My Wrath is a Mirror | ONC 2022

Ten

There are only a few things in this world that truly make me want to set my hair on fire, and one of those is cockroaches. Especially the monster-sized flying creatures that like to burrow beneath rotting wood and detritus. So when Wesley and I manage to pull the slide out of the ground and haul it into the bed of his truck, the scattering of cockroaches left behind sends me into hysterics.

"Woah!" Wesley yelps as I practically jump into his arms to flee from the roaches racing toward me in a tizzy. He lifts me by the waist and I cling to his broad shoulders as he evacuates the hot zone. I squeeze my eyes shut and bury my face into his neck in an attempt to fight off the heebie-jeebies, but the dozens of scuttling dark masses still writhe behind my eyelids.

"They make me want to vomit," I whine, and I feel Wesley swing me up onto a picnic table. As I disentangle my limbs from him, I see that we're sitting next to the snacks. "Do you think Loren brought any water, or just booze?"

Wesley leans back, but not too far. I'm still in the circle of his arms, and I don't mind it one bit when he reaches into a bag and pulls out an insulated water bottle before handing it to me, fingers lightly brushing mine in an electric jolt. I drink deeply, the life-giving elixir settling my queasy stomach. When my thirst is quenched, I offer the bottle to Wesley. "Hope you don't mind drinking after me."

Wesley only raises an eyebrow as he takes the bottle from me, never once breaking eye contact as he drinks his fill. I start to sweat beneath his intense gaze, realizing that I would never be able to get my fill of him, especially when he swallows, adam's apple bobbing rhythmically.

"I don't know if we'll be able to fit another piece of playground equipment in my truck. We'll have to make multiple trips to the dump," he finally says, screwing the cap back on the water bottle. I clear my throat, nerves getting the better of me.

"I'm trying to focus on our deadline being three months away, which honestly isn't a long time, but I'm just worried about progress being too slow." And that isn't even my biggest fear. I still don't know what I want to do to revitalize the park. Removing all the rot and decay is only the first step. I say as much to Wesley, hoping he won't balk at my worries and fears.

Wesley smoothes a hand on my elbow. "We'll get there. Like you said, we'll have plenty of time." Goosebumps rise at his touch as his fingers travel along the length of my arm until they rest over my fingers. I flip my hand, letting our fingers fall into place, woven together. I squeeze his hand and when he squeezes back, I feel the wall around my heart chipping away stone by stone.

The next week goes by in the blink of an eye. All my days begin to blur together, and between taking care of Mom at home and time spent with Wesley, Loren, and Tyler tearing up the playground at the park, I swear I almost forget what day of the week it is. When Loren asks me if I've gotten a gift for Wesley yet, I raise an eyebrow in confusion.

"Gift? For what?"

Loren blinks at me. "You do realize that Christmas is next week, don't you?"

I just barely repress my frown. "Of course I know that," I say like a liar. "Have you gotten anything for Tyler?" I hope she doesn't see right through my attempt at extremely last-minute gift ideas, but Loren groans in exasperation.

"Ugh, no! I need to go shopping in town, but it's freaking impossible to find time in my schedule right now without Tyler being with me. Then a light bulb goes off in my head.

"What if we leave the boys to tend to the work today while we... run some errands?" I say with a wink. The smile Loren gives me is so broad, I think it might split her face in two.

"I'll try not to feel guilty for skipping out on getting dirt beneath my fingernails today," she says. "When this project is done, you owe me a manicure."

I laugh and grab her car keys from her purse. "Make that a mani-pedi."

Loren drives us downhill into Reading proper where we park her little red Honda Civic. Deciding to skip the overcrowded mall, we choose to browse a few local boutiques downtown instead, searching for what Loren calls a "one-of-a-kind keepsake." We stroll past a few clothiers and shoe stores before coming to one of Reading's historic buildings that houses a whiskey museum. I pull her into the store without thinking twice.

Immediately we are hit with a smoky fragrance somewhere between wood and leather. The museum walls are decked out in floor-to-ceiling glass curios framed in richly stained wood. In each display case  sit several dozen amber bottles with tiny gold placards before it. I can't help but browse the displays, some bottles ranging from hundreds of years ago, labels faded and glass bottled thick and wobbly to some exhibits from just the last decade. Seeing these objects frozen in time stirs a curious feeling in my belly. This place is like a time capsule, capturing the past, but also illustrating how far we have come. Could I make Kamryn's park into something like this?

"Kamille, look at this gift shop!"

I follow Loren's voice around a corner to a room with oak shelves displaying leather wares, copper cups and wine glasses. My friend is inspecting a wide table with t-shirts and jackets and beanies, but I am drawn to a handmade wallet sitting at an eye-level shelf. Running a finger along the butter-smooth leather, I trace the design embossed on the cover. I bring it and a five-year-old bottle of whiskey to the counter and pay.

Loren joins me on the street later with three bags full of goodies. "What?" she asks when I give her a look. "No one said I had to only buy gifts for other people. I found a super cute hoodie that will look great with my winter booties." I roll my eyes and elbow her playfully, earning a giggle from her. We cruise down the street with her laughter in the air and sunshine on my skin, and for the first time in a long time, I feel nothing but happiness.