Page 246 of Wrath

We ride in silence past the city limit sign, past a gas station with a run-down Subway attached. Past some side streets and little intersections off this main road with street signs worn and crooked, all the trees covered with kudzu. This whole place looks like it's been neglected for a few years.

"What do you think about Fairplay?" he asks as we roll over another lake bridge. "Dare I ask you?"

The bridge ends and the asphalt is fresh. There are no lines on it. The road curves, and big trees tunnel over the road.

"This part's cool."

"We’re driving into the historic district," he says. "Mom and Carl live a few streets to our left."

My throat cinches. "Don't go there now."

"I won't, Ez. I've gotchu. I even checked hotels in case this happened."

"Fuck, Mills. Did you really?"

He smiles, looking slightly smug. "Of course. I know you pretty well. And you seemed clammed up."

"Clammed up."

"Pensive. Nervous. It's okay. You wanna go to a hotel for a bit? There's one right near the lake. Beside the causeway. There's a gas station across the street and the outdoor area for the farmer's market. Sorta run down little area around it, but it's not dangerous or anything. Just shabby."

"I can roll with shabby."

Miller gives me a smile, and with the smile he tells me it's okay.

The hotel turns out to be more of a motel—an old Comfort Inn. We go inside, and it's not so bad.Smells like cinnamon and fabric softener.

I lie on the bed and shut my eyes. "Why don't you go see them,” I say. "Tell them your new boy will be here in a few days. I'll try to work up more of my nerve."

"No you won't, Ez. Don’t worry about that right now. Just get a nap or watch something on your computer. Hell, read a book." He opens his backpack and pulls out a slim paperback. "I got you this the other day. It looked like something you might like."

My heart is pounding so hard as I read the title:Crushby Richard Siken. "This is on my list. How did you know?"

"I didn't," he says, looking embarrassed. "It just made me think of you. Or us…or something."

I rub my thumb over the book’s cover. I sit on the bed’s edge, spreading my knees so Mills stands in between them.

“Love you,” he says, kissing my hair. “Read some poems and go to the gas station if you get bored. I’ll be back soon.”

He goes a few minutes later, leaving me alone in the room. I do what he said, and read some poems and close my eyes, and I sleep. I've got the phone set so his texts wake me. One comes through, and I jolt up, my heart pounding.

'Hey angel. I love you. Just chilling with them for a bit. I'll come back in maybe two hours, and then when they're going to bed, you can sneak in my window? Can u sleep in my room? That seem ok? If not, I'll stay with you. It's all good, Ez. Missing u. so glad ur here'

I don't know what to say back. My chest feels tight and sore, but I’m not sure it’s a bad thing. Fuckingfeelings. I smirk, wondering what Greeley would say.

I grab my wallet and the room key and head outside. The sky is winter white. The air is cool and damp, but not cold.

I eye the gas station across the street. For some reason, this whole landscape—the kudzu and the beat up, pot-holed roads, the damp cold and the lake smell—makes me really want a fucking Icee.

Two

Ezra

Iget a blue one. Blue raspberry. If you look at Icees every time you stop to get gas, you realize the blue ones are a little bit rare. I’m not sure why. Everybody goes for cherry. Maybe that’s it. But I like the blue.

I’m sucking it down so fast that I get brain freeze as I cross the little road that leads across the causeway into Georgia. It hurts my throat, but I can’t stop sucking it out of the straw. Across the parking lot and up the motel’s iron stairs…

I fumble with the card key to the door. My hands are damp and cool. I’ve got the Icee tucked under my arm, the cold of it bleeding through my long-sleeved T-shirt. I push the door open. Step into the room. There’s a painting of the lake above the king-sized bed. I look at the bed—the neatly made bed. I sit on the bed and drink more of the Icee.

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