Flavian would normally have much to say to Chellis. They were not quite like brother and sister, but their kinship had flourished in the odd little family they’d created in the shelter of his being Gardner’s roommate, and the broad tribal knowledge that she was Gardner’s fiancé. They watched the same shows, had actually read every book by both Patrick O’Brian and Patrick McManus, and because it was spring, they’d already started competing to see which one of them would first spot wildflowers such as red columbine, bear grass, purple trillium, and nootka rose.
So there would seem to be so much to say.
And yet Flavian was devotedly conscientious to what this was all about–a training run for the real deal with Astrid. He’d mentioned something about the icy breeze on the way to the rental car but from then on it was dead silent. He was four miles down the Pullman highway, squinting into the setting sun, when Chellis could no longer stand it.
“Pull over,” she said.
“What,” he replied. “Is something wrong?”
“Just pull over.”
He pulled onto the wide shoulder near a basalt quarry and stopped the car.
“Flavian, it’s just so customary for boys and girls to talk.”
He looked sheepishly at the spot on the steering wheel where his air bag would emerge in the event of a collision.
“Okay,” he said. “But here’s the thing. I just don’t know what I’d say to you, if you were her.”
“Do you like my dress,” she asked?
“It’s okay,” he replied.
“Nope,” she shot back. “Wrong answer. No, Flavian, you really like my dress. I don’t care if I showed up this evening in a Simplot potato sack that smelled of cow urine, you really like my dress.”
He inhaled quickly like he was getting ready to catch himself, and explain, but then his disappointment stifled him.
“Now what do you make of my hair?” she responded.
He looked over at her, and not seeing the answer written on her forehead, he moved his eyes back to study the way her corn-cob blond tresses fell on her shoulder.
“Oh Jeezus Flavian.”
“No, no, no, I got it, I got it, just hold on.”
Just when she thought he would put his head between his legs, his eyes brightened.
“Why, it is as lovely as a river of honey, flowing across the plains, to the delta and an awakening sea.”
It was all Chellis could do not to burst out in laughter, or unloose her mordant wit. She ached inside but she didn’t want to destroy his confidence.
“Well, that’ll do. For now.”
“Why thank you,” he replied.
“Drive on now,” she instructed.
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