Hungry Mountain Man

by Charlize Starr

  “I am,” I say, “and in my expert opinion, you should apply for it.”

  “I might,” she says. “Are you really living in that huge house on Hart?”

  “It’s all mine,” I say. I’m tempted to ask her to come see it, but I hold back. I’m sure we’ll get there – to her coming over all the time, even. I want her back in my life. I want our friendship back, and I want her to meet David. Tonight already makes me feel like we might be building to something even more than that. I already think I want something even more than that. But this feels too much like a date to ask her back to my house without it being loaded with implications I don’t know if I want to make. Yet, anyway.

  “That’s amazing. You’ve done amazing,” she says, shaking her head slowly, like she can’t quite believe it. “But now you’re back here.”

  “I needed a change,” I admit, “and I think it will be good for David. You know my mom. It’s been driving her crazy to have a grandson so far away.”

  “I’m sure,” Brooke says, smiling. She looks down at her food for a minute before saying softly, “Anthony, I heard about – I don’t know how much was truth or gossip, but I heard about David’s mother . . . that she died. I’m so sorry.”

  “Thank you,” I say, nodding and taking a long drink. It’s not as raw now, not as sharp, to talk about Michelle. There was a time when I couldn’t really talk about her, so I didn’t. Now it feels less like an actively painful wound and more like the way a once-injured limb aches in the rain or the cold.

  “That must have been so hard,” Brooke says. She’s frowning and looking at me with her wide eyes – the same ones I used to confide everything to.

  “It was,” I admit. “David doesn’t even remember Michelle. He was only a few months old when she died, but he looks a lot like her in his eyes and forehead. There were days where it was all I could see. He looked like the ghost of her to me, and it was pretty fucking awful.”

  “It’s better now?” she asks, grabbing my hand over the table.

  “Now when I look at David, I see David,” I say.

  She frowns again, looking troubled. “I’m so sorry,” she repeats. I squeeze her hand back.

  “Are you okay?” I ask, studying her face.

  “I was just thinking, and maybe it’s silly, but that if we hadn’t lost touch, I could have been there for you during that. You probably could have used a best friend,” she says. My heart catches somewhere in my throat at an unexpected rise of emotion. I swallow it back down.

  “We can make up for it now,” I say, squeezing her hand again.

  “We should. You should tell me about her,” Brooke says. I nod and start telling Brooke all about Michelle: how we’d met, David’s birth, her death, about my life with David in the city since she died. We talk for hours, and it turns away from death and into lighter subjects pretty quickly. I’m grateful for even if I appreciate the way she asked about Michelle more than I can say, even if it made me realize just how much I’ve missed Brooke.

  She talks more about her job and about her life in town, about how close she and her sister, Autumn, have become now that they’re adults. We make each other laugh, and I find myself hanging on her words, wanting to hear about every detail of her life since I’ve been gone. We sit and talk until our food plates are empty until we’ve had several rounds of beer. Her eyes are a little less focused with the beer, but she still looks absolutely breathtaking.

  “You want to see something ridiculous?” she says with a laugh, reaching for her purse. I watch the way she moves, feeling captivated by it.

  “Show me,” I say. She pulls out a piece of paper, creased and a little faded. I know what it is right away.

  “I found this,” she says, presenting it to me, a bit of blush on her cheeks as she does. I take it from her and read over the words I wrote so long ago, our contract, our pledge to marry each other.

  “I can’t believe you still had this,” I say, meeting her eyes again, seeing her at once as she looked at that night after prom. I still have things from then too, of course, in boxes I’d just looked at, filled with yearbooks and awards and memories of Brooke.

  “How could I ever get rid of an official document?” she asks, gesturing to the faded blood stains on the paper.

  “It is incredibly official,” I say, smiling. I’d meant it the time, I’d wanted Brooke to marry me. Part of me thought it would really happen, that one day we would.

  “We had no idea,” she says. “That was so long ago. Thirty sounded so old like it was a million years from that night.”

  “Four months, now,” I say, nodding in agreement. That night, I had felt like I would never in my life know anyone better than Brooke. I’d thought by signing a piece of paper I could hold onto that, and to her.

  “Me too,” she says, catching my eye and holding my gaze.

  “I know,” I say. Our birthdays are only two weeks apart. More than once as teenagers, we’d thrown joint birthday bashes. We used to joke and tell people it was how we’d become friends, even though it wasn’t. We didn’t even discover our almost-shared birthdays until we’d been friends for months.

  “But we’re sitting in this booth again,” she says, “so maybe not that much has changed.”

  “You know what this means, right?” I say, looking at the contract again, and then at her face. I’m more than a little drunk, and I’m having more fun with her than I’ve had with anyone in a really long time.

  “What’s that?” Brooke asks.

  “We have to do it. In four months. We have to get married,” I say, laughing. She lets out a surprised little laugh too, eyes lighting up.

  “Neither of us is married,” she says, playing along right away.

  “And we’re about to turn thirty,” I point out, “and we signed this. In blood.”

  “I guess we don’t have a choice then, we have to do it,” she says, smirking.

  “We can’t possibly go back on a contract we wrote drunkenly as teenagers,” I say, and she laughs again.

  “Of course not. I’m pretty sure it’s legally binding,” Brooke says.

  “So we have to get married,” I say. Being able to joke with Brooke like this feels amazing, like something I’d lost without even knowing it, like something I’ve been wanting.

  “In four months?” she asks, finished her last gulp of beer.

  “We have to,” I say, reaching out shake her hand, a little awkward and drunk over the table, “we made a deal.”

  “Let’s do it, then,” she says, shaking my hand back. Her skin is soft and smooth, and I can feel her pulse thrumming in her wrists.

  We make fake wedding plans until the last call, all the way up until the Hog is closing and we’re being nicely kicked out.

  Chapter Seven - Brooke

  I wake up to a message from Anthony and I smile before even reading it. I haven’t had fun like I had last night for so long, and I needed it. I feel like maybe I really can have my best friend back like my life is going to be better now that Anthony is in it again.

  Good morning! Wanted you to know I booked a venue for our wedding this morning!

  I blink at the message on my phone, head spinning. I was almost sure we were joking last night. I’d been pretty sure we were playing a game. I’m pretty sure we still are. I think he’s keeping it up, still carrying on the joke. It had been like that when we were teenagers. We could hold onto a single joke for months, running it all the way into the ground but delighting in it every time.

  In our junior year, we’d spent months planning a fake road trip, complete with a fake car and fake motel stops. Of course, we couldn’t actually afford a road trip, and we probably wouldn’t have been allowed to take one anyway, but that hadn’t stopped the planning. We’d talked about it so much that people had thought we were actually going, and that just made us talk about it more. It became our favorite joke – our favorite thing to talk about. For high school graduation, I’d gotten him a stack of postcards from all the p
laces we never visited and put them in a cheap album that said “memories” across the front. I had wanted the joke to last forever.

  I think that’s what’s happening now, but even if it’s not, I don’t want to back down or out. If he wants to keep this going, then I do, too. I decide to rise to the challenge in his message. I sit down, smiling, and start searching the internet for bargain wedding dresses.

  Part of me thinks it’s ridiculous to spend even fifty dollars on a wedding dress with the shadow of Jeff over me, demanding fifty thousand. I tell myself that it doesn’t matter – dress or not, I can’t afford to pay Jeff’s demands, and I really want to keep this thing with Anthony going. I want to see where this goes. Anthony feels more important than Jeff ever did.

  I keep thinking about how much fun I had the night before as I search, remembering all the things we talked about. I can’t believe he’s been through so much – all of his success and all of the heartache of losing Michelle. I can’t believe that after one long conversation, I feel so much like we’re connected again.

  Anthony had been everything I remembered and more. He hasn’t really changed, but he has grown up, and the maturity and experience really suit him. I turn the night over in my head, thinking of how he’d encouraged me to apply for the development position at work. I’ve been so scared to really give it a serious thought, but Anthony had made it sound like it was possible. I wondered what else would change – could change – with him being back.

  I find several cheap dress options and try to pick the best one, even if none of them is something I would actually want to wear. I settle on a long one with a tight slit and sweetheart neckline. It’s the least tacky of all the dresses, and I think that after this joke is done, I might be able to use it as part of a costume. I shake my head when I hit purchase. I know it’s ridiculous to do this, to put actual money into playing this game. I can’t back out, though, and I want Anthony to know we still have the same sense of humor – that we can still carry on a joke for far too long.

  I take a picture of my laptop screen and text it to Anthony, laughing as I hit send:

  Dress shopping for our big day!

  I think now that I missed Anthony more than I ever realized or ever let myself. I hope it lasts. I hope we really can regrow our friendship. Maybe more. I hope we can actually live up to some of those promises we made as teenagers, even if there was a pause in them. A break.

  Chapter Eight - Anthony

  I stare at the picture of the wedding dress Brooke bought for a long time, trying to decide how to reply. My first thought is that Brooke deserves a lot more than a forty-dollar wedding dress from a suspect-looking website, but since it’s for a fake wedding, I guess it doesn’t matter anyway. I haven’t really booked a venue, I was just kidding. I thought she’d laugh about it, not up to the game. I should have known. Brooke was always willing to jump into things and play along.

  I open my desk drawer and pull out the album I’d found this morning, smiling. It’s faded and a little discolored, its letters peeling. The cheap felt hasn’t held the test of time well, but the inside is the same as the day Brooke had given it to me. I flip through the postcards inside, thinking of the road trip that never was. We could actually do it now, Brooke and I. We could see these places for real and take that trip. I think maybe we should.

  I shake my head, focusing on one extended joke at a time, and make a decision.

  I book the venue for real. If Brooke is going to put out money on this, any money at all, I should put my money where my mouth is too. I reserve the entire Main Street Charm Hotel for the day. It’s one of the only venues in town, but I’ve always liked it. It has an onsite chapel, an old ballroom that dates back hundreds of years, and a spectacular outdoor garden with roses, statues, and a tea room. It’s a perfect place for a wedding.

  After I book the venue, I take David to the park. We haven’t been yet, although I walked past it the other day. David seems to be adjusting really well to all the changes, and I want to make this as fun for him as possible.

  “Are there swings?” David asks on the way to the park, staring up at me. He’s an incredibly smart and inquisitive kid, always full of ideas and questions.

  “Five of them,” I say. David nods.

  “How many slides?” he asks. He likes numbers: how many of each thing there are, how old people are, how much time has passed, how far away things are.

  “Three,” I say. We’re about a block away now, and David’s eyes are darting around, taking in his new surroundings.

  “Okay,” he says like he’s approving the playground. I smile.

  “One twisted, one racing, and one tunnel,” I say, knowing that’s probably his next question. David’s eyes light up.

  “Twisted ones are the best ones,” he says, tugging on my hand like he wants us to walk faster, get there sooner, now that he knows there is a twisty slide. We speed-walk the rest of the way, and he runs as soon as we get to the gates, climbing up the equipment with a huge smile on his face. I watch him from the fence for a minute, glad we’re here. I’m about to go in and challenge him to a race on the racing slide when I feel a tap on my shoulder.

  “Anthony,” Brooke says, standing behind me on the other side of the fence. She looks radiant again today. Her hair is tied up in a ponytail and she’s wearing a soft simple shirt and jeans. I keep thinking it’ll stop surprising me, how beautiful she is now. It hasn’t, even though she was always pretty – even though we’re already getting close again, building a friendship.

  “Good afternoon,” I say, smiling at her. “Done dress shopping?”

  “I think the one I ordered is just right,” Brooke says, smiling back.

  “It’s sexy,” I say. “You’ll look great in it.”

  “I hope so, since it’s for such a big day,” she says, the same laugh in her voice as last night. That sound I’d missed so much.

  “The Main Street Charm Hotel is all ready for us,” I say back.

  Her eyes widen a little and she shakes her head like it’s a nicer venue than she’d been expecting me to book. “Good,” she says. She looks over my shoulder, smiling again. “Is the little boy running toward you David?”

  “That’s him,” I say, turning my head a little to wave at my son. “You know, since we’re getting married, you’ll need to get to know him.”

  “That does seem important,” Brooke says. She steps around the fence and through the front gates of the playground, meeting me inside. I hadn’t meant for her to come in right now, as I didn’t want to interrupt her day if she was doing something, but I’m glad she’s staying.

  “Who are you?” David says, running up to us. He’s already managed to get a stain on his new shorts, and he’s bouncing on his feet like he does when he’s excited.

  “David, this is my friend, Brooke,” I say, catching Brooke’s eye and smiling. “Brooke, this is my son, David.”

  “It’s very nice to meet you,” Brooke says, reaching to shake David’s hand. He shakes back and looks at her like he’s making very serious considerations.

  “You’re pretty,” he announces. “Will you push me on the swing?”

  “Thank you,” Brooke says, grinning. “I’d love to.”

  David takes Brooke’s hand and pulls her toward the swings without even looking back at me. I smile. He’s always been really social, making friends at playgroups and at parks in New York. I’m hoping he can start school with kids he can grow up with, making lasting friendships. I want his life to be as normal as it can be for the only son of a self-made billionaire.

  I can’t hear what Brooke and David are talking about from here, but I get the feeling that he’s asking her a lot of questions as she pushes him on the swings. She’s smiling at him, very engaged in their conversation, and I can’t stop watching. Something about Brooke and David together looks natural somehow, and I’m thrilled that they seem to become fast friends.

  They run through the playground together for the rest of the afte
rnoon, and I watch as she plays tag, slides down every slide, and does an impressive crossing of the monkey bars.

  “Dad!” David says, running up to me, out of breath and laughing. “Come play too!”

  “What are we playing?” I ask, moving as David tugs on me.

  “Monster! You have to be the monster and chase me and Brooke,” David says.

  “What kind of monster?” I ask. When Michelle first died I didn’t know anything about kids and didn’t know how I was possibly going to take care of, or even be around, David. Now, hundreds of stories and movies and songs and games of monster chase later, with the help of late night calls to my mom and some very patient nannies, I like to think I’ve become pretty good at this whole ‘being a dad’ thing.

  “A big one who roars loud, with big claws and probably, um, orange fur,” David says. Brooke smiles at me as we get back to her in the center of the playground.

  “One who eats little boys?” I ask, putting a growl in my voice. David yells happily, nodding.

  “Yeah!” David says. “Come on, Brooke! We have to run!”

  “On the count of three, I’m coming after you!” I say as Brooke and David scurry away. “One, two, three!”

  “Oh no! A monster! David, be careful!” Brooke says as she runs. I run after her and then David, trying not to laugh as I do.

  “I know where there is a weapon that can save us!” David says, ducking down for a minute.

  “Nothing can save you! I am a monster who eats little boys!” I say with my best roar.

  “We’re doomed!” Brooke says.

  “Monster, STOP!” David says, holding a stick at me. “This magic wand froze you.”

  I come to a stop, almost falling into Brooke as I do. She looks breathless from laughter and running.

  “Now he’s captured,” David says to Brooke.

  “You saved us!” Brooke says, reaching her hand out to give him a high-five.

  I’m unfrozen again soon by a magic spell David finds in a rock, and the chase starts again. By the time we leave the playground an hour later, we’re all dirty and panting and tired.