texaswildfire

For my first day of work, I wear freshly washed jeans and a black t-shirt.
Martine keeps me in the kitchen with two other girls my age.
One is very tall, over six feet, and has long blonde hair she keeps in a braid.
The other one is my height with red hair.
Celine and Carolina.
'C' names bother me for some reason.

The fact that they don't speak much English doesn't help either.
Martine has the tall one, Carolina, work out front at the counter.
Celine gets to be a waitress.
I get stuck with baking the rest of the things off.

I don't mind it at all.
Concerning myself with cups and teaspoons takes my mind off things.
Time doesn't get measured.
I just make the cakes, ice them and decorate them with candies.
To me, it's mindless work.
To Martine, they are perfectly cute things that will sell better than her own.

"They are so cute!"
"Tasty."
"Wonderful! You do a better job than I could."
"Can you make these again tomorrow?"

What else am I going to be doing?
Sitting at 'home' while waiting for packages to arrive from America?
Right.
I could but that would be amazingly boring.
Especially with Marc gone.

Lucky for me, he's there when I get back.
Why wouldn't he be?
It's a bit late when I get done at work.
Almost 9:00.
He's been here for four hours by himself.

But, he seems happy.
The reason is pretty clear.
A stack of books sit on the kitchen table.
They aren't old or beaten like I'd expect.
They are all in perfect condition.
And smell just like a pristine library.

"Some entertainment that doesn't require straining your eyes or getting naked," he jokes, handing me one of the books. "It's not hard to find English copies of things here, which is a life saver. How was working with Martine?"

"Eye opening," I say, sitting for the first time since 6:30 this morning. "How did your day go?"

"It was likely much less exciting than yours but it was alright. I was bored 90% of the time. Just sat at a desk all day browsing the internet for things that made the day less mind numbing, which reminds me, I got an e-mail from my dad saying they've set the first of our things. Some clothes. They are going to wait until they get here to send more things, just to be on the safe side."

I sigh the most contented sigh in the universe.
My clothes will be here soon.
Some of them anyway.
It might seem small but they are parts of me.

Lesson #2:
When you have nothing that's your own, you appreciate all you get much more.
Every tiny thing has a meaning that way.
You take care of it more.
You don't just toss it aside for stupid reasons like...
It's too baggy.
It's a bit too tight.
The material isn't soft enough.

And money.
It's this horrible, horrible thing we need.
Turtles can live without money.
Why can't humans?
It's lamesauce.

"At least you got to sit at a desk in a comfortable chair. I never had a spare moment," I tell him. "But tomorrow will be more structured. I get cupcake duty."

"You're great at baking cupcakes and stuff," Marc lightly beams. "That will be better than, what, the 'everything duty' she had you on, today? It'd have to be."

"Maybe so but I'm not complaining either way. Doing all that work made my mind switch off fully for the first time since we've been here. It's basically its way of saying that, as long as we both find something we're good at and keep doing it, things won't be so bad," I say.

"I won't let them get 'so bad', Rose but, you're right," he says, reaching over to take my hand in his. "It will get better and better. It has to. The universe is going to reward us for pulling ourselves out of lives doomed to be boring and passionless. It just has to."

Nothing has to happen.
We can hope it works the way we want.
We shouldn't expect it.

So, I go make cupcakes for the next four days.
He sits and plays online, reading whatever they give him.
He reads while he waits for me to come home.
We crash hard when I do.

But, when it comes to my day off.
He's not there.
I get to sit in the small house with my choice of books.
Considering Kate.
In Her Shoes.
Chasing Harry Winston.
Jasmine.
Pride and Prejudice.

Only one of those books is my speed.
Mr. Darcy, though an ass at first, turns out to be Prince Charming.
Who would have thought?
I can't bring myself to read the others.
They look boring.
Except Jasmine.
I read that one, too.

I laid out in the backyard's short grass to read in sunlight.
Pure, wonderful, brilliant, warm sunlight.
It feels different here.
Lighter. Not in luminosity.
Lighter in surrounding.

July should be 115 in the shade.
It's only 85 here.
That's summer hoodie weather at home.
A light sweater.
You could get away with a long sleeved shirt.

Here, I wear a dress.
Pink with a short skirt, no socks.
Barefoot.
This is the first time I feel...
At home.

I forget about reading for a while.
Instead, I clean.
Everything gets scrubbed down and dusted.
I hated cleaning before now.
But, since all this is my own space, it's different.
I want it to be perfect.

Martine comes by to pick me up long before dinner.
She wants to teach me to make new things.
She says that I have a talent.
I never considered it all to be one.
It just so happens that everything I throw together works.

"Do you miss home," is the question of hers that evokes the biggest response from me as she shows me how to de-bone a chicken. "I feel you must. You are so far away from everything and everyone other than Jean-Marco."

"I miss some parts."

It's not a lie but it's not exactly the truth.
I miss it. Sure.
That doesn't mean I am running back there any time soon.

"What do you miss the most," she innocently asks.

"Everything. There isn't one thing I miss more than the other. I try not to think about it these days, though. My parents are just happy that I am safe and know that I am being taken care in some way," I tell her. "That is all I could ask for."

She pats me on the back.
I wish, almost, she would hug me.
I need a hug in the worst of ways right now.
Her questions about home make me want to cry.
And, when Marc arrives and he wraps his arms around me, I can't help but.

Martine pulls Paul into the kitchen with her.
She understands and maybe feels a bit guilty.
But my focus isn't on her.
It's on the summer air that Marc pulls me out into.
There is no privacy in the house.

And, I thought being outside would help.
It doesn't.
It just gives me the freedom to let even more tears flow.
Marc does his best to wipe them away.
He's not quick enough.
They come in a flood so rapid it affects my lung capacity.

"Rose, please, calm down just a little," he whispers, tucking a piece of my hair behind my left ear with steady fingers. "Did Martine say something to you? Or your mom?"

I shake my head.
My feet move me away from his arm.
The palm of my hands are heavy against my cheeks and eyes as they rub away tears.

"How come you don't feel horrible about leaving the way we did," I start to press, hating the way my voice breaks and shakes. "You have been so good about everything and I have been a mess. Why? Shouldn't I be alright with being so far away? I am...I just..."

"Just hard," he finishes for me.

I nod.
My palms wipe away even more tears.
His take over for mine.

"We haven't even been here for a week," he reminds me, his voice calm and sweet. "I know things could have been handled better but could you imagine if we'd gone to them? They would have split us up completely, Rose. Your dad, and mine, wanted to kill me when we...when we were intimate the first time. Mine still makes reference to it. You know yours does, too. We made this plan and it would have just gone to waste if we didn't take the chance. I don't regret it. I will never regret it and, Rose, no matter what I have to do, I will make it so you don't regret it either. Do you love me?"

"You know I do."

"And I love you," he soothes. "You'll get better. We'll get better. And, so you know, I am amazingly scared. Maybe more than you are."

"How come you don't look like it," I sigh though I am feeling slightly better.

"Because, when I am with you, I can't think about anything else. Knowing that I am doing everything that I can to make sure we have the lives we want, that we have dreamed of, is enough in the moment," he says. "When I am away from you, I think how insane it was to just leave, even though it's not illegal or a terribly bad decision. We are 900% better off than most other run-aways and our parents haven't disowned us. Yet."

"Don't say 'yet'," I smile between turns at wiping at my eyes.

"It got you to smile. That's all I wanted," he tells me as his fingers cradle the back of my neck.

And I am lost again.
Happily this time.
Marc's made me feel better.
The dinner makes it all good.

Now I am looking forward to how things will be in the next few months.
Will we be okay?
Will we be happy?
Will we still have jobs?
Will we still be here?

Only time will tell me these things.
For once, I don't want a crystal ball.
Things developing naturally finally seems like a good idea.