Page 39 of PS: I Hate You
Dom huffs a noise that I interpret as “Told you so.”
—and get ready for something that’s fucking cool. Got to see a similar sight in New Zealand, and I always thought I’d get another chance to admire them closer to home. Now it’s your turn.
Buy a souvenir I would have liked and take a picture—when you’re not in the dark—for my sake.
Then leave a piece of me in the glow.
Love,
Josh
Before I can ask Dom what Josh means, the door to the shop opens and a white man with an impressive gray mustache and welcoming grin strides onto the deck, eyes sparking with excitement when he spots us.
“Who wants to see some glow worms?”
Chapter
Ten
The dismalites glow on the canyon walls like stars in the night sky. Each one appears to flicker, but our guide tells us they give off a steady light. Their minuscule movements trick our eyes.
“This next part has lots of roots and stones in the path, so best to use your lights. Red, if you have ’em,” our guide calls out in his thick southern accent. He’s a fount of knowledge and clearly passionate about this hidden wonder in Alabama. I could hear the anger and sadness in his voice when he pointed out a dark section of the canyon wall where not a single glowing body could be spotted. In the daylight, he told us, we’d be able to see how the space is covered in graffiti.
Fucking teenagers.
As we make our way through a series of connected caverns at a meandering pace, I’m relieved at how nonstrenuous the trek is. Knowing my brother, I wouldn’t be surprised if the coordinates of one or more of his letters send us on a hike that would have me struggling to catch my breath.
Josh knew about and respected the severity of my asthma, but he also would point out how avoiding physical activity altogether wouldn’t help my lungs. We got into plenty of bickering matchesabout it. Eventually, Josh figured out the best way to get me to step out of my comfort zone was with bribery.
And what’s a better bribe than his final words?
I’ll climb a mountain for one of those envelopes.
Note to self: Get in touch with a breathing specialist. Just in case.
I used to see one regularly when I first moved to Seattle. The change in environment seemed to aggravate my airways until I was using my inhaler multiple times a day. But she prescribed me a new medication and talked me through some breathing exercises that helped. After college, I let my appointments and exercises trail off. Now, with the possibility of more outdoor adventures, I should start thinking about how to keep breathing through them.
But that’s a problem to deal with when I get home. For now, I can take advantage of the easy pace, only worrying about an occasional tripping hazard.
In the darkness of the cavern, I can still see the broad silhouette of Dom’s shoulders. That doesn’t stop me from flinching and almost fumbling Josh when a warm pair of hands covers mine.
“Here.” Dom’s fingers guide mine to a button on the flashlight he handed me before we started the tour. “This’ll turn on the red light.”
I should’ve known that not only would Dom come prepared with flashlights for the both of us, but they’d be equipped with the red lights that don’t affect our night vision and don’t bother the worms as much.
Larva, I correct myself. Our guide explained that the little glowing creatures covering these walls are actually fly larva. True glow worms are found in New Zealand and Australia. But the guy’s cheerful explanation gave me the sense that he didn’t mind the incorrect label as long as people were still interested in seeing the beauty of them.
I flick on the red light and detangle my hands from Dom’s. He lets me go, turning on his own light and waving for me to walk ahead of him.
Noise doesn’t bother the dismalites, and other voices chatter around us as we all file forward. The tour group includes a family of five and a couple. There’s a teenage girl with the family and when we all first gathered, she gaped at Dom like he was the personification of Taylor Swift tickets. The sight reminded me so much of my younger self that I was tempted to laugh. But my humor faded quickly into irritation when I remembered exactly how the man treated my awe in the past.
Some girls who hook up with their crush and get dropped the next day might feel used. But I don’t even have the option of adding that to his sins.
No, that night, after weeks of us spending almost every minute of the day together, Dom didn’t use me. He only gave. Gave me kisses. Gave me hot touches. Hell, the guy even gave me my first orgasm.
Dom took his time, asked me what felt good, cradled me against his body, and stroked my clit until he figured out how to make me fall apart. He taughtmewhat my body wanted. Meanwhile, he asked for nothing in return.
At first, I thought that made him a good man. Someone to trust and give my heart to and pin my pathetic hopes on.