Heaven Backwards

No fingers, mouths, tongues, lungs, secret crevices or racing, pounding, breaking hearts. After their momentary passion at the airport, Walter kept a careful distance for an hour.

But once she had unpacked, once Evie and DeeDee decided the water was too cold for swimming, Walter suggested an afternoon hike. Amanda sank back into the wooden porch chair and covered her face. Walter stepped in front of her, ready to explain why they couldn’t be lovers, if she wanted an explanation.

[Click here to read the first episode, or here to read the previous one.]

That’s how certain he was. Shy, lonely Walter could talk about anything with her. That’s how much he loved her.

And sex, she could hear him telling her, with its thrill and thrall, came and went. If Walter and Amanda forgot who they were, if they pretended no father-daughter attachment, they would betray themselves and each other. She knew that. She knew how destructive her desire was.   

He gently shook her wrist, rousing her from the chair and she knew no matter how much they might want each other, past or present, indulging in sex would mean squandering their real love.

Casually—that’s how much control he had summoned—Walter draped an arm over her shoulder. “Don’t you want to see the turtles, Amanda? It’s late enough so that we might see the herons.”

Evie and DeeDee ran ahead, following the trail-markers Walter had shown them. Every few minutes, though, they stopped and turned around. Giggling. That’s what little girls did. She overheard Evie telling Walter, his hand on her head as she stared up at him, how her almost-step-dad had looked just like him.

He smiled. “Anyone ever tell you looks are deceiving?”

“So deceiving.” Evie grinned, the two in collusion.

Walter was seven years older than David, but you’d never know it. Walter was stronger. He stood straighter and his eyes and hair shined brighter. Amanda asked him to lead the way. She liked watching him march through the low slanting sunbeams weaving in and out among the trees. He called to Evie and DeeDee whenever he didn’t catch sight of them a few switchbacks ahead.

Did they see the mushrooms, the tiny frogs? He caught one for DeeDee but she didn’t dare touch it. “You’re right,” he said. “We don’t know how many people this baby’s had contact with. It’s early in the season. The smell of us touching him might make him an outcast.”

DeeDee bit her lip. “Huh?”

“Cooties,” Evie said, and Walter laughed, surprised cooties were still around. “They’re around,” Evie told him. “I know one girl who’ll have ’em forever.”

“What’s her name?”

“Neveah. Heaven backwards.”

“Do her cooties have anything to do with her name?” Walter asked.

“Nope. Another girl has the same name and she’ll never have cooties. Ne-vay-ah Grant— nevah. Ne-vay-ah Scott—forevah.”

Amanda wanted to sink through the forest ground—the sunlight between the treetops, the whirling sky, and the ones she loved, the only ones, sheltering her. If only she never had to move; if only nothing had to change.

A few minutes later, they strolled along the edge of a silent pond. Walter found a huge turtle but warned the girls not to get too close.

At the far edge of the water two herons stood, on one leg each. The girls wandered away from the water, hunting through the undergrowth for more frogs while Walter pulled Amanda close. They hovered there, father and daughter, watching and waiting for the birds to fly off.

Except now a supernatural light played on the dark water. Amanda pressed her face against Walter’s chest and shivered with more sensations than her body could hold. 

“Amanda,” he whispered, stroking her hair. No one but Walter knew how to say her name. No one but Walter should say her name. She grew faint and unreal with longing. He let go, moving away, and a tiny cry escaped from her throat, “No.” She’d do anything.

“Look at them.” The hand that a moment ago was stroking her head followed a pair of regal birds along an upward arc. The hand, whose weight and warmth sent waves of pleasure through her skin, dropped to her shoulder after the birds disappeared into the far distance.

Amanda stumbled backward for fear of adhering to him. Why was it again? She rubbed her eyes, refusing to see. Why couldn’t they be lovers? Because, Christ, she’d do whatever it took. Really. Anything.

(Click here to read the next episode.)