by Ivy Jordan
The rest of dinner went by quickly from there. I ate a few bites of chicken and pushed my plate away. Nobody else ate anything but Channing. When he was done, he stood up and snatched his dad’s bottle away. He took a long swig and motioned for me to follow him before he stormed off.
I followed him up. Once we got to my room, he took me by the hand and pressed me up against the door to kiss me. It was a quick, passionate kiss. Then he pulled away. “Tomorrow’s for us,” he said.
“You don’t want to come in?”
“I want to be alone. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Alright,” I hugged him before I disappeared inside. I was exhausted, but I couldn’t sleep. Not at first. I was drifting off when I heard the door open and felt Channing climbing into bed next to me where he belonged. It didn’t take very long for me to fall asleep after that.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Ava
When I woke up, Channing was gone. It was already 10, so I rushed into the shower and picked something out to wear. Somebody knocked on the door while I was sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling my shoes on.
“Channing?” I called out.
“Yeah, it’s me.”
“You can come in.” I slipped into my left shoe and grabbed my right.
He was already dressed, holding a muffin and a water bottle. He offered them to me. I slipped my shoe on and snatched them away.
“My mom is gone, and my dad’s at work. We have the house to ourselves. They had the staff set out breakfast for us in the dining hall.”
“This is all I need.” I took a drink of water.
“I was hoping you’d join me at the lake.”
“The lake?”
“It’s behind the house. My parents had it put in when I was younger.”
“That sounds wonderful. This place must be huge.” I took a bite of my muffin and washed it down with a drink of water.
“There’s the main grounds with staff quarters, a multi-level garage, tennis courts, and two pools. One is underground on the basement level. That’s my father’s. The other is housed in its own complex behind the house. Then there are the gardens, the lake, and my parents also own the forest on the far side of the hill behind the lake.”
“It is big.”
“It’s mostly dirty and neglected. The garden isn’t tended to. My parents don’t want to pay for it, and the staff has trouble keeping up with the cleaning. There’s a lot of dusty, unused rooms upstairs, and we rarely use the staff quarters. It’s abandoned.”
“I can’t imagine anyone needing all this,” I said.
“It’s nice, though, when the sun is out, and it’s not too hot. There are trails in the forest behind the lake. I can show you.”
“That would be wonderful.”
I finished my muffin and met Channing downstairs. He led me through the front entrance, along a tree-lined path that traveled around the house. It opened up to an overgrown field, and a dirt path traveling uphill.
When we got to the top, I could see the lake below. It was surrounded by thin forest on three sides, with bright green algae and foam rimming the edges.
When we started walking downhill, I could see the forest’s branches dipping into the water and the clumps of bushes behind them. The breeze was cool and misty. It was wet against my cheek and helped to wake me up.
Channing moved easily. He skipped over the rocks embedded in the hillside and checked back every few moments to make sure that I wasn’t having any trouble getting down the slope. He hopped off the final bank onto the ground below where the water was lapping at the gravel behind him. Then he let me hop down into his arms.
“Ah,” I laughed and wrapped my legs around him. He started kissing me, pulling his tongue back and forth between my lips while my legs slid lower until I was standing and he had his arm wrapped around my back.
There was a path that circled the lake shore. It must’ve been concrete at one time. I could see scraps peeking out of the dirt, but the lake had covered it with mud, and the land swallowed it.
In places, the path was muddy. I had to hop over little pools, and more than once Channing had to pick me up and set me down on dry ground. He had a boat tied to a cluster of trees not far from the bank. It was a little green canoe.
He waited near the water while I stared at the boat. It was narrow and tilted easily every time water hit it. One wrong move and that thing would capsize. We’d end up swimming in the water with seaweed and algae, and God knows what crawling around at the bottom of the lake.
“That thing is not stable.”
“It’s fine,” Channing stood in front of me near the edge of the water, close to the boat. I could see it rising and falling behind him.
“It looks like it’ll tip over.”
“It can, if you’re not careful, but you’ll get the hang of it.”
In the end, I let Channing pick me up and help me into the boat. It tilted sharply to the right, and I gasped. I was going to fall into the water. Channing grabbed onto the side of the canoe and balanced it. My heart was pounding. He untied the boat and climbed in. Then he grabbed the oars and began propelling us back, towards the center of the lake.
It was amazing to see his arms flexing as he wrestled with the water. I could see the strain on his face. Soon, his strokes grew longer and farther apart as his shoulders drew forward and back slowly. The momentum was propelling us. When we began to slow, we were nearing the center of the lake. He let the oars drop, and we began gliding aimlessly closer to the cluster of trees at the edge of the forest.
He sat back and stretched his arms above his head. “I love coming out here.”
I looked around. The wind was pounding now, staining my cheeks with mist. To my right was the house, a debauched Greek temple sitting on top of the hill with clusters of buildings on both sides. To my left was water, and farther out, the forest where the trees were thrashing wildly.
Channing was leaning back casually, his arms resting on the rim of the boat, stretched out and welcoming. “It’s quiet; no birds, no fish, just the wind.”
“It’s wonderful out here. I can’t imagine having this in my backyard.”
“I like to space my trips out. I don’t want to come here too often and get used to it. I want it to be a treat.”
“It’s too good to spoil,” I agreed. “Do you have fish here?”
“Oh, yeah,” he said, “They’re everywhere. You can see them chasing your lure when you throw it in.”
“Really?” I asked.
“Yes, it gets boring catching a fish every time. I just like going out on the water. It’s my escape. I prefer it out here. It’s better than the alternative.”
“I’ll bet it was hell having to come home from school,” I said.
“It was. They had parks, too, places like this that you could go on the grounds. I loved nature, listening to the sounds of the leaves blowing, and the birds singing. It shuts out everything else, and helps me quiet my mind.”
“That’s why I like the library,” I said. “This is better, though.”
We both laid back and stared up at the cold, white sky. It was a blank canvas. Anything could happen, but right now all that mattered was that we were together. Eventually, we both sat up, and he kissed me. Then he propelled the boat towards the forest, where the trees grew thick, and tiny vines grew out into the water.
There was a part in the trees not far from where we were. Channing moved the boat close to the shore and banked it. He tied it to the tree trunk and hopped out to help me out of the canoe. Had it not been for him, I would’ve fallen into the water when I stood up to get out, but he grabbed me by the waist and lifted me out.
The trail led up a bank, past a mountain of ivy, into the forest beyond. Channing had to jump up and reach down to help me up. Once I passed the tree line, everything cleared out, and there was nothing but pine, and a carpet of needles stretching out below me.
The trail led down the back end of the hill behind
the house. The bed of pine needles thinned the further downhill we got until the path grew steeper and we were walking on packed soil. Around us, ferns grew at the base of the trees, their fronds stuck out over the path where roots sprang up out of the ground, creating natural steps.
Channing moved easily. The terrain didn’t bother him, even when we had to jump down slopes or climb up banks. He must’ve been taking this path since he was a little boy. That’s what it looked like.
Soon the land evened out, and the trees grew thinner. The ground was mostly clear, with clumps of pine. The path snaked through the trees, towards a cluster of boulders forming a half circle towering around what looked like a makeshift fire pit.
Channing and I took a seat next to one another and leaned against the rocks. The breeze had died down, and the canopy was dancing in the air. Channing reached around and wrapped his arm around my back. I slid down and laid on my side with my head resting in his lap.
The silence was siphoning away the voices that’d been spinning through my head. It cleared away my thoughts and left behind nothing but a clear, blank space. Channing had his head laid back against the boulder. I looked up at him and watched as his eyes drooped, and we both let the white noise lull us into a state just short of sleep.
We both came to around the same time. He got up, while I sat with my back against a boulder. I could hear his boots scraping against the dirt while he walked around behind me somewhere. When he came back, he was holding a pile of logs with a handful of pine needles.
He got the fire started easily, and had the flames going in less than a few minutes. “You’re pretty good at that,” I said when he sat back down next to me.
“I’ve been coming here and doing this since I was little. Sometimes I’d hide in the woods and sleep out here at night. My parents usually just sent some of the staff after me and went to bed after a while. The first few times they got really upset. Then it became common, and they gave up looking. I’d bring a little tent out here and light a fire. Sometimes I’d cook. I had a grill grate I used for a long time, but I don’t know where it went.”
“Did you ever throw parties out here?”
“No, this is my spot. The woods stay quiet, and that’s how I like it. If people start coming here, they’ll scare all the game away.”
“You hunt?”
“I hunt, I fish. I hike. I could live out here if I wanted to. I’d have everything that I wanted. I used to dream about doing that when I was a kid. Once, I stayed for a whole week. The only reason I came back was because I heard dogs running around the forest, and I saw people with flashlights. They sent out a search party. I just climbed back into my room and went to bed. When they tried to talk to me the next morning, I went back. They hated it. When I’d come back on break from school, I’d spend the entire time out here, so they started just leaving me at school.”
“Did they ever find this place?” I asked.
“No, they never found it. I made sure. That’s why I like running so much. It reminds me of being out here. I used to hike through with a little machete, slashing past brush to make trails. I’d set traps for rabbits, and once I found a deer walking through the forest.”
“Did you catch it?”
“No, but that was when I spent a week out here. I stayed up all night the first night with a makeshift bow and arrow, slashing through the forest. If he was around, the noise probably scared him away.”
“That’s too bad.”
“I should’ve lied and said I shot him.”
I laughed. “No, I like your story better. I would’ve loved to have been a part of your midnight hunt. It must’ve been exciting.”
“It was. I got pretty good at catching rabbits.”
“I’ve never done anything like that before. The most I had was a fishing trip when I was little. It was terrible. The hook got caught on my jacket and I started shrieking.”
Channing laughed. “It’s probably not your thing.”
“I’m dying to try. I always want to go out and hike and enjoy nature. I just never get much of a chance. I’m sure once I have more free time, that’s what I’ll be doing.”
“We can be hiking buddies.”
“That’d be wonderful.”
“I know a lot of places close by that are just beautiful,” he said. “And I’ve been all over the country. Yellowstone is magnificent. Then there’s the northwest, Oregon, and Washington, both beautiful—almost like a rainforest.”
“I’m just happy being here with you.” We watched the fire blaze up while he held me, and I rested on his chest. Then, when it started to go out, we got up, stretched, and began walking back up the hill. Even though it was mostly uphill, coming back was easier. We were both stuck in a sweet fog. He held my hand and helped me along the trail.
It wasn’t long before we were back on the boat with the moon rising behind the trees, casting a globe over the water. When we got to the other side of the lake, one of the servants was waiting for us. He told us that Channing’s mom was waiting for us with dinner on the veranda. He began to ask Channing about what we were doing, but Channing brushed him off. It sounded like Marie had been waiting for some time.
The veranda was flooded with a formidable cloud of smoke. Marie was sitting in the corner with a cigarette in her hand and an untouched salad sitting in front of her. We walked back to the corner table where she was sitting and took our seats. The bartender served us water and asked us if we wanted the chicken or the fish. The fish didn’t sound like a palatable offer, so I chose the chicken.
When he was gone, Marie said, “John couldn’t be here, Ava. I apologize. He has to fly to LA in the morning, so he’s getting some rest. You understand.”
“Of course.”
The waiter brought us waters. Channing sipped his quietly while his mother toked on her cigarette. “Did he take you out to the lake?” she asked.
I looked to Channing for some clue as to what to say, but he remained neutral. “Yes, we went on a boat.”
“Well, how romantic.” She butted her cigarette and sat back with a smoky glare. “You both made a huge scene last night.” She looked at Channing, who turned his head and focused on his water. “You’re lucky your father didn’t kick you out for the shit you pulled with that bottle. What the heck were you thinking?” her voice rose.
“I’m sorry, God. Don’t come at me like that.”
“You know, if you fail, you can’t come back here. You’re on your own.”
“With a credit card and two sports cars. He won’t really cut me off. Now can we please just have dinner? I don’t want to talk about this crap.”
“The weather’s nice,” I pointed out.
“Shut up, both of you. This is serious, Channing.”
“I’ve got a tutor. I’m working hard. I know what I need to do to pass. Now, will you leave me alone, and let me eat in peace? Jesus,” he drained his water and set it down at the table.
“Fine,” Marie went quiet, and we sat in silence until the food came when Channing spoke up.
“I’m going to pass.”
“He really is,” I interjected.
“I’ll buy it when I see it.”
“You don’t have anything to worry about,” I said.
“I don’t see the point in all this. Can’t we just get our dinners from the kitchen and go somewhere else with them?” Channing asked.
“No,” she said. “You’re my son, and it’s been far too long since I’ve seen you.”
He sighed and sat back in his chair. Dinner was roasted chicken. They gave me a thigh with tiny bones and a lump of mashed potatoes. Everything was bland, no salt, no spices, like cardboard. The food was decorative, a show, just like everything else in the house.
Channing didn’t eat, and neither did I. Instead, we stuck to our water and kept our straws in our mouths to discourage conversation.
After a while, Marie pushed her plate away and stormed off, leaving me alone with Channing. Channing shot out of his ch
air and cornered the bartender. They were together for a while. I could hear them talking behind me, but I couldn’t hear what they were saying.
When Channing was finished, he took a seat across from me.
“What was that?” I asked.
“You’ll see.”
The bartender walked behind the bar and began pouring us drinks. For Channing, a whiskey and Coke, for me, a bright blue mix that tasted like cherries and rum. When the bartender was done, he went through a short menu, the things they had on hand, apparently. We both ordered steaks and went back to our drinks.
“If you do it right,” I said, “this kind of life could be fun.”
“It’s too much upkeep,” he said. “I want to live alone, somewhere out in the country. I don’t want anybody around, just me, the forest, and my beautiful house.”
I sat back and smiled. “Maybe near a lake.”
“A little snow,” he said. “Not much. Just enough to go sledding.”
“No, it should come down in great big globs that somehow miss the road and our driveway.”
“I’m not shoveling.”
“I know,” I raised a finger. “It’ll be at the base of the mountain. That way, we can miss the snow and drive up whenever we want to see it.”
“That’s perfect. We can go hiking and skiing, and hunt as many deer as we want.” He took a drink and met my eyes with a grin. “It would be wonderful.”
“Like a dream.”
We didn’t say anything until our food arrived—two massive plates with thick cuts of beef, salad, rolls, and baked potatoes with gravy, mushrooms, and mustard greens. It was delicious.
“See,” I said, in between bites of lettuce, “it doesn’t matter how much stuff you have. It’s nothing if you don’t enjoy it. That’s the problem.”
“Well, once you have everything,” he speared a cut of beef with his fork, “you get bored. You don’t enjoy things the way you normally would. Everything is drawn out and dull, so you just kind of fade into the background.”
“How boring.” I thought of the way his mother seemed detached, focused only on her cigarettes while she looked on at the rest of the world.
