“Eat up. You’ll need your energy for later,” he instructed, pointing his fork towards my plate.
“Energy?”
Blaine just chuckled and shook his head, taking a giant bite of blueberry-smothered waffles.
After nearly polishing off a plate of the best waffles I had ever had and earning an “I told you so” from Blaine, we said our goodbyes to Mavis and Ms. Patty and headed back out to Blaine’s truck. I was beyond stuffed, so I was grateful that Blaine took it upon himself to lift me back onto my seat. I felt bad for him; I must’ve packed on at least 10 pounds in the past hour. Ms. Patty’s food was more than worth it though.
Housing developments, strip malls, and restaurants became scarcer as Blaine drove east, the sight of thick, lush foliage whizzing by in the darkness. He turned onto a dirt-paved road surrounded by tall trees, and a niggling feeling in the back of my head set off alarm bells.
“Um, where are we going?” I asked with a trembling voice. Images of my body chopped up and stuffed into dozens of Ziploc baggies flashed in my mind. I shivered despite the warm temperature.
I felt his warm hand on my knee without even seeing him move. “You’ll see. Don’t worry; I won’t let anything happen to you. You’re safe with me.”
I eased back into the seat, his touch radiating comfort and tranquility. It didn’t feel like a sexual touch, being that he didn’t stray from his position on my bare knee. It felt soothing…calming. It was all Blaine.
When he finally stopped the truck, I noticed we were at a field of some sort. I didn’t really understand why he had brought me here. It was nearly pitch-black out. Suddenly, the earlier vision of my gruesome demise didn’t seem so far off.
Blaine reached behind his seat and recovered two Mason jars, handing me one.
“And what do you expect me to do with this?” I asked.
“Catch lightning bugs, of course,” he smiled, the lights of the dash illuminating his face.
“Lightning bugs? You mean fireflies? Why would you want to catch them?”
“Tomato, tomato. I can’t believe you never caught them before. I know y’all had lightning bugs down in ATL.”
“I didn’t grow up there,” I replied, shaking my head. Without even thinking, I was telling him the truth. I was letting him in. “I’m from California, where they’re called fireflies.”
“Ah, makes sense. Ok, city mouse, time to show you how it’s done.”
He slid out of the truck and came over to my side to help me out. Then he took my hand and led me out into the field. “Look,” he instructed, pointing out into the darkness. Dozens of tiny glowing insects swirled around us, creating a field of twinkle lights. I could hear the buzz from their wings, harmonizing with the sounds of crickets and distant night critters. The combination was oddly peaceful, and I let myself soak it all in.
“When I was a boy, my mother used to bring me out here at night so we could catch lightning bugs. We’d place bets to see who could catch the most. I think she always let me win.”
I could almost hear the smile in his voice, and his accent suddenly sounded thicker. Rich with emotion. He was that little boy again, catching fireflies with his mom.
“She told me that you would always find the most lightning bugs when a summer storm was approaching. They were like a warning, illuminating the sky before the real lightning struck. They were nature’s omen. The change in the atmosphere, the moisture in the air, some unseen current…they knew something big was coming. She swore she could predict the weather just by watching the lightning bugs. The more there were, the worse the storm.”
“Sounds like a pretty resourceful woman,” I remarked.
“She was. She knew a bit about everything. I never knew my dad, so she was all I had. And I believed every word she said.”
His use of past tense did not go unnoticed by me. I squeezed his hand a little tighter and stepped into his side. “I’m sorry.”
I could see Blaine shaking his head in the darkness. “Don’t be. She died a long time ago. I believe I got her best years. Any more than that would have been selfish of me.”
Strangled, silent moments passed between us as I digested Blaine’s words. I imagined a little boy with expressive brown eyes and messy russet hair, crying for his mommy. Reaching out for the one person who he loved more than anything in the world. His lifeline. Alone, frightened and utterly helpless. He had lost his everything.
I didn’t even realize how deeply his words had touched me until I felt a hot tear roll down my cheek. I don’t know why Blaine shared that with me, but I was thankful. It reminded me that pain was necessary. Pain was life’s curveball. Without it, we would never appreciate what it felt like to be loved.