by B. B. Hamel
Eleanor’s lived here her whole life. I moved here from Hartford after I was taken from my parents and she adopted me. I’ve loved it here ever since, how peaceful and beautiful it is. Eleanor’s taken care of me like a mother and I love her to death, although I’ve been thinking more and more lately about leaving Weston.
It’s just not that easy for me. I wish it were. I get up to my knees and slowly stand, sighing a little bit. I gather up my things, blanket folded and pushed under one arm, and I head back to the house.
I find Eleanor sitting in the kitchen near the back window, reading a book. “Nice day out there?” she says as a greeting.
“Beautiful,” I agree. I put my stuff down on the table and grab an apple from the basket on the counter. “Is Cara with Julissa?”
Eleanor nods. She’s a pale woman with gray hair, long and pulled back into a tight braid. She’s the most elegant person I’ve ever seen in my life, and I don’t think I’ve so much as seen her slouch. But she’s not stuck up, like so many rich people are in this town. She’s the most generous and loving person there is.
I turn to go check on Cara, but Eleanor clears her throat, stopping me short. I know that noise. It means she has something to say that I’m not going to like.
“He called again,” she says.
I look back at her. “Who did?” I ask sweetly, although I know exactly who she means.
She gives me a stern look. “That’s three times today. Are you going to keep ignoring him?”
“I don’t know who you mean.”
Her stern look turns into a glare. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, Addie, but he deserves at least a conversation.”
I stare back at her and sigh. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”
“He’s been good to you. I don’t know what he did, but he’s no monster and you know it.”
“I know, El,” I say. I’m the only person in the world that gets away with calling her “El,” which is what makes it special. She’s more than just a mother to me, but I can’t ever call her “mom.” That word’s been ruined for me.
I head upstairs and find Julissa reading to Cara in her room. Cara looks up and is excited to see me, but she doesn’t move from Julissa’s lap. Julissa is an older woman, maybe mid-forties, with olive skin and dark, curly hair. She winks at me and keeps reading.
When she finishes, Cara hops off her lap and runs over to me. “Mommy!”
I scoop my daughter up into my arms. “Hi sweetie,” I say. “How was story time?”
“Good,” she says.
“Want to play?”
“Yes.”
I put her down and she teeters back into the room. She falls down at Julissa’s feet and starts playing with some dolls she has lying on the floor.
I cross my arms and watch her, smiling. Cara was born nine months after I slept with Will, nine agonizing months. I kept thinking I’d give her up for adoption, but as soon as she was born I knew I couldn’t. Eleanor’s been letting us stay with her, and she hired Julissa to help, which has really been a lifesaver. I don’t know what I would’ve done without Julissa’s help.
“She’s in a good mood today,” Julissa says softly, leaning up against the wall near me.
“Yeah, well, I think it’s because it’s a nice day out.”
“We should take her for a walk.”
I nod and check my watch. “Let me get dressed real quick.”
I head back into my bedroom and strip off my clothes. I stand in the mirror for a second, looking at my body. I let out a sigh as my mind ranges back to that night with Will, the night I keep trying to forget but can’t seem to stop thinking about.
That’s the last time I’ve been touched by a man. It was incredible. We slept together over and over again until we were both exhausted and spent. It was like years of flirting and friendship and pent up energy just exploded suddenly, and it all came crashing down in the morning. He didn’t say anything about it, and I pretended like I didn’t care.
But it was tearing me up inside. We stayed friends, although I could feel myself pulling away from him. I couldn’t understand how we could have sex like that, but still just stay friends. Obviously, we were so much more.
And then I found out about Cara, and everything changed.
I take a breath and let it out. I don’t want to dwell on that. Those were really bad days. I remember Will calling and even showing up at the house. He was leaving for Russia to play in the KHL, and he wanted to say goodbye to me. But I just ignored him, just like I’d been ignoring him for a few months before that. I couldn’t let him see me.
I didn’t want him to know that I was pregnant.
It’s been hard, keeping Cara a secret. It helps that Will was in Russia for so long, although he’s back not apparently. I kept Cara off social media, and we’ve been keeping to ourselves. It helps that Eleanor is so respected in the community. People aren’t gossiping like they normally would.
I can’t keep her a secret forever though. Eventually, Will’s going to find out about her, and I’m terrified he’ll realize that he’s the father.
I can’t tell him now. It’s been too long. I hated him back then, I was so angry about what happened that night and how he said we’d talk about what it meant ubt never did. That anger’s faded a lot over these past two years, although I can still feel it dimly, simmering away deep in my gut.
It’s just too late. I don’t know how to tell him the truth, even if I wanted to. I fucked up keeping this from him and now I have to live with it.
Even though every single cell in my body is screaming for me to run over to his house right now and throw my arms around him.
I miss him so much it hurts.
I finish getting dressed and step out into the hall. The old wooden floor creaks under my hiking boots. “Meet me downstairs,” I call you.
“Sounds good,” Julissa replies, and Cara squeals with mixed delight and annoyance.
I head over to the stairs and I hear the phone ringing as my boot hits the top step, another creak filling the otherwise empty space. I pause there, flashing back to Will’s voice. I tense and don’t move, heart beating fast, sweat on my skin. I grip the bannister and take another few quick steps down the stairs, more creaking but this time sharp, as the phone keeps ringing.
I shouldn’t be so afraid but I can’t help it. After hearing his voice again after so long, I haven’t been able to get him off my mind. I reach the bottom of the steps just as I hear Eleanor’s voice coming from the kitchen.
“Hello?” she says, her normal sweet greeting. There’s a short pause. “Hi there, Will. Yes, I know, you have been calling a lot. Yes, she’s here, hold on.”
I back up against the wall, eyes wide, as Eleanor comes into the hall. She spots me there by the steps, and I shake my head at her.
“Get the phone,” she hisses. “You have to stop being such a damn fool.”
“I’m not a fool. Just tell him I left.”
“Addie,” she says. “Please, just talk to the boy. I’m sick of him calling.”
“No, I don’t want to talk to him. Stop trying to make me.” I can feel my own anger rising in response to Eleanor pushing me.
She sighs, shaking her head. “Since when did a conversation ever hurt someone?”
I look away from her. “I can’t,” I say, and I quickly walk to the front door.
“Addie!” Eleanor says, but I open it up and step outside. I pull it shut behind me and walk out onto the front yard, arms crossed around my body.
It’s a clear, bright day. The road is about a half mile off, through some trees, and for a second I can pretend like I’m the only person in the world. Birds take flight nearby and scatter, coming into a flock and pulsing in that strange way groups of small birds sometimes do. They land on another tree and for a second, I wish I could climb up there and join them.
But that’s stupid. My daughter’s coming outside with Julissa, and we’re taking a walk. I can just forget about Will
Eaton. He’s not in my life anymore, and I don’t plan on letting him get close again. I know Eleanor means well, but she’s wrong.
Sometimes a conversation can change a person’s life completely, and I’m just not ready for that.
4
Will
I step gingerly over a fallen log, wincing as I put weight on my knee. It’s not too bad though, and the walking stick helps as I put my weight on it. I get over the stump and continue on along the dirt path that sticks close to the Saugatuck river.
The river’s running high today from all the rain these past three weeks. I’ve been stuck inside my father’s house, wallowing in my own fucking self-pity and grief, unable to do much considering the weather and my knee injury. Fortunately, my father’s been away on work, probably busy shoving fake pills down desperate people’s throats like usual, although I don’t bother asking any questions.
It’s nice to have the house to myself. I remember coming downstairs as a kid when my parents were out and pouring a huge bowl of Captain Crunch before watching cartoons all morning. I’d say in my pajamas, my hair messy and greasy, and I’d ignore the phone if it rang. Even if it was nice outside, I didn’t want to go and play. I just wanted to be in my own little world, safe and comfortable and jacked up on sugary cereal.
That house is full of childhood memories, some of them good, most of them fucked up, like the time my dad screamed at my mom so loud that she dropped the frying pan, sending eggs spilling all over the floor. Our dog, Ruffy, starts to lick them up but my dad kicked him in the side, making him yelp in pain.
That’s actually one of the last memories I have of my mom.
I crunch over some leaves, taking my walk slow. My knee doesn’t hurt too badly, just a dull ache, which I assume is a good thing. The ground is a little soft still, but not too bad. I skirt around the muddiest bits and keep my eyes on the trail in front of me. I can’t afford to trip and fall and fuck my knee up even more.
When I got older, and my mom was long dead, I used to come out onto these paths just to escape my dad’s anger. Now I’m using them just to give myself something to do. I need a little purpose. I can’t just sit in front of the TV anymore eating sugar cereal. I’m not a kid, even if I sort of default back to being one whenever I’m back in my father’s house.
There’s this spot not too far away near the waterfall that I used to come to all the time. Back then I wasn’t alone, though. I met Addie a year earlier and we discovered the waterfall on one of our first hikes. We’d go back to that spot all the time and watch the water fall off into space, sunlight making rainbows in the spray if we were lucky, and we’d talk for hours.
I don’t know what’s drawing me back there. I guess it’s just that Addie won’t talk to me, and I don’t know what the fuck to do with myself. I want to get back into hockey, but there’s a voice in the back of my head that keeps telling me it’ll never happen. I know that voice is right but I’m not ready to listen to it, not yet. I might heal or maybe there’s surgery that can help. I can make another KHL team, I’m sure about that. I just need some time to heal.
I come around a bend in the path and it skirts closer to the river. I can hear the falls now, just ahead. It’s like white noise out of nowhere, like a fan in an empty room. I can’t quite see it through the trees and the foliage, but I know it’s there.
At least some things never change. I hate Weston, mostly because of my father, but I can’t deny how beautiful it is. That’s the thing that kept me going back then, that and Addie.
I keep going, knee aching with every step, leaves crunching under foot. I grip my walking stick a little harder as I step around another mud puddle, nearly slipping on a wet rock. I grunt as my bad knee takes some of my weight, but it doesn’t buckle, which is a good sign.
I come around another bend and I can really hear the falls now. The path is slowly angling down, and if. Kept to the path, it would eventually takes me to the river below. Instead, I cut to the right and trek through the underbrush, pushing aside sticker bushes and tree branches.
This should be a familiar path, since I walked it thousands of times back in high school, but it feels new. I recognize the big rock to my right, the sound of the falls getting closer, and the old tree split in half just ahead as the cliff comes near. I slow up and stop, hand on the tree, as the world falls off in front of me and the falls comes roaring into sight.
It’s not a huge waterfall, but it moves fast, the water frothing white at the edge. I stand there gripping my walking stick, my other hand on the split tree, feeling the old, rough bark on my fingertips. I forget all about my father and my aching knee for a second as I watch the water rush over the edge, flying through the air and dropping down to the river below.
I take a deep breath and I smile. This was all fucking worth it.
I stand and watch the falls for a minute before turning to my right. This is the tricky part. I don’t remember it being so steep and terrifying around here all those years ago, but I was a lot younger, a lot more reckless, and a lot less injured. Still I came all the way out here, so I head over to the edge of the cliff and shove my walking stick forward.
Sure enough, the ledge is still there. I shuffle forward a little bit and manage to climb down onto it. The rocks jut outward in a steep step until it reaches the bank of the river, right at the edge of the falls itself. I have a few more steps to climb down, and then I’ll be at the main rock, this big, solid thing that’s practically off the edge of the world.
I get down a couple more ledges and take a step forward. Before I can drop down onto the last rock, I stop dead in my tracks and stare.
She’s not moving at all, her back to me, hunched over slightly and sitting cross legged. Her hair’s longer than I remembered, but still thick and dark. She’s looking out over the falls, staring at it like we used to, her hands splayed out behind her. She has on a dark sweatshirt and khaki shorts.
“Addie,” I call out, but my voice is drowned by the falls. I take a breath and let it out. “Addie!”
She hears the second one. She turns around and it’s like slow motion. There’s an odd smile on her face that falters once she sees me standing there, looking down at her. We lock eyes and it’s like time never passed at all. I’m back in her apartment, her body underneath mine, sweating and groaning together. I’m back in this very spot, talking over the noise of the falls, trying to understand how things got so fucked up.
She shakes her head and scrambles to her feet. “Will?” she yells back. “What are you doing here?”
I sit down on the ledge of the rock and slowly drop down, wincing a little bit. She doesn’t move at all, and we’re about six or seven feet apart.
“Sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“I just… I didn’t expect to see you here.”
I run my hands on the stone. “Haven’t been back here in a while.”
“I come sometimes,” she says, still staring at me. “Nobody else ever does. People probably think it’s too dangerous.”
I grin at her. “It’s definitely too dangerous. But I guess nothing changes with you, huh, Addie?”
She smiles a little bit but it quickly goes away. “I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you.”
I bark out a little laugh. Typical Addie, straight to the point. “Yeah, I was wondering about that.”
“It’s just, I don’t know.” She grabs her arm around her back awkwardly, not meeting my gaze anymore. I want to walk across the rock and hug her, but I resist.
“It’s cool,” I say, playing it off, pretending to be casual. “I’m sure you’ve been busy. How’s Eleanor?”
“She’s good,” Addie says. “But you knew that already. You guys have been talking a lot lately, huh?”
Her little smirk means she’s teasing me, which I think is a good sign.
“Yeah, well, I guess I’ve been calling too much, huh?” I shuffle my feet and lean back against the rock, taking my weight off my aching knee. I cro
ss my arms in front of my chest. “You know I’m not the kind of guy that gives up easy.”
“I know that,” she says, and sighs. “How have you been?”
“Okay.” I glance down at my knee. I have a brace on just below my hiking shorts. “Fucked up my knee.”
“I’m sorry,” she says, and I believe her. “Is that why you’re back?”
I nod. “Can’t play hockey with a fucked-up knee. Not even in Russia, apparently, and they have low standards.”
The joke makes her smile a little bit. It suddenly feels warmer than it was just a minute ago.
“Is your dad still an asshole?”
I laugh at that. “Yep,” I say. “Hasn’t changed one bit.”
“I guess that’s why you’re out here.”
“He’s out of town, actually. You know, ripping people off.”
She grins a little. “His favorite thing to do.”
“That and drowning kittens.”
“With his bare hands, of course.”
“Naturally.”
It feels good to fall back into our regular banter. Her eyes flash at me but the smile fades away again.
“I should go,” she says, moving to my right and stepping toward the rocks.
“You can stay,” I say. “I mean, we can catch up if you want. I’ve got a lot of stories about Russia.”
“Do they all involve vodka?”
“Of course they do.”
She laughs a little and steps up to the rock step. She hoists herself up quickly, faster than I think I can.
“Another time,” she says. “Bye Will.”
I watch as she climbs back up the rocks. She disappears up the edge and back into the woods, and I’m left alone in our spot, my whole body vibrating with the encounter.
She’s just like I remembered. Full figure, fast smile, funny as hell. Beautiful and broken. She has no clue how I felt about her back then, because I never told her.
