Page 65 of Kane

A thoughtful silence. “Don’t know that I wanna, honey. You’re pure, good, sweet. You just do what feels good. You don’t pass judgment, you don’t think about right or wrong. You just go for it. You wanted to make me feel good, and that was your only motivation. That’s…it’s fuckin’ beautiful, honey, and I’m the luckiest man on the whole goddamn planet that I’m gettin’ that from you.”

I consider the subtext. “You are meaning manipulation. Coercion, using sexual things.”

“Yeah, babe.”

“I would never do such a thing, Kane.Never.”

“I know, honey. Neither would I.” He is very sleepy. “What makes you such a priceless goddamn treasure.”

I fade, then.

Sink into sleep with his arms around me. Naked with him.

I hear him mumble, something. “Don’t deserve you, Anj. Not a bit of you.”

I am too asleep to process, to understand. My mind, as I sink below the waves of consciousness, wonders why he would say this. How he could think he does not deserve me.

Something to ask.

8Filth Or Beauty

Kane

We day hike the next day. I picked up a couple canteens, on the way up into the mountains, knowing she’d enjoy hiking.

Never in my life did I think I’d find a woman who craves outdoor adventure the way Anjalee does. She just fuckin’ eats it up, every second of it. We hike up the mountain, hand in hand on the easier parts, her trailing behind on the uphills, and her pretty head is on a swivel, trying to see everything all at once. She wants to go off trail, examine every fallen tree, eager to see what’s around the next bend, what’s over the next hill. Never once does it occur to her that it’ll just be another bend, another hill—everything is new, and she gasps with refreshed wonder at every view. She, predictably, chose the eight-mile hike, and the best scenic turnoff is about midway. She almost misses the turnoff, having rabbited ahead to look at a pile of stacked stones left by a previous hiker.

I whistle. “Anj, babe. This way.”

The pines whisper around us, swaying. We’re way up a bit, still a long way from the tree line; this particular scenic overlook is one of the better ones, at least till you get to The Garden of the Gods. She trots over to me, boundlessly energetic, endlessly eager. I take her hand and lead her down the short path away from the main trail to the edge of the verge, where the trees clear and you realize how very fucking high you’ve climbed—Colorado itself is spread out beneath you, rippling rock carpeted in pine, the valley hundreds and thousands of feet below. More mountains in the distance, white-capped. Puffs of white cloud scudding past in a bluebluebluesky.

We’ve gotten a few good views through the trees, but this is the firstrealmountain overlook she’s gotten.

She slows, and I stand behind her, wrap my arms around her middle.

“Kane,” she breathes; she’s shaken to her core. “My…god.” It’s more a prayer than a curse.

I look down at her, and I see tears trickling down her face. She leaves them, lets them fall. There’s nothing to say, because I fuckin’ get it.

She seems content to just stand here and look, so I let her. Hold her, and look with her.

Finally, after a good fifteen minutes, she turns in my arms, chin on my chest in that way she has, soft wet eyes looking up at me. “Thank you, Kane.”

I shake my head. “For what, goofball?”

“I am not a goofball,” she snaps, indignant, then softens, turns sideways, looking out. “For showing me this, for bringing me here.”

“Yeah, babe.”

We finish the hike, leave the tent, and swing down into the nearest town for dinner. The only decent place is a sports bar, so I bring her there. It’s an okay joint, fairly standard, with TVs on sports in every corner, folks clustered around the bar and at the hightops, others in the booths.

“Anywhere you like,” the teenage girl hostess says, snapping gum. “I’ll follow you with menus.”

Anjalee eyes the bar. “Can we sit at the bar, please?” She addresses this to me. “I would like to try this, like in the movies.”

I laugh, arm around her shoulders. “Fine by me.”

She frowns up at me as we take seats at the middle of the bar. “Why are you laughing at me?”