Stranded

“Bang you’re dead!”
I am dragging my drunken brother-in-law across a muddy field. If I were still five, I would have to play dead now.
“Joey, you’re dead. That’s pretty funny, isn’t it? Isn’t it Joey?”
I swear to god he just giggled.
I’m in love with him, so I hold his hand too tightly for a sister-in-law. He doesn’t notice.
My bare legs are caked in mud up to my knees. I’m wearing the shortest shorts carried by the local Wal-mart. I tell myself that I’m not trying to entice him. But with my sister so far away in Fort Worth, and us stranded in, I shit you not, Arp, Texas, I’m not sure I believe myself. The mud squeals under my bare feet like that damn Pekingese puppy we were supposed to bring home for my sister’s collection. No sooner had it been paid for than it ran straight onto the highway and got underfoot of a horse trailer. I can’t really say I blame him. I wouldn’t want to go through life with a face like that. Part of the reason that I love Jake is that he said that very thing immediately.
The air clings to the back of my neck like a thick, wet towel. I think I liked the rain more. Mud is dripping off of Jake’s beard from the last time he fell on his face. I almost smile. This he does notice.
“What’s it gonna take to make you talk, Joey? Do I have to marry you to make you talk?”
“That’s a strange thing to say.”
“Well it worked, didn’t it? Where are we going, Joey? You never tell me where we’re going anymore.”
“We’re not going anywhere.”
“Liar, we’re going to the other side of this thing! You hair is so pretty, Joey.”
“No it’s not.” It really isn’t. It’s a neon orange sort of red, not that classy crimson you can only get by dying your hair. People see it and basically assume I have braces. I don’t.
What with our car broken down in a town where the mechanic is consistently drunker than anyone else on the planet, there was really nothing to do but drink. The town’s main features are the bar, the Wal-mart, and the Baptist church. We chose the one that provided the most real and immediate comfort.
“And your nose is pretty too. You’re so short and adorable.”
“No it’s not. And no I’m not.”
“Well everyone can see that you’re short. And you’re only saying no because you’re drunk too.”
“No I’m not. You’re only saying I’m pretty because you’re drunk.”
“You’re definitely drunk, Joey. Otherwise you wouldn’t talk to me.”
I guess I am a little drunk. My nose is not pretty, though. It’s a Roman nose, mottled with freckles that could’ve been drawn on by a kid with an orange crayon. I am short, but not adorable. My own mother laughed at my strange figure, and made everyone else laugh too. She laughed until the tears stopped coming out of my eyes and started dripping backwards, falling down my throat and making big empty sounds when they hit my stomach. I wasn’t, and still am not, tall, delicate of face with unblemished white skin like my sister Mary.
Jake’s giggling again, and leaning against me too heavily. We both fall over. My first reaction is to cringe as the mud soaks into my shirt. I work at a museum; things should be clean. Then it occurs to me that Jake is on top of me, and has stopped laughing.
I like to think of myself as a good person. Sure I don’t talk to anyone, but I don’t do wrong by them in my silence. Even my sister’s damn toy dogs I tolerate, though I am certainly capable of picking them up all at once and throwing them into the street. And my sister has done right by me. She gave me her downstairs bedroom and didn’t complain when I brought home two Great Danes. But apparently I’m only good enough to lay here underneath her husband, and, instead of reaching up and kissing him myself, hoping that he’ll kiss me.
“Mary has changed a lot since high school,” he murmured, showing no signs of getting up. Maybe he just isn’t capable. “You never change, do you Joey?”
I have to clear my throat before any words will come out.
“People change so that other people will like them, Jake. But no one likes me, so I just don’t bother. They aren’t worth the effort.”
I’m staring up at him, wide-eyed. I’ve never been this close to him or anyone. How the hell am I almost thirty years old and I’ve never breathed this fast before? I’m worried that he’s sobering up and this will end. I don’t want us to be two relatives driving home in awkward silence. I don’t want there to be things in between us.
“Well, I like you. And I hate people. Am I worth the effort?”
Oh god he is sobering up. It’s started raining again. Great timing.
If I were a good person, I’d lie to him right now. But I’m not. I’m selfish, lonely, and soaking wet.
“You know. Or else you wouldn’t ask.” At least it’s not an explicit yes.
Rain is dripping off his shaggy hair. It gets in my eyes, but I don’t want to blink and make him disappear. He touches my face lightly. The shock shoots straight to my eyes, coaxing out some dormant tears. I’m literally covered in mud at this point. I’ve never felt so beautiful. But no, he must be too drunk for this to be real.
“Stop it Jake.” I choke. “We have to go home and tell your wife how her dog killed itself. You’re drunk as shit. Maybe you forgot that I’m Joey, you know, your sister-in-law?” No matter what I say, I can’t move. I won’t be the one to shatter the illusion.
He doesn’t speak, but the admission is written all over his face. This is not wishful thinking. I swear I didn’t plan this. I’m not that kind of girl. I don’t resist when he takes my face in his hands. He’s staring me down like headlights on the highway. I’m the coyote, scraggly, petrified in awe. I should feel like I’m doing something wrong, but I don’t. When you finally find something good and worthwhile in the world, guilt doesn’t mean shit.
His kiss is a slow burn on my lips. It’s not long after that that he passes out. What the hell. I fall asleep in the muck, the rain still falling, and keep my mouth closed so I won’t drown.
Now I know what you’re thinking. The morning after is seldom a pleasant experience. But maybe you should have a little more faith in the kinder side of chance. Sure, my head hurts like hell and I’m liable to be stuck in this shit-hole town for a few more days, but everything feels better when Jake kisses me good morning.