The Co-op

Chapter Thirty

CHAPTER THIRTY

Before

DEACON

I’m such a fucking idiot.

I haven’t encountered quicksand once in my entire life, despite the fact that numerous movies I watched as a kid led me to believe I would. But damn, this is exactly what I imagine that would feel like. People talk about falling in love like it’s some comfortable, easy thing. Maybe it is sometimes, or maybe it is in steps, but it’s also overwhelming and scary. It’s giving yourself over to this thing you can’t see the bottom of, and then trying not to struggle against it so that it drags you down too fast.

Every time I think I’m in love with LaRynn, all those moments that make me feel like I’m grappling for purchase, I feel a little more helpless for it. I’m clamoring for more from her all the time. I want her to willingly confide in me. I want her to willingly tell me she wants this to go beyond this summer somehow. I want her to hold my fucking hand in front of people we both love and I don’t want to sneak off anywhere. But then I also want whatever she’ll give. Her sweet moments when she doesn’t think anyone is looking, or when she’ll answer me about the stupidest things because they’re disguised as being harmless, or some game. When someone’s wiener dog runs up to her on the beach and she pets and loves on it like it’s her own, or when she drops off food to anyone she thinks might need it. When she has me meet her at the Dolphin when June’s working for three days in a row because “some guy’s been bugging her and keeps coming around”… She has us sit at one of the outdoor tables and scans the vicinity from behind her sunglasses for an hour like some sort of beautiful, queenly guard dog. Sometimes she shows up just to bring me lunch and I’ll think okay, this is it. But then I’ll drop a question and ask her where she wants this to go, and she leaves me hanging with something vague about “we’ll just see. I’m okay, Deacon. We’re having fun.”

I’m not. I’m having the most fun I’ve ever had, and I’m fucking miserable for it.

What am I supposed to do when summer’s over and she just allows herself to slip away? I can’t sleep sometimes, which makes her ability to fall asleep feel like some sort of evidence of our feelings being misaligned. She falls asleep in my car all the time, and she sleeps like a very pretty rock. I couldn’t shake her awake one night and nearly panicked until she started snoring. I had to carry her inside when I brought her home, through the gate and up the stairs, past the grands on their couch and into her room. They looked at me like they knew I was so goddamn tender, too. Like they were already sorry for us both.

The following morning her first message asked if the grands had seen me bring her in.

This is some sort of blissful agony, but I don’t know if I’m cut out for it.

I don’t like what I can’t see and understand. I don’t like scary movies where unpredictable shit pops out at you. I don’t voluntarily want to be afraid. And my god, I can work myself up into an awful fit over what I don’t know at any given time lately. I can be driving around and think about how maybe I’ll be able to convince LaRynn to come down on weekends occasionally when she starts school, and then the idea of her driving for three hours all the time freaks me out so badly my hands shake. Whatever this is, it can’t be healthy. I think about my dad all the time lately. I wonder if this is the sort of feeling that had him stepping out on us and my mom, and I resent it. I resent it so much.

My twenty-first birthday could not matter less to me. LaRynn is leaving in less than a week and we were going to have a small party and a bonfire on the beach, but a tsunami warning has gone into effect. Feels like a message straight from the universe, and I can’t bring myself out of my bleak mood. She and the grands are coming over to the campground since the elevation on the cliffs is deemed safe. Everyone else we know is headed more inland.

“Take me for a drive?” LaRynn asks me while I build a fire outside. Everyone is indoors, but I don’t care. I feel like burning something and seeking warmth. I’m reducing shit to moments and focusing on whatever I can do with my hands. “I would take you since it’s your birthday and all, but…” But she can’t drive a stick.

“Sure,” I say.

“I’ll tell them we’re gonna run to the store,” she says.

“I don’t care what you tell them, Rynn. Tell them I’m gonna find somewhere to park with a nice view and fuck you silly if you want. I don’t care.”

The look on her face rivals the one she wore when I accidentally broke her nose, and I feel worse. She goes on studying me and I turn back to the fire. “I’m sorry,” I say.

“I’m sorry it’s not a great birthday,” she says hollowly. “I’ll just tell them we’ll be back in a bit.”

She turns the music up the moment we get in the car, and I know it’s because she wants to gather up her thoughts and not have me talk for the drive. She’s packing her thoughts tight into cinder blocks three feet from me, compiling a little fortress, I’m sure.

This song is something ironic. Something about fading into another person, something that makes it sound like they’re losing themselves and coming apart.

When I finally get parked out in our spot and look at her, all the organs in my chest switch places. Her eyes are full of tears, such a bright green they’re glowing.

She doesn’t say anything, she just starts taking off her shirt and I want to comfort her, I want to apologize for snapping at her. I don’t want her to be as miserable as I am and I want to show her somehow and make her fucking see that I can be enough. I’m shaking with it as I reach for the hem and rip off my own shirt.

An alarm starts to sound somewhere in the distance and a wave’s about to hit shore.

I drag her over to me, trying to undress us both, and we’re kissing frantically. Bruising, biting kisses, fucking with our mouths. I can hardly breathe and I don’t even care. I don’t care. I care too much.

“Deacon,” she says and she’s panting and her cheeks are wet. “I love you.”

She’s got the tiniest spot of blood on her lip, and I feel my whole world roll. Feel everything go black and refocus. She licks the spot away and I… I still can’t shake this numb, crushing feeling. What are we doing ? What have we been doing? This isn’t good. This can’t be good. She looks like she’s in agony right now. She’s crying. I feel like I’m insane. She’s fucking bleeding. This isn’t how I want to love her. This isn’t how I want to be loved.

“It was just sex, LaRynn,” I say. Headlights reflect on my rearview mirror and blind me momentarily, and the warning alarm blares again.