Bodhi set aside his own raw memories to attend to mine. “That looks painful. How’d you get it?”
“I collided with a retaining wall. Totaled my car.”
“Shit.”
“That’s why I was running down the street in the first place. Lucky you.”
“Yes,” he said, his eyes fixed on mine. “It was lucky for me.”
“How do you figure? I nearly got you killed.”
“I almost died, with or without your help. It felt like the apocalypse up there… like I was the last human alive in a wasteland. When I saw you, I can’t begin to describe the relief I felt just knowing I wasn’t the only one left standing.”
In the strangest way, I understood his reasoning. I’d never felt so alone as I made my way down that deserted street. Nothing about what we’d survived was within the norms of reality.
“And,” I perked up, appreciating his viewpoint. “You wouldn’t have had my valuable assistance while you were puking.”
“Yes.” Bodhi chuckled. “The worst help I’ve ever received.”
I pulled out into the pile up of cars, and as we crept down the hill an easy camaraderie formed. Now that I understood he didn’t blame me for putting him in harm’s way, I was able to relax.
Bodhi pointed to the Gatorade bottle sitting in the center console. “Do you mind if I have a drink? My throat feels like I swallowed sawdust.”
I winced, not wanting to reveal the truth about the silent passenger traveling in the adjustable cup holder. “It’s not Gatorade.”
“It’s not?”
I shook my head. “It’s Winston.”
“What?” His forehead creased as he examined the bottle.
“Winston is a goldfish.”
“A goldfish?” His voice was tinged in disbelief. “We saved a goldfish?”
I shrugged. There was nothing I could say to defend myself.
“I mean, I accepted the rats… and the bag with claws. Hell, I even get why you saved the yappy little shit in the backseat, buta goldfish?”
I held out my hands and shrugged again.
Bodhi didn’t appear the least bit bothered by my admission. In fact, he seemed mildly amused if the lazy smile were any indication. Maybe he’d already learned to accept my peculiarities. I found it was easier that way, just dump all my weirdness on the floor and get it out of the way.
I watched as Bodhi opened compartments.
“What exactly are you looking for?”
“Something to drink that doesn’t have a fish swimming in it. You don’t by chance have a water bottle in the cat bag, do you?”
“No, just the cat.”
“See, earlier today if someone were to say that to me I’d think it was weird but now, animals in bottles and bags seem entirely reasonable.” Bodhi eased back in his seat, giving up the quest for liquid. “So, is your name really Breeze?”
“Breeze Marigold Cassidy.”
“Jesus.”
“Yep,” I nodded my agreement. “Hippie parents. It could have been worse; their second choice was Lotus Windsong Cassidy. My mother thinks unique names make unique people.”
