Mirage

“That shouldn’t be there.” He mused dryly. Throat constricted and rough with thirst. Nights spent walking on weakened legs, without food or shelter. Body sinking into the immobile, orange sea devoid of end with each restless sleep. Stuck between waking world and dream, he grew distrustful at the sight before him.

Stark against the still sands and shrubs of yucca and creosote was a concrete foundation. As if a room was warped from its origin and plastered on the warmth-tinted flatlands. Walls missing, the foundation housed what looked like a cutout booth from a cafe. Aromas of fresh brewed coffee drifting upwards to the man’s nose, instilling a thirst for both water and caffeine. 

Blurring days left him aimless, victim to the mirages resting at the bitter end of the landscape, waving and contorting like a body of water. Dancing and teasing as he waned towards severe deprivation. 

He turned a tad East, committed to avoiding the anomaly - he refused to tease himself with the unreal. Yet, rationality had slowly abated him. A few steps in and he was picking at his chapped lips, brain fog fighting to make sense of the scene. What if?

Legs struggling as the man walked - feet sinking into bleached sand with each step - he made a semi-circle around the structure. Closer inspection illuminated a row of booths full of tattered, foam cushions and retro fitted tables with a marble looking surface. The flooring all in checkered tile clear with coffee stains and plastered crumbs. Three booths completed the square cutout placed in the desert. No light but that of the beating sun. 

The aroma grew stronger as he neared, noticing that what he mistook for standing cacti were illusionary diners. Customers enjoying themselves small mugs of assorted lattes and brewed coffees, steam rising as the liquid simmered. Feigning attention to the desert around them as if they had simply appeared to evaporate to safer climate. An edge of a wooden bar jutted out from where it held no continuation - coasters dotted the countertop with drained mugs and pastry dishes. Mouths moved as the customers chatted. Words never escaped and the man watched as muted conversations relented.

Sitting at the cusp of the cafe cutout - feet mere inches from the raised foundation - the man called to a couple dining. “What is this place.”

The words escaped with a choked drawl and whispered. The couple raged on, lost in the energized topic while the man suffered a coughing fit.

Swallowing the last of built-up saliva, the man stepped onto the tile and relished in its smoothness. An assortment of sounds assailed his ears: the whir of espresso machines and the slow drip of shots, the commotion of dozens of chattering voices, and low-tuned alternative rock like static over an invisible radio. The man opened his hand and smacked himself in the face, closing his eyes as he did. I cannot be seeing this, feeling this.

But even with that self-induced blindness to reality, the smooth texture of tile remained underfoot. 

“A vanilla latte at the bar for Drew.”

The man forced his frantic eyes open and scoured the scene. Failing to see any employee, Drew walked to the end of the countertop and peered behind it. Naught but the adjacent corner of the lot trailing off into the desert beyond.

“Hello?” he called hoarse. The counter lay bare of fresh drinks. He walked the length of it and doubled back in confusion. Where the hell is that girl? 

His body withering, he debated whether to push on or remain in this dream, tapping creviced and bloodied fingers against the bar. 

“Fuck it.” He launched his burdened legs into a crooked gait when from behind, the sound of something placed firm on glass. A quick turn revealed a topped off mug with a flower design built from foam. A barista was behind the bar, wearing a dirtied apron and her hair tied back in a bun.

“Sorry Hun, must’ve missed my first call. She took the waters already.”

Drew inched closer, meeting her gaze with full pupils. “Excuse me, who took the water?”

The barista laughed and pointed out the back booth. “Good one, but she’s probably waiting for you to get going.” She walked on into the unseen.

Grabbing the curved handle on the mug, he felt the temperature of the glassware, cupped his hands around it and turned to see the booth. The first one still occupied by the couple now audible and boisterous. The third one held someone he recognized. Dawning over him as heat flushed his cheeks.

“Danielle?” He practically shouted at her. Her head veered his direction and she produced an ardent smile as he strode over. 

Her eyes never left his as he cleared the distance and plopped hard into the cushioned seat, hands caught in a tear agape with spewing foam. “How are you here Dani? I mean how the hell did you know of this place?”

She reached over and held out her hand. Opening his palm, Drew planted his hand as she dropped hers in, fingers prodding at his blistered wrists. “Your lips are chapped Drew. Look like it took you awhile to get here.”

He recoiled, taking his free hand to his lips, collecting pockets of blood from the canyons formed there. “I don’t even know how long. Hardly know where I’m going.” Before she could respond, Drew took his hand back and clasped both around her fist. “I’m not sure how we got here, but damn am I glad to see you.”

He angled over the tabletop to kiss her when she stopped him with a raised finger, commanding him back into his booth. 

“Take some water first, you look quite parched.” Hint of sarcasm in the order. She silently watched as she scooted the filled cup to his side, giving a gesture that inclined him to drink it.

His body overrode all questions and affection as he fiercely lifted and tipped the glass, relishing in the feeling of the lukewarm water alleviating his dazed head. When he finished, he gasped for breath, chuckling at the possibly of dying trying to prevent death by dehydration. 

“Seems like you needed that,” she laughed, “might as well take mine to.” She pushed hers over.

His senses chopped in and he looked at her shocked. “What do you mean, you probably need it just as much as I do.”

Her smile dropped and she appeared sullen for a moment before returning to cheery. “Trust me, where I am at, I’m good for now. I insist.”

He leaned closer, pushing the glass towards her. “And where is that?”

“In here with you silly. Now drink up.”

She grasped the full glass and propped it, waiting for him to give in and drink. He opened his mouth and she banked it down, careful to savor the water and readjusting as some streamed down his unkempt beard. Another round of gasping and he wiped his mouth with his torn sleeve, caught sand sticking to his lips and beard. 

“Let me get that.” She reached a hand over and swept away what she could. “You remember where we are? Been a few years and some change. Still remember this night. Thankful for it.”

Furrowing his brows, he saw she was serious, waiting for him to see that around him. Aside from the backdrop of dried shrubbery and craggy hills, he noticed now a single wall was placed. Stacked with cork boards and fliers. Neighboring the fliers were assorted picture collages, some framed but many pinned. Among the fliers were advertisements for trivia nights, local shows, and art classes, detailed by outlined accounts and instructions on the boards. The pictures denoted trivia winners and performers; Drew could see in the photos groups and couples holding prizes and crafted trophies. Adorning the top of the wall were the words The Oasis. Dislodging from his dormancy, a memory recalled. 

“That’s impossible.”

Danielle held his balled fist and looked at the photos and chuckled as the realization hit him.

“Public place for a first date. Adoring how you made sure I felt safe before leaving, letting me know what we would be doing. Ensuring you sucked just as bad at trivia,” she turned to him, “even asked if you could kiss me. Charming honestly.”

She bobbed his fist back and forth as he questioned. How the hell did the cafe get here?

“But how did we get here? It ain’t anywhere close.”

“Does it matter? We are here now. Might as well enjoy it.”

The comfort in the statement set him at ease. Or was he exhausted? He let his tense shoulders drop and met her gaze. She was still as remarkable as that night. The years following ones of growth, experience, adventure. He was eternally grateful for this night, treasured it. He held her hand tight. 

“I recall you being the only thing that mattered that night. Perhaps all nights after too. Knew I could love you then. Even if we got blasted in trivia.” He said sarcastically. “How did we get here Dani? From The Oasis to now I mean.”

“With effort. Some days were hard, but you were always willing to do what it took. Never had someone like that.” She turned away abashed. “Always going with me to far places, seeing things and the world for what they were, putting up with hard days, listening and encouraging. Never thought I’d love anything more than the world itself.”

He grew somber but unknowing as to why. “Your spirit, it always carried me. You thought I had patience, man you can put up with a lot,” he adjusted his posture as his eyes welled, “I’m glad to have had the pleasure to know you how I do.” 

They both laughed, never losing each other's touch. Both faces etched with true smiles.

As they both leaned back, Danielle’s sullen expression returned. Drew internalized the pain there. “What’s wrong?”

“Do you remember why you’re here?”

“What do you mean?”

“Look around you.”

As he did, he saw that the wall that once stood vanished. The bar gone. The ruckus of multiple voices and an old radio reduced to a bitter silence reserved for deserts at the edge of the world. Even the foundation was gone except for their booth.

“What is going on, Dani?”

She reached for his face, resting her palm on his cheek. She was crying. "Do you remember why we came here?”

His tired brain searched the recesses of memory. Another planned trip. Mojave camping, journals astray on the apartment carpet. A foray into the expanse for a week. Just as the fall descended.

“Maybe?”

“Keep thinking.”

Days transpired and a supply shortage. Danielle fell, rolled her ankle. Snap. Water was out. Water. No water. No transport. No communication. No Danielle. 

No Danielle.

Drew shot up and watched her as she saw it dawn.

“I need to find help. I went to find help!”

“I wish there was more time, Drew.” She said with enough hurt to make him shudder.

“But-but how are you here?”

She ran her fingers through his and clasped them closed. “I didn’t want to wait to see you again.”

“He felt something ping his heart, a distant echo yet to reverberate back. A knowing as of yet unknown.

“I am glad you did Dani. Days were hard without you there.” he felt every individual finger with intent. Smooth and flawless. “Thank you for finding me. I had no idea where to go.”

She smiled again and rubbed his arm. “Why do you think I came this way. You were so close but couldn't do it without my help.” She smirked; a hint of sarcasm creased into her dimples.

Drew sighed. “Told you, who would I be without you. I love you.”

Both of them leaned over, closing their eyes as they embraced. As their lips were about to join, Drew gasped for breath. Once his eyes were open, he saw his hands planted in wet sand, gazing at his reflection over a rippling pool of water. His arms were weak and he scanned the area. Joshua trees surrounded the tiny oasis, circling the tiny pool of water. The sun was beginning to set, twilight ruinous across the sky, hues of blue morphing into purple, clouds pink.

There was no sign of the cafe cutout. No people around, no aroma of coffee hitting him. No lone lot in the middle of the Mojave. Just desert. The bleached white and warm-tinted sands of the desert.

“Dani.” No response. He worried. “Dani!”

“Up here!”

He searched rabid for the voice and saw her figure atop a sand ridge further up from his spot. She was waving down at him. “This way, come on now!”

His got up and ran her away, muscles less achy with the surplus of water. His throat held less a residual thirst. He felt alive. As he trudged up the sandy hill, he saw Dani descend down the opposite side. “Hey, wait up!”

“No time, let’s go!”

He clambered over the hill and half-slid down the opposing side, sand sneaking into every open tear and pocket. Hunger came next to bat as his stomach rumbled. 

“Where are we going?” he called after Danielle. No response as she kept going.

“Oh brother,” he muttered as he carried on. He hadn’t so much as caught a glimpse of her after the cafe. It didn’t dishearten him. They were going to get help.

Hours droned on as the same loop repeated. Calls beckoning Danielle and her continuing the long trek. Night had fallen over the desert in a thick, velvet curtain. The stars were ever-present, and the moon cast a basking glow over the still sands. Drew matched Danielle’s tracks as he saw in the distance balls of light forming. Minutes onward and he saw light fluttering across the horizon. A road!

On cue, Danielle stopped in her tracks and awaited his arrival.

He stumbled towards her on weary legs, hunger gripping him as his body felt empty. 

She held out her arms wide and smiled at him. “Please hug me.”

He obliged, wrapping his arms around her as tight as he could. She felt light, heavenly under that bright night. They sat there a moment, locked in that embrace before coming apart. He stared into her hazel eyes, planting rapid kisses as she laughed and playfully pulled away. 

“You are the most beautiful, fucking genius I’ve ever known.” Drew said as he twirled her around, “thank you, thank you, thank you Dani!”

Placing her steady, she rested her hands on his shoulder and dropped the smile.

“You did it all yourself. You did the best you could. Now please go on. Go and get to safety. Go and be free. And know I loved you.” She raised his arm and made him twirl in dance. As he came back around to her, he realized she was gone.

“Dani?” he whispered. Only the cacophony of faraway traffic and insects responded. That ping in his heart returned. “Why did you leave?”

Minutes went by as he teared up, holding his hands over his face as he thought on what to do next. The town is so close. She had to have just gone there. Where else could she go?

In the heart of that darkness, he chose to drone on, a sapped husk under the open reign of a free sky. Wind picked up and cooled off his burnt skin, flung his greasy hair every which way. As he neared the town, the denizens and billboards flooded his vision. He was almost there.

Morning came and Drew sat up, feeling the fabric of something underneath his back. The sun was perched again, except he was inside somewhere. An aroma of coffee flooded his nostrils again. The Oasis again? Did Dani take us back?

He then heard footsteps headed his way. He turned on his side and saw he was on a quilted couch, a populated living room with a small TV resting on a mantel. An AC unit blaring in the open window.

The footsteps came into the room. “Hey there kid, you all good there? Thought you’d never wake.” He was a middle-aged bald man, bringing with him a mug of coffee and a glass of water. “I got some eggs frying real quick. You didn’t look so good when we found you. Take it easy a tad.”

When he placed the cups down, Drew voraciously grabbed for them, downing the water then satiating his caffeine addiction. “Sorry,” he wiped his mouth with his sleeve, “been a good while there.”

The man laughed and patted him on the shoulder. “No sorrys here. Please, fetch up as much you want. Thought we might take you by an urgent care or something. You look like you seen better days.”

Drew felt like he had seen better days, but the memories of the night flooded back.

“You wouldn't have happened to see a girl with me, did you?”

The man walked back with dishes filled with over-easy eggs and strips of bacon. “No, just you kid. Why, you looking for someone?”

Drew felt his stomach sink. He gazed out into the flat desert across the street. Cars whizzed by, but the dotted shrubbery and emptiness bore the truth. A truth he’d known for days.

“I suppose not. Do you have a phone per chance?”

“Sure thing, just here in the kitchen. Whenever you’re ready.”

The desert stared back. His eyes welled as he trembled. I shouldn’t be here, he mused, it should be you.