by S. E. Akers
Noting his shifting stance, I managed to mumble out, “If you want.” Mike smiled as he lowered himself into the chair opposite mine. I watched him as he sat there for a moment, tapping his fingers on the table and averting his gaze. Clearly, he too was at a loss for words.
I couldn’t take the silence any longer, so I asked the obvious. “Besides making Kara jealous, is there something you want?” I whispered.
Mike tilted his head toward the skylight and let out a light laugh. “Did you really kick my ass?” he popped off directly. It seemed Mike liked to break his ice with a pickaxe.
“Bold,” I replied.
Mike nodded. “I just don’t understand why I still can’t remember you.” Now it was time for me to pointedly turn my head away.
“See, you’re acting the same way you do when I stop by to see Chloe… You’re avoiding me,” Mike accused.
“No, I’m not,” I lied, trying to sound convincing.
Mike’s eyes widened, forcing his brow to rise. “Sure,” he laughed with a skeptical grin. “I’m not mad at you, if that’s what you think,” he added. “How can you be mad about something you don’t remember?”
I couldn’t help but crack a grin. “True,” I agreed. Imagine that. Words of wisdom from Mike Riverside.
“My um, therapist,” he divulged as he shifted in his seat, “has me working on getting rid of any negativity. You know, purging my mind of bad thoughts. He thinks it’ll help with my bad dreams.” After hearing about Ty’s unconscious, bedtime stupors involving diamonds, naturally my curiosity was piqued. “Oh and um, speaking of purging, don’t be surprised if Chloe comes back cursing my name,” Mike added casually as he snagged one of my waffle fries.
“Why’s that?” I asked as I took another bite of my chicken sandwich.
“I broke up with her.” My first reaction was to ask ‘why”, but then again, next to Charlotte, Chloe was one of the most demanding, self-absorbed, spoiled, hurtful little witches I knew. If Mike wanted to “clean house”, that was a pretty good place to start.
“When?” I struggled out, mid-chew.
“This morning…in a text,” Mike announced.
I forced down my last bite. “That’s cruel,” I remarked. Even Chloe deserved a face-to-face.
“Oh, I’m cruel?” he chuckled. “And your family ditching you for Christmas isn’t? Mine was just messed-up,” Mike admitted shamelessly as he reached over and helped himself to another one of my fries.
That’s true too, I agreed as I studied the sandy-haired, cocky jock munching on my food. Curious about his newfound goal to “cleanse his negativity”, I delved into his mind. His thoughts were churning all right, but they weren’t what I’d call “spiritually uplifting” or the least bit pure. Mike was still consumed with anger over his father’s death. A professional might even say, “Borderline-obsessed”. If that wasn’t distressing enough, I picked up on traces of a reoccurring vision — one that actually showed Harper Riverside getting shot, right between his eyes.
Crap! “What kind of dreams?” I asked, trying not to seem antsy.
Mike’s grin fell flat. “Just bad dreams.”
“How bad?” I pried. Mike sharpened his stare. He was sizing up the intent behind the question — I could tell. I may not have been able to compel someone close to me just yet, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t give implanting a thought a try.
You can trust her… She only wants to help, I suggested to his teetering mind. To my delight (and shock), it actually worked. I felt Mike’s tension easing up.
“My therapist has hypnotized me a few times,” Mike revealed.
“Really?” I blurted. Damn! I didn’t like the sound of that.
“Ask him if he used a pocket watch,” Katie interrupted. She got the point of my stern, mental “shush” really quick.
“And it worked?” I probed.
Mike nodded. “I didn’t think it would, but it did. He videos the sessions, and then we watch them. Every time he’s put me under, I end up talking about the same thing.”
“What’s that?” I asked, almost afraid to.
Mike sighed. “I see the guy who killed my father. I see my dad getting shot between the eyes,” Mike replied somberly as he stared at a random spot on the floor. “It feels so real, like it fits…but I wasn’t there. That’s the crazy part. I just found him. I didn’t actually see it happening, but I feel like I did. My therapist thinks it’s possible I could have, and my subconscious is blocking it out.”
“Shut-the-front-door!” Katie blurted in a gasp. I quickly closed my gaping mouth before Mike shifted his stare back to me.
“That is a bad dream all right,” I stressed and took a rackety last sip of my soda.
“It’s not all bad. I also see that guy Karl getting killed,” Mike announced proudly, his eyes bearing a twisted, yet fulfilled gleam.
Straightaway, my drink went down the wrong way. “Didn’t the police say that your dad killed him?” I choked out.
“They did, but that’s not how the dream unfolds. It’s like my brain skips. Someone else was there,” Mike contended firmly.
“W—Who?” I asked, mentally crossing my fingers.
“That’s what I don’t know,” Mike admitted. “I can feel them there, but I can’t see them. That’s what’s so frustrating. Hell, Shiloh… whoever or whatever killed him blasted his ass through the damn wall of our guesthouse! My father couldn’t have done that!”
Whatever? The cramped space under the round table in front of me never looked so appealing — dirty, sticky floor and all.
“Sounds like someone needs to work on their technique,” Katie teased and topped it off with a sharp kissing sound.
“Someone else had to have been there…and they killed Karl Rodman,” Mike surmised with an unwavering certainty.
“At least you know the guy who killed your father is dead,” I stressed. “That has to be of some comfort?”
“A little, but whoever killed him knows why my father was really murdered, and probably why the mine was sabotaged. Hell, the company is still up to its ass in fines over that crap! SAFETY VIOLATIONS — MY ASS!” Mike grumbled. “I know Lazarus Xcavare had something to do with it. With both of them! The police haven’t been any help. No one can find the bastard anywhere, but I’m sure his father, Malachi, knows exactly where he is.”
Nooo he doesn’t, I mused confidently.
“Is that why you’re so hell-bent on arranging this trip with Xcavare?” I posed bluntly.
Mike stretched back in his seat. “Maybe.” His brow rose as he leaned forward. “Why are you so hell-bent on not going? Everyone else has already turned in their paperwork… Everyone but you.”
My glare ignited like a lit match under a pilot on a stove. “Mike, you’d be better served to forget a few more things,” I said as I rose from my chair and gathered my tray. He sprang out of his seat and followed me over to the trashcan.
“Look, Shiloh, I’m sorry if I upset you. I know something I said did. I really just wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas…and to tell you that I’m sorry you’re without your father, too,” Mike added compassionately.
I relaxed my rigid stance and turned towards him. “Thanks, Mike. I know how horrible you’re feeling,” I replied sincerely, having to stifle a tear. I paused for a moment and figured, “what the heck” as I leaned in to give him an empathetic hug. “Merry Christmas,” I said and gave his cheek a tender peck. Like a shot, I headed off to collect my gifts, feeling the heat from Kara’s fiery stare.
“That was nice,” Katie remarked, confused.
“He just looked so sad…and I know what he’s going through. It totally sucks,” I reminded her.
“But why did you kiss him?”
“That was partly a present for me… The look on Kara’s face,” I boasted.
“Nice,” Katie giggled. “I bet it turned as red as a beet.”
I turned around and gave Kara a purposeful second-look. Immediately, she caught my gaze. “
Oh, she sure could light Santa’s sleigh all right,” I laughed and threw her a cheeky wave.
With all of my gifts wrapped and ready, I headed back to Welch. It was a good thing I’d left when I did because it started spattering snow as soon as I pulled onto the highway. I wasn’t even out of Bluefield’s city limits before the flurries turned into a full-on blizzard. Within about ten minutes, the mountainous countryside was covered in snow. The scene looked like an endless chain of rolling mounds of white. Even the leaf-less trees had caught their second “winter” wind — their bare branches brought back to life by a thick layer of glistening white snow. You couldn’t ask for a more picturesque setting, especially with it being Christmas Eve. However, it turned my normally one-hour jaunt into a grueling three-hour journey, up and down the steep and now treacherous, slick mountain road. It also reminded me of the freak blizzard Lazarus Xcavare had whipped up on the night he killed my father. I wrestled with that sad memory for the first hour and a half. The other leg of my vehicular prison sentence was spent dwelling on my most recent mess, Katie and her parents. I was left with no other choice. Julia’s intent made sure of that. Again, I debated about telling Katie the truth and again, I crafted a logical reason why I couldn’t. This time I used the “holiday” as my perfect excuse and reasoned it away as “bad timing”.
But realistically, is there ever a “perfect time” to come clean? Ugggh, I moaned quietly. Shiloh, you suck!
I arrived back in Welch, just in time for the Sterling Drive-In’s party. The inside dining room looked like a swirling sea of red & white, keeping on point with Naomi’s decision to go with a “Candy Cane” theme. Very Christmassy. A fresh, aromatic ten-foot pine over in the corner lent the space its only shred of green. Most everyone was already here, hovering around one of the punch bowls. The spiked one, I believed. I steered towards the other lonely bowl that had been set up for the minors in attendance, like me — though I doubted Charlie would have noticed or even minded. He was too busy playing Santa Claus while he sat on a makeshift throne, donning a traditional heavily-padded red velvet suit trimmed in fake white fur. Helping him distribute the presents to some of our regulars’ children was Naomi, who had opted for an “alternative” costume to play the part of his normally “plump” wife. Knowing the sweet ‘n sassy carhop like I did and judging by her performance, she wasn’t planning on taking off the low-plunging, rear-rising ruffled outfit any time soon.
An hour later, the party was in full swing. Luckily, the congregation of merry partygoers helped to lift my spirits over erasing Katie’s parents’ memories a bit. But the underlying sting was still firmly embedded within my heart, aching. Gerald Vance’s horrible yet hilarious karaoke rendition of Santa Baby had us all rolling on the floor. Especially when he finished his number in the seat of Charlie’s lap. The only employee who wasn’t in attendance was Kara, thankfully. I assured Charlie that it probably wasn’t an outright snub. The snow most likely slowed her down whenever she finally climbed on her broom and flew home from the mall.
Naomi loved her Christmas sweater. She slipped it on as soon as she yanked it out of the box. She even cried. Charlie seemed a little teary too. I wasn’t sure if it was its gaudy appearance or because it now destroyed his fiancé’s buxom view. He perked up when he opened my gift, especially after I hinted about them being “lucky” arrows.
“It’s possible,” Charlie proposed while he ran his finger over the blue-green and black speckled stone mounted on the gleaming copper tip. “Indians believe a turquoise is magical…and I’m an eighth Cherokee,” he mentioned with a stout nod. “At this point, I’ll try anything.”
Ramona Wythe, one of the dayshift carhops, had drawn my name. I opened the small box to find a gift certificate to The Body Spa in Beckley tucked inside. My stomach fluttered as I read it in detail. It was for a one-hour massage, specified to be administered from a guy named Todd.
“He’s the best,” Ramona remarked as she pointed to the card. “I swear the way that man works his fingers over every inch of you is magical. Pure heaven,” she bragged as her mouth stretched into a sly grin.
“Thhhanks, Ramona,” I replied with an uneasy smile, knowing full well that the thought of this virgin being touched and rubbed that much by a strange man for the first time was definitely not for me.
“I’ll re-gift this to Naomi for her birthday,” I mentally whispered to Katie.
She let out a laugh. “Save it for me,” Katie insisted firmly. “You prude.”
While Gerald Vance entertained the crowd with another number, this time, Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree, Naomi pulled me into Charlie’s office.
Charlie presented me with a small wrapped box. “We got you a little something extra,” he announced with a discreet shush of his finger.
“Y’all didn’t have to—”
“We wanted to,” Naomi interjected. “After everythin’ you’ve been through, ya deserve somethin’ nice. Somethin’ to perk ya up.”
With a deep breath, I opened the heavily taped present and let out a stunned gasp. A digital camera. It was very thoughtful, but way too expensive of a gift.
“You shouldn’t have,” I mumbled. “It’s too—”
“Zip it,” Charlie said sharply.
“And this,” Naomi announced as she handed me an oversized, saddle-brown leather book. It turned out to be an album, which held a collection of parchment-like pages edged in gold. Embossed on the richly textured cover in an elegant, curly script was an inscription that read:
New Memories
I shifted my weight as I stared at the album, trying to maintain my balance. This part of their gesture wasn’t as monetarily bothersome as the camera. If anything, it was its mere suggestion that had thrown me for a loop.
“We thought this would come in handy, darlin’… Whenever you’re ready to start makin’ some new ones,” Naomi posed strategically. Locked in a daze, I listened to her words while my finger followed the graceful curves of each and every letter.
“You know, Shi,” Charlie voiced, “Memories are like a stretch of highway. If you keep your eyes locked on your rearview mirror and don’t look ahead…you’ll eventually wreck.”
“You’re right,” I whispered softly as I allowed the gist of his words to dally in my head while I flipped through the album. The blankness of the pages scared me the most. As warm as what the sentiment was behind their gift, I didn’t have a clue about what I would fill it with, at least right now I didn’t. My prospects of any moments worth slapping on a sheet of paper were minimal at best. At worst, they were all the things that haunted me on a daily basis. I sure didn’t need a visual reminder of them to go along with the emotional tug-of-war that my head and my heart were constantly playing.
My eyes started to get misty when Naomi jerked me into one of her gruff ’n rough hillbilly hugs. “You’re welcome, darlin’! I just want ya to have some fun makin’ new ones. The old one’s will always be awaitn’ for ya on the shelf.”
“Okay,” I promised, half-heartedly.
Naomi pulled back and tilted her head. She narrowed her gaze like a doorstop. “I’m serious, Missy! I expect that thing to be halfway full by the time your graduation rolls around!” Her tough-love demand was straightforward yet admittedly warranted.
I threw Charlie a look, signaling to be rescued. He held up his hands. “Don’t look at me. You better do what she says if you know what’s good for you. I know just how much of a hard-ass she can be.”
“I’ll try,” I vowed with a more hopeful air.
Naomi nodded. “That’s good enough for me.” After doling out another courteous round of hugs and one big “thank you”, I wandered back to the party with even more stress on my plate. I knew they’d meant well by their gift, but I felt like they had just assigned me an impossible task.
I recognized the sound of a salt-truck chugging down the road. The metal links on the chained tires always made me think of jingle-bells, especially this time of year. There had to be a s
olid eight inches of snow out there. Who knows how much more would fall? Instinctively, I gathered my things and said my goodbyes. I still had to run by the grocery store for a few things before I hit my next stop.
I jumped into my cold car and gave my hands a brisk rub. “Off to Samuel’s,” I announced to Katie as I cranked up the heat.
I’d spoken to my surrogate father yesterday afternoon. He was finally home, fresh off his stint at the Gary Rehab Center, and sounded thrilled to be as he put it, “free at last”. After several x-rays that suited the doctor’s liking, all of Samuel’s plaster casts had been cut-off and replaced with manageable, soft-sided ones. With an almost clean-bill of health, he was chauffeured to his house by a home-health care van. I wanted to see him right then, however, his therapists advised that they needed to get him settled in before any visitors made their rounds. Granted, it was killing me not run by, but I didn’t want to be in the way. So to curtail my disappointment, Samuel reassured me that our traditional Christmas Eve visit was still a go. Every year, Daddy and I would pop by his modest, mountain cabin for a spell. The two of them would end up drinking an entire batch of bourbon-laced eggnog by the fire, while I indulged in several mugs of hot cocoa he would whip up just for me. As excited as I was to see him, I couldn’t help but feel melancholy at the same time. I’d be flying solo this year. Anticipating that I’d be somewhat down in the dumps, Samuel promised his place would have a more cheery, festive-feel than years past. That was hard to believe. For as long as I’d known Samuel Clark, decorating was certainly not his thing. He said all that frou-frou stuff had always been left up to his late wife, Sarah. I couldn’t blame him for not having the gumption to assume the exacting task after her death. But this year, as luck would have it, some of the volunteers from Helping Hands brought him over a small, already decorated and lit 4-foot Christmas tree. I wasn’t going to ask, but Samuel made it a point to let me know that Ty Smith was one of the fellows who was there. I figured that. Just one more reminder to let me know I was not only fatherless, but also boyfriend-less too this year. Even though I’d been without one of those for eighteen years, a part of me thought it would have been a nice change, at least to run a little interference with everything else in my life that was churning in such a chaotic way.
