“I’m sorry, Mom, but I got to go,” Wyllah apologiesed to Sandy hurriedly, choking down the last of her strawberry Nutrigrain bar, hearing someone knock on the door of her and Deon’s motel room, Wyllah’s fingers intertwined in the long white cord, their morning chat and her apology emotionally draining. “I’ll be passing by next week. OK, bye.”
Wyllah slammed the phone down on the receiver as she raced to the door, jumping over disheveled clothing. Wyllah creeked open the tan door, Paul standing there childly, glancing around the hallway, a bouquet of yellow and red roses in his hands.
“Paul,” Wyllah gasped, gazing down and smiling at his nice gesture, Paul snapping his attention back to Wyllah.
“Hey,” Paul greeted her, holding the roses out to her uncomfortably, “I got these for you.”
“How sweet,” Wyllah beamed, taking the flowers gently in her hands, reaching up to give him a sweet peck on the cheek. Paul’s cheeks turned rosy in return. Wyllah turned away from him to find some sort of a vase substitute. “C’Mon in.”
“Every beautiful girl should get roses once in a while,” Paul confessed out of character, clamping his hand over his mouth instantaneously, Paul wishing he could bend his leg backward and kick his own ass.
“Well, Thank you,” Wyllah responded wearily, not really good at handling compliments, placing the roses gently in a half full water pitcher. Wyllah didn’t see Paul as the rose-giving, shy-looking type. Maybe there was a lot she didn’t know about him. Wyllah could sense that Paul was interested in her from the night they met, but never wanted to act on it. Simply put, she was afraid. Underneath her calm composure, she was scared shitless about now and about the future. Wyllah didn’t want to confide in Deon only because Deon would probably split in two. Deon was like a protective mother sometimes, surprisingly, over Wyllah. Wyllah is the only cousin, the only sister she has. If Wyllah had a headache, Deon would have a brain tumor. Besides, Deon would shit bricks if Wyllah told her what she thought was, she almost knew, was wrong.
“Did your closet explode?” Paul asked curiously, nearly tripping over a pair of 5 inch black platform sandals.
Wyllah looked from the dresser with confusion. “Oh, no,” Wyllah assured him, smiling slightly, kicking some of the debris aside as she made her way towards Paul, “Benji came over this morning…Quite early, actually and he and Deon are…having a little…spiritual cleansing in the shower.”
“Uh!” Paul yelled, covering his ears dramatically to avoid any other gritty details, Wyllah snickering jovially, her tanned toes digging into the shaggy peach carpet, her multicolored patchwork cotton skirt skirting briskly about her calves. “Benji is releasing his anaconda out of the cage again.”
“Again?” Wyllah asked curiously, scratching a mosquito bite on her forearm, Paul’s eyes following her smooth strokes.
“Well, you know Deon is his main squeeze,” Paul clarified himself, now noticing the faint sound of falling water from the bathroom, staring into Wyllah’s hazel eyes, “It’s just…Benji and Deon...they hump like gorillas.”
Wyllah busted out laughing, Paul chuckling a little to cool his frazzled nerves. “You’re too much, Paul,” Wyllah told him, squeezing his arm.
“You wanna go for a walk?” Paul asked her hurriedly, hoping he wouldn’t trip over his words. “I know a great place not far from here.”
Wyllah smiled up at him, Paul’s obvious nervousness cute to her. “Sure,” Wyllah agreed, walking over towards the bed and plucking a small circular straw hat from the floor, placing it firmly over her waves. Wyllah then picked up her bag and laced her arm through Paul’s as they headed for the door. “It is such a nice day out today…”
Their 10 minute walk led to a picturesque stream, flowing gently behind the Motel’s property, the trees surrounding the stream shady. The area smelt so cool, clean, and fresh to Wyllah as she slowly closed her eyes and inhaled through her nose, Paul watching her in awe. Paul led her to a split tree from the previous winter’s heavy snow, the tree like a bridge. Paul lifted Wyllah gently up the mossy stump, Wyllah lowering herself down on the bark, the view of the stream and greenery refreshing.
“This is a great spot,” Wyllah agreed, her eyes grazing over the tall oaks, the blossomed baby pink lilies and sunny yellow daffodils, the dancing grass.
“It reminded me of you,” Paul admitted, looking down and gently intertwining his pudgy fingers in hers, Wyllah glancing gown nervously before giving in and resting her head on his shoulder.
They spent hours just talking, talking about the weekends, themselves, whatever came to mind. Wyllah felt very at ease with Paul, Paul showing her a side aside from her sexafied impression of him. Paul was very open about his family and personal business. Wyllah only hoped she could be as brave.
“Listen, Wyllah,” Paul began, rubbing his thumb smoothly over her skin, Wyllah’s head arched towards the sky to watch a flock of geese soar south. Wyllah lowered her head to Paul’s, placing a simple smile on her lips as she dangled her bare toes in the cool water. “I don’t want to sound like some stupid boy with a crush, but…as the cliché goes, When I saw you standing by your car when we first met, I couldn’t take my eyes off you. Your natural beauty was so striking, and the way you carry yourself is so graceful, so carefree. I never met someone, except for maybe my dear old mom, who was so selfless and so generous and thoughtful to other people. I feel as if I know you pretty well after these past weeks…”
“Oh, Paul,” Wyllah laughed slightly, hurting physically and emotionally inside out from what she was hiding from her newfound family and friends, Wyllah can’t denying any longer what she’s tried so hard to ignore and forget. “You don’t know everything. I wish…I wish you did.”
Paul noticed Wyllah’s eyes growing glassy, her posture slumped with some heavy weight that sat firmly between her shoulder blades. “What do you mean, Wyllah?” Paul asked concerned, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ears softly.
“I…” Wyllah began, determined to spit her confession out, her eyes lost in Paul’s chocolate browns. Her hands involuntarily clenched in frustration and pain. “I can’t tell you…just yet, Paul. Just please, Paul, don’t mention anything I said to Joel and Benji, and especially to Deon.”
“Of course,” Paul replied honestly, reaching over and giving her shoulder a tender squeeze, Wyllah squeezing her lips into a semblance of a smile, Paul feeling kind of special that she was confiding in him and only him, even though he hadn’t a clue what Wyllah was referring to. “But, for my silence, you must allow me one thing.”
“And what’s that?” Wyllah asked with a bit of a laugh, stretching out one of her long legs.
“Let me take you out on a real date,” Paul informed her, putting on the puppy-dog act, his lip so low that he would trip on it.
Wyllah sighed and smiled, hoping all the love she had would help her through her coming ordeal, “OK, Paul. Just one step at a time, OK?”
Paul agreed with a cheeky smile and a peck on her cheek. They suddenly heard a loud, obnoxious honked stream through the forest. Both of them turned around to see an unnoticed dirt road and a piss-yellow truck coming to an abrupt stop.
“Sure you’re not clean enough?” Paul asked with a smart alleck grin as he stood up on the trunk of the tree, taking Wyllah’s hand and lifting her up.
“We need to hurry to the beach so we can get dirrrty and hop in the shower again,” Benji yelled back from the driver’s seat with a proud smile, Deon resting her feet across Benji’s lap, her cut-off jean shorts leaving little for the imagination as she chomped away on her beloved bag of Chex Mix.
“Why don’t you guys come?” Deon asked wildly, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively as a crafty laugh slithered up her throat.
“From what you’re insinuating, I would have to go with no,” Wyllah responded with a laugh, strong in her toned-down version of sexuality, holding Paul’s hand as they stepped over roots and plants towards the dirt road.
“You’re no fun, Wylly,” Deon pouted, leaning forward and either whispering or blowing into Benji’s ear, Benji rolling his eyes back in his head like he was a dog receiving a lovely belly rub.
“We don’t got our suits anyway,” Paul responded glumly, tugging at his green plaid Dickies pants.
“Suits?” Benji asked skeptically, looking over at his partner in crime, Deon rolling her eyes with Paul’s ignorances as her soft hand played with the back of Benji’s MADE black bandana.
“Who needs them with a body like this?” Deon gloated, giving her chest a shimmy, Wyllah and Paul shaking their heads with a laugh, Paul leaning his forehead against his hand.
“We can go get you guys’ suits,” Benji replied begrudgingly, before smiling and opening the door, Wyllah and Paul scooting into the back.
Benji and Deon continued to giggle as they burned tire up the dirt path, the wind wafting through their hair. “We aren’t really going to a nude beach, are we?” Paul asked, knowing Benji and Deon often kidded around with him, “Are we?”
“Time for you to become a man, Sparky,” Benji enlightened him, laughing craftily as they headed for the coast.