Since I’m not really writing here, I’ll just use it for a fic dump, for now. I really, really like this. I wrote it one day after talking to a buddy about dreams. It’s not finished, but I don’t know how to continue yet.
I couldn’t help but keep a bit of an optimistic attitude, but that’s just me. After all, we’d been sweating through this Spontaneous Desert for well over a day. Sweating, but never tiring, never starving. I’m not saying we never got hungry. We’d all confessed a number of times that any one of us could have eaten a horse (I, personally, wouldn’t have shared my horse, but I didn’t say that to the rest of the team. We’d developed some kind of good, necessary rapport over the last day-or-so). Each of us felt that we had just that much strength left, just this much more motivation that pushed us, six dehydrated sacks of complaints, a little farther.
Well, except Edie.
It was sad enough that someone in this decade would give their kid a start to life like “Edith” (and no more suitable nickname), and sadder still that the gal was pregnant. Huge, too. She wasn’t even soft and glowing or wearing some art-deco-inspired maternity getup as I always expect them to, but had managed to stuff everything into a sharp white blouse and dark suit.
(I hadn’t had the opportunity to touch test the fabric of her blazer, but I guessed it was merino wool. It sent shivers of satisfaction down my neck.)
Men, this was clearly the kind of woman who would wear a tie to a picnic, and I found that terribly appealing. I found the daydreaming I did considerably Edie-centric. It wasn’t hard to insert her into any of my fantasies – she was bringing so much attention to herself that I was turning around almost rhythmically to speak consoling words to her. I knew her voice as well as I could have recognized someone I’d known for six years, and I knew I’d remember it for much longer than that. I wouldn’t call her endearing, but she was sure unforgettable.
It was the guy next to her, that Duke Neilson, that was getting on my nerves. He told us when we exchanged introductions that he was a fitness coach, and I guess he was. He was single and middle-aged and probably grew up with Jane Fonda. Fitness coach or ‘hind-tapping beauty-hunter? It wasn’t my place to say. He was very caring with Edie, anyway, making sure everyone knew how much he’d helped with his sister’s pregnancy. He offered her his hand all the time, helping her walk. She kept telling him that she didn’t need his help, and that his constant attention wasn’t necessary, but at the same time she gave him these appreciative eyes and I remembered reading somewhere that when women said something, they usually meant the opposite. So that got on my nerves, because Duke Neilson was only getting in the way of my helping Edie. I guess you could say that I avoided women in general, but it was only because there was generally something in the way. It usually didn’t have to do with me; I’ve just got the worst luck.
“Where the heck’re we going?”
That was Margo. She was a twenty-something, like me, had no particular direction in life, like me, and was an all-around ramblin’ gamblin’ queen of her sex. Living Dangerously, she felt, was her prerogative. It was clear that this Desert scene was boring the hell out of her. I had a feeling she was bored in general, so I gave up trying to entertain her pretty quickly. To be honest, I sort of felt like I knew her from somewhere. Maybe she went to my old high school, or something, but the way she was stuck on the edge of my memory was sort of creepy. She was lucky (or not?) enough to have her grandmother for company. I found that strange. None of us seemed to know each other or have any kind of connection at all, and then these two ended up being related. Cathy was a real grandmotherly type, I can tell you. She had this cute way of pursing her lips and she shuffled like there were weights on her feet, and she fussed endlessly over her grand-daughter, who clearly meant the sun and the moon to her. I got the idea that she didn’t, in fact, see anything but Margo, since when I went and offered to carry her purse for her she only sniffed and held the grand-daughter’s arm. It was almost sweet the way Margo didn’t seem too bored with that particular company.
“We don’t know,” Duke said.
“I’m hungry. What the heck is this?” Margo.
“Try feeding two, miss Big Thing.” Edie’s chocolaty voice was gruff. It surprised me when she stopped walking; I kept going for a while ‘till I noticed her voice drifting away. “She does have a point, though.”
When I turned around, Edie was wrinkling her nose and had her hand to her eyes like a visor. As if there was something to look at. The Desert was as completely emotionless as our teenybopper.
“I don’t see this action plan taking us anywhere,” she stared at me, sticking her chin out, apparently blaming me either because I was in the lead or she’d decided it was my idea. It wasn’t, just to let you know. “If we just keep walking, we won’t get anywhere.”
“There isn’t a ‘where’ to go to, dear, or we’d certainly be going there.” It was the first time Cathy had paid attention to anyone but Margo, and I was instantly glad for her wit and wisdom and courage. I could have hugged her when she smiled serenely at Edith. You might think my gratitude is over the top, but you’ve never seen how fierce a pregnant Leader lady can be.
As if on cue, everyone stopped talking and began walking again. This time, I set the pace a little more brisk. It was easy to pretend I was the leader of some exploration team, and I almost caught myself making wildlife noises and reassuring my men. I didn’t, though. I just tied my shirt around my head and kept on walking.
I guess this would be a good time to tell you about the last person in our group, Cindi. “Like the singer,” she’d bubbled. I’d guess Cindi was just barely younger than Cathy, and considerably older than Duke, but she acted younger than Margo and I. She had the tanned skin and bleached hair that I attribute to Vegas girls, and she seemed more than a little proud to say she waitressed at a restaurant (though it sounded more like a bar). Whether it was because I was a fellow waiter or everyone else seemed too scary, she’d almost instantly chosen me as her favourite. I wasn’t entirely happy with this, but I didn’t tell her.
Right at the beginning when we’d first met, we decided on what to call our situation. We all thought Spontaneous Desert worked perfectly, since that’s just what it was. When we had to explain to Cindi what spontaneous meant, she became the group’s outcast. When she suggested that the Sudden Desert was a better name, I was the only one that didn’t turn my nose up at her. I complied, only to make her feel better. I was just trying to get along with everyone, even if I’m not a fan of stacked alliances. Something told me there weren’t many types of people who got along with Cindi. I wasn’t even sure, myself, if I wanted her on my team.
I soon started to notice distinctly that our party was pairing off. Edie with Duke, Cathy with Margo, and I, to my dismay, with Cindi. I could hear her talking to me, but sort of ignored her. I don’t think she minded, actually, because she didn’t stop talking. I soon resigned to this natural and unspoken agreement, though, and it wasn’t like I had much choice in my company. Heck, I guess I would have rather hung around Cindi than any of the rest of them. The truth is, I felt like I knew them too well already – their habits, insecurities, faces and voices, even what they thought of me – and it was sort of uncomfortable after such a short amount of time, and, really, so little real interaction. Paranoia? I suppose isolation might give you that feeling.
Did I mention we were in the middle of a Desert?
