Love in Rubble

I first saw her as she stalked out of the shambles of some old house with a torn-up backpack slung over her left shoulder. Noticing me and unsure of whether I was friend or foe, she paused, wide-eyed and ready to pounce like a lion in defense. I slowly raised my hands with open palms to show that I did not mean harm before she relaxed.

The stranger must have been part of another tribe or I would have known her from my sanctuary of seventy people. Her dark brown hair was brushed but greasy as if she hadn’t washed in in at least a week, her face had dirt on it, matching her dusty clothes patched with mismatching colors. What stuck out to me were her eyes.

A matching set of blue that looked like the ocean under a clear sky offset from sun tanned skin with dirt splotches. They cut through the air like speeding jets, making whomever she was looking at feel exposed and weak. A man could get lost in those dangerous eyes- and I did.

“Who are you and where are you from?” I heard from far away.

I shook my head to come back to where I was and asked, “Huh?” dumbly.

She repeated her question, reaching for what I supposed to be a firearm of some kind strapped to the back of her waist.

“My name is Evan,” I called. I had to speak up since a swift of air picked up, throwing dust over what was once an upscale neighborhood, “I come from a little sanctuary about three miles off the road called Oasis.”

“How do I know you aren’t a raider here to kill me and take my stuff?” her eyes narrowed suspiciously, “Or worse?”

“Do I look like a raider?” I asked curiously and smiled. My hair was washed and my face clean-shaven. Though my clothes were a bit grimy, it was not anything near to what a wasteland drifter or raider usually donned.

“No. Not really,” the still-unnamed stranger said, “But then again I can’t be sure,” she reached for whatever was strapped to her back again.”

“I just came down to scavenge for supplies or food for my village,” I replied, “May I please ask your name and where you come from?”

“You just did,” she said through a chilling smile (she was darkly gorgeous), “Agatha. I don’t have a place I came from.”

“You had to come from somewhere,” I said back, I took a step forward. She didn’t flinch so I approached slowly so we wouldn’t have to keep yelling. Agatha remained in place of where she was standing. I took an apple out of my satchel and cut it in half, offering her one of the pieces as I sat down on a small wall.

Agatha looked reluctantly at the apple half and licked her lips, fear still crowded her piercing eyes.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” I said, “Come on, talk with me.”

She slowly took the apple and sat down next to me on the wall. She smelled of gunpowder and body odor. It took three bites for Agatha to finish the apple half, I looked down at my half and held it to her, “Been a while since you last ate?”

“It’s none of your business,” she said but took the other piece of apple and downed it.

“You know, if you need a place to stay, my village is always welcome to new residents and visitors,” I tried to tell her, “You could stay at my place or someone else’s and get food and everything else.”

“I go my own way,” she said, watching the horizon of rubble and dust.

After an hour or so of small talk and beating around the bush, Agatha finally warmed up to me, maybe the red wine I had in my satchel helped, but she even started to small and laugh a bit. I learned that Agatha had come from California originally then got hitched with a caravan to Nevada before joining a party of wanderers to Oklahoma. She had been in a group of three others until two days ago when she had woken up one morning to find that they had left without her.

“No, I should get going now,” Agatha said when I got up and asked her if she wanted t come back to Oasis with me.

“Oh, come on, it’s a safe place to sleep and free food,” I said smiling.

“Fine, but if you try anything unpure,” she took her weapon from behind her back, “I’ll shoot you right there without hesitation,” her .45 was pointed to right between my legs.

I swallowed hard and spoke up, “Message received.”

We got back to Oasis and had the guard allow us in after brief questioning. It must have looked like heaven to this poor girl who had spent her whole life out in the wasteland. We had built homes that were clean, running water, and electricity for basic needs. Agatha looked around with wide eyes but remained silent, hiding her face whenever someone greeted us and asked who my new friend was.

“Here we are,” I said as I led Agatha inside my place. It was a small house with wooden walls with comfortable furniture and cinema posters from before “The Exodus” as we called it. I went to fetch some towels and opened the bathroom door for the still quite Agatha, “Shower if you want, I’ll prepare dinner.”

Agatha took the towel timidly and stepped into the bathroom. She said harshly, “If I catch you trying to peep me, I’ll kill you,” and slammed the door shut.

I had prepared a meager but filling meal of spaghetti and meat sauce that was leftover from last night when Agatha walked out of the shower, hair still wet, and wearing the same tattered clothes from before. She wolfed the meal down quickly before a knock came at the door.

“Hello, Evan!” It was Marcy, the old woman who lived next door, a sweet and caring, old woman who would do her best to help anyone. She usually taught the children and told them stories for the village. There were also rumors that she either had magic powers or some kind of psychic ability- Marcy usually just laughed when asked about this, however. “I saw you come by a little bit ago and everyone wants to know who your new friend is!”

“Oh she’s-“ I began before Marcy cut me off.

“Sweetheart, come with me, Evan is a great boy but I have some clothes for you from when I was a young woman, and you don’t need to worry about this lad here,” Marcy told Agatha, “He hardly has the heart to harm a spider, much less a pretty girl yourself. Plus he’s attracted to you greatly- I can see it in his eyes.”

I blushed but Agatha smiled with genuine warmth and followed Marcy.

“Evan, you come with, but stay in the living room!” Marcy hollered over her shoulder.

I sat on the couch of Marcy’s living room for longer than I could keep track of. I heard muffled voices and bits of laughter from the other side of the closed door and felt self-consciousness take over when I heard my name brought up.

Finally, Marcy came from behind the door and told me to prepare myself for what was to come. She also added, “You owe me, kiddo,” and then beckoned Agatha to come out.

My jaw dropped when Agatha arrived in the living room. If I thought she was beautiful, she was an absolute marvel now. Pink lipstick and her dark hair was now dried and voluminous. No dirt on her bright face and a pink sundress to match her lipstick. She was shy at first but smiled at my face.

“Come by tomorrow to pick up the rest of the outfits,” Marcy called, “You two have some business to attend to.”

We left and I walked Agatha to my backyard where I gazebo looking over the small creek that cut through the grass. It was where we had our first kiss, where I first told Agatha that I loved her, where I proposed, and where we ended up marrying. Marcy had used her gift for knowing the unknown to give Agatha the ability to trust me and she told my girl everything that would happen if she stayed. Agatha never regretted it and she would forever be my reminder that even in the ruins of what was once America, there was beauty where you least expected to find it.