Huntress and the Lightning Rod

He slammed the door and tapped down the steel staircase a little faster this time, spilling out onto the sidewalk. She had said Chicago and Hoyne, but he knew that wasn't the halfway point and he thought of how stupid he would look standing at the corner with no direction and no motivation to move and craning his neck down the long street, peering through the corridor of trees and buildings searching for her poppy cadence to appear and then trying not to focus on her when she approached so as not to make it seem that he was desperate because, of course he wasn't, but he knew how sometimes people get images in their head and they tend to stick and paint the wrong impressions no matter how redeeming their actions are moving forward. So, he decided to keep his pace and glide over Chicago and he chose the right side of the street because he knew where she was coming from and how convenient it would be for her to just hang a left on Hoyne and not cross.
The sky was bright and lit the thinning translucent canopy, which rained slow flowing feathers of dehydrated pumpkin flakes and sometimes they landed on his head. Scattered and coupled along the long shaded sidewalks, hipsters and post-hipsters walked slowly enjoying the air. And dogs tugged at their arms. Trains in the distance tooted their horns and squealed their brakes, but he didn’t pay any attention. He was focused two or three blocks down trying to catch the first glance and he was anxious to see if he'd recognize her, but he knew he probably would. And then, a little past Iowa, she appeared from the shadow of a large tree with headphones on, cantering choppily, but lightly enough, to the music streaming in her brain and they got closer and finally a smile and then he dropped his head and stopped to leave enough room between their bodies.
"I'm glad you came out."
"We needed to talk. It's hard to stay in on days like this," she said and flipped her hair over the left side of her head, combing it with her fingers.
"Well, I'm glad you came."
"Where should we walk?"
"Wherever you'd like."
She paused for a second and he leaned his head back south and they began to crunch at a decent pace. And it was silent for a moment.
"Fall is the best," he said. He looked at the trees. Hopping once, then twice, and then a third time, a furry orange squirrel launched onto the side of a trunk and swirled around with just his little head showing and a nut in his mouth about half the size of his head and he stared at him, shifting suddenly when they passed.
"It could be colder."
"It will be colder."
"It's too hot in my apartment," she said.
"Mine too." He looked at her eyes.
"I think this is my favorite street in the city." She flipped her hair. "It's so pretty."
"The area's nice."
They turned on Huron and people disappeared. The sun hung low and he wished he had worn his sunglasses. Fresh scents of freshly decaying leaves and freshly turned rose gardens were strong in shady spots and weak in sunny spots and his mind played pictures of his past when the scent was strong enough. The street was lined with beautiful Greystones and modern-styled geometrically-interesting condos, which were sprinkled every so often off-setting the antiquated feel of Eastern Europe. He wanted her hand, but he knew it was too soon.
"How has your day been?" he asked.
"I watched a show on zombies. It was pretty interesting."
"I like vampires even though they're over-used."
"Oh yeah?" She asked and flipped her hair.
"There's a reason why they've persisted so long."
"Why's that?"
"Because no matter how ruthless they seem to be, they have this complex emotional side, which makes you feel something for them. Like they can't control it. Zombies are very one-dimensional, but they are fun to brutally destroy in video games." He looked at her and she smiled a little.
"I guess so. But, they're so cheesy now. Vampires that is."
"It's cause all of these writers are just focused on the sexual aspect now. I guess it sells. Did you ever read Dracula?"
"No."
They crossed Western and he asked if it was okay to keep going west and she said yes, but really he was thinking whether or not they should walk west. He had heard things about the west, but he figured they weren't that west and as they crossed, the street then slightly deteriorated and the houses became less significant, but overall they were still nice. She didn’t have on socks and her light brown ankles danced lightly on the pavement.
Stretching through the patchwork splotches of sunlight, their shadows ran long and it made them look significant in certain angles. He thought it might be the perfect temperature and time of year and day to sit at the park and kiss her and talk in big what-ifs with a child-like wonderment of how the world would be if just one thing were different, or two. And he felt like he had done this before, but he couldn't remember when and he couldn't remember with who and he didn’t want to depreciate the moment with a similar one that may have been better or may have been worse so he decided to believe that it had never happened before, especially not under these circumstances. This was different and better.
"I want to hear more of what you thought of my friend?" She asked and smiled, tilting her head.
"Well, after realizing that she was wasted the moment I met her and after the repeated ass-grabbings at the bar, I thought she was a bit overwhelming."
She laughed.
"But, other than that, she was cool."
"She's really, sweet. And physical," she said. "Did she say anything to you about me? She was whispering to you all night."
The road opened into a corner park and there were kids playing on plastic swing sets and parents clapped along. In the baseball fields, a few middle-aged Ukrainians kicked a soccer ball around, the octagonal scales of the ball gleaming in the sun. And dogs lay, panting. He lost focus watching the ball float in the air and land at the feet and legs of blue socks and white tennis shoes.
"What did she tell you?"
"She said that you were a huntress."
She laughed wildly and flipped her hair. "Did she say that?"
"Yeah, I thought you were more the temptress, though."
"Did you?" She stopped laughing.
They turned right onto Rockwell and the road was completely shaded. The buildings were red and the iron fire escapes were rusty black like all the fences that protected the homes with hundreds of elegant, sharp and arrow-like points. A group of black children played down a side street screaming and laughing and crying. They packed in the middle of the street and bounced balls off the cars. An old Polish woman watched from her porch. She was wearing a thick cotton gown with blue and yellow floral patterns printed on it. Shaking her head, she let go of the storm door and descended her stone steps into a flower garden. The sunflowers bowed to the sky, weak from chilly nights. The woman examined the flowers and lightly palmed the stalks, shifting them backward and then forward and after pulling black-handled shears out of her gown she snipped the heads off and threw them on her porch.
And they crossed the street.
"Well, I'm sorry if I need to apologize for anything the other night." She swayed side to side as she walked with a controlled rhythm.
"Of course not."
"Well, I'm sorry."
"Why? Don’t be." He wanted her hand.
"I don’t remember much."
"I didn’t think you were that gone. At least not at the time."
"It's spotty."
"Nothing happened."
"I know," she said.
"You're protector, protected you."
"I guess she did," she smiled.
"In the most backward-ass way I've ever seen, too."
She laughed.
"In the beginning, she was almost advocating my prowl. I think I even told her that she was."
"Advocate? She obviously didn’t get it." She flipped her hair and laughed.
"Well, yeah. But by the end, her drunkenness prevailed and, oddly enough, protected."
"It's weird how it worked out. I can’t believe she told you I was a huntress," she said.
"She said it a bunch."
"Some gypsy prophesied that about my personality, but I think it was meant for a more everyday aspirations and career-minded context. She told that to both of us." She smiled and showed her white teeth, perfectly aligned. "But, it also has that other side to it."
He laughed. "Other side?"
"You know, that other side. The relationship-wise and," she paused, "sexual side." She grinned and dropped her head.
"I can see it for your friend for sure." He smiled.
"It's just funny she said that to you."
They walked to the corner of Division and Sacramento and heard Latin music popping in the distance.
"Humboldt Park," she said.
In front, there were three or four black people grilling burgers and drinking beer and far on the right was a large crowd circled around the Latin band. Most of the guys were wearing black shirts and most of the women were wearing white shirts and some had little brown children hanging on their hands or running in circles a few feet away. It was Sunday, but you couldn’t tell. And dogs pulled their owners along the winding concrete paths.
"Let's just go in," he said.
"Okay, have you been here before?"
"Never in, but around."
"It's pretty nice," she said. "I walk around here a lot when I need air."
The sun was dropping slowly and he knew that his time was running out because she needed to go back and study and the sky was violet and the grass was orange. Most of the trees held tight to their green foliage, but some had defected and you could see patches of red swaying through the green when the breeze blew in and they hissed softly and the breeze was nice because it was kind of warm. Between the paths in an open meadow of the park, tossing Frisbees in a hexagonal pattern, six younger college-aged kids laughed and smiled. They were wearing blue jeans and v-necked tee shirts.
"I miss doing stuff like that," she said. She didn't flip her hair, but just stared at the Frisbee sail from hand to hand to hand to ground.
"Why don't you anymore?"
"I don’t know. No one to do it with, I guess."
"That's not true," he said and he thought it might be a good time to grab her hand, but he missed his chance when she pivoted and started walking again. She focused ahead on a large pond with stone seats and he thought it might not all be lost.
"Do you ever bike?" He asked
"I have a nice bike because it's really light."
"Do you ride it?" He laughed.
"Not in the city."
"Too stressful."
"Too crowded," she said.
"Going to the lake is fun and it's really not bad if you take Augusta in."
"But when you get there, it's still too crowded on the path."
"Yeah."
They walked to the edge of the pond and sat on the cool stone steps. He couldn't tell if they were natural or not. In the middle of the still, brown pond were two round, red buoys floating sternly against the water's movement. Must be tied down tight, he thought. They sat close, but not touching and he really wanted her hand this time. A mess of ducks and geese drifted by barely rippling the surface. And the sky was orange now. And dogs pulled their owners behind them on the path, smiling with excitement.
"Do you ever miss your family?" She asked.
"Tomorrow's my one-year anniversary of moving to the city."
"Mine was in July," she said. "I was really unhappy at first. Wanted to say 'fuck it,' and go back to Michigan."
"I never wanted to go back."
"Don't you miss your family?"
"Of course, but I hate that area. I feel we're closer now anyway." He looked into the pond and saw the green slimy bottom, smooth and leveled perfectly from when they poured concrete in years before.
"I'm satisfied now, I guess, but it sucks cause there's so much cool shit going on in Detroit now. When I left, it was pretty bad," she said.
"There's nothing cool going on in Kentucky and Facebook only perpetuates all of the stereotypes and reasons why I wanted out so bad in the first place." He saw the surface bubble with a little belch and he wondered. "I want to go west."
"I'm not sure how much further I want to go from home."
"I just want to see everything."
They sat silent a moment.
"I mean, I miss my brother and ma, but they knew I was never happy there so I think they're glad just as long as I'm happy," he said, still fixed on the water.
"Are you happy?"
"I'm happier than I was, although it gets lonely sometimes." He looked up from the water and focused on her eyes and her hair hung over the left side of her face and he knew she was going to flip it and she did. He really wanted her hand and now he wanted her mouth.
"Yeah," she said and looked away.
They didn't move. The mess of ducks and geese from earlier glided around the hairy edge of the pond and some small Hispanic kids threw crumbled bread bits in the water over their shoulders and then floppingly, splashingly, and writhingly the birds devoured the bits, picking them precisely off the surface. They sprayed misty water on the stones and sometimes they kicked up large bulby balls of water, which splattered and dripped drops down his legs, slowing through the hairs. He wiped the water on his shorts and the ducks quarreled and pecked one another, fighting for the last of the soggy, stale crumbs.
"The males have green heads and the females are grey and brown," he said, unaware that he was speaking aloud. "What're they called again?"
"I think it's Mallard."
"Yeah," he said. "Mallard."
The brown children ran back to their parents who were pushing a stroller and the dad had a basketball jersey on with tattoos on his arms and the mom had her hair braided and she was short, but round.
"The males have green, shiny heads because they want to impress the females," he said, again thinking aloud.
She laughed. "You see that a lot throughout the entire Animal Kingdom."
"And mostly with birds," he said. "I remember that show on Discovery which focused on tropical birds. Some of the birds in South America are insanely beautiful."
"With their mating dances and songs," she said. "I'm almost embarrassed for them, too, you know, when the females don't pay attention."
He looked at the water. "It's the same in the human world too, except females are more apt to dressing up and being flashy and tempting the males."
"Totally, except I think it's a pretty even split. Guys are flashy. Guys randomly pop into girls' lives unexpectedly and make their presence felt too."
"That's fair, but what are you to do when they're shakin' tail feathers?" He laughed.
"I don’t know."
He looked at her and she looked at him. The sky was pink now with wispy jet streams and high Cirrus clouds. And he wriggled on the stone seat and leaned closer to her, but he didn't move his hands. And she looked at him and then at the pond and then back at him and he thought she knew what was going on, but he couldn't move his hands. The park had been emptying behind them and there was no one around except for a couple up the path on a park bench, holding hands. She shifted a little and moved on the stone seat and he finally moved his hand.
"But I'm not exactly single, as you know," she said, as if she were in the middle of a mental conversation.
He put his hand back and his heart dropped a couple feet and he straightened his back and cleared his throat, but he knew she was right and he knew he was wrong to think like he thought. "Yeah."
"I mean, I just want to be up front and get it on the table cause I don't know what this is," she said. She had a confident look, but one glance down and to the right showed she wasn't too confident.
"That's fair," he said and his heart stayed down. "I don’t know either."
She stood up and he followed her onto the path.
"Well, I like you even as a friend. I feel we get along well," he said.
"Yeah, but this is all secrecy. I mean," she paused and tilted her head," he's back at home and doesn't know what's going on. I'm sure he wouldn't be happy."
He didn’t know what to say besides, "yeah."
They walked out of the park and started up Sacramento. The sun was almost down and the trees and buildings were all silhouettes against the sky. He held a very fake grin on his face to show that he wasn't affected, but it was clear that he was disappointed and she probably noticed it, but he tried not to look at her, instead keeping his head forward looking down the long streets, five and six blocks down where all the stores were gated closed and all the kids were in their houses eating dinners or being tucked in their beds. And dogs pulled their owners over the crosswalks.
"I mean, you caught me at a weird time in my life where I've been questioning, things, and then you just popped into my life and it was very coincidental so I may have made bad decisions and, you know, acted like a terrible person." She was shaky and her mind was trying to soften the words before they came out of her mouth.
"You're not a terrible person. It happens to lots of people. So, I was the push?"
"You were the lightning rod."
He raised his eyebrows.
"I don’t know. He moved here with me," she said with head hanging a bit.
"How long have you guys been dating?"
They walked slower and slower, knowing they had a lot to say, but not enough sidewalk left to do it on.
"A long time."
"Like, high school?" He asked.
"Like right after high school."
"I see," he said.
He felt bad, for her, and for himself, but mostly for her because he could see the frustration and he had seen this many times before, with some of his buddies even; the clinging on because it's comfortable and familiar, but never really being happy just content and comfortable and normally one person in the situation is satisfied and the other isn't but they don’t know how to deal with it and it's one of those things that can drive you mad because they're too nice to snip the cord and not unhappy enough to be completely honest and then they make themselves feel worse for being unhappy because they have it all and it's all supposed to be perfect. He knew it. He saw it. The story was making sense and he felt kind of ridiculous because his intentions were so far off from her intentions when they took their stroll and, like she said, everything was on the table, and he was in a different cafeteria..
"You know, you moved to Chicago and expected something different, but you brought with you probably the single most grounding and constant thing in your Detroit life, which makes all this feel the same. You were probably expecting something different, no?"
"Yeah," she said, with head faced down, and her hair hung straight.
"You know, it's not a crime to feel trapped."
"I know that," she paused, reflectively. "It's a big tie to cut, you know."
"It's not going to be easier further down the road."
"I know," she said lowly. "I just want to move some place where I know no one and no one knows me."
"Chicago would've been a great place for that."
They walked to the corner of Hoyne and Augusta and stopped because it was the departing point. And she stood there with a little smile, which he thought looked forced, but she was as cute as ever anyway. And the sun was down and the only light came from dusty streetlamps glowing gold on the streets.
"I don’t know what you expect," she said.
"I don't expect anything. I never did. It started as a game and now I've met you and now I like you, but I'll settle for friend."
"Yeah," she said hesitantly. "But this is all secrecy. It's not fair," she said. She leaned dejectedly, but yet still emphatically when she said it. She shook her head, fighting with herself in her mind. "It's just not fair."
"It's whatever you want. I have no place to talk," he said. "Remember, though, everything in your life is what you want. At least it should be."
"I appreciate that."
"Appreciate what?"
"What you just did."
He wanted her hand, again, but this time he knew it wouldn't happen so it was more of a reflective want, or what he wanted before and now knew he could never have and it was a cold feeling because those squirming fairies and flashes of fire and explosions of thoughts that he had had so much of over the past week were all sealed in a cork-topped bottle and put on a shelf in his mind and only with time would he toss it out once the girl's smell and laugh escaped his brain and he forgot her hair and her ankles and her poppy cadence, only with time.
"Well, you should probably go," he said.
She nodded her head and then shook it and then nodded it.
They opened up and hugged under the golden glow of the streetlamp and she held him really tight like she was throwing away a dream or leaving a friend that she had wronged and felt bad for and he saw her head pulled tight on his breast and his stomach kind of dropped and it was silly cause they really had just met, but he knew this girl, he understood what she was about and maybe nothing would have ever come of it anyway, but he thought of how nice it would've been to have at least seen it unfold and as she released and popped across Augusta, out of the golden glow of the streetlamp, and into the blue shaded darkness of an elm tree, he looked at the ground and smelled his shirt and walked home, real slow.