Heartbreaker (6 page)

Today I'm downtown by myself because Char's grounded for ditching school. It's really hot and the place is crawling with tourists who act like they've never seen a palm tree before. This guy comes up to me, some old bum, and he's all Hey I'll give you a kiss if you give me a quarter. I tell him to fuck off, and he holds up his arms and says
Soorrrrry
and he laughs at me and I stub out my cigarette and start walking back to the coffee shop, wondering why the only people who talk to me are psychos or freaks.

*   *   *

I don't know when I started thinking about buying something at Kessler's but it just happened that every time I'd see the shop lady I'd think about doing it. The nicest place I'd ever been in was the Nordstrom's where Char and I looked for some underwear but there was too much security so we left. I don't even like jewelry that much, but I'm thinking about it a lot, just what it would be like to go in there and talk to her, to have her show me stuff and then say, Yes, I'd like that one, or No, I'd better not, not today. Finally I just take my dad's wallet while he's in the shower and think, Fuck it, why not, and go.

When I walk into Kessler's the shop lady starts looking at my ripped-up jeans, my hair. I dyed it and it came out kinda orange. But she just smiles at me like it doesn't matter. I sort of stand around like I don't know what I'm doing, which I don't, and she comes over to me and says Hello, can I help you with something?

I mess with my bangs and say My mom is really sick, I want to get her something for her birthday, something nice. The woman makes a sound like she's sorry about my mom and then she takes me over to some cases where some rings are stuck on velvet fingers.

I take my time, saying something about each one, how the color is nice or I like the way the metal is braided on that one, it looks really good. What price range are you looking at? she asks, and I say it doesn't matter, I'm not wanting to break the bank but it's a family gift for my mom so we want it to be special. She shows me a few rings, holding them with a cloth, and she smiles and waits like she has all the time in the world for me to make up my mind. Finally I say Well, it's between the purple and the ruby one, I just can't decide, and she says after a little pause You know for an older woman the ruby can be an overpowering stone, while the lighter stones, the amethysts, they really complement any skin tone and are appropriate for everyday wear. I say I hadn't thought of that, and then I say I want it, will she please wrap it up for me?

It's over $200 and when she runs the card through the machine I get a sick feeling in my stomach. But she doesn't even ask for ID. We make small talk as she wraps the ring and puts it into a glossy bag, just the right size for the ring box. I say thank you and she says she hopes my mother gets well soon. As I'm walking out one of those husbands comes in, he's got a giant bald spot and some nice suit on. Good luck, I say, and he gives me this look like he can't understand English but I keep smiling, I'm happy for the first time in a long time and when I get to the bus stop I unwrap the ring and put it in my pocket.

When I get home Dad is pissed; he's like Where's my wallet have you seen it? And I go, Uh no, where did you put it last, but he doesn't listen, it's obvious he's been freaking out for a few hours. I dropped his wallet in the trash, I felt bad but he hardly had any cash in it and anyway I only bought the one thing on the card, he can probably get it all back from the company when he says it was stolen.

*   *   *

When Char's mom ungrounds her we smoke in the park and then go downtown for coffee and Char catches me looking out the window. Why are you always looking over there? she asks and I shrug, playing with the straw in my drink. I don't know, I say, and suddenly she's not interested, she's grabbing my arm with her black nails digging into me saying OhmyGod did I fucking tell you about this shit that went down last night at Josh's? And I just stop listening.

The thing is, I know the shop lady. I know the different dresses she has, what kind of coat she wears when it's raining. I recognize her lipstick if another girl is wearing it, a kind of red brown like wet clay. When someone isn't in the store and she thinks no one is looking she lets her face get tired but as soon as someone walks in she smiles again and the great thing is that her face smiles too.

This is what I'm thinking when this guy comes in and Char's looking at me like
you like him?
His hair has blond streaks from being out in the sun and he keeps his thumbs hooked inside his jeans. He's a surfer and normally I hate surfers but he's kind of amazingly hot and I ask Char what she thinks and she shakes her head and says he's too white for her. I want a Mexican, she says, and laughs. Mexicans are fucking hot.

You are so racist, I tell her. The surfer guy gets a muffin and a coffee and he looks at Char and I spill my drink on purpose so it gets on Char's shorts and she screams What the fuck, Jessica! And the guy looks away and I can't help but laugh.

*   *   *

At one point I'm home and watching TV and I'm like Did you find your wallet? All bored and flipping through the channels and he says No, it's a real bitch having to cancel all the cards and get new ones and he keeps talking and I just go Uh-huh. Later when we're eating frozen burritos he asks me what's wrong because my face is all blotchy from crying and he seems like he really wants to know so I tell him that Char might be moving at the end of the year because her parents want her in a different school for people who are smart like her and it's really far away. Well she needs to focus on her education, Jessica, he says, trying to be all practical about it, and I stop eating and say Don't you get it she's my best
friend
and he goes Well if you tried you could make more friends instead of just moping around with that look on your face and your ass on the couch. What do you care, I say, and then he looks at me sort of funny and says I
do
care, and I don't say anything back, just eat another burrito.

*   *   *

After he puts the TV on and I know he won't hear me I put on my hoodie and leave out my window. I put the ring in my pocket and head downtown. It's a long walk but it's still light and Kessler's doesn't close until seven.

I'm there when she gets off work. I've gone through half a pack just waiting for her to get done cleaning up or whatever. When she walks out she has a big black coat on. Two security guards are with her and they look at me for a second but then say good night to her and start walking away. When she turns toward the parking lot I step in her path and say Hi, you don't remember me maybe but I got a ring here last week for my mom. I say You were right about the ring, it was just what she wanted. The shop lady looks startled but she smiles, that's how she is, she's polite. I'm glad, she says, and then we both just stand around, me chewing on my nails and her just looking like she doesn't know what to do. Finally I say Hey listen, do you think we could get a cup of coffee, it's really cold, I know a good place right there across the street, but the look on her face is all wrong and what I've said is stupid, I know, because it's like I'm asking her on a date when that's not what I mean at all. Well, it's really late, she says, I don't think so. And like some idiot I start crying and she's like What, what's wrong, but I can't say what, and now the woman is taking a step back, she has this expression like she's kind of sorry, but her sorriness is slipping and something else is taking its place. I'm sorry, she says, but I have to go, and then she makes as if to touch my shoulder and I, I don't know, I scratch her, on her wrist, scraping my nails against the bracelet she has on, some kind of gold cuff. Both our eyes go wide. She doesn't make a sound, she just turns and walks away really fast and I yell something after her, something lik
e You bitch
, which doesn't make any sense because she isn't a bitch, she isn't anything bad I could call her, she is the nicest person I know.

 

THE FIRE

She started out tiny, blue, a skinny flame flashing into the world with a hungry little sizzle. I gazed at her as she twisted between my thumb and forefinger, not knowing then what she would be like, if she would love me, or if I would love her—I didn't even know if she would be a she. That was left to fate. But right away I knew she would last. I could see it, how much she wanted it, as she strained toward the forest floor.

Leaping from my hand she shot through the parched undergrowth, becoming first a molten red line, then a skirt of orange, then rising, in an instant, into slender stalks of gold a foot high: gorgeous. She was a she, I thought, definitely.

Hello, John, she crackled, stroking me with her smoking fingers; I held out my hands and returned her caresses, delighted by the fine black skin she laid on top of my own sweating one.

Hungry? I asked.

Yes, she sighed, licking her way up the first tree.

There's plenty, I assured her. All for you.

Good, she whooshed, as the wind combed her eastward into the next dry crown of parched pine: Good good. Her heat sucked my eyes dry, toasted the hair on my head. Whispering encouragement I lay belly-down in the dirt, keeping as close to her as I could.
Enchanting!
I cried as she tossed her flames higher into the night sky.
Beautiful! Well done!
She had the wind, and she was strong; when I heard the first sirens advance, deep in the city below us, she had already grown far beyond my field of vision.

Darling, I gasped, ravished, grinning: Run.

*   *   *

The forest threw itself beneath her. That night she burned a thousand acres; the next night she took four times that number. She was relentless, voracious; she jumped fire lines like a girl skipping rope. The state, deep in a budget crisis, scrambled to rally its impoverished fire departments, but the predictions from the outset were dire; moving at fifteen miles an hour, burning at a thousand degrees, she was truly a wild thing. Most of us in the valley could see her flames from our doorsteps, and everyone everywhere in the city could see her smoke rolling over the sky. I kept my windows open, hoping to catch her scent; I drew hearts in the ash she sprinkled on the sill.

John, she said, when you come tonight, bring me something.

Anything. What would you like?

Paper. Gas cans. Hairspray. Your clothes.

Which ones? I asked, already plunging my hands into my closet, my drawers.

All of them.

Only in the first forty-eight hours could I still reach her by one of the secret paths not cordoned off, paths only she and I knew, though even then I had to be careful not to be seen; I drove with my lights off, parked my van off the road. I carried the gifts, in boxes, a half mile up to where she was just beginning to flicker into new territory. By the time I reached her I was panting inside my fire mask, my arms strengthless, jellied with pain, but I didn't mind; it was worth anything to see her shimmering with delight over the boxes as I peeled back the flaps.

Paper? I offered.

Please, she snapped, and I fed a ream to her whole, watching as the pages were sucked high up into the air before flashing into flame. Next came the gas can, which I hurled as hard as I could; it touched the edge of her and burst. I whooped, lobbing the hairspray cans like grenades. The clothes I spread out in a neat heart shape, jeans and T-shirts and underwear and socks and shoes all braided together, a baseball cap in the center.

These are for you, sweetheart, I said, and she rushed forward as I ran back, grasping the clothing in her eager fists. While she gobbled up my little tokens she was also plunging through the trees, and I pushed up the mask and put my forehead against the ground to feel how the earth shook beneath the tremendous boom and smack of exploding pine.

Yes! I yelled. My lips had split; blood crept from the dry flesh and I sucked it. She was kissing me. This was the taste of her. I jerked my hips in the dirt.

You are incredible, I said, her heat bearing down on my back. The forest floor was all ash, soft, hot: I thought I knew how it felt. I thought how lucky the forest was, to feel her so thoroughly, so deeply; it wanted her, it gave no resistance. It had been dry for so long.
You're welcome
, I told it.

I had a fox this morning, she confessed. And rabbits. Hundreds of rabbits. The birds drop down before I even touch them. They curdle in their nests.

I'm so glad, I said, inhaling the faint tang of scorched flesh and fur among the perfume of hot rock and charred wood. Such richness! She should have all of it and more, I thought; I wanted to drape her in meat and wood as a man might drape a woman in diamonds.

I lay there for as long as I dared, recklessly abandoning the mask for minutes at a time, gulping great lungfuls of smoke; when I coughed my saliva was black.

You're inside me already, I marveled.

Yes, John, she sighed. Isn't it nice?

*   *   *

I packed my van with my maps and a radio, a blanket, and a few cans of beans; she was on the move. For days I drove, my radio going nonstop with news of her direction, speed, appetite; I matched it mile for mile, working my way as close to her borders as was allowed. The relentless heat sucked the sweat from my skin; the driver's seat was constantly damp, as were the blankets I slept on in the rear. I tied a bandanna around my head, and no matter what I ate I tasted only ash and salt.

Though the emergency security cordons kept me at a distance she felt closer than ever, striking the landscape wherever I looked: she was 20,000 acres strong, then 50,000, then 100,000. She was the biggest, the most devastating news, raging behind every bewildered bleached-blond reporter, flaming the front pages of all the newspapers. There were a thousand firefighters struggling helplessly against her, eating up millions of tax dollars, unable to halt her astonishing progress. Buckets of flame retardant were flown overhead and tipped along her back; I could hear her laughter as they struck her, harmless.