Withering Hope

"I can do it more often if you like," he says, shrugging.

Tristan and I jump as a sound splinters the air. It sounds like thunder. That is usually a sure sign a storm will follow.

Usually, when that happens the canopy protects us, and even when the sky explodes in thunders, we have enough time to make a run to the plane before the rain soaks us. The first wave of raindrops floats on the leaves in the canopy, only small ribbons of water trickling down to the floor of the forest. But as more water falls, its weight bends the leaves, and everything gets soaked. That’s the usual course.

But this time, there is no rain. We listen for a while—no other thunder sounds.

"I'd like that, you saying my name."

"It's a nice name, by the way. It means loved in French, right?"

"Yeah. My mom spent some time in France and loved it. She spelled my name the French way."

"Aimee," Tristan says, in the same accent my mom did. I wince again.

"Yep, you nailed it."

He grins. "I'll call you like that if you stop pestering me to talk."

I grin too. "No deal. We need to talk, or I'll go insane. I'm used to being surrounded by people all day in the office. And talking to them."

"I'm used to being on my own either in the cockpit flying Chris all over the country, or in the driver's seat in the car. I'm used to silence, so I’m good."

I blush, ashamed that I didn't try to talk to him more often when he was driving me. But he always seemed so unapproachable, so preoccupied with his own thoughts.

"Well, you're stuck here with me. Unless you want me to go berserk, which wouldn't be in your best interest, you'd better put some effort into talking to me. I promise you I'm not as boring as you think."

"I don't think you're boring," he says, stunned.

"Excellent. There's no impediment then."

"Except for the fact that lengthy discussions can break your concentration and distract you."

"I'll take my chances."

Tristan shakes his head. "You must be a damn good lawyer."

"What makes you say that?"

"You just don't give up."

"A spot-on assessment of my skills. I was dyslexic as a kid. My therapist told me I should get a job that didn't require much reading or writing, because I'd have a hard time keeping up." Tristan's eyes widen. "But I always wanted to be a lawyer, like my mom. So I worked hard and became one."

"That's impressive."

"Thanks. It helps that I only need about four hours sleep at night. Lots of time to practice the exercises my therapist gave me. Your turn."

"My turn to what?" he asks a little too innocently.

I scowl, elbowing him. "Where did you grow up?"

"Washington." There it is, the predicted one-word answer.

"Do you have brothers, sisters… did you have a dog growing up?"

He throws his hands up; I've defeated him. I smile and so does he. I finally broke the ice wall—or whatever that was between us. I find out he doesn’t have brothers and sisters, and he had two dogs growing up. His parents moved to Florida after they retired, and he visits them a few times a year. From that moment on, whenever we're doing a task that doesn't leave us out of breath, I start a new round of questions. To my surprise, he answers every time, unless I ask about his private life or employment before he started working for Chris. I learn fast to steer clear of those topics and rejoice at every little piece of information he reveals about himself, no matter how unimportant.

Discovering more becomes a sort of guilty pleasure. The process of gradually discovering things about someone is fascinating. I've known most of my friends forever. I went to college in L.A, where I grew up, so college wasn't much of a discovery experience either. Even my relationship with Chris… well, there wasn't much room for discovery. I felt like I'd known everything about him forever, too. There weren't many surprises or secrets between us. I'd secretly been jealous hearing my friends talk about a first date or the beginning of a relationship, as they learned more about their partner. Of course, when said partner turned out to have a second girlfriend, or was a drug dealer instead of a vet, I'd been grateful there was no unchartered territory between Chris and me. Still, I can't deny the thrill of discovery. Now I have the privilege of experiencing it in snippets the size of teardrops every day.