Taivon stood, right on the edge of the cliff. Yellowstone's vast, breathtaking display was laid out before him. The green trees, natural foliage, flat plains, and the mountains all looked back at him, pleading in their silent tongue to keep the people away. Their imaginary brows were raised, as if to ask why he had gone against their wishes and had brought these tourists into their territory.
He looked back at his group, wondering the exact same thing. Numbering about twenty, this group of tourists was exactly like all the others. They defiled this environment with their mere, disgusting presence. Canvas shorts rode high on round bellies, white socks came up to pasty mid-calf, eyes locked onto phones, and the scent of sunscreen invaded the fresh, nature air.
Scowling, he picked up a dead twig from the ground. Its coarse texture rasped against his palm, knots in the bark getting caught underneath his fingernails. He always did this. Whenever he was scheduled to lead a tour up the trails and had to deal with bratty kids whose parents spoiled them rotten, Taivon picked up a twig and smoothed away the bark. He'd then leave the naked twigs underneath a tree, creating piles at all of his spots.
Here, at Lookout Point, his spot was underneath a lodgepole pine tree a few feet up the trail. Its pile was much larger than that of the other scenic points. Taivon blamed it on the trail's distance. He'd found that the shorter the trails were, the more people wanted to hike up them. And more people only led to bad things. He'd experienced that firsthand, even when he'd been down in Florida, working at the Everglades.
Everybody wanted this, and everybody wanted that. They wanted everything, and they wanted it done quickly. Which was why a half mile trail was perfect for tourists like these. They'd snap a few pictures, complain either about the heat or the cold, and then follow him back to the visitor center where they'd go over all of the beauty.
Looking over his shoulder at his group, Taivon didn't see how they could say such things. More than half of them were on their phones, the other half looking bored to death, as if they already knew everything there was to know about Yellowstone.
“Let's go,” he told them, backing away from the cliff's edge.
As one, they all looked up at him, taking their eyes off their precious phones and taking their minds out of society. None of them appreciated this complex, natural beauty laid out in front of them to absorb. An automatic scowl crawled its way up his face as he thought about his duty to this land and how he had failed it, forcing Taivon to literally wipe it away.
“Thank God,” a rounded woman said, fanning her reddened face with a chubby hand as she stood up.
He ignored her and the rest, only parting their sea of bodies as he led them back down to the trail. Most didn't say anything as they walked down the gravel, the heaviness of their breaths not allowing room for words.
“It's hot as balls out here,” another told the rest of the group, drawing a few chuckles.
Taivon just grunted, neglecting to mention that the scrotum was actually kept at a cooler temperature than the rest of the body. He didn't want to say anything to them anymore, because if he did, he knew that a snappy retort would come out, and another complaint would be filed against him.
He seemed to be getting a lot more of those these days.
Gripping the park ranger key in his pocket, Taivon held onto that piece of metal until they were all the way down, in the parking lot. He passed all their other vehicles, heading straight to the park rangers' SUV.
With dull gray seats and big enough to keep him from feeling cramped, it was just like his. His own, however, was more environmentally friendly than this one. It got more miles to the gallon and let out cleaner emissions. His Acura even started on the first key turn, unlike this piece of shit.
Turning the key another time, he heard as it climbed its way to life right before roaring and then coming back down to a normal purr. He backed out, making sure nobody was behind the vehicle – he didn't want another accident like last time – and then coasted to a stop at the parking lot's edge.
Taivon didn't even check his rear view as they drove, only looking out at the mountains, wildlife, and forestry, wondering how a god who made something as simply amazing as this could be so cruel. The reminiscent thought almost registered with him, but he tamped it down, running a hand through his hair to scratch at the scalp.
The slight sting of pain made him refocus, and he made it to the visitor center. He didn't say any farewells to the tourists, only parking the SUV and walking to the ranger station. As he walked through their heavy door, his fellow co-workers looked back to see who it was before returning their attention to their computers.
He didn't mind. It'd been established a long time ago that their warm welcomes wouldn't be reciprocated. He felt that only Isaiah Posh, the one who'd taught him everything and was still getting him through this tough patch in his life, deserved it.
“Hey, boy.” The very same man whistled from where he sat on the only recliner chair in the small building. “How'd it go today?”
Shame went through him again, guilt at having led another group up there. “Guess.”
“You didn't even try, now, did ya?” Isaiah asked.
Taivon shook his head and sat down in an uncomfortable metal chair, reaching into his pocket to pull out the SUV's key before hanging it up on the designated hook. “Sorry.”
“Stop apologizing all the time.”
“Sorr-” He caught his tongue before the apologetic word came out, just wanting to get out of this building and explore the range by himself. “I mean, okay.”
That was when Isaiah looked at him, but Taivon had to look away, his gaze skittering to the gold and brown carpet underneath his boots. “Somethin' on your mind, boy?”
Yes, that saddened part of his mind said before Taivon tamped it back down to submission once again. It got harder, each time he fought back those memories, trying to forget everything so he could remain numb, cold, and unfeeling. Even harder still, when he felt so much guilt for so many different reasons.
“No,” he said, long moments later.
“You want me to go ask Kathy to stop giving you all them tours?”
He shook his head. “No, thanks. It wouldn't work.” A small smile came on his face as he remembered the old man screaming at the woman. “'Sides, I get to patrol now, anyway.”
“C'mon, then.”
With creaking knees, Isaiah got up. Taivon followed, walking with him out the door and into the crowded center. The sun beat on his back as they went to the private parking lot, where they kept the rangers' law cruisers.
This was the daily routine for them. Taivon would give one of the morning tours, while Isaiah would wait in the station. Then they'd sit down, talk for a few minutes, and jump into the car that Isaiah had claimed as his own. And now, for the final step, they'd drive around. No music. Silence, for the most part. Just protecting this land. Taivon loved this part of the day; it almost made up for those tourists.
Today, they'd be at Lower Geyser Basin. Bison herds usually camped out there, in the plains a few hundred feet from the geyser and right next to the road. This was where they usually crossed to get to the other side, resulting in tourists trying to feed them or getting out of their cars to touch the wild animals.
Just thinking about it made Taivon's stomach hurt, his grip tightening on the wheel as he was forced to drive behind everybody. He couldn't help it. A string of curses flew out of his mouth, still audible even when he said them underneath his breath. The sound of Isaiah turning around in the passenger seat filled the silence of the car, making Taivon cringe.
“What'd you just say?” the older man asked.
“S-sorry.”
Isaiah smiled and looked back out the window. “Remember what I told you.”
“That's not how it works.” He couldn't help but smile as he remembered the substitute word.
“You wouldn't even have to say anything mean at all if you'd just control your temper.”
“I don't.”
“You don't what?”
“Have a temper,” he ground out, looking at the green expanse below them and feeling that same guilt at having been the one to lead those assholes out there.
His partner smacked him on the head, a quick slap that Taivon was accustomed to. “Then stop swearing in my car.”
"Okay."
There were a few long moments of silence, and then Isaiah asked, "Pearl wants to know if you'd come over for dinner tonight."
Taivon shook his head. He loved Pearl, just like he did his own mother, but he needed to do some things. "Maybe some other night, okay?"
"She misses you, Taiv." Isaiah chuckled softly. "I swear, sometimes she talks about you more than she does our own son."
"Another time. Maybe you guys could come over."
"Maybe."
It was silent after that. He didn't say anything, and neither did Isaiah. Only the sound of their car's rumbling engine permeated the quiet. On the road, it was always like this. Peaceful. It instilled a calm when he didn't think calm was possible. It helped him keep his mind off things, for all he had to focus on was the road, and that was what he did.
Until they arrived at Lower Geyser Basin. The long road stretched out to all their other landmark points, a few bison getting near it. Their large, hairy bodies were almost bigger than some of the cars, the prongs of their sharp horns gleaming in the summer sun. But that wasn't what caught his attention. No, it was some man, holding a giant camera, as he walked even closer to the animals, stopping right in front.
Getting out of the car, he didn't even wait for Isaiah, only clenching his hands as he walked towards the man who was a danger to both himself and the animals before him. Taivon was so not going to settle on “fiddlesticks.”
***
“He wasn't leaving,” Taivon mumbled, sending glares to Kathy.
Not as old as Isaiah but still older, Kathy looked to be sweet. Her graying hair was in that curled style that grandmothers wore, her body, tiny and plump. She was the poster woman for sweet grandmothers everywhere. But Kathy wasn't that sweet. No, Kathy could be sour, especially whenever he did something that she didn't like.
Why she didn't like that he had pushed Camera Guy onto the ground and then had dragged him back to his car, Taivon couldn't fathom. He'd done his job. Had protected Yellowstone and had been on his way to making up for the tour guide.
“So you just push him and force him into his vehicle!? You're not getting paid to be a giant asshole to our visitors!”
He nodded, turning his gaze down so he wouldn't have to look at her. He couldn't stand seeing the disappointment in her gaze again. The old woman could be sour sometimes, but that didn't mean she didn't care about her fellow rangers. Taivon just had a feeling that she'd lost hope in him a long time ago.
“He woulda gotten hurt, if I hadn't.”
“Taiv,” she sighed, rubbing a spot at her temple, “I get what you're saying, but the bison down at Lower Geyser are used to people.”
His hands clenched on the armrest. “They shouldn't be.”
“Well, they are. And while I don't agree with how close the guy got, I don't think it required that much violence.”
Taivon didn't want to say anything.
“Do you have any idea how many people file complaints about 'the tall guy with the beard'?”
He automatically flinched at her cold words. It was always this thin line of where he needed to apologize for everything but at the same time, wanted to justify himself. He had always received complaints. Ever since he'd started working here, people had called in about his sour mood and excessive everything. It had never been like this back at the Everglades, back when –
He shot the memory dead, breathing through his mouth as he rested his head in his hands. “No, I don't.”
“A lot. You yell at children for throwing rocks, give tours like you don't want to be there, and then you assume to the role of a licensed police officer! Even the other rangers don't wanna be around you.”
“I know.”
“Then stop doing it.”
“Okay,” he said, sparing a glance up.
Her eyes held the pity and the concern that everybody's did. Anger was in the pupils as well, darker, and darker, and darker, always so disappointed in him. He could relate. He'd tried so hard to finally forget, and he just couldn't.
“Now, go back home, read the rangers' manual again, and then come back tomorrow.”
He stood, forcing his limp limbs to move. “Okay.”
“You're just lucky I'm not putting you on garbage duty.”
Taivon didn't reply, only walking out of her plush office and into the workers' parking lot. Almost everybody was about to leave for the day, Isaiah included, his wiry body getting into an ancient Jeep. A wrinkled hand waved to him on his way out, and he waved back before getting into his SUV.
Leaning his head back against the rest, a choked breath coming out through his lips. He couldn't do this anymore. He hated the people, the smile that was supposed to be on his face all the time, and how he got talked to whenever it wasn't. That happened a lot. From many different sources, too – not just the older park rangers who thought they knew best but even the new, naïve ones who he didn't even look at anymore.
He was sick of being forced to allow others to defile this ground. Sick of having to put up with them because that was what he was “paid to do.” The only things he liked doing here were protecting the wildlife, getting to explore on his own time, and being able to hole up in this cabin up in the mountains for an entire month.
He could remember a time when he'd been the best tour guide, the kindest enforcer, and the most patient person whom everybody had liked. But that had been before, and this was now. Now, he could hardly make it through the day. Now, he felt so much guilt at not only having failed the environment but also those around around. Now, he went to a dive bar and look at the woman who brought everything back just so he could get through the day.
It was fucking pathetic, but he no longer cared. The best way to move on was to find somebody different, that was what he had been told by all his therapists. Except, he didn't want anybody else but her. He only wanted his Holly, and he'd found her again. In a way. A very weird, twisted way that Taivon knew was wrong but couldn't help himself.
Now, he just needed to see the woman behind the bar who looked so much like Holly.
On the drive there, Taivon allowed himself to picture his deceased fiancée. But that was all he gave himself. Just her face, with its bright smile and joy-filled eyes. All the memories, though, he didn't allow himself to think about. He just pictured her face, parked the vehicle, closed his eyes, and tried not to think of why this wasn't going to work.
If he was going to forget Holly, then he shouldn't be around a woman who looked just like her. If he was trying to forget her – something he had slowly been giving up on for the past couple of years – then he shouldn't be imitating these thoughts of replacing her with someone who could be her twin sister.
It wasn't right. Just thinking about it made that guilt crash into his body and his breathing begin to quicken. But he was hurting so much that it no longer mattered whether this was right or not. After all this arguing with himself about if he could – if he should – do this, Taivon had decided. He wouldn't forget; he'd just find another form of her.
With trembling hands, he got out of his Acura. On shaky feet, he walked into Dawg's. With limp arms, he pushed through the crowd. And with a heavy thud, he sat down on his normal bar stool. It was then that he lifted his eyes. It was then that he saw the woman whose features were just like that of Holly's.
Her skin was a light olive tone, looking smooth and delicate in the warm lighting of the bar. Only, this woman wasn't delicate at all. Although her body was slimmer, shorter, and lacked those generous breasts that Holly'd possessed, this woman was definitely some type of bad.
Intricate, colorful tattoos peeked out from underneath her black shirt, a detailed pattern just barely seen at the nape of her neck. A shiny, polished chain earring was on her left ear, a small diamond stud on her right. The pieces of jewelry lit up her eyes, eyes so like Holly's and yet, so different.
While Holly's dark brown eyes had been sweet, kind, and always smiling, this woman's were the darkest brown – almost to the point of being an onyx black. They smiled, as well, but sometimes – like, when she'd had to take out a bat to beat some miscreants off – they were ignited with a deep fire of pure passion.
Those eyes turned to him then, the make up highlighting their darkness. And then, the woman smiled, her lips splitting to reveal white teeth, one canine a little more crooked than all the rest. After saying a few words to the rest of the bar's occupants, she walked over to him.
Taivon gulped, reaching down into his pocket for the piece of paper that always assured him. But he came up empty, his fingers only meeting the course texture of his ranger pants. He was about to let out a curse, wishing that he'd remembered to stop home first before coming here.
“What can I get for you tonight?” the bartender asked, her voice raspier than what Holly's had been.
He opened his mouth, wanting to say something to her today, instead of just his usual “please.” His throat didn't give him the chance. Instead, it felt like it was closing up on him again, making him cough and choke on his own spit.
“Just the usual?” she asked.
“Please,” he managed to whisper, just like all the other nights.
The woman came back a second later, pretty cheekbones accentuated by her bright smile. With long fingers, she placed the Miller right next to him and then leaned against the counter, the collarbones exposed by her low cut black shirt.
“Would you like anything else?”
“No. Thanks,” he said and then leaned back against his wall, waiting for her to turn around so he could stare at her like a creep.
Except, she didn't leave; instead, Holly's lookalike leaned further against the counter, only stopping when her elbows met the polished wood. “Ya know,” she began, cocking her head to the side, short black her tilting in sync, “if you keep coming here, we'll have to figure out each other's names sooner or later.”
“Muh-my name?” he stuttered, a problem he thought he'd been done with since childhood. Apparently not.
“Yes.” She smiled.
His hands began to sweat, his body tensing up as strangled breaths came through his tight throat. For a second, he thought he was choking, the stars beginning to enter his vision. Picking up the beer, he brought the cold bottle to his lips, trying his hardest to function like somebody normal.
The bottle's mouth missed his, and a stream pooled off his cheek and onto his rangers' shirt.
“Fuck,” he cursed, his face flaming up. He probably looked like a God damn tomato.
She took a napkin from the table and cleaned it up. The tips of her fingers brushed against his cheek, smoothed down the hair of his beard to get the liquid, and then cleaned up the mess on the corner of his shirt. Through it all, Taivon couldn't move. He just kept his eyes trained on the floor.
“I'm Alix,” she told him and threw away the napkin. “Alix Romaro.”
He wanted to cry.
“So...what's yours?”
“T-Taivon,” he stammered again. “Taivon Cuh-Cantrell.”
She stuck out her hand, smooth skin offered to him. “Well, Taivon Cantrell, it's very nice to meet you.”
“Nuh-nice to meet y-you, too,” he said and accepted the hand.
His whole body warmed up to an even higher temperature, the silky palm of her hand contrasting with his calluses, lust shooting through his veins. When she released his hand, her eyes were wide and her mouth was partly open, a blush darkening her olive skin.
“I guess...I'll be seeing you tomorrow, then?”
He nodded, breathing in harsh breaths as she walked to the other side. She didn't look at him for the rest of the night, but he sure looked at her. Every movement, every smile, frown, and flash of her eyes captured him, so much like Holly's and so much different.
The differences would matter, but Taivon didn't care. He'd just found the next best thing.