Creative Writing: Boone Bound

I’m not sure why I kept doing this to myself. Two hours up a mountain in the dead of the night. No one knew where I was going. No one saw the pint of Kentucky Gentleman I killed before heading this way, and no one was worried about my safety as I handled the Nissan with care (or as much care as I could muster in my body at that time) up the curves and around the folds of the road. Well, scratch that. One person knew. Where I was going- not that I was about as drunk as I had ever been or the apathy that took over my body when tracing the dotted lines of the road. And that was Ben. And I’m pretty sure that name said it all. Ben, the same Ben that had been single-handedly throwing my heart around, kind of like potters throw their pots- molding, manipulating, measuring, for the past three years now.

My Mom’s always told me: “Taylor, you’re ‘bout as book smart as they come. But you ain’t got a lick of common sense.”

“Drunk driving is illegal,” Common Sense whispers.

“Ben isn’t capable of love,” Common Sense chidingly states.

“Watch out for that deer,” Common Sense won’t shut up.

“Hey, one out of three isn’t bad,” I thought as slamming on my breaks and instinctively groping the steering wheel and horn in unison. Bambi (and the Nissan) are safe for now. Thanks, Common Sense.

Reaching for the blue Bic that sat to my left, I lit up a Camel Menthol Light to shake off the nerves from the encounter with the deer. Inhaling relaxing, I turned on the radio. Mellencamp. Singing my soul out into the music, “Hurt So Good” was what I needed at the time. It was the kind of song that made you feel free and young and unsusceptible to all the pain, suffering, and utter bullshit that the world threw at you.

Smiling with a smile that could light up a trillion rooms of whatever podunk county I was in at the moment, I looked at my phone. Ben was asking how far away I was. Eyes on the road, I picked up the phone and fondled the screen from memory- this resulted in his name being called and ringing on the line.

“Where are you?” he answered.

“Hello to you too, Mountain Man,” I joked, “I am currently driving up the mount and will be there in approximately fifteen minutes. I didn’t want to text; I felt like that combined with my drunk would just be tempting fate and too dangerous in an automobile.”

“You’re dumb. Be safe.”

Taking a deep breath, I attempted to figure out how this was going to go. My body shook with anticipation. Even though the summer air was caressing me as it made its way through the windows, I had chills. Ben’s impending presence always had an adverse effect on me- there’s really no comparison to how he made me feel even before I saw him. The closest thing I could think of was the feeling you get whenever you’re coming home from trick or treating. There’s this immense amount of candy that you’re lugging around, and that you worked hard for. But you knew there was no way you could eat it all even though you really wanted to. Too much would be the worst kind of sickness you could imagine. But damn, it was really tempting.

Anyway, I rolled up the windows and tried to make the Game Plan. I’ve skirted around telling him I loved him for the past however long now. I let him be content with seeing me when he pleased, riding into my life on a whim and riding out like he never cared at all. But… It. Had. To. Stop. Tonight would be the night that he committed or I ended. If he committed, we could ride off into the sunset and never look back; if he didn’t then it had to be over. Hearts are the least durable parts of our bodies. Well, according to mine at least.

Checking the road sign up ahead, I flicked on the turn signal and exhaled. Go in. Have a good time. Don’t press anything. When he realizes how amazing you are, head on over to Uncharted Territory and tell him you feel. Game Plan, check.

Grabbing my overnight back, I slid out of the Nissan and shut the door. I headed through the door and left the sharp air behind. Walking up the stairs took moments, and I remembered I hadn’t texted Ben that I was here. Eh, I thought, it’ll be fine. Debating whether or not to knock or just walk in, I perched in front of the door for a moment. Deciding on just walking in, I twisted the doorknob and opened the door.

His apartment was very minimalistic. There was a place for everything he had, and he didn’t have much. A bare couch lined the wall- a small television in front of it. He had books to the side of this in a black bookcase, and a two-person table was placed in the kitchen. No decoration, no color. Very military-style clean and unfussy. Like him.

“Nice way to just barge in. C’mover here, kid.” Ben walked out of the bedroom into the living room. I let him sink in for a second- tall, dark, and handsome in a way that men were handsome back in the frontier - not like the metro handsome in Ella Enchanted. He had eyes that dared you to act, and a voice that told you he could (and would) do anything you presented to him. His dark brown hair was a little more overgrown than usual, and his beard was even more pronounced than the last time I seen him (the reason why I call him Mountain Man, now). God, I love him.

I rushed to meet him and was enveloped in a hug. This was a good sign. Rarely does Ben initiate any kind of physical affection whatsoever. I leaned my head into the crook of his arm and smelled woods and Dial soap. Looking up at him, I smiled and felt his beard tickle my cheek. Right then and there I felt more alive than I had ever felt before. There was something about him that set my soul aflame and made me appreciate the fullness of time; I guess because when I was spending it with him, seconds were precious currency.

Ben shifted his gaze from me and bit his lip, worryingly. This is unsettling. Ben doesn’t worry.

“We need to talk.” Words fell from his lips, my words that I had planned so elaborately to say to him.

I could feel my expression deepen; I saw the expression on his face, no way could this be anything remotely pleasant- remotely what I wanted, what I intended on receiving when I drove here.

“Right before you called me to tell me you were fifteen minutes away, a buddy of mine called. He told me how the operation went down. Bobby ratted on me about the guns to the Feds and if I don’t leave tonight, then I’m looking at about twenty to life. I’m sorry, Taylor. I just, I couldn’t tell you on the phone. I wanted to see you. I wanted-” his words were jumbled, tight, like the words of a man who was attempting to keep everything under control when his world was shattered.

“So just like this, you’re gone? Where? When? Will I see you again?” I didn’t expect this- I knew that part of his life, the connections he made in the Marines, and the business that paid off his debts. But I didn’t expect this.

“Catalina Island. I have protection there. And now…”

I felt the weight of his voice. He was going to say more. What else could he say?

He spoke. “Catalina Island. Come with me.”

I don’t know what it was. The whiskey. The relief that flushed over me when I saw in his face that he wanted me with him as much as I wanted him with me. At that moment I knew. I knew that if I were to drop everything and go with him… I would be the happiest I could ever be in life.

“Feds know my car?” I whispered.

“Not that I’m aware of.” His eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Well get your shit in there and let’s go.”

Tonight’s the start of the rest of my life. And I have to say, I was in pretty good company.