Water (22 page)
Micah spared me by going first, "You can’t imagine how much I regret what happened. For some reason, because of the type of relationship we had, I thought it was an acceptable training exercise; albeit a little extreme. But I’m not going to ask your forgiveness, I don’t want it. I mean to always remember my mistake, so I will never make it again." He stepped forward and took the butterfly hanging around my neck between his two fingers. "This will remind me, both of my mistake and how much I care for you." He took another step closer so we were only inches apart, and his hand moved to the back of my shoulder where Shawn’s mark still scarred my skin. "And I hope this will never heal. It will remind me to never take anything for granted; other people’s intentions, your safety, or . . . you."
He put his other arm around me and I stepped into his embrace. We stayed that way for a long time. Yes, Micah had his faults – some very big faults. But Alex's words had weight,
he was only matching your intensity level
. Besides, could I really leave? Would there be more storms; more death?
At sat down on the beach; Micah did the same. The sand sank beneath our weight, forming itself to our bodies. The ocean sent us wave after wave, each one reaching up just before our feet, pausing for the slightest second, and then bowing out gracefully. It was the kind of peaceful monotony needed to distract us from an uncomfortable silence. We held each other, occasionally making small talk and drawing in each other’s warmth as the night grew colder.
He took off his shirt to wrap around my shoulders, and I couldn’t help but make fun of his white undershirt that had pink tones to it.
"I do my own laundry, and I’m not that great at it," he said. "At least I don’t have a tangled mess of hair always flopping around my face."
"Hey! I work hard to keep this mess under control." I brushed some of my hair away from his cheek that the wind insisted on placing there.
He laughed. "And your hair looks great…most of the time."
We took off our shoes so we could bury our feet in the sand. I noticed his brown scruffy boots were looking especially worse for the wear, with sickly green undertones, caked in wet sand, and with laces that were barely holding everything together.
"Why such dirty boots?" I asked, leaning into him.
He put his arm around me. "Because. Saving the world is dirty work."
I laughed.
When we were ready, we helped each other up and made our way back to the hotel. I glanced up to our room, curious to see if Alex was still watching. He wasn’t. In his place stood Shawn, his eyes narrowed directly at me with a look of hatred so strong I was almost thrown back by it. My grip tightened around Micah’s waist and he followed my gaze but by then Shawn had stepped out of view. Micah bent down and gave me a reassuring kiss on the forehead. That would have to do for now.
Olé
The next morning I was jolted from sleep by the earth falling, then rushing up to meet me. I cracked open my eyes, worried about what I would find, but my hotel room was intact and everything in it was still, including me. I tried closing my eyes again and instantly felt like I was riding a roller coaster.
Best to keep my eyes open
.
I groaned and forced myself to sit. My stomach flipped and my mouth was dry. All of that traveling had finally caught up with me, and on top of that, I was fighting off the effects of a very unpleasant hangover. After ensuring I had control over the contents of my stomach, I coaxed myself out of bed, stumbled into the kitchenette and searched for a glass. Finding one, I filled it with water, downed it in just a few gulps, and headed back to bed. Turning slightly, I froze. The entire crew was in the living room watching me. I groaned, dismayed at what I must have looked like, but continued the arduous trek back to bed.
"Scuba diving, Kaitlyn. Wanna come?" Alex waved a snorkel mask in the air.
I groaned louder this time, mumbled something about jet lag, and shut my bedroom door behind me. I crawled under the covers, ignoring the knocks at my door and fought back the feelings of nausea until I fell asleep. Around noon I woke up for the second time and returned to the kitchenette, this time with a bad case of cottonmouth.
"Feeling better?" Micah beat me to the glasses, and handed me water.
"Slightly, thank you." I took a long, refreshing drink, finishing off the glass. "No scuba diving for you?"
"Overrated," he said quickly, but glanced longingly at the gear on the couch.
"You didn’t have to stay, you know."
"I know, but, there is still time – if you want to…"
I smiled but shook my head no as gently as possible. "I’m sorry, but I’ll have to take a rain check."
"I suspected as much, so I arranged something else for us."
"What?" I asked, looking him over.
"It’s a surprise. Just get dressed, brush out that mop you call hair, and we’ll get going." He returned to the couch, packing a small bag with our passports, money, and water bottles.
I narrowed my eyes at his comment but obeyed. Within an hour we were in a taxi on our way to God knows where. "Are we going to do that…thing, today?"
"That thing?"
"Oh, you know what I mean."
"Yes, fortunately I speak Kaitlyn-ese," he said. "That,
thing
, is on hold until tomorrow. Susan couldn’t get all the equipment she needed."
I nodded, looking out the window of the cab. "So what is the big surprise? Where are we headed?"
"The surprise is being human for a day. I thought we could do the tourist
thing.
" Micah teased. I slapped him playfully on the arm, and he caught my hand in his, intertwining his fingers with mine. "We are going to tour Alcazaba, the –"
"– Moorish castle built in the eighth century?!" I finished his sentence for him. I couldn't keep the excitement out of my voice. "I love castles!"
"I know."
"You know?"
"I…" Micah cleared his throat. "I saw all of your castle figurines when we were packing up your apartment."
"
You
were in my apartment!?"
He motioned for me to keep my voice down, glancing at the driver.
"What else did you discover about me whilst sifting through my apartment?" I hissed in a whisper.
He released my hand and attempted to put his arm around me and pull me closer. I elbowed him. He got the point.
"Well, let’s see here. I remember seeing an inordinately large amount of pillows on your bed..."
I interrupted, "
Decorative
pillows."
"…and of course your plants."
"Makes for cleaner air; I did live in a downtown area, you know."
"I know, I was there, remember?"
I tensed up. Violation of my personal space even before we met, coupled with lingering resentment from the ‘exercise’ in the greenhouse, made me want to smash a flower pot over his head all over again.
"We had to go through your home office as well, and I came across a shoebox in the back of your desk drawer with dozens of unopened bank statements from one account; an account in Switzerland, to be exact."
My lips closed tight at the thought of that cursed bank account.
"Care to elaborate?" Micah prodded.
"No."
He waited in silence as the taxi made its way along the winding road, weaving in and out to dodge pedestrians, hand carts, and donkeys carrying people or goods.
I waited until I was sure he had let it go, but when I glanced at him, he was staring me down.
"Oh fine," I conceded. "The account was left to me when my parents passed. I have never used the money and I don’t intend to."
"You’ve never thought of donating the money to a charity?"
"Why should anyone benefit from my parent's death?" I snapped.
"A conversation for another time, maybe." Micah rubbed at my shoulders in his attempt to ease the tension.
I turned my attention out the window, taking in the scenery in an effort to calm down. The taxi made its way up a hill, and the crowds seemed to thin out. The white-washed buildings that were so prevalent throughout Spain stood side by side on the hillside. They were a good contrast against the forest of oak trees and the deep blue sea. I began looking at the trees growing alongside the road, and was shocked at what I saw. They had been stripped of their bark, to about seven feet up, exposing a very bright red core underneath. I rubbed at my eyes and leaned toward the window for a closer look.
"What happened to them?" I asked, appalled. "They’ll die!"
Micah laughed. "Susan told me about them. The bark is used for cork, but it grows back again. They won’t die; it is a sustainable process. The bark can be stripped on this type of oak tree every nine years or so."
I shook my head slowly. "I would have never thought these trees had such a vibrant color underneath. It’s like they are bleeding."
"It does look harsh, but is a perfect example of a renewable commodity." Micah leaned toward the window to take a closer look himself.
Just then the taxi cab driver broke into what only could be described as a rant. A Spanish rant.
"Can you understand him?" I asked Micah.
He was staring intently at the driver. "A little. I think his brother is a harvester of cork – he has his own oak tree grove." Micah paused to listen a little longer. The driver talked faster and faster. "There are competing alternatives for cork, some that aren’t as environmentally sound, and it’s affecting his brother’s business."
I shrugged my shoulders as the driver paused to take a breath and compose himself. "Happens in a lot of industries, people need to learn to evolve along with the changes and demands of the industry."
"It’s not just that, Kaitlyn. As long as these forests hold some sort of economic value, people will take care of them. Lose that, and people will begin to chop them down to make way for other industries. It just goes to show the rippling effects decisions like that can have."
The driver nodded his head, in agreement.
"I guess you have a point. You want me to have a little talk with some of these wine companies about the way they seal their bottles? Maybe I could send a little wind their way."
"I don’t think so, but I’ll mention the plight to Cato. He can speak to our Shu," he addressed my look of confusion, "one of our guys who interacts with the air like Susan does with the water. His family owns a prominent vineyard and is pretty influential within the wine industry."
"Yeah, but one Shu can't change everyone's way of thinking and habits that have been ingrained," I said.
He shrugged, "We try anyway. Sometimes we take the political route. There are ways like certifying natural cork stoppers which will alert consumers to what they are buying. Many will choose products that support sustainable methods. Besides, cork is used in several other instances like insulation and flooring."
The cab driver rolled to a stop. Micah paid him and they exchanged business cards. I stepped out of the cab and was instantly mesmerized by the ruins before me. The castle and its surrounding walls dominated the hillside. The stonework, jagged and crumbling in places and recently restored in others, was offset by flowering bushes and Arabic-style water fountains.
We paid our entry fee and entered the large courtyard. As I was drinking in the site of one of the fountains, I accidentally bumped into another tourist taking pictures.
"Oh! Uh, sorry… I mean
excusez-moi
, or…what country is this?" I stammered apologies in the first languages that came to mind. The tourist rudely shook his head and walked away without even acknowledging me.
"Smooth." Micah came up beside me. "That reminds me; I picked something up for you." He reached into his small bag and produced a disposable camera.
"Oh, wow. Thanks so much!" I quickly realized the enthusiasm in my reaction to the camera far exceeded my enthusiasm to the necklace he gave me the previous night. I made an effort to tone it down a bit. "I mean, that was very thoughtful of you. Thanks."
I immediately began clicking away. There wasn’t exactly going to be the resolution and detail of my professional equipment, but it was nice to be doing something I was confident in. Inside the walls, we explored the vast gardens, walking underneath the various Moorish arches and marveling at several tiled mosaics throughout the property. I ached for my digital camera and the settings that could perfect each picture, but taking up an activity that was once a large part of my life, no matter what the resolution, was heaven.
Micah stayed close but let me walk the grounds on my own terms. I accepted the freedom gratefully. In photography mode I could spend hours on one feature, studying it and capturing pictures from several different angles. He didn’t complain once and was careful to jump out of the way on the occasions when I aimed my lens in his direction.
