Russell rounded the massive oak and crept toward the gray, sun-beaten gate, holding the garden hoe over his shoulder, ready to put his full weight into it should anything burst through the gate and jump out at him. The fact that he looked like a carnival-goer at the Strong Man booth didn’t escape him. Shit, he felt like that guy—the one who’s trying to impress his date with some phony feat of strength on an obviously-rigged compression device. Just who was he trying to fool, anyway?
Michelle, you dope, that’s who.
As he reached for the latch, he turned and saw that Pete, Michelle, Mike, and Huey had fallen in line behind him. They must have tiptoed because he’d hadn’t heard their footsteps at all. Hell, he had tiptoed, too. Didn’t know why; just felt like the right thing to do. I’ve seen them do it on TV—spies and cops and stuff, he told himself. And, looking at their anxious faces: Damn, they’re hunched over, just like on "Scooby Doo."
Russell let out a chuckle.
"What’s so funny?" Michelle whispered.
"This whole stupid thing," Russell replied, lowering the hoe. "I mean, look at us. Look at me. We’re acting like a bunch of junior detectives, for Christ’s sake." He shook his head and said to the ground, "How fucking bored are we to be carrying on like this? Falling for another one of Mike’s lies."
"You’re the one who drove us out here, Rus," Pete replied.
"Hey, no one dragged you along," Russell fired back.
"It wasn’t my idea—"
"Shut the hell up—both of you," Michelle said, stepping between the two squabblers. "I swear to God, ya’ll are worse than an old married couple." Grinning, she then attempted—futilely—to palm the backs of their heads and force their faces together. "I want you two girls to kiss and make up. On the lips now. Come on, don’t be shy."
Déjà vu ricocheted through Russell’s fraught brain. Hadn’t he said and done the exact same thing to Pete and Hector yesterday? He thought that he had; no—he was sure that he had.
Whatever Michelle’s intentions were—whether they were to stop their bickering or to ease the tension of entering a yard where there may or may not be dozens of shredded rabbits—her trick worked, for Pete whispered a quick apology which Russell just as quickly accepted. Mike watched the exchange play out with the wide-eyed wonder of a foreigner in a new land.
Turning back to the gate, Russell couldn’t help but think of how odd it had been for Michelle to break up a fight the same way that he had. It couldn’t be a coincidence; fate was at work here. He made a mental note of it and stored it in the forefront of his mind, where he could access it at a later time.
She thinks like me.
It was the truth and Russell knew it. Well, maybe not the entire truth. Everybody’s unique. But some people are unique-er than others. Russell just happened to be one of those unique-er people. I’ll admit it, but I’m not gonna brag about it. I’ve known it for years. It was during those brief seconds, standing next to the ratty gate with a lone cicada buzzing noisily overhead, that Russell realized he loved Michelle Donovan. He had always known that he was going to love her—the same way he always seemed to know which notes to play on the piano or guitar before actually playing them. His music always seemed to flow out right, and his connection with her was the same way—like the fulfillment of a dream he hadn’t yet dreamt. Allowing himself to fall into her ethereal beauty—a task he accomplished merely by being close to her—an expanding warmth bloomed throughout his body. His ecstasy was brief, though, for it was quickly sullied by a transient thought that thrummed deep inside his head: Hector. This is Hector’s girl. She may not think so, but he sure as hell does. He tried to shake it away, to return to her splendor—Let Pete and Mike wait. I can’t lose this moment— but the drumming cicada killed any chance of returning to her aura. Its whine mimicked the shaking of maracas, making him want to scream. He tried to bear down in his mind, to feel again the invisible connection between him and her, between man and woman, but he could only think one thought: