Read Online Black and Orange by Benjamin Kane Ethridge - Free Book Online Page A

nothing but potato chips and beer. I’m about to shish kabob a kangaroo rat with some cactus chunks.”
    “We’ve eaten worse.”
    He thought about this and added, “And you’ve had nothing but cloves. I haven’t even seen you drink a glass of water.”
    “I’m not thirsty.”
    “Teresa—”
    “Drop it, Martin.”
    “Teresa—”
    “ Drop it .”
    He fell back against his seat and stared at the hanging fabric on the roof of the van. It looked like the overhead of a circus canopy—one lousy circus at that. “It’s just—” he began, appearing uncertain as to why he even bothered. “Can’t you ever let me help?”
    “I told you about the weapon cache.”
    He sat up straight. “I may be twelve years younger, but I know enough to know what’s good for you. I ain’t a spring duck—or chicken, whatever.”
    “If this is about eating that seaweed shit again, I don’t know how many times I need to tell you that I don’t believe in that Eastern stuff.”
    “Fine, but can’t you give me some credit? Can’t you trust me and try new things? For me?”
    He could tell she wanted another clove right then and thought hard about lighting one up. She was wise enough to know it would only make things worse.
    “Let me tell you something,” he said, trying to soften his tone, “I remember one morning my father went to kiss my mother goodbye before going to the station. Shit, it’s been so long the memory seems to belong to someone else—but he bends down, puts his lips on hers and accidentally steps on her foot. She screams. Loud . So you know what my father does?”
    Teresa shook her head.
    “He went to his patrol car all red-faced and nostrils flaring. He was pissed off like he was the one who had his metatarsals crushed.”
    “Why though?”
    “It was like he had suddenly confirmed something about my mother. That was his kiss and it didn’t blow her away like it should have, maybe like it did when she was younger. She should have still enjoyed the kiss, even through the pain. She didn’t though. She decided to scream in his face.”
    “But he stepped on her toes.”
    “He didn’t speak to her for three days—he never said sorry either.”
    “What a jerk.”
    “But she’s the one who really messed up. Even hopping around with a taped-up foot and crutches, she wouldn’t see something extremely obvious. She refused to believe my father had done anything wrong—she even told me he apologized when I knew damn well he didn’t. My mother didn’t want anybody to think she was unhappy. Because being wrong would mean the pain was a truly real thing. And that’s what you’re doing too Teresa. You’re pretending nothing’s wrong when it suits you, and you despair the rest of the time.”
    “Nice psychoanalysis.”
    He closed his eyes. “Do whatever then, smoke yourself silly,” he whispered. “With everything else we go through every year, I’m so through with this shit.”
    “Let’s concentrate on the matter at hand,” Teresa said, straightening in her seat. “Somewhere out there a new Heart waits for us. We have to do it right this year. Cloth can’t take another one—if he does, that gateway is getting a whole lot larger. I think that’s a bigger deal than one person’s bad habit. Don’t you think?”
    Martin didn’t answer, just kept his eyes closed, practiced breathing at first, and then pretended to be dead.
    ~ * ~
    Teresa didn’t deserve Martin sometimes. She hadn’t deserved David either, for that matter. So many years passed where she couldn’t bring herself to even think about David. Lately it felt like he was standing before her with his cool, bright smile, smelling like spicy incense with a scandalous electric look in his eyes. David Wessing had taught her everything she knew about being a nomad, made her who she was. There was no blaming him for her faults though. How could she? David’s last word had been a screaming plea that went unanswered. It echoed in her heart