Believe

Chapter Five Robin

Getting ready to go to the park with Phoenix sent me into ambitious activity, displaying more energy than I had all summer. I grabbed a blanket for the ground, packed a cooler with water bottles and energy drinks, along with chips and string cheese, and collected my pencil kit and two sketchbooks. Then I applied sunscreen to my nose and cheeks. I had even shaved my legs in the shower, though I didn’t bother to blow-dry my hair. I just towel dried it, then let it do it’s thing.

Phoenix showered after me while I was packing things up, and he came back downstairs just as I had everything by the door to go. His hair was wet and dangling in his face, but he had put his shirt back on, which was good. I had decided at some point during the last twelve hours that why yes, I was in fact attracted to him. Very much so. The realization had come to me sometime between midnight and five a.m. and was absolutely undeniable when he had come into my room and laid down beside me. I had been aware of every inch of my body, yet he had never made a single move toward me.

As far as I could tell, Phoenix just wanted a friend.

So it was better if he stayed covered because there was something totally drool-worthy about his muscles and all that skin displaying his bleeding heart tattoo. It covered so much real estate, it must have hurt like a bitch to get that done. Given that his shorts were too big, they tended to strain down, exposing the ab muscles I now understood how he’d gotten. He had been tenacious doing those crunches. But I was determined that I could ignore any reactions my body made toward his and embrace a new friendship.

I liked his company.

I didn’t want him to leave.

I wasn’t really sure why but I figured it didn’t matter.

For the first time all summer, I wasn’t spending the majority of my time hating myself.

“Here, let me carry that,” he said, taking the small, soft cooler from my hand. He also picked up the blanket and tucked it under his arm. He gave me a smile. “Are we going on a picnic? Man, I never thought I’d be doing this.”

“Too lame?” Maybe it was too tame of an entertainment for him. I admit I was a little disappointed.

“No. It’s just no one has ever invited me on a picnic before. Once when I was about ten my mom and my aunt took me and my cousins to the fair, but they got high behind the grandstand, and Riley got busted for stealing a hot dog for Jayden. The cops cuffed him for twenty minutes to scare him before letting him go. I don’t think Easton was born yet. Or maybe my aunt was pregnant with him at the time. I don’t know, I don’t remember. I just remember thinking that it was like a whole fairground full of families doing normal shit and having fun and eating craploads of food, and I couldn’t have any of it.” Phoenix made a face. “And I have no idea why I just bored you with a shitty story like that.”

What did I say to that? I knew he didn’t want my pity. And he seemed to be musing about the past more than anything. “I don’t have any hot dogs,” I said. “But I can pretty much guarantee insects and oppressive sun, so you’ll get the genuine picnic experience.”

Phoenix gave a short laugh. “Thanks. That’s nice of you.”

“When I was ten I had a bird shit on my head at the fair. I tried to wash it out in the bathroom but it was still gunky and I cried for an hour before insisting on sitting in the car alone sulking.” The memory made me smile. “I was kind of a jerk about it. And my brothers called me Shithead for the rest of the summer.”

“Brothers are good for that. Probably the only reason I’m glad I don’t have any. Are they older than you?”

“Yes.” We started down the stairs. “They’re thirty and twenty-seven. I was born when my brother was in kindergarten. I think I was a bit of a surprise.” Though I was pretty confident it was a happy surprise. My mother had always wanted a girl, and one of her favorite things to do was take me for a mani/pedi.

“Why is everyone so surprised by pregnancy?” Phoenix asked. “If you have sex, the probability is there.”

Wondering if he was thinking about Angel, I locked the front door behind us. “True. But my mom is sixty now. I think she thought she was too old to get pregnant again.”

“I don’t know how old my mom is,” he said as we walked down the driveway. There was a frown on his face. “I guess she has to be about . . . forty-three?”

“How old are you?” I asked him, starting to hate his mother. She sounded awful. We got in my car, Phoenix loading the cooler and blanket into the backseat.

“I’m twenty. My birthday is September second.”

“That’s in a week and a half. Do you have plans?”

“I plan to sit outside somewhere and appreciate my freedom. Maybe I’ll buy myself a Dilly Bar at DQ.”

It had been a stupid question. What kind of plans did I expect him to have? A big event at a restaurant? A party bus? “That sounds awesome. Can I steal that idea for my birthday in November? It’ll be my twenty-first, too, and I know everyone is going to expect me to go out and party and get loaded and it just isn’t my thing. Not anymore.”

“It’s your birthday. Do whatever you want. Fuck ’em.”

“I have a feeling you’re better at living that philosophy than I am. I worry too much about what people think.” Part my personality, part the way I’d been raised, I was definitely a people pleaser. I wanted everyone to be happy. To like me. I backed down the driveway and paused at the street, but as I looked left and the right, I saw Phoenix was doing it again, staring at me in a way I didn’t understand.

“We’re pack animals. It’s natural to want to belong. But some of us never will. We’re meant to be alone.”

Was that me now? God, I hoped not. I was so lonely I ached with it. But here, in the hot car with Phoenix, I felt like at least one person understood what I felt like, and I wondered if two loners could make each other less lonely. So far, the answer for me was yes.

“Do you want to drive?” I asked, putting my car in park. I didn’t want to have to focus on the road. I wanted to watch him, and I wanted to feel . . . I don’t know . . . taken care of.

But he shook his head. “I don’t have any insurance.” Then for some reason he laughed. “Actually, I don’t even have a license.”

“You don’t have a license? I thought you said you borrowed Riley’s car. Why don’t you have a license?”

“Long story.” He was smiling. “But the gist of it is you need actual proof of who you are to get a driver’s license. I don’t have any of that. No birth certificate, no Social Security card. Just my criminal record. And I might have possibly been breaking the law in driving up the street, but don’t tell my parole officer.”

It didn’t seem like being unable to drive or breaking parole was all that hilarious, but he looked good smiling. I couldn’t help but grin back. “I guess I’m driving then.”

“Good plan.”

The park was only a few minutes away. I found a spot in the lot, and we climbed out and moved past the reflecting pool where kids were dipping their fingers and dogs were drinking. It wasn’t as hot as it had been, and the sun felt good on my bare shoulders as we staked out a spot and Phoenix spread the blanket. The band playing in the gazebo was some kind of big band–style quintet, and the majority of the guys I knew would think it was seriously corny, but Phoenix didn’t say anything. He just laid down on the blanket and stripped his shirt up, balling it behind his head. His foot tapped up and down to the music and he lounged.

“Look at the sky,” he said.

Using my hands to cradle my head, I lay down on my back next to him and stared upward at the vast blue umbrella of the atmosphere above us. I felt a lazy contentment I hadn’t in months. The breeze ruffled the sundress I had put on, not because it was a fashion statement but because it was loose and easy and didn’t crawl up my ass like all those short shorts I had bought last year. My dress danced over my knees, and my hair ruffled softly, and the sun warmed my skin while the band played something bouncy and retro in the background.

“‘The bluebird carries the sky on his back.’ That’s Henry David Thoreau.” Poetry didn’t always make sense to me, but the American transcendentalists we had studied freshman year told a simple message I could understand.

“‘No one is free, even the birds are chained to the sky,’” Phoenix said. “That’s Bob Dylan.”

Turning my head toward Phoenix, I ran my tongue over my bottom lip, in a bit of awe of the moment, that I was here, like this, with him, someone I hadn’t even known two days earlier, and that the jagged edges of anxiety were being softened. “Poor birdies,” I whispered. “Chained, carrying the sky . . . so burdened.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, and his hand shifted, his fingers entwining with mine. His grip was loose but solid. “Poor birds. Sucks to be them.”

We lay like that, holding hands, staring up at the sky, and for the first time in a very long time, I thought maybe I was going to be okay. Or at the very least like I wouldn’t shatter into a million pieces upon contact.

Phoenix and I spent the whole day at the park. We borrowed a Frisbee from a group of guys and tossed it back and forth. Phoenix played with a random German shepherd in an impromptu game of chase, followed by tug-of-war with a tennis ball. I sketched on the blanket and watched him, enjoying the way he was coming alive, opening up, losing that tight, controlled look. There was a food truck, and I bought us two coneys with cheese. He ate his in two bites.

“I owe you,” he said, sprawling out on the blanket. “As soon as I get paid I’m going to buy you a bunch of groceries.”

“You don’t have to do that.” I managed to eat half of mine before handing it to him to finish.

“And you didn’t have to hang out with the jailbird, but you did.” Phoenix lifted the rest of my coney to his mouth, but before he popped it in, he asked, “Why did you?”

I shrugged. It wasn’t any sort of great mystery. He was offering companionship, and with him, I could be myself. “Because I wanted to.”

“And I want to buy you groceries. It’s simple.”

I nodded. I understood what he was saying. He wanted to be nice to me for the same reason I wanted to be nice to him—because I liked him. It really was that simple and uncomplicated, and it felt relaxing, safe.

How ironic that I felt safe with someone who had just gotten out of jail. That probably made me stupid, but I just felt good. Normal.

I was sketching a bird. It just seemed like the imagery was stuck in my head after our conversation. I didn’t want to draw a phoenix, that was too literal. And drawing a robin would be just conceited or something. So I drew a simple sparrow, pulling up some images on my phone to see what they looked like. I felt more sparrow than robin anyway. Robins were showy. That wasn’t me anymore.

After a while, Phoenix started to sketch, too, and I was curious what he was drawing. I admit to being a total girl and wanted him to be sketching me in a perfect ending to a perfect day. But when he showed it to me, it was a cobra, spreading its hood, looking super pissed off.

Okay, so he wasn’t waxing poetic about my lips or whatever in charcoal.

It was still an awesome day.

Until Phoenix ran into a guy he’d known in prison.

We were cleaning up our wrappers and empty water bottles, and Phoenix had just tossed them in the nearest garbage can when a guy yelled, “Hey, brother, what’s up?” and clamped Phoenix on the back.

He was a big guy, covered in tattoos, including on his face and shaved head, and while his smile looked friendly enough, I saw that Phoenix tensed immediately. “Davis,” Phoenix said, shaking his hand. “Good to see you, man.”

“Yeah, yeah, you too. When did you get out?”

“Tuesday.”

Davis’s eyes shifted over to me, and he gave a low whistle of appreciation that had me fighting the urge to cover a chest that wasn’t even remotely exposed in my dress. “This your girl? Angel? As pretty as her name.”

Nothing like hearing he had talked about his ex in jail to ruin whatever fantasy I had started spinning in my head. Or hearing that he’d been in jail, because I had almost convinced myself that hadn’t happened. Or if it had, he had a good reason. Which I didn’t really know.

“This is just a friend,” Phoenix said, but he shifted his body so that he was more firmly between me and Davis.

Davis caught the message. He shook his head slowly. “Don’t be like that, Sullivan. You still owe me.”

“Yeah, I do.” Phoenix nodded in agreement, but his entire posture had changed. He was leaning forward in aggression, clearly to show he wasn’t afraid. Davis was twice his width, but Phoenix didn’t look scared. “But that doesn’t mean you can look at her.”

Before I could even react, Davis’s fist came out to grab the front of Phoenix’s shirt, but he anticipated the move, so he did the same. They were both holding with a tight grip, faces inches away from each other. I was so shocked I jumped, but didn’t make any sound. I couldn’t. My throat felt closed with fear. For a second I thought they were going to head butt each other and go down in a flurry of fists.

Then Davis laughed. “Crazy-ass punk.” He let go of Phoenix. “That’s what I like about you, man.”

Phoenix relaxed a little, and let go of Davis in return. “Sorry, bro, didn’t mean to overreact.”

“No worries. I’m not planning to take what you owe me out of your girl’s ass. That ain’t my style.”

Oh my God. That did not sound like anything I ever wanted to hear. I made a strangled noise like a dying rabbit.

“Shit, I scared her, didn’t I?” Davis asked Phoenix. “Sorry.” He held his hands up toward me. “Don’t worry, Angel, I actually like your pretty boy here. It’s all good.”

I nodded, too terrified to speak. My palms and pits were sweating with stress, and I felt about the furthest thing from badass to ever exist.

“You do have a way with the ladies, Davis,” Phoenix said, rolling his eyes. He reached out and took my sweaty hand, squeezing it for reassurance.

“Fuck you,” Davis said, but he didn’t look offended. “But you know I like me a big girl, one who can handle all this man.” He gestured to his girth.

Phoenix laughed. “A bull rider, huh?”

“Exactly.” He reached out and gave Phoenix a fist bump. “I’ll catch up with you later, man. I’ll be in touch.”

Phoenix nodded. “Take it easy.”

But he didn’t fully relax until Davis was a good fifteen feet away. Then when I looked at him, his expression was hard.

“What was that all about?”

“Don’t worry about it. He won’t hurt you, I promise.” Phoenix let go of my hand and dropped to the blanket. “We should go soon. It’s getting dark already.”

I sank to my knees, not sure what to say. That wasn’t a good enough answer for me. “Who was that guy? I mean, obviously you knew him in prison, but is he a friend? What do you owe him?”

Phoenix sighed, and he stared at me, his hand brushing over my knee. “Not friends. Allies. You need someone to watch your back in jail. That’s all. Don’t worry about it. It’s got nothing to do with you.”

“Why did you let him think I’m Angel?”

“Because he doesn’t need to know your real name.”

I let it go because I didn’t want to ruin the day. I didn’t want to see him retreat and close up any more than he already had. So I didn’t ask all the questions that were burning in me. I ignored them and lay back down beside him. Phoenix pulled me close to him, and our bodies touched for the first time when he wrapped his arm around me and I leaned onto his chest.

“Look at that,” he murmured, pointing up at the sky. “Fireworks downtown.”

“The Reds must have won their baseball game.” I relaxed onto him, letting my hand rest on his stomach. He was firm and warm, and I smiled a little in the dark, appreciating the irony of the fireworks display over us. So he hadn’t sketched a picture of me. This was a close second for perfect ending. The fear Davis had inspired retreated, and I marveled at how peaceful it was, even in a crowded park. Phoenix’s fingers found their way into my hair and he stroked the strands, causing goose bumps to rise on my skin.

“I missed the whole summer,” he murmured. “But none of it would have been as good as today was anyways.”

My heart swelled, and I found myself lightly stroking his stomach.

When we were encouraged by the cops to leave the park with everyone else twenty minutes later, we rolled up the blanket and walked to the car. There was no mention by either of us of taking him to his cousins’ house. I just drove to my apartment and we went upstairs, tired and a little sunburned. Phoenix sank down onto the couch and patted the seat next to him.

It seemed safe to mention it now that we were in my place and we had implied he would be staying over by coming here. “I don’t mind you sleeping in my bed again,” I told him, which sounded bolder than I meant it to. I just meant that he didn’t need to bother to start out on the couch, because the truth was, I wanted him sleeping with me. There was something comforting about his presence in a way that made no sense at all. I knew that. But it didn’t make it any less real.

“Thanks. I’ll take you up on that. But I guess I have to go back to Riley’s eventually,” he told me, taking my hand and pulling me up close to him. “I’m going to need to change my underwear at some point.”

I laughed. “True. And I can’t help you with that unless you like bikini style.” Funny how I had abandoned the thongs when I had stopped wearing the tight Lycra dresses out at parties and clubs. No longer worried about panty lines, I had gradually shifted back to fuller coverage for comfort.

“I’m good with boxer briefs, thanks. Dental floss in my ass doesn’t work for me.” He reached for the remote. “You okay watching a movie?”

“Sure.” I should have been sleepy. That was my constant state of existence lately. But I was wide awake.

Waiting for him to kiss me. That’s what I was doing. But he didn’t seem like he was going to do anything other than channel surf, with me leaning on him, his other hand stroking my hair.

It was stupid to want him, stupid to want more.

I should be grateful that he wasn’t taking our relationship in that direction, that he was clearly just interested in companionship or something.

Because what the hell did I really know about him?

But what I knew was that he made me feel like I could look people in the eye again. He made me feel like I wasn’t going to break into a thousand pieces at any given moment. He made my hands stop shaking and helped my breathing slow down.

He made me feel like a crumbling wall that has suddenly gotten new mortar between each brick and feels stable again.

And if he could make me feel that way, maybe I could make myself feel that way, too.