clean. They scrub the details out of the fir-lined hillsides and draw the oils from the eucalyptus like perfume straight from the throne of God.
Kenny and I file through the syllabus of my own making as if it were some sexual bucket list that begged to race to completion.
On a Tuesday, at five-thirty in the morning, I convince Kenny to join me in watching the sunrise from Barrels' cliff side. Barrels, lies tucked at the distal end of a thicket, a good thirty-minutes away. Juniper and myrtles gnarl their branches together, locked in a perennial swordfight as I drive the truck down the congested dirt road.
I happen to know firsthand, Barrels affords the best damn view of the sunrise.
"My dad took me here once." I confess. "We went camping when I was a kid."
I may only have a handful of memories when it comes to my father, but that camping trip we took when I was seven burns in my mind, alive and fluid. For some unknowable reason, I'm able to crawl back into the moment and live it over and over again. It was the last time I did anything of quality with the man who would grow to be Pennington's father, not mine. Maybe that's why I held on so strong. It was the eulogy of the father-son relationship that would never progress beyond that point.
"Really? Did Pen go with you? I bet you beat him up a lot." She bites the air, teasing.
Kenny rolls her head back, slow and easy. Her neck peaks as if calling my lips to bless it. Her sleepy eyes send a silent invitation to drown in her kisses. Kenny is the heroin and the wine - the choice opiate of the gods, and I want nothing more than to lap her up by the bowlful.
"Nope, not Pen - just my dad and me. It was the last time he ever made the effort. I keep thinking about how beautiful this place is. In my mind, it's become this living postcard."
"Is that why you wanted me to see it?" She says it soft, uncertain of what my real intentions might be.
"No." I park as deep inside the overgrowth as possible before killing the engine. "I was sort of hoping to stomp out all those old memories and make some new ones today - with you." I reach back and grab the fleece-lined sleeping bag I keep for emergencies. It weighs ten pounds, but you can survive a subarctic winter nestled inside it if you had to.
We get out and make our way to the edge. The cliff is blocked off by wood fencing that's cracked in two places like a car might have tried to plow through, and I know for a fact a couple of them did.
A tangerine glow surprises the darkness far in the east and sprays the new day with promise.
"Come here." Kenny pulls me in and lays her cushioned lips over mine. "Let's hop in the back of the truck and start building that memory." She dips her iced hand into my sweats, and I take a quick breath.
"Sounds like you mean business. Let's give the sun another thirty seconds to show." I help her to the hood of the truck then spread the sleeping bag over the roof.
"Have I mentioned I'm afraid of heights?" she asks as we climb to the roof. "You make me feel safe."
"You make me feel safe." I echo the sentiment.
Kenny purrs as she washes those pale stone eyes over me. "Hey...anybody can do the back of the truck," she whispers it smooth like a promise. "But the roof at sunrise...how would you like to build that memory?"
"The roof," I muse. "You, my love, are frightfully brilliant."
"And eager to please." She peels off her shirt in one lithe move.
I pull the sleeping bag over us, slip off both my sweats and Kenny's as though they were one. Kenny closes her hand over me and guides me toward my newfound nirvana. I cup her breast and give a gentle squeeze.
"This is my new favorite way to start the day." I inhale sharply as she pushes me deep inside her warm body.
My hands ride over her smooth skin, and I pull her knees up high to afford maximum entry. I secure her by the shoulders and push in with soft easy waves, trying not to launch either of us off the truck in the process.
When Kenny walked into my life, she blew all of my bad