Leaves in the River

by Billy Segura

Their conversation had begun at the end of a party and had spilled into the long walk home. Kerry, a 30-something still dressed like a pirate, had met Rita that very night at a costume party. Rita, who was also a 30-something, wore the remains of an elaborate costume she had 3D-printed, some sort of witch from a show no one recognized. It was the maiden voyage for the costume and like any maiden voyage worth mentioning, it had ended in disaster. And thus Kerry carried Rita home. 

The pair shared a passion for the same kind of nostalgia. Old science fiction programs, movies about what-ifs and maybes that audiences didn’t care for, books about wizards wielding magic like magnum revolvers, and cartoons for kids that were perhaps a bit darker in hindsight. The witch and the pirate spoke like children excited to share about their favorite animals and colors in the way that alcohol often encourages. Upon crossing the street, Rita clicked her feet together against Kerry’s torso as if bringing a horse to heel and pointed from atop the piggyback. 

“Oh! See that house over there across the street? The white one with a little gate around it? That’s where I fought my mom!” Rita said with all the levity and pride of a hero recounting an accolade of yore. 

“Ooph, I’m not your pony… and you did what?” asked Kerry, reasonably confused. “Like fight, fight? Like punching? Or do you mean–” 

“I fought my mom. We both loved the same guy. She punched the shit out of me, so I swung back. I was in high school then and I never loved anybody like him before.” Her confident tone took on a hint of embarrassment. She’d never mentioned this story aloud and it just now the absurdity hit her too. “They put me in foster care for a bit after that.” 

The clouds overhead began to swell and the first sprinkles lazily drifted downwards, glistening in the yellow streetlamp light like waves of stars passing through the darkness. 

“So what happened after? You make up with your mom?” He thought for a moment and added, “And what about the guy?”

“Yeah, we made up after. Like, it was awkward, but we’re family. We kissed and made up.” Rita undid a ribbon from her costume and Kerry could feel her relief through his back. As an afterthought, Rita added, “Court-mandated family therapy helped too.” 

As they spoke, Kerry had crossed the street to get a better look and Rita, naturally, rode along. The witch took a look at the garage hoping to see if she recognized the car. A light switched on from the second floor, but no one was visible from the window. 

“His name was Terry and he was a tattoo artist. Real piece of shit. He was in his twenties. I don’t see his car and there aren’t any beer cans in the yard, so he probably doesn’t live here anymore.” She hadn’t thought about him for over a decade and struggled to remember what she liked about him before it came to her. “Other than being a piece of shit, he made me feel good. Like it was a good thing that I was born.” 

A person was briefly visible from the same window before the light switched off. A blue glow filled the window and the muffled theme song of some forgettable tv show played for the late night watcher within. 

“What about you, Kerry? Ever have anyone in your life who made you fight a loved one? Any lucky ladies? Or dudes? A guy who’d carry a damsel like me has gotta have some luck, right? ” 

Kerry secured Rita’s shins and steered the pair back to their journey home.

“No.” 

“No? Just No?” 

“Nah. No one.” 

Rita threw her hands up and reclined so far back it almost pulled Kerry with her, almost toppling the pair over. She lunged forward and the two regained their balance. “Well, work with me. Tell me a girlfriend story. Don’t have to love her.” “I have one, but it might come off kinda bad.” Kerry said, almost ashamed. “I fought my fucking my mom. How bad can it be?” 

“Okay, I used… mm… How do I word this… So, I once got a girlfriend, back in high school because I didn’t want people to think I was gay. She wasn’t pretty” Rita squeezed Kerry’s head with her thighs in disapproval, “or ugly either, I just chose her because she seemed the same as me. You know on the imaginary ‘hotness’ scale that all stupid teens think exists.” 

A leaf let go from a nearby branch and the pair watched as it landed in the gutter amidst the other bits of debris from the many old trees that lined the street. “So what happened?” 

“Nothing” 

“Nothing? That’s it? Just you had a girlfriend and nothing happened?” “Yeah. Like homophobia was big back then, so I got a girlfriend for self-defense.” Kerry’s face grew hot and hoped to god that Rita wouldn’t notice.

“Oh my god. That’s so lame.” A piece of Rita’s costume fell off and Kerry accidentally stepped on it, crushing it. He stopped to pick it up, but Rita tugged on his hair like a little mouse pilot controlling a chef. “How did it end? Between you two?” 

“We graduated. She got into a really good university and she broke it off. Said she didn’t do long distance. Or at least that’s the excuse she gave me. It was kind of mutual… in a way.” Kerry paused. He had stopped under a tree, but an ice-cold glob of water splashed squarely onto his head, he shivered and continued walking, “She… Well, I was relieved. I don’t think I cared for her in the way she wanted to be cared for. I felt like I was wasting her time when we were together.” 

The pair came across a little park in the middle of the neighborhood. It had a large picnic area made of impressive wood and stone as well as a colorful jungle gym filled with sleeping cats. An old vending machine hummed along with its outdated display for some movie tie-in collaboration that long since passed. Someone had shoved twigs into the coin slot. 

“Let’s take a rest here,” said Rita. 

“I’m good to keep going—” Kerry replied. 

“I wasn’t asking. Heel!” And with that they sat under the picnic area, where Rita dismounted. 

Kerry groaned and stretched himself out, while Rita dangled her bare feet from atop the table. 3D-printed shoes seemed like such a stellar idea at the time, and they did hold for a bit, but they don’t compare to a good pair of boots like Kerry had on. The Pirate took a look at the machine in hopes of finding something hot. There was a coffee machine, but all the lights were off. 

Kerry pulled out his phone. It was 2:47 AM, he had 3% battery, and his daily sudoku puzzle was unfinished, breaking his streak. He put his phone away and sat on the table next to Rita. As pokey and unapproachable as her costume was, she was warm and that’s all he wanted. Rita pulled off more pieces of her costume for Kerry, little plastic stars and rabbit skulls, and aimed for the trash can as she tossed them. The hot glue had held for the party, but its job was done. 

The light misting had strengthened into steady droplets as the rain came in, so the pair laid flat on the table. They looked up at the beams of the picnic area ceiling and saw empty nests and old spiderwebs. Kerry was the first to speak. “Is it far from here?” 

“Kinda. I swear it seems much further in the dark. Watch, we’ll come back in the daylight and it’ll be like two blocks.” 

“It's not so bad. I might even say it's kind of fun.” Kerry yawned, “Been a while since I last went camping.” 

“Don’t get too comfortable, I almost have feeling in my legs again.” She swatted at her legs in hopes of brushing away the sensation of white tv-static that had taken residency between her belt and down to her toes. “You do a lot of camping?”

“No. Just once or twice with my dad.” 

“You two close?” 

“Nah, he died when I was like 11.” 

“Sorry.” 

“If we’re still oversharing, I don’t know if it hit me that hard that he died. My whole world changed afterwards, sure, but when they told me… I don’t know if I cared in the way I was supposed to care. About anyone.” 

Rita didn’t know how she felt about this. Her gut reaction was that this was some serial killer shit, but Kerry had been nothing but kind in the 15-ish hours they had known each other. She didn’t have a father figure and had never lost a family member, so she couldn’t relate. She felt it best to hear him out. The whole world around her was cold, but Kerry… Kerry was warm. 

“Is that bad? I don’t think I know what Love is. Like, I do from books and movies, but I… Well… it feels like a missing part of the kit. They put the rest of me together, but that just wasn’t in the box. I think I know what it is, from its absence, but not from experience. I’ve never seen it, but I can see the mark it leaves behind, like the wind blowing trash around or leaves in the river.” 

This had caught Rita’s attention. She was hoping he’d say something like this. “You say that, but I don’t believe you. You love your parents–Er your mom? Right?” Tufts of blonde hair stuck out from behind Rita’s purple wig as she spoke. “Or maybe you’ve had a dog. There’s no capital ‘L’ Love like a dog’s love.”

“Not really.” His mother had stopped speaking to him. Not out of malice, she just felt her time with him was complete. The two were certainly related. “Ooph.” She thought for a moment. “Ah, but you love the same stuff I do. Like the same tv and movies and books. Love is like… like a comfy chair. It's the place you want to return to. A comfy place where you know what to expect.” Kerry tried to digest Rita’s words. 

“I don’t think I follow.” Love was stuff. That didn’t sound appealing to Kerry. “Like, love is this thing, like a—” she pantomimed hands gripping an invisible heart. The witch felt like an awkward middle schooler trying to explain sex to a more innocent friend. She appeared to be strangling the imaginary heart when the word she was looking for finally popped into mind. “Oh! A Connection! It's not a one way thing… except when it is. Like you love a sad and sweet book about star-crossed lovers, but that book doesn’t love you back and that’s okay. Almost more beautiful for it. There’s a connection there, one that sticks with you even after you finish reading it.” 

It might have been the lingering alcohol in his blood, but she was making a lot of sense. The thought of a book loving him back was more disturbing than he dared think about and was suddenly thankful his bookshelf never reached out for a hug. Is the way he loved stuff the same way he was loved? He thought about how many people had cared about him in ways that he never reciprocated. Kerry propped himself upon his elbow and turned to look at Rita.

He thought about what she had said, as if the answer was written on the witch’s face. Their youth was on its way out, but then and there, looking at Rita’s face made Kerry feel like his best years were still ahead. Rita looked into Kerry’s eyes and could see that he understood what she meant. They held each other with half lidded eyes, unable to look away, like a pair of drunks at the Louvre. 

Kerry went in for a kiss and Rita laughed. 

“You remind me so much of Captain Redtail.” 

“Captain Redtail? That old cartoon show with the fox that’s a pirate?” asked Kerry. 

Rita nodded, her face growing redder. 

“I used to have the biggest crush and wanted to marry him when I was like 6… er–16…” 

This time Kerry did kiss her. She pulled away to say “26” before diving back in. The two rolled across the table. They held each other ungracefully, too tightly in some places and not tight enough in others, but never letting go. They didn’t know how to love each other, they were sloppy, clumsy even, but they wanted to try. They wanted to learn. They kept each other warm as the rain fell harder around them. 

• • •
They glided across empty streets in a blur and found themselves at Rita’s front door. Rita’s home, a duplex, was small and covered wall to wall in canvases, shelves bursting with knick-knacks and figures, and stacks of books scattered around with some unclear, but certain system of organization. The pair stumbled in past half-finished art projects and took a hot bath together like the children they once had been. 

Rita had some clothes that previous lovers had left behind close enough in size for Kerry to wear. True exhaustion didn’t hit until the sweat pants came on. In lieu of sex, the pair collapsed onto the couch. They figured that if their backs weren’t hurting in the morning, they could fuck then. 

They tried to keep talking. They slurred their words and kept interrupting each other and giggling. They shared more cartoon crushes and laughed, trying to outdo the other, until they both grew comfortably quiet. 

“I’m glad you were born,” Kerry said. 

Rita shushed him with a smile and slipped her hand into Kerry’s closed fist. She gave him a tight squeeze and he squeezed back. The two finally drifted off to sleep as the wind outside blew the leaves in the river.