out loud, lining up the takeout cartons on the counter.

“Cara! I made lunch,” I shouted.

She came in, hair in a towel, and rolled her eyes at the cartons. “You’re quite the chef.”

“Only the best for you, Care Bear.”

She cringed, laughing. “Thanks, Honeybun.”

“No problem, Caramel.”

“I hate you a little bit.”

I laughed out loud. “Good. I’d hate to think that I messed up our friendship with my incredible hot springs skills.”

I ran my hand across her lower back, and she gave a delighted shiver.

We ate together at the table, then finally sorted through our luggage, putting everything away in the two nicest bedrooms. Cara arranged all the lotions and makeup bottles that she hadn’t bothered to unpack when we were driving somewhere new every day.

I found a bottle of aloe in the cabinet, and we treated each other’s mild sunburns, or attempted to. It turned out that putting our hands all over each other made us want to…put our hands all over each other.

We spent the rest of the afternoon in bed, which was much more comfortable than the hot springs, though a bit less adventurous. The absence of snakes really tipped the scales, though.

I could not get over her breasts, and she laughed at how long I could just stare at them adoringly, then take the weight of them in my hands and sigh with pleasure.

“You just don’t understand how glorious you are,” I said.

“Are you talking to me or my boobs?” she asked.

“ Uhhhh ,” I said, then kissed her to get out of answering. She laughed against my mouth.

We took a long nap under the pillowy blankets, only waking when the doorbell rang that evening.

We heard the creak of the door, then Lane, calling out from the doorway. “Dinner!”

“I think you were right,” I whispered to Cara. “You should name your firstborn child after them.”

“They’re my favorite person in the whole world,” she muttered.

“Hey,” I said, biting her shoulder, but secretly, I felt the same.

Cara and I dressed and went into the living room, both of us looking revealingly disheveled, but Lane just grinned and kept unloading food: chicken-fried steak, burgers, gravy, sweet potato fries, several slices of pie, and a jug of iced tea.

“How many people do you think you’re feeding?” Cara asked, laughing.

We talked Lane into staying to eat with us, which didn’t take much convincing. I got the impression that it was pretty lonely, being a young queer person in a town this small.

I got out glasses for the tea, and Cara brought plates and silverware to the table, and soon, the only sound was chewing. Lane took out their phone, and in a few seconds, Fiona Apple was singing through the living room speaker system, clear and just loud enough for us to enjoy.

After they’d put away half a chicken-fried steak, Lane brushed off their skirt—it was polka-dots today—and said, “Oh, I meant to tell you. My boss, Alyssa, is driving into Phoenix, day after tomorrow. She said she could give you a ride to the airport.”

Cara and I looked at each other across the table.

“How would I get my car back?” Cara asked.

“Oh, I forgot about that,” Lane said, smoothing the crumbs from their goatee. “I guess one of you could stay.”

Cara turned back to me. I hadn’t looked away from her. I was already shaking my head. “Tell your boss thanks,” I said, “but we’ll wait for Bill to get the car fixed.”

“Okey dokey, rum and Coke-y,” they said, straight-faced.

Cara and I had to turn our faces away from each other to keep from laughing.

“Hey, how are you liking the hot springs?” Lane asked.

Cara kept her face turned away, but I still saw her cheeks pinken.

“They’re wonderful,” I answered. “It’s hard to believe they’re just out there, part of nature.”

Lane nodded enthusiastically. “The water actually mixes in with cool groundwater before it reaches the surface. Otherwise, it would be too hot to touch.”

“Really?” I guess it shouldn’t surprise me that Lane would know all about it. “Did you grow up here?”

“In the town, not in this house, but they’re everywhere around here.”

“One for every backyard?” Cara asked, smiling at me.

Lane chuckled. “Not exactly, but not too far off, either. You may have noticed there aren’t a lot of people here. We don’t advertise the hot springs in town, and that’s just about the only entertainment you’ll find for a hundred miles in any direction.”

“You don’t advertise?” I asked. “Why?”

Lane shrugged one shoulder. “You ever been to the beach when it was crowded? Or just after a holiday weekend, when there’s trash everywhere?”

I nodded, wiping my greasy fingers on a napkin. “Fair point.”

“ ’Course, Mom’s the exception, but she’s the only one with a vacation rental for miles, and the rental agreement is pretty strongly worded. We don’t have many problems.”

“I’m sure the diner doesn’t mind the extra business when the house has guests,” Cara said, snagging the last sweet potato fry.

“That’s the truth,” Lane said. “But we get plenty of truckers and travelers passing through. It’s a small town, but it’s a pretty big road.”

“And there are some pretty big cities at the end of it,” I said. “Do you ever go?”

“Now and then, but most people who grow up here, they either hate it like anything and never come back, or they love it too much to go.” At the last, they pointed at themself. “Cities can be lonely when you’re used to knowing everyone in town by name.”

“That makes sense,” Cara said.

“Don’t get me wrong—some days I’d commit a felony for a Starbucks Frappuccino, but most of the time, I’m happy.”

I had to stop eating and look at them. Most of the time, I’m happy .

My dad had said the same thing last week, on the phone. I’m generally a cheery guy, don’t you know?

Even Florence with her dubious Southern charm: I’m happier than a dog with two dicks.

How wonderful, to feel like I was returning to that, after months of dwelling on my own misery.

I pulled a slice of lemon meringue pie over to myself and spooned out some of the lemon filling. It was tart and cold and perfect. I took another spoonful and held it out for Cara to share.

* * *

I got out my guitar after Lane left, strumming with very poor posture on the living room couch, singing softly along, a tune and a handful of words that had been percolating in my thoughts.

After a few minutes, I had a melody and some words hashed out. “How did I live so many years without adventure, boxed in and more alone than I knew? How did I live without the adventure of knowing you?”

When I had fiddled with the key and made some notes on my phone, I looked up to find Cara holding hers up, recording me. She was smiling, but her eyes looked ready to overflow.

After a moment, she lowered it. “I won’t post it if you don’t want me to.”

I shook my head. “It’s good for the kids to see that you can love music without being Joan Jett.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “The kids don’t know who Joan Jett is.”

“I know!” I groaned, leaning back into the couch cushions. “It’s a tragedy.”

“Even I can agree with that.” She plopped down beside me.

“So what do you think?” I asked. “Do I need some Elton John glasses? Would they make me sexier?”

Cara looked at me, then lifted her hands, making circles with her fingers around my eyes to simulate glasses.

“You’d look ridiculous,” she said, seriously.

“Agreed.”

“I don’t like Kool-Aid, but what about blue lipstick instead of red?” She made a kissy face.

“I’d actually like to see you in every shade of every color. Is that strange? I want to find just the right one to bring out the gold in your eyes, and then—”

She kissed me, slow and soft, touching my cheek and then running her fingers over and through my hair, murmuring, “So soft,” in between kisses.

After a few minutes, she sat back. “I’m sorry. You were saying?”

I laughed. “I was about to say that I wanted to paint your lips rainbow colors, then have you kiss me on the cheek because that would look really cool.”

Cara pinched me. “Such a romantic.”