The Universe is a Very Big Place (34 page)

"Come outside with me,” John said, pulling her up by the hand. He led her to his back patio through a set of clear glass doors.

He had a nice setup on his patio. Two plastic chairs and a small round table. A half-read fantasy book perched lazily atop the table. But it was the view that struck her. From his third-story apartment building he could see the world––or at least got a very good glimpse of it. Blocks and blocks of city. The mountains against the horizon. Paradise Pub.
 

"This is nice," she said, meaning it.
 

He could be alone here. A luxury Spring never had anymore.

"I miss home," he said, looking up at the sky. The moon was full and bright, playing court to the few stars that had decided to make an appearance that night. "In Indiana you can see so many stars they all kinda blur together. In the city, with all the light and pollution, there are only a few visible ones. Makes me kinda sad."
 

Spring squeezed his hand and followed his gaze. "It's amazing isn’t it?" she asked. "The Universe is so large, so vast, so...unquantifiable, and here I am, a tiny speck of nothing, consumed in my own worries. It's almost pitiful."

"You," said John, turning to look at her again. "Are anything but pitiful. You are a child of the Universe, not a speck." He lifted her chin and their eyes met. His blue eyes became almost as dark as the night behind him.

"I want to be happy, John. Why is it so hard?"

John‘s fingers traced her face, from her cheekbone to her chin. It sent shivers down her back. "We all want to be happy, Spring, but very few of us ever achieve it. I wonder why we bother at all."

"Don't be cynical, John. Lots of people are happy."

John lowered his head and kissed her. It lasted only a moment. Their lips hardly met, barely parting at all as they came together.
 

"John, stop," she said, her voice no louder than a whisper.
 

But he wasn’t going to let her go. He took her head and pulled her to him, kissing her deeply.
 

"Are you happy now, Spring?" he asked, his tongue rolling around hers, searching for more of her. She could feel the longing inside him. His need.

"Yes," she breathed between kisses.

"I love you, Spring. I love you so goddamned much..." He pushed his lips onto hers. His fingers dug into her shoulders. "Tell me you love me, too."

"I...I..."

John released her mouth, and lifted her chin. He looked into her eyes. "Tell me, Spring."

"I’m so confused. There’s Trevor. And Sam. God, what about Sam?" She started to panic. Sam was probably worried sick about her at this very moment. She had left her cellphone in the living room. He could be calling her right now.

"He doesn’t love you, Spring. Not the way you deserve to be loved. I could see that after spending
 
a single hour with him. How can you be so blind?" John shook her, ever so slightly, before letting his arms drop.

Spring shook her head. "Let’s pretend for one little moment that I did have feelings for you. Then what? Are you prepared for what that means? That means taking me on, and my boys, and my mother. Are you prepared for all of that at your age? You don’t even have a job, John."

"I just want a night with you for now. One step at a time. That, I’m prepared for."

Spring felt her jaw tighten. Of course he wanted a night. That’s all any man wanted.

"Mommy, my tummy hurts." One of the boys called to her beneath the blanket.

"I think it’s time I go home."

John turned from her. She could see his reflection in the glass door, his mouth was drawn down and his eyes were hollow. "Yes. Sam will be waiting."

John was making breakfast. He hadn’t gone to sleep yet, and he had no intention of going. Sleep would bring dreams, and dreams would bring images of Spring. Spring with Sam.

As he fried his eggs he felt a pang of guilt for not meeting Amy the previous evening. He should have called her. He prayed that someday she would forgive him. He hoped she hadn’t sat out in the parking lot too long, waiting for him. But there was no chance he was going to miss being with Spring, even if it meant an eternity in hell for all the sins he’d commit in the process. He hadn’t showered, either. He wanted her scent on him as long as possible and when he breathed in deeply he could still catch glimpses of her in his mind. She was so beautiful it almost killed him.

He knew he should have talked her into staying, but after he mentioned having her for a night, her mood seemed to have changed. Of course he wanted her for a night. But there was more. He wanted her for a day, and a night, and the next day, and to see where the road led them after that. She was the mother of two kids, and that carried a heavy weight. He didn’t want to fail her. She deserved more than that.

He flipped the eggs and broke the yoke in the pan. That was good. He wasn’t in the mood for runny eggs, anyway. He needed something solid, something he could hold onto. Even if it was a breakfast food. He served himself a plate. The eggs were overdone and the bacon had been burned during his daydreaming, but he couldn’t taste it. All of his senses were still focused on the memory of the night before. He had thought before that he had loved her, but after holding her last night, he knew for certain. And he knew, in the deepest part of his heart and soul, that he wanted her to be happy. Even if it meant letting her go back to Sam.

After breakfast he opened up a recently-purchased book on mountain trails of the Southwest. Arizona was renowned for beautiful hiking trails and scenic peaks, and he had not explored a single one of them. As a matter of fact, in his month in the city he had not done a single thing worth writing home about...
except falling in love with an engaged woman, but that was a letter Mom wouldn’t want to get.
 

"Some adventurer I am," he sighed.
 

The mountains of his childhood seemed a million miles away.
You can leave, you know?
This wasn’t the first time he had this thought. Pack it up and go home, back to cornfields and Pete and the VFW and his family. A place where he wouldn’t be alone.

Yes, you will.

Yes, you will.

Twenty-Four

Sam skipped his prayers, knowing with utmost certainty that Allah would understand. Instead he spent the morning tidying his den, making room for all of the new books that he would soon inherit.

As soon as he married Spring.

He tightened his grip around the dust rag as he thought about the situation. He just had to keep his head. They would be married. And soon.

Why did Grandma Rosary have to be such a religious freak, anyway? To her, The Ten Commandments were not just suggestions, they were laws to be followed, and heaven help the soul who didn’t believe as she did. It was a wonder he had come out normal at all. He still hadn’t told her he was no longer practicing Catholicism. That would have to wait until after the wedding...or maybe never tell her. Let the old woman be happy in her final days, he thought, as he dusted and arranged his books. He was jostled out of his thoughts by the snorts and whimpers of a pig and a steady, annoying, rap at the back door. He could pretend not to notice, but that would only call Lanie out of the woodwork.
 

His first order of business, after the matrimonies, was in getting rid of the terrible trio.

"Well, hello, Bob!" said Sam, a smile pulling itself tautly across his face. It hurt to stretch his lips that far, but he held it, fighting back the curl of his upper lip.

"Good to see you, neighbor," said Bob, bringing Buttermilk inside. "I do hope Lanie is feeling better. We worried about her all night, didn’t we, sweetie?" Bob bent down and gave the pig a peck on the cheek.

Sam felt goose bumps rise up all over his body. He wasn’t sure what he hated worse, watching Bob kiss the pig or watching Bob kiss Lanie. Both were equally unnerving.
 

"I’ll check in on her," Sam said, glad for the reprieve. He knocked quietly on Lanie’s door, and hearing no answer, opened it enough to peek inside. "Lanie?"

Lanie sat cross-legged, palms up, eyes rolled into the back of her head. Candles of various colors flickered around her. She seemed to be in a trance. He was about to leave the room, and tell Bob she was sleeping, when her eyes snapped open suddenly.

"Sorry to interrupt your devil worshipping. Your boyfriend is here. And so is Bob."

Lanie pursed her lips together and let her hands fall into her lap, shaking out her frazzled red hair. After a moment of collecting herself, she spoke. "I know what you are doing, and I suggest you rethink things before karma kicks you in the ass."
 

She picked up a card and flicked it in his direction.
 

It flipped and whirled in the air before landing gracefully beside him. Sam stooped to retrieve it, knees groaning in protest.
The Tower,
it read ominously. It was a tall, mortar building being struck by lightning. Bodies with arms flailing and
Oh Shit
faces plunged out of the windows and to their deaths. Charming.

"Don’t worry about me, Lanie," he said coolly. "I’ve got everything under control."
 

Sam tossed the card into the air and watched it flutter down, tumbling over itself, only to land face up on his toe. He kicked it off dismissively, gave Lanie one final look and left her bedroom.

Your time is coming, old woman.

Twenty-Five

Spring sat on the cold, metal folding chair, wishing she had worn a pair of pants instead of a skirt. Though it was blistering hot outdoors, it was like the arctic tundra inside the store. There were others with her––bored, chilly patrons looking for a great deal. She resisted the urge to crawl into a fetal position and fall asleep across three of the empty seats while she waited for Sam. A woman twirled the dials on an old television monitor that was bracketed to a wall. She flipped through the channels and grunted when she realized the only station it received was the local news, only partially visible through the static lines.

"Non-profit organization,
Teens in Trouble,
is under fire today," reported a blond newscaster, "After mascot, Casey the Condom, allegedly threatened a woman with office supplies at a local strip mall..."
 

They cut to a clip of a giant penis brandishing a pair of black-handled scissors near a woman with long, flaxen hair.

"Ta-da!" Sam emerged from the dressing room, dressed in black and white from head to toe. "What do you think?" he asked, adjusting a bow tie.
 

The hairs on his head stood up straight as if in salute. The material was shinier than any tuxedo material Spring had ever seen. It certainly did not fit him right. It was an inch too short in the arms and legs and too tight across the chest.

"It’s got quite the sheen to it,” she said, shielding her eyes.
 

Sam smiled and nodded approvingly. "That’s not even the best part," said Sam. "Watch this." Sam scurried back into the dressing room and returned with a shiny, matching top hat and a black lacquered cane. "See?" he said, leaning on his cane and tilting his top hat over his left eye. "I know you like the men in those old movies, so I wanted you to have your fantasy."