Synesthesia: Chapter Forty-Three
serial fiction
I didn’t say anything to Amber about her son kicking me twice in the leg. We’d be parting ways soon anyway, and it just didn’t feel like it was worth it.
Back in the car, the little paper-wrapped package sat between us in the cupholder, and I wondered when I’d get the chance to give it to her the way I was envisioning.
Picture it: me and Amber, at the rim of the Grand Canyon, alone in the setting sun. I’d reach into my pocket, pull out the little heart-shaped package, place it on her palm. She’d unwrap it—it’s beautiful, Zodiac, she’d say—and then I’d tell her that I loved her.
And then she’d never leave me, and we’d live happily—
“Watch out, Zodiac!” Amber’s screeching yanked me out of my daydream and back into reality. I was merging onto the highway, but I’d almost smashed into the side of a Chevy pickup. I stomped on the brake and felt the body of our little Honda shake as the truck flew past.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, pulling onto the main road and accelerating to match the speed of a semi truck approaching from the south. “Didn’t see it.”
Amber seethed soap bubbles at me but said nothing. In the back seat, Jacob seemed not to have even noticed, playing happily with his toy cars.
It was a straight shot up the highway to Grand Canyon Village. In less than half an hour, we were passing all sorts of little buildings set up for tourists: information centers, gift shops, restaurants, glamping set-ups spread with canvas tents that probably cost more per night to stay in than any of the hotels I’d ever set foot in.
I felt a heaviness in my gut, knowing the adventure would be over soon. Unless…
I looked over at Amber. Her head was turned away from me, watching out the windows, unsmellable. It made me uneasy not knowing what she was feeling. Was she even feeling anything at all?
“Let’s pull over here,” I suggested, little knowing nor caring where “here” was. I just needed to get out of the car and get my emotions under control.
“McDonald’s? Seriously?” Amber looked at me hard, and I detected traces of soap and cut grass in the air. “From Olive Garden to McDonald’s,” she muttered. “Wow.”
Well, I’d fucked that up.
“No,” I hurried to say. “I meant…” I looked around in desperation. “I meant that steakhouse back there.”
The soapy grass changed to the most awful shit-stench.
“Steakhouse?” Amber repeated, grinning wide. “Great, let’s go!”
The steakhouse was located inside a massive hotel that looked, from the outside, more like a bland suburban apartment complex than a fancy hotel in a national park. Jacob bounced alongside us, holding his mother’s hand as we walked in. The paper-wrapped amber heart was a hard lump in my pocket. Better to be prepared, in case the right moment arose.
If Amber was impressed with Olive Garden, she was floored with this place. I could smell her awe like Louisiana hot sauce over the meaty aroma of steak as a hostess in a black apron led us on a winding path around faux-rustic booths and tables made of stone and what might have been reclaimed barn wood. The restaurant was dark and crowded, and for a moment I wished we had just gone to McDonald’s instead.
But it was too late; Amber was already setting Jacob down on a red plastic booster seat, and the hostess in the black apron was indicating to me that I should sit in a wooden chair upholstered in black vinyl.
I gave her my best attempt at a friendly smile and sat.
At least we’re far from the parking lot, I thought, remembering the disaster at Olive Garden. We’d be safe from runaway Cybertrucks here.
Safe.
Would Amber be safe here from Gas Stove?
Across from me, she was engrossed in perusing the menu, still stinking unfortunately of shit. Jacob had a crayon in each hand, attacking the drawing of a cowboy on his children’s menu with blue and red simultaneously.
I felt an emptiness in my stomach, and not just from hunger.
Would I be able to protect them here? And if not, where would they ever be safe?
The question kept plaguing me as I ordered my steak, as I half-heard Amber and Jacob ramble on together about cowboys and whether or not there would be any at the Grand Canyon, as I cut into the perfectly-cooked meat and brought it to my mouth in little cube-shaped bites. I barely tasted it, I was so caught up in worrying about their safety and their future.
After the meal, I watched Jacob dig his spoon into a crystal dish with two scoops of ice cream in it, holding my breath so as not to breathe in too much of the fecal smell of happiness that hovered all around me. As putrid as the smell was, it felt good to see the two of them happy.
I brought my hand to my face and, as discreetly as I could manage, pinched my nostrils shut.
It was a relief to finally pay the bill and thread our way back out into the sunlight and the fresh high-desert air. I was fed, rested, and ready to take the next step.
I turned to Amber, who held a smiling, still-shitty Jacob in her arms.
“Now,” I said, “let’s go see that canyon.”