The Bond

Chapter 2: Gorgon

Chapter 2: GorgonDark Treasure was the name of the death metal band I’d gone to see. She’d came to see Native Charms, an indie folk trio of which I had no interest.

Colliding is what stars do, and cars, and meteors.

Clara and I collided, and I never recovered.

The collision left me reeling. She’d worn a gossamer-like shawl over shorts, T-shirt and sandals when this clumsy ass ox banged into her. She didn’t fall, but her drink splashed everywhere.

“Oh s**t, sorry,” I mumbled, deeply embarrassed.

For a second I was frozen, her gaze sent chills down my back.

“Jett?” She thrust her now empty cup at me, before turning her gaze downward. “Jett!” She dropped to her knees.

Then it was over, and I thawed. She grabbed my leg. “Don’t! You almost crushed him!”

“Who?” I asked confused, still getting used to being able to move.

She lifted a tiny spotted snake.

“s**t!” I backed away.

“Scared of snakes?” She asked, getting to her feet.

“No,” I said. “I wasn’t expecting a snake.”

“He’s harmless.” She removed the snake from her hand and I watched, mesmerized, as she coaxed him onto her shoulder and eventually around her neck. “He’ll end up in my hair,” she said casually. “Jett loves my hair.”

Someone pushed past and Clara bumped against me. Our hands touched, and I smelled her hair, floral and herbal. Resisting burying my face in her curls, I awkwardly backed into someone else.

“Crowded,” I said, offering the guy my apologies.

“You ever come to a music festival before?” She asked, shrugging out of her shawl.

“No.”

“It shows.”

“I’ll get you another drink,” I said.

“Don’t bother,” she took the beer from my hand and drank.

Watching her down the cheap beer made me smile.

Handing it back, she pulled on my T-shirt. “Dark Treasure?”

Her touch sent my body into something between panic and lust.

“Metal head?”

I nodded.

“Figures.”

“You like metal?” I asked.

“I like all music.”

“What else do you like?”

“I like everything,” she said.

I believed her.

* * * *

We heard Dark Treasure, Native Charms, and a million other bands that weekend.

When Sunday came and the festival ended, I was in love.

“I wanna see the farm,” she said, scooping Jett off my shoulder. By this time Jett and I had become old friends. We were heading toward the exit and the abandoned baseball field that now served as festival parking.

“Sure,” I said.

“What?”

“What?” I repeated, unsure what she meant.

“You sounded sad.”

“Huh?”

“Sad, you look sad, just now, in your voice, your eyes.”

“I said one word, how can I sound sad?”

“But you are,” she sighed, and tucked Jett into her shawl.

“I don’t know,” I said, yawning. The sun was rising. The grounds were covered in concert trash. I was thinking about Pop, feeling selfish for leaving for the weekend.

“Tell me,” she said.

“It’s my pop, he’s real sick…cancer…”

She took my hand. “Stop walking.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry about your father.”

“Yeah, me too.”

She hugged me, and to my embarrassment I cried. Those were the first tears shed since he’d gotten sick. When it was over, I looked at her. “I shouldn’t have come, my mother is alone with him. She’s the only one taking care of the farm, the business.”

“Did you ask them if you could come, or did you just take off?”

“They insisted I come, Pop especially.”

“Well, then maybe they needed some time alone.”

“Maybe,” I swiped the tears from my cheeks.

“You sober enough to drive?” she asked, stroking my cheek.

“Sure,” I said, not entirely certain, though I hadn’t touched weed or booze since the last show the night before.

“I’ll visit,” she promised, standing on tiptoe, kissing my scruffy chin. “You need a shower,” she sniffed.

I nodded. She was now wearing my Dark Treasure T-shirt. I was wearing some free shirt a radio station handed out at some point.

“Can I come visit your campus?” I asked.

“Uhh-huh,” she said, kissing me again.

I lifted her and carried her to my truck.

“You wanna?” I asked, practically feral with wanting to f**k.

She nodded. “But let’s wait.” She smiled, feeling my hard-on.

“Really?” I asked.

“Yup.”

She kissed me again. “I gotta find my friends.”

* * * *

We exchanged numbers, kissed a long time, then she left.

“I’m gonna marry you,” I whispered, watching her disappear into the dissolving mass of hung-over festival rats.