by Sara Hosey
“I love you too.” It was easy to say. It was true and it should have been scary, but it wasn’t.
I smiled and I kissed him again and squeezed his hand.
I went to open the door.
“Wait,” he said. “I’ll walk you to your camp.”
“It’s okay, I’m absolutely fine. You go get the car back. I know what I’m doing.”
“No way. It’s late. I want to make sure you’re safe.”
“Anthony,” I groaned. “I live here, remember? Believe me. I did this for a while before you and Corinne came along. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I kissed him again and then I said it again. “I love you.”
“Sorry, babe,” he said. “You’re either walking with me or I’m following along behind you. And I, for one, would prefer not to feel like a stalker.”
“Anthony,” I said warningly.
“If-ah-ja-nye-ah,” he warned back.
We stared each other down, but I had to smile a little. I sighed, resigned. “But whatever. Fine. Thank you.”
So, we both got out of the car. I waited on the curb for him, clutching our stuffed prizes, and when he came around the car he took my hand and we skipped the path, walking straight into the woods.
“It’s funny, like, a few months ago if you had told me to walk through this park in the middle of the night I would’ve been scared for my life. But now, it’s like, my park, you know? Like, other people should be scared of me.”
Anthony laughed. “Um, Iffy, I think you have, how do you say it, like, an inflated sense of your own self or something?”
“I’m serious! I mean, I don’t have my mace with me, but I do have a couple of tricks up my sleeve.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Just saying, is all. Remind me to tell you about the hot beans sometime.”
When we got to the camp, Angel rushed over to greet us, jumping up on me and knocking me down, licking my face and nudging me around with her snout. She was totally intrigued by the smell of the ocean, I think, and she couldn’t get enough of it. I threw the basketball for her and she immediately attacked, growling and tearing at it.
Then I noticed that Corinne hadn’t gotten up or said anything.
“Hey,” I said, walking over to where she sat on a stump next to the tent.
There was a lantern on the ground in front of her, illuminating the area and she had the radio playing softly. She looked up.
“Hi,” she said.
“What is it?” I asked, coming to sit on my knees in front of her. I put my hand on her leg.
“Nothing,” she said, but covered my hand with her own. Her bony fingers were cold.
“What’s going on?” Anthony asked.
“Whatever, you might as well hear this too.” Even in the lantern light, I could tell Corinne had been crying.
“What’s up?” I said.
“You’re gonna hate me.”
“I couldn’t,” I said.
“Well …”
“What’s up?” I asked again. I pushed some hair out of her face, tucked it behind an ear. It popped right back out. Anthony sat down on the ground with us, but a little way off. “Henry?” I guessed. My heart began to beat faster.
“Yeah. But not what you think.”
“What?”
“I called him.”
“What?”
“I went to the pay phone and called him.”
“Why?”
“Because I needed to.”
I was suddenly aware of Anthony, wondering what he would make of this. He looked calm, leaning back on his hands, his legs bent in front of him and his face lit from below by the lantern. Would he wonder what he was getting himself into? Would he want to rescue Corinne, or me, or would he simply want to get as far away from this kind of nonsense as possible?
“I’m going back to him, Iffy.”
Chapter 31
She didn’t say it outright, but she blamed me. If only I hadn’t gotten together with Anthony. If only we hadn’t run around, making her feel lonely and sad …
She never said that, but I could feel it. Perhaps I’m being uncharitable, but she wanted me to feel that. I loved Corinne; I still do. But that was pretty crappy. The way she made me feel like it was my fault.
She told us that she had walked and walked and walked looking for a pay phone, dragging Angel all around the circumference of the park on that hot July afternoon, because she wanted to call Henry and curse him out. It had been her apartment too! She had a right to be there, to shower there, to get her stuff. She worked her anger up; she was ready to really let him have it. How dare he threaten her! How dare he touch her! Didn’t he know she was the best thing that had ever happened to him? That she had put up with so much of his nonsense that it was ridiculous? She was calling to tell him she was done, that it was the last straw, he had crossed a line. She wanted Prince back and she was coming to get him tomorrow and she’d bring a cop with her if she needed to.
By the time she had found a phone she was hopping mad. But also maybe a little tired too, after all of that walking. When he answered, she just lit into him, although, admittedly, maybe with not the same enthusiasm she would have had if she hadn’t done all that walking.
“Henry?”
“Who is this?”
“You know damn well who this is,” she told us she had said. But then.
But then.
But then.
But then he wasn’t at all what she expected. He was so sad. It was “oh, baby” this and “oh, baby” that.
“It was like, if I coulda written a script of all the things he would’ve needed to say … like, somehow he got hold of that script. Because he said everything just right.”
“Corinne …”
She delivered the rest in a rambling monologue, pausing only to smoke and sometimes not even doing that, the ash on each cigarette growing longer and more precarious until a quick gesture would send it flying. “I know you don’t believe me. I know what you think. But I have to do this. I have to give him one more chance. I spent two years of my life with him. I’ve already gone and spent two years of my life trying to make this work with him. I cannot give up now. I know we can do this. He is going to get help. He is going to quit drinking and all that other stuff too. He never said that before. He never said that he would actually quit for good. Sure, for like a couple a weeks he would take it easy or ‘I’m gonna cut back,’ or whatever. But this time it was for real. I think he really realized it. Like, you know, except for that one time, I never left him for this long before. And I think he finally is maybe starting to appreciate me. He was all like, ‘I know you want to go back to school and I think you should do that, and we’re gonna turn it around, and I’m gonna support you in your dreams, ’cause it’s your turn now.’ And it was like, that was exactly what I needed to hear. Because it should be my turn, you know? And I am not gonna find someone else who understands me like he does. It’s a rare thing what we have. I’ve never felt this way about anyone else. I can’t even really imagine myself without him in the long term. Like five years from now, where am I gonna be? With him. You know? And he just acts like that because, I don’t know … I love him so much, Iffy. You would understand if you just knew how much I loved him.”
What could I say? I have asked myself that many times since that night. What could I say?
What I wound up saying was, “Whatever, Corinne.” I sighed, looked at the ground because I couldn’t look her in the eye. “Fine. You should go back to him if that’s what you want to do.”
Did I say that because Anthony was there? Because I didn’t want to beg her in front of Anthony? Or did I say that because I knew it didn’t matter at all, not at all, what I said?
“Don’t be mad, Iffy.”
“I’m not mad.”
“You obv
iously are.”
“I’m just worried.”
“Whatever, Iffy. I need you to support me.”
I looked up for a minute, almost incredulous. “Support you? What are you talking about?”
“We can’t all live in the woods, Iffy.” Her voice was quavering, but increasing in volume, until she was shouting. “What do you think this is? Peter Pan shit? People have real lives that they have to live. We can’t all be like, wood sprites,” she added nastily.
“I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
“You just want me to stay here so that you have company. But whatever, you have company now,” she pointed her cigarette at Anthony.
“Corinne.”
“You were just using me to find that Dougie dude for you. Whatever, you’re on your own.” She turned her attention to Anthony again. “He can help you. What’d you bring him back here for anyway? I suppose you two want your privacy.” She flung the words at me.
“Don’t do this, Corinne.”
She rose, picked up her bag. She had already packed. She had been waiting to go.
“Peace out,” she said sarcastically.
“Please, Corinne,” I said, I was begging because I didn’t know what else to do.
“What?”
“You have to leave right now? Can’t we just … I don’t want you to leave like this.”
“I don’t either, Iffy. But I’ve got to go. I’ve got to go now. Look, you’ve got him now anyway. He’ll keep you warm tonight.”
“Stop it, Corinne.”
“What do you think, country boy? You haven’t said a word.”
Anthony shook his head. “I don’t have anything to say.”
“Come on, Corinne. Stop trying to pick fights. Please.”
“See, Iffy. I told you. I can be mean. You should watch yourself. I haven’t even gotten started yet.”
“You go, Corinne. But I’m not gonna move camp. Not for a few days. And when I do, I’m going to go back to the last spot we were at. So, if you want to find me—”
“Whatever, Iffy.”
“I’m just saying, I’m not mad. I know you’re doing this, acting like this, so it’s easier for you to leave. But I’ll be here. I’ll be here until the winter comes, Corinne. So, you can always come back.”
“Fuck you, Iffy,” she said, and she turned around and got gone.
Chapter 32
Anthony wouldn’t go. I told him I was okay, that I wanted to be alone, that it was fine, but he wouldn’t leave.
“You have to get the car back.”
“I will,” he said. “I will. But I need to be with you right now. I can’t leave you like this.”
“I have Angel,” I said, pointlessly.
“Iffy,” he said, “the car—it’s not that important. I’ll get it back when I get it back. I’m not gonna leave you all alone.”
And there was a part of me that was grateful. I knew I’d be okay by myself. But I didn’t want to be alone, not after that scene.
“I guess she was right,” I told Anthony as we climbed into the tent together. “Maybe I don’t get it. She didn’t have to go back to him, not really, not even if she felt like she had to. If she had just stayed with us overnight, if we could have just convinced her to stay until the morning, she would’ve seen it all again with clearer eyes and she wouldn’t have gone back.”
“Maybe,” Anthony said. “Maybe.”
“I hate this so much.” I didn’t want to cry. I let myself be pulled into his arms.
“What was that other thing all about?” he asked. “Dougie?”
I explained. “A girl Corinne knows recognized one of my photos of my mom. She said this guy Dougie used to hang out with her. She said to ask him about her, but we haven’t been able to find the guy.”
“He’s like, a drug addict, junkie, or something?” Anthony had gone still.
“Yeah,” I said, my head jerking up involuntarily. “How’d you know?”
“I think I might know the guy.”
I sat up straight. “What?”
“I was at this bar a few blocks away with my brother and he was talking to this guy. My brother … well, let’s just say he is familiar with the kind of people who use and sell drugs. So, he introduced me to this skinny, scary-looking dude called Dougie. I mean, it was like, for five minutes, but I think that guy Dougie is always at that bar. Like, it’s his hangout.”
“Will you take me there tomorrow?”
“Of course.”
I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to think. I was elated by this news, that we might be able to get more information.
My heart sank as it registered that I wouldn’t be able to tell Corinne. That she wasn’t with me on this. And then I thought again about what she had done and I was scared for her. And I was scared for me too; this man Dougie terrified me for some reason. Maybe it was because I was getting closer to something, maybe he might have actually known my mother.
I went over this in my head, and then I thought of Corinne, again, and how awful her leaving had been.
But it also felt so good to be in the tent, in Anthony’s arms.
He held me until I fell asleep.
I woke up a little at dawn, as he was leaving. I was embarrassed, because I woke up with my thumb in my mouth.
“Hey …” Still groggy, I sat up, pushing my wet thumb down into the sleeping bag.
“I’m gonna go, Iffy,” Anthony whispered, leaning in to kiss me. “But go back to sleep. I’ll come back this afternoon, okay? We can talk then?”
“Okay,” I murmured, burying my face in his neck, kissing him again. His skin was still salty, still smelled like the beach. Despite it all, my sleep-heavy body felt so good in his arms, in my tent, on the ground. He gave me one final kiss before leaving. I fell back asleep pretty much instantly, with my arms around Angel.
When I woke again, I lay in the tent, indifferent to the rising sun. I almost didn’t care if someone, a cop, a hiker, stumbled upon us in our vulnerability. Everything about the last night and about Corinne came back. I was slow and sad, but then I was suddenly, urgently ill, and I scrambled from the tent, my hands barely unzipping quickly enough. I stuck my head through the open slot in the door and puked.
When I finished throwing up, I unzipped the whole way. Angel came out too and I saw her going to sniff the puke and I yelled “Stop!” so loud that she jumped and looked at me. I put the cord around her neck and tied her up so she couldn’t get to it. “Ugh,” I grumbled. “Not okay.”
Luckily, I didn’t get any on the tent itself. I also felt an overwhelming relief that Anthony had already left. I gave Angel something not horrifying to eat for breakfast while I packed up the tent and shoveled some dirt and leaves over the vomit.
I brushed my teeth, rinsing with a bottle of water I’d kept refilling at the water fountain. Probably just had too many world-famous hot dogs at Coney Island, I told myself.
When our morning stuff was done, I told Angel we had another appointment.
“We’re going to meet your big old friend,” I told her, disapprovingly. She wagged her tail.
Ann had continued to leave us gifts and supplies at the rock and we’d continued to retrieve it every couple of days. But in her last note, Ann had written, “Would it be okay if I bring some coffee and we could drink it together? Day after next, around 10?”
I had left a note in response. It said, “OK.”
We headed over to the rock. Despite how terrible I felt, the weather was perfect: warm, with the most wonderful breeze, the wind making its way through the trees just enough to keep me cool and tickle my legs. We emerged from the deep woods and made our way over to the main trail and then past all the joggers and to the spot.
I brought Watership Down along, but I didn’t do any reading. I sat there, a pit i
n my stomach, playing the scene with Corinne over and over in my head. My stomach continued to churn as I wondered what she was doing, if she was okay. I wished she hadn’t taken off. I wished that we had left things on better terms. I hoped she knew I meant it when I said come back, find me.
I was pretty lost in thought when I saw movement. I looked up and there was Ann. She hadn’t seen me yet, but then Angel jumped up and barked and she looked over at us and waved.
“Hey,” she called, sounding happy and maybe even surprised that I had kept the meeting.
Angel bounded and started jumping up on her and everything. Shoot, maybe Angel had been her dog, I thought. Who knows.
“Hi,” I said, and took my time walking over. She was carrying one of those to-go trays with two coffees on it and really only wanted to see Angel and not me. I took a minute to look at her again; she was different than I remembered. Maybe it was just that she wasn’t wearing jogging clothes; this time she was in jeans and a short-sleeved button-down. She was wearing jewelry, a small gold cross around her neck, and one of those Irish rings with the two hands holding a heart on her right hand, but she was otherwise very plain-looking, no makeup on her angular face.
She was still down on one knee and looked up at me. “Hey! It’s nice to see you, Brenda.” She stood, but kept one hand on Angel’s head, and said, “Here, I brought a few things,” letting a bag fall from her shoulder into her hand and holding it out to me.
I took the tote: it had cans of dog food, cans of lentils and beans, a sack of those little oranges and couple of bottles of Gatorade. There was also a wax paper bag from Dunkin’ Donuts.
“Okay, thanks.”
“Is there somewhere we can sit for a little bit?” Ann asked.
“Yeah,” I said and nodded back at where I had come from. “There’s a spot over here.”
Ann and Angel followed me to a little clearing that had a good flat log in it and we sat down and she kind of chattered away at Angel, all “How are you doing, sweetie?” and “What a good doggie!”
When we were settled, I said, “Thanks a lot for all the stuff and all.”
“I’m happy to do it,” Ann said. “Really. Here—” She handed me a coffee. “I take mine black, but there’s milk and sugar in the bag. And there’re some doughnuts in there too.”
