FEATHER → THE ASK → DREAM ON

They spent hours standing in the river.

Fly-fishing.

Casting.

Moving upstream.

Talking when there was something worth saying.

Not talking when there wasn’t.

Dakota knew the river.

Where the trout held beneath the current.

Where the rocks dropped unexpectedly.

Where to place a foot.

Where not to.

At one point she moved behind Jimmy and reached around him to adjust his hands.

Her body touched his back.

Barely.

Her hand covered his.

Neither moved immediately.

The river pressed against their legs.

Jimmy turned his head.

Dakota was close enough that he could feel her breath.

Dakota released his hand.

“Again.”

Jimmy cast.

Perfect.

· · ·

Later, Jimmy asked about her tattoo.

She looked at him.

“The red feather is for my people.”

“My dad.”

“He was a warrior.”

“A SEAL.”

“We were both in the Navy.”

Jimmy looked at her.

That got his attention.

“What did you do?”

“Mass Communication Specialist. MC.”

“Enlisted?”

“Yeah.”

“Where?”

“Great Lakes. Fort Meade.”

She paused.

“Afghanistan.”

“Kandahar. Bagram.”

“Then the Pentagon.”

Jimmy studied her.

Then she added:

“Separated.”

“Wyoming.”

“The Cowboy Bar.”

Jimmy smiled.

“Impressive.”

“I can kick your flyboy ass.”

“I bet you can.”

Jimmy looked back toward the river.

“Your turn.”

“My turn for what?”

Jimmy looked at her.

“Sounds like you Googled me.”

“Yup.”

Jimmy laughed.

“So, brief me, sailor.”

“Steel Town.”

“Air Force.”

“Desert Storm.”

“Provide Comfort.”

“Washington, DC.”

“Silicon Valley.”

“Bali.”

“Wharton.”

“MIT.”

“Columbia.”

Jimmy turned toward her.

She looked at him.

“I know what exceptional looks like.”

“And so do you.”

Neither said anything.

They both let the observation sit.

· · ·

By dusk they were exhausted.

They sat side by side on the hood of her father’s old Land Cruiser, looking upward.

The warmth was leaving the day.

The sky seemed impossibly large.

Blue deepening toward black.

Before the last light disappeared from the horizon, stars were already emerging above them.

Jimmy had forgotten skies could do that.

Dakota leaned back against the windshield.

Jimmy did the same.

Their shoulders touched.

Neither moved away.

For a while there was nothing but river below them and sky above.

Then Dakota spoke.

“You know we’re all just passing through.”

Jimmy kept looking upward.

“Through what?”

“All of it.”

Silence.

Jimmy looked at her.

Dakota was still watching the sky.

The twenty-something bartender was gone.

For an instant, Jimmy had the strange sensation that the woman beside him was an old soul.

Dakota turned toward him.

Her eyes moved over his face.

Then stopped.

A recognition she didn’t understand.

A memory that didn’t quite belong to the moment.

Dakota’s hand moved down and rested on his leg.

Her warm hand remained there.

He looked at her.

She was still staring toward the sky.

Jimmy knew better than to talk.

The stars continued appearing.

· · ·

Jimmy broke the silence first.

“So, what do you want, friend?”

Dakota was silent.

Jimmy let her process the question.

She remained silent.

Then she took a deep breath.

“I want you.”

“I want everything you can give me.”

The words hung between them.

They let the silence do its work.

Jimmy looked at Dakota and thought:

What do you owe someone whose potential you can see—but they cannot?

Then Aerosmith entered his head.

“Dream On.”

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