Page 44 of All Your Days
How do I know this? I overheard him giving the lecture to Eli instead.
Maybe he agreed with Lou, maybe he didn’t. He only grunted or huffed in response when he felt the time was right.
I blame it on the dark of the night that has the first thoughts niggling the back of my brain that Lou might have a point. That maybe rather than protecting myself from pain all these years,I’ve just put myself through a different kind of pain. And now I’ve dragged Eli into it, too.
Ryan rattling the trailer as he climbs the ladder stops my train of thought before I can do anything dumb.
“Get some sleep.” Ryan’s voice is gravelly from sleep and dehydration. “We got a whole other shitshow to get through tomorrow.”
Not exactly sweet dreams, but it’s good advice.
Chapter twelve
Eli
Not talking to Jacobis somehow worse than talking to him. Honestly, fuck him. Fuck him and all his bullshit. Fuck him for giving me everything I’ve ever wanted and then snatching it away again. Fuck him for all his longing fucking stares and his big soulful eyes. Always fucking watching me. Just—just—fuck him to hell and back.
Nah, actually, I take that back.
Because we’re already in hell, and that’s too damn close. I need some space.
I’ve barely slept the past two nights. I spend the whole damn night listening out for critters sneaking into the cracks of my tent and plotting ways to sneak into Jacob’s tent without whoever’s on watch noticing.
Not that they’d give a shit. Malcolm already told me to get over it and give Jacob a blowie behind the scrub—like we haven’t been walking for three days with no shower. Sure, I might have some complicated and strong feelings for Jacob, but there are lines.
Also, I’m not the fucking problem here!Heis. If anything, I should be the one getting the blowie behind the scrub. The fucker.
I throw the last tent into the trailer way more forcefully than I mean to, meaning everyone just has to stop and look at me and see what I’m having a strop about.
“You ‘right there?” Ryan asks, half carrying Cale to his camel, Binty.
I slam the trailer door shut and slide over the lock.
“Peachy. Just thinkin’ that if we hadn’t taken the fuckin’ detour we woulda been on our way home tomorrow. Now we got a whole extra night out in this fuckin’ place.”
I don’t look at Jacob, putting my saddle on Adeeko, like there is a chance in hell of me getting on him until after lunch when my feet finally quit on me. The detour was for me. I know that. Everyone here knows that. And me bitching about it makes me the worst kind of asshole.
What should have been something beautiful was just a reminder of what I can never have. And I’m pissy about it.
Just makes me one of the team at this point. Everyone’s pissy about everything. Lou even cracked the shits over breakfast—something I never thought I’d see. Cale couldn’t finish his food and it had to go to waste, something Lou found to be the worst crime imaginable since he decided our food was running low.
“Don’t worry about me. Is he gonna be okay to ride?” I nod at Cale, who is looking particularly pale and sweaty under his sunburn.
“I’ll be fine.” He wheezes out, throwing his leg over Binty. Only he doesn’t quite make it, so he ends up stumbling right into Ryan who’s forced to catch him and sort of shove him onto the saddle. Good thing the camels are well trained.
“Not a chance. Get off.” Jacob announces, strolling up to stand beside me, watching Cale struggle on the animal. “There is abench on the trailer. It has shade, too. We’ll tie Binty to the caravan. I’m not risking her.”
He pauses for a second, arms crossed over his chest, watching Cale flop off the camel.
“Or you.” Jacob tacks on at the end, then stalks away to some imaginary task so there is enough distance between us.
The bench is less of a bench, more of a kind of wide-ish beam that we have to strap Cale to in case he passes out again. It doesn’t look comfortable, but it means Cale can rest.
This ends up being a mistake. It’s another uneventful day of open blue skies, blistering sun, endless dirt and shifty looking reptiles making the most of it all. It would be quiet, maddeningly so, if Cale didn’t spend his time getting on the mend plowing through rations to get his energy back and singing about everything he sees—or worse just absolute nonsense.
“Oh, saltbush tree—you gonna hurt my tumm-eeeeeeeee. Why you gotta hurt me? I just think you might be tasty. Why you wanna hurt me?”
“Blue Creek baddies, you think you’re so tough, but I just think your dicks not long enough. Must be rough, being so lame. Shit house, round house, skiddle dee dee. Fuck I need to pee. I’m so hungry.”
