by London Casey
“I’m giving you the damn courtesy to know what’s up,” I said.
Tate smacked me on my back. “You ain’t giving us the whole story, though.”
“Nope,” I said. I grabbed my shot glass and threw the whiskey back. I flipped it over and slammed it on the bar. “Not a chance.”
“Tell me you’re some broken-hearted lover,” Axel said. “Waiting for that one special woman to come back into your life.”
“Eat shit,” I said.
“Nailed it,” Axel said. He looked at Tate and made a gun with his fingers and shot. “See, I got the wisdom of divorce. I’ve been through the entire process beginning to end. This guy here got lost somewhere in the middle of it.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” I said.
“Then tell us,” Axel said.
I looked right, then left. “Not a chance. We’re not some high school chicks looking to share stories.” I stood up from the bar stool. “I’m taking the day off tomorrow. Nobody look for me. If anything changes, I’ll get in touch with someone.”
“Have a safe trip,” Tate said, waving a hand.
“I’ll spot you your first lap dance at the strip club when you get back to take the sting away,” Axel said and laughed.
I turned around, shaking my head.
That’s when a fist came flying right at me.
I somehow moved out of the way just as a guy flew right by me and into the bar. Axel jumped back and looked at me with what the fuck? eyes. Tate just glanced over his shoulder and shrugged.
I grabbed the asshole by the back of his shirt and pulled. He spun around and tried to hit me again. I blocked his hit and threw a punch to his gut. I didn’t want to hit a stranger but I had to calm this guy down a little.
The guy stumbled back to the bar and threw his right hand out, hitting Tate’s shoulder and spilling his beer.
It was like poking a sleeping bear.
“Shit,” Pecker yelled from across the bar.
I thought he was yelling because a drink spilled. No. He was yelling because Tate slowly stood up and cracked his knuckles.
“You,” the guy at the bar said in a breathless voice, eyeing me.
Tate wound up and threw a right, hitting the guy in the jaw. The guy flew to the left, straight into Axel’s arms.
“Holy shit,” I said. “What the hell is this?”
Axel threw the guy back to a barstool. The guy was holding his jaw. He looked at me. He looked at Axel.
“It was you,” he said to Axel.
“What?”
“You’re hitting on my girl.”
“Oh, shit,” I said, shaking my head.
I almost took two punches for no good reason at all. Because Axel was hitting on a taken woman.
“This is your problem, brother,” I said to Axel.
“You tried to hit my friend,” Axel said. He grabbed the guy’s shirt. “You take cheap shots like that? Huh? You want to do this the right way?”
Axel stood the guy up and threw him back. He put up his fists.
“Goddammit, Tate,” Pecker said from behind the bar. “Control your boys.”
“Not my problem,” Tate said. “We’re off the clock.”
The guy just held his jaw as Axel stood there ready to fight.
Fuck.
I stepped in between the two. I grabbed them each by the shirt. I looked at Axel. “Go get a drink. Find someone else to mess with tonight.” I pushed at him. Then I looked at the guy who tried to hit me. “And you. You ever try to fucking touch me or one of my brothers again and I’m going to break your jaw. Now pay your fucking tab and get the fuck out of this bar.”
I shoved the guy back.
He put his hands up and stumbled away.
I looked around the bar and realized that was my cue to get the hell out of there.
I did, going back to my apartment, and I had a few more drinks there. I got good and drunk and stood on the balcony of my apartment and looked out into the night. I swayed as I gripped the railing tight.
My mind peeled itself away from reality, slipping back into everything I thought I knew. What was supposed to happen. What I believed in and what should have happened. Goddammit, if she could have only seen me now. Not the wild guy acting like a fool outlaw. Not the guy that did a little time behind bars. Not even the guy on the beach running his own shop. But the guy right now. The guy who was living life waiting for a day like tomorrow to make everything right.
To fix everything.
I shut my eyes and lowered my head.
I didn’t want to bury another ring in the dirt.
I woke up on the balcony and popped up. My throat was dry as hell and my head gently throbbed. That was nothing a bottle of water and a couple ibuprofen couldn’t fix. I grabbed some coffee and changed into a fresh set of clothes. My room still smelled a little like Mary, so I opened the windows and let it start to air out. I sat on the edge of the bed for a second, rubbing my face.
This was part of the yearly tradition. The guilt. The stupidity.
Promising myself that today would be the last day. The last time I would do this. The last time I would piss away money on a ring that would get buried in the dirt. The last time I’d smoke myself sick, sitting on that goddamn rock, waiting for something to happen that just wasn’t meant to happen.
“The last time,” I whispered as I stood up.
I left the apartment and stopped to get a filling, greasy breakfast. Then I was off. Another drive. More time to think about how it all happened and how it all went down.
“The last time,” I said as I turned off the road to the dirt road that would take me to the rock and to the cabin.
The truth though was simple.
The last time…would be with my last breath.
Lacey
PRESENT DAY
I woke up a little lost and little more free. There was no schedule to follow and nothing to really worry about. I casually strolled downstairs and made coffee. I opened the drawer—the infamous junk drawer—and I found an old pack of cigarettes.
It was so dumb.
But it made me think…of him.
I didn’t need to look at the calendar on the fridge to know what today was.
I should have been on vacation. That had been my plan, and it hadn’t let me down yet. Skip town, distract myself, let the day pass.
In the beginning, it had been really hard to do. And on the first-year anniversary, I was legit on vacation with friends. I was on the beach, hunky shirtless guys all around, everyone smart and rich, living a good life. I saw two people standing on a pier, kissing, the water as their backdrop. And it just sank into me. How much I missed River. How much I really did love him.
I promised that time would help. But time didn’t help me at all. Time just made things worse. And each time I tried to get to him, something went wrong. It was like the universe was pushing me away from him. Screaming no to me the way my mother and father did more than once if I dared bring up his name.
Once the bottom finally fell out and I took off, it was too late. River was gone.
I took my coffee and my cigarettes outside. The back deck was comfortable. The sun felt good on my skin. I drank the coffee and skipped the cigarettes. I licked my lips. I hated the way they tasted, and they did nothing good for me. But if I shut my eyes and took a drag, I felt whisked back to that abandoned house. Back to the first time I smoked. The first time I… you know. Both with River.
My phone rang, and it was Bev. I snorted and sent the call straight to voicemail. She was begging me to come back to work. That wasn’t going to happen at all. I was done with that place. What I needed was to have a break and to refresh my mind a little. Find something new. Find what was next.
I should have been a doctor, but I decided to chase a ghost.
“A ghost,” I whispered.
My phone started to ring again. I swore, if it was Bev calling again, she was going to get a piece of my mind.
It wasn
’t Bev, though. It was who I guess I could have considered my best friend, Karen. When I took off from New York, she let me crash on her couch for a long time. It was crazy to meet a stranger like I did with Karen and for her to trust me, but there was a bond there.
I answered the call. “Good morning, sunshine.”
“You’re sitting outside drinking coffee,” Karen said. “And something’s wrong.”
“Um…”
“I’m right. I know I’m right.”
“And why do you think that?” I asked.
“Because you usually call me and ask me to go somewhere this week with you,” Karen said.
I shut my eyes.
Shit.
She was the only person I ever opened up to about River.
“I wasn’t sure if this is because of Kyle…”
“No,” I said. “You know everything about that situation.”
Again, Karen was the only who knew everything about Kyle. How I felt. What he meant. And why his death was so much harder than what met the eye.
“So today is the day,” Karen said, emphasizing the last words because of what they meant. “And you’re sitting home?”
“For now.”
“If you were going to bolt on the day, you’d be gone,” Karen said.
“Maybe I’ll come visit you. Hey, I quit my job.”
“No way!”
“Yeah. Too much death. Sadness. And the corporate culture of dying? That’s not my thing.”
“You were always too nice,” Karen said. “I know you love to take care of people, Lacey. You should take care of yourself. Do you have any money saved?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I’m good for a little while.”
“Then take your time.”
“I am. I’m sipping my coffee slowly.”
“With your two-year-old pack of cigarettes next to you?” Karen asked.
“Are you spying on me?” I asked with a laugh.
“No. I just know how you cope.”
“It hasn’t failed me yet.”
“But you’re not happy.”
“Neither are you,” I said, taking the low-hanging fruit.
Karen got married in college and found out her husband had been cheating the entire time they were together with the woman who was her maid of honor. Worse yet, Karen was in love and naïve, and she’d signed a prenup that got her shit when the pieces fell apart. She left college and moved west, hustling two to three jobs at beach bars and restaurants to survive.
Still, there could have been worse ways to live.
Like hiding in fear like me…
“Lacey,” Karen said.
“Karen.”
“What are you going to do today?”
The question lingered for a long while. I didn’t answer. Karen didn’t talk. It was just silence on the phone.
Finally, I asked, “Want to go to the beach?”
“I’m working a double.”
“Right. Of course. I’ll go to the beach myself.”
“No you won’t,” she said. “I want you to know I’m here for you. If you need anything. To talk. To cry.”
“I’m not going to cry, Karen.”
“You can, though. You should. Maybe get all that mess out of you. Or maybe the other thing…”
“What other thing?”
“You know exactly what I mean,” Karen said. “If you need anything, you text me or call me.”
I ended the call and knew exactly what Karen was talking about. For years, I had been avoiding the actual reality of things, because it all seemed too crazy or too painful.
I stood up and grabbed everything on the table and went back inside.
I wasn’t on vacation. I was home. And I had no job.
Everything was lined up for one decision for me to make.
I was going to the spot…to see if River would keep his promise to me.
River
PRESENT DAY
I went through my normal routine. I first checked on the cabin. I did a walk-around to check for any damage from animals. I’d never seen an animal or any damage, but Richie warned me to check the place out no matter what. After I did my walk-around, I went inside. It smelled like the woods. The place was literally untouched. I shook my head, unsure about what the hell Richie was doing, putting a cabin smack-dab in the middle of the woods when he didn’t need to.
From there, I jumped back into my truck to go check on the old man. I’d grown up without a father, and while Richie was far from a father figure, he was the closest damn thing I ever had to one. I didn’t get to see him as much as I should have, but something was better than nothing.
I gave myself a thirty-minute window to visit him and get back. I also purposely left a fresh pack of smokes on the big rock, just in case she showed up. She’d see the smokes and knew what they meant.
I cruised up along the dirt road to Richie’s house, which was three times the size of the cabin, set against the backdrop of a valley that looked like it went on forever. He had been a successful real estate agent but lost his wife to illness and decided to give it all up. He sold his house, cars, and found himself a cabin to buy so he could live in the woods. He bought all the land he possibly could and avoided the real world as much as possible.
When I pulled up to his place, he was standing outside with a cigarette between his lips, a homemade sleeveless shirt, and blood running down his left arm. On the ground next to him was an axe and some freshly cut firewood.
“Richie,” I yelled, climbing out of the truck. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Fucking branch caught me,” he said, the cigarette bouncing between his lips. “I’m fine. I’m fine.”
“Let’s get you patched up.”
“The fuck you doing here?” he asked. “Wait. It’s that time again, huh?”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said.
Richie knew the area meant something to me, but didn’t know the full story. Only that it revolved around a woman.
Shit, I personally thought the cabin near the big rock was built for me to live in so Richie could have a friend. But I wasn’t cut out for the mountain-man kind of living.
Richie was, though. Even in his old age, he still pulled his weight. His facial hair was wild and unkempt, his hair pulled back into a ponytail. He stunk of sweat, smoke, and booze.
“Just wanted to come check on you,” I said. “How you been?”
“Alive,” he said. “You want something to eat?”
“No. I’m going back down for a bit. Pay a visit and leave, like I always do.”
“Stay at the cabin,” he said. “It’ll do you good.”
“Has anyone stayed in that goddamn thing?”
“No,” he said.
“For a real estate guy, that seems like a bad investment.”
Richie shrugged his shoulders. “I guess the old age catches up fast.”
I pointed to his arm. “You sure you’re okay? That cut looks nasty.”
“I’ll fix myself up,” Richie said. “I always do. What the fuck do you really want here?”
I crossed my arms. I leaned against the front of my truck. I sucked in a deep breath and let it out.
“How long did it take you to get over your wife?”
“Who said I’m over her?” Richie shot back. “I’ve never been with another woman since. I plan on dying right here in this cabin or out in these woods. You’ll probably be the one to find me.”
“Thanks for that visual,” I said.
“What do you want me to tell you, River?”
“What if someone was gone, meaning not dead? But they were gone. How long would you wait? How long would you keep coming back?”
Richie grinned. “As long as I have to. There’s no time limit on how you feel. You come up here once a year to wait for someone, you do it until it doesn’t feel right.”
“You should get into town more, Richie. Clean yourself up a little.”
“Why? What’s that going to do for me?
Won’t bring my wife back. Won’t mend the hole it’s left in my kids and their kids. River, I’m just up here doing my thing. Trying to be as simple and hidden as possible. So I’m not in the way. So nobody judges me.”
“Maybe that’s what I’m doing too, Richie.”
“Then go do it where you belong,” he said. “Look at me.” He patted his chest. “Heart’s still ticking away. I’m breathing. I can see. I can hear. I’m good. Now get in your truck and go.”
That was generally the extent of any conversation with Richie. It never got too deep, but deep enough to satisfy my need for something from someone older than me.
I climbed into the truck and worked my way back down the mountain to the cabin. I parked and walked to the rock. The pack of cigarettes was still there. Untouched. I looked around and tried to breathe in what I was doing.
Sometimes things just weren’t meant to work out. And usually, there was good reason for it. Something underlying that made it all okay. For me, maybe that was finally getting off that beach, away from the little shop, out of trouble, and into a room at St. Skin.
I thought about Mary.
I wondered if her heart was still aching for me or not. Maybe she had jumped into bed with someone else already, looking for temporary comfort. I thought about all the women I got rid of over the years. They were all placeholders. I’d come up to this rock for a day and then spend a week or two drinking myself stupid. I’d clean up and find a girl and make her fall for me. I’d get my comfort in any ways I would need, right up until it was time for me to commit. Then I’d kick her out, convincing myself it was the right thing to do.
Fuck, I was an asshole.
I let the day settle into me for a little bit longer, thinking long and hard. Right now, there was life down in Hundred Falls Valley. St. Skin was down there. The guys were down there. The people that needed their stories told through ink. And where was I? Hiding in the fucking trees, waiting on a damn dream that had gone cold a long time ago.
All I could do was hope she was happy.
