by Nikki Young
My mouth falls open involuntarily and I cover it with my hand as I step away from him. While I was never in love with Carson, I never expected him to cheat on me. I’m sure there are people out there who would say I got what I deserved and maybe that’s true, but it hurts just the same.
He laughs again and I look away from him not wanting him to see the hurt that is written all over my face.
“Finally, you show some emotion, but you’ll always be a heartless bitch.”
“Get out!” I scream so loudly my throat aches. “Get out now!”
Carson turns around, leaving the empty garbage bag on the floor; he grabs the other one by the door and starts to leave.
“Wait,” I call after him and when he turns around, I swear I see a small amount of desperation in his eyes, like he hopes I’m going to ask him to stay. He’s fucked up if he thinks that would ever happen. “Leave your key. I’ll ship the rest of your stuff to your sister’s.”
“Fuck you,” he spits out as he throws his key at me.
As the door slams shut, I stand staring at it shocked and silent. That’s the last thing I expected to happen and to know he cheated on me is like a punch to the stomach. This world is full of lies, my life is a lie and everything I’ve created up until this point is a lie. I stand caught somewhere between reality and a living nightmare that I need to end.
So I do what I do best, I shake it off and act like this isn’t happening, that this isn’t my life and things aren’t falling apart around me. It’s all coming undone and I know it, but I don’t even know how to fix it.
I grab Tommy’s letter and shove it into the pocket of my coat before gathering my things and heading out to my car.
I guess I’m really going to do this… and I’m terrified.
Just before the nine-hour mark, I pull into the deserted town of Hessel, Michigan. A quaint little place, but as I drive through the town, I notice nothing is open; everything is completely shut down.
“Awesome,” I mumble, as my suspicions from earlier are confirmed. As I approached the town, I had the GPS run a search for hotels in the area and the closest it came up with was about thirty miles from here. I figured it couldn’t possibly be right, but I was so wrong.
If you want to disappear, this is the place.
I look at the GPS as it continues to navigate me to the address where Benji’s company is located; I find the map, nearly blank. An endless sea of green and blue and one single road leading out of town. Wonderful, even the GPS has no idea where I’m going.
But as I follow the road, which eventually turns to gravel, I see a large sign stating “CB Custom Carpentry and Furniture next right.” I take the first turn and there it is; a huge pole barn set back off the road along with a small shop out in front. I pull in, but find it as deserted as the town. Not a light on, not that there’s any light out here at all. It’s pitch black and without my headlights, I wouldn’t be able to see my hand in front of my face.
I climb out of the car and approach the building, looking through the large glass window in front, I see no one inside, but the shop is filled with some of the most beautiful furniture I’ve ever seen.
But suddenly scared of the dark and the unknown of this little town, I scamper back to my car wondering just how the hell I’m going to find him. I could drive another thirty miles, find a hotel, head back here tomorrow and hope he happens to be working. Not that I have any other options.
Going back the way I came, my stomach growls and I realize I haven’t eaten anything but a package of Zingers I picked up at a gas station. I’m starving and this isn’t the kind of town where a McDonald’s is going to pop up. I swear out loud, cursing the stupidity of small towns and their lack of all the things I’m used to.
While the town is empty, I do find a bar that is open and I pull into the parking lot. When I walk in the response is exactly what I expected. The five guys who are sitting at the bar all turn and look at me and then look at each other. The bartender stops what he’s doing, his eyes immediately gravitating to where I’m standing.
He’s much younger than I expected and quite cute, actually. I guess I assumed that with a small deserted bar in the middle of nowhere came a grumpy old man working behind it. This whole finding Benji thing possibly just got a little easier. He flashes me a smile and as if he suddenly realizes he’s forgotten his manners, he greets me.
“Hey, can I help you?” he asks, and I give him a weak smile. But then it hits me: if I’ve learned anything from my job, it’s that flirting with men can get you whatever you want. And I want to find Benji, preferably tonight.
I pull out a chair and sit down at the bar giving the bartender a sweet but totally fake smile.
“Oh my god,” I trill. “I’ve just spent the last nine hours in my car and I’m starving.”
“Sorry, but the kitchen’s closed,” he replies callously.
“Seriously?” I ask, pouting, and when he looks over at me he begins to soften. I shoot him a flirty look and ask, “You sure?”
“I’ll see what I can do,” he says as he gives me a little smile.
A few minutes later he sets a bowl of chips and salsa down in front of me and tells me he has some potato skins warming up. Bar food, but I guess I can’t complain when there’s no other choice.
“Thanks, I really appreciate it.”
He gives me a quick nod before asking if I’d like anything to drink and I order a cider as he walks away to serve the few guys at the end of the bar.
I’m trying to figure out how to make small talk with this guy when he returns with my cider and opens the conversation perfectly.
“So what are you doing here? You know tourist season is over?”
I giggle a little and nod my head. “Of course I know tourist season is over. I’m looking for Benjamin Kennedy.” And when I say his name the bartender stops and looks at me with a cross between curiosity and defensiveness on his face.
“What are you doing looking for Ben?”
Ben? Since when has he gone by Ben? I guess I wouldn’t know and I don’t dare question it. Instead I start another lie, hoping it’s vague enough, yet accurate enough to pull this off. “I ordered some furniture from him and I’m on my way up to Ontario and thought I would stop by and thank him in person.” I shrug my shoulders as I take a drink of my cider.
“Nice of you,” he says, but gives me nothing else.
“Yeah, so his store is closed already and I’d really like to thank him today, seeing as I’m staying a few towns away. I’d have to back-track and everything tomorrow to get back here.”
He waits, not responding, and just when I think this isn’t going to work, he says, “He lives about a mile from his shop. It’s the only house on the road. You can’t miss it.”
“Thanks,” I say, putting back what’s left of my cider in three long drinks. Leaving the chips and salsa, I slip my coat back on with a self-satisfied smile on my face.
“Guess you don’t want those potato skins then,” he says and it’s not a question, but when I look back to answer him, he has a smile on his face. I give him a small wave of my hand as I leave.
It doesn’t take nearly as long to find his house as it felt like it did when I was looking for his shop. Being slightly more familiar with the area makes navigating it easier and the fact that his house is lit up like it has a spotlight shining on it helps too.
I pull into his driveway, the gravel scraping noisily under my tires and echoing within the wide expanse of nothing. It couldn’t be more obvious that I’m here and probably shouldn’t be.
I take one last deep breath and pray that this doesn’t go horribly wrong immediately. Suddenly I’m unsure of everything in my life and I’m debating backing out of his driveway and acting like I was never here. But I owe it to Tommy and I couldn’t live with myself if I found out something happened to Benji.
Getting out of my car, I stop in front of it and look at his house. It’s absolutely beautiful. A massive log cabin wit
h a huge wrap around front porch surrounded by towering pine trees and a star lit sky. Before I have a chance to make my way to his front door, I see him.
He steps out onto the front porch a shotgun in his hand and I laugh a little to myself. He looks completely different: his hair is longer, one side tucked behind his ear; a beard on his face that looks like he’s had it since I left him, and his clothes are worn, but for some reason he’s still the boy I fell in love with. He’s taller and more muscular and I’m sure most people would take one look at him, especially considering he’s holding a gun, and leave.
I’m not afraid of him, I never have been.
“What are you going to do? Shoot me, Benji?” I ask, as I approach him.
“Don’t call me that,” he retorts.
I immediately regret my decision to come here. I’m not sure what I thought would happen; that he would welcome me with open arms and we’d have a heart-felt reunion. Not a fucking chance after the way things ended.
“I shouldn’t have come here,” I say, turning around as I start to walk back to my car.
“Why did you?” Benji asks, a harshness to his tone. “It’s been nine fucking years.”
I turn around and face him once again. My hands on my hips ready to have this conversation; one we should’ve had years ago. “You could’ve found me.”
“You’re the one who left.”
“You changed,” I say back, but my voice comes out as a shout and I feel myself growing defensive.
“So did you,” he shouts back, his posture growing stiff as I watch the anger build inside him. Although the gun is resting at his side, he clenches his hand around it tightly, his knuckles turning white.
“It was stupid of me to come here.”
“Then leave. Fucking leave, Campbell. Just like you did before.” I step back as he yells this time, loudly, so loudly that it echoes in the vast emptiness.
His voice is a growl that startles me; I’ve never heard him sound so hateful and cruel before, not that I have any idea who he has become. But I like to believe that somewhere behind this man in front of me is the boy I fell in love with.
“Fuck you,” I spit out, seething with anger. I slam the car door so hard it shakes everything inside. I tear out of his driveway bound and determined to drive off in a serious fit of rage and show him exactly how pissed off I am, and then I remember I’m almost nine hours from home, it’s after eight p.m. and I have no idea where I am.
And there isn’t a single fucking hotel in this tiny ass town.
Chapter Eleven
I’m swearing up a storm, as my GPS won’t let me search for anything while the car is moving. Stupid fucking computer! I just need to get the hell away from here and everything looks the same in the dark.
I finally come across the bar I was at just a little while ago, and knowing there isn’t anything else open, I pull in. I find my location on the GPS and begin to search for hotels, a part of me hoping that maybe it was wrong the two other times I ran this search and suddenly a hotel will appear out of nowhere.
Fat fucking chance.
Same as last time, thirty miles north of here there are a few, so I grab my phone and begin calling, but I’m shot down by all four that are available, which is unbelievable. The first one is hosting a wedding and is completely booked, the second one is filled with construction workers who were placed far from home to work on an oil pipeline that extends from Alaska all the way to the UP, the third no longer exists, and while the fourth had a few rooms, the pictures I found online look like the Bates Motel. No, thank you. As stubborn as I’m being though, it might be my only option.
My stomach growls loudly reminding me that I still haven’t eaten. I look at the bar, the lights are still on, but the parking lot is now empty. Letting out a desperate sigh, I exit the car.
When I walk in the bartender is wiping down the counter and he smiles at me, but his eyes are twinkling with mischief. I take a seat on the stool I occupied just a little while ago. He reaches under the bar and pulls out the potato skins, setting them down in front of me.
“For you,” he says, and chuckles a little. “I kept them warm.” I give him a confused, but grateful look and he adds, “You think you’re the first girl to come in here looking for Ben?”
“Guess not,” I say, my tone dripping with aggravation. “I’m not other girls,” I add, feeling the need to defend myself.
“You came back here looking like all the others. Guessing he pulled the shotgun on you?” He laughs, and shakes his head.
“And then he yelled at me,” I say, as the bartender sets another cider down in front of me.
“He yelled at you?” he asks, his tone almost shocked. “That’s not like Ben.”
“That’s because I’m not like other girls. I’m the girl.”
As if he understands exactly what I’m saying, he slides my cider over and sets a tumbler of scotch down. “I think you’re gonna need this instead.”
“Thanks. I’m Campbell,” I tell him, and something in his expression tells me I didn’t need to introduce myself, like he already knows who I am. There’s something in the way he looks at me that causes me to grow uneasy, but I still extend my hand across the bar.
“Alex,” he says as he takes my hand. “Don’t drink too much, there’s no place to stay in this town.”
“Yeah, I know.” I roll my eyes, letting out an annoyed huff, and I begin to eat the lukewarm potato skins.
I put back the scotch rather quickly and immediately down the cider. Fuck Benji and his holier than thou attitude. At least I made the effort to find him. He did fuck all in nine years, but now he wants to put all the blame on me? I don’t even know why I came here. I knew this was how it would turn out.
“So tell me, Alex, how’d you end up in this small town?” I ask, trying make small talk and take my mind off the fact that I have no place to go and that I know with certainty that Benji hates me. I’m zero for two when it comes to men, first Carson and now Benji.
“My dad bought this place when he retired from the military. We had a cabin up here for years; used to come for the fishing, and he decided to retire up here. Died a couple of years ago and I took over.” He’s casual in the way he speaks, like his life is easy, as if he has nothing but time. It makes me think that maybe this small town life isn’t so bad. I feel like I never have enough time, my job demanding, and the city always loud and bustling.
“Have a drink with me, Alex,” I propose, holding up my empty bottle of cider and he smiles at me.
“Why not?” he says, reaching back and grabbing a bottle of whiskey from behind him. Pouring us both a glass, he smiles at me again and says, “I think you could use some company and just so you know, I don’t make a habit of drinking with my customers.”
“Awww, I’m flattered, but see, Alex, I’m not a customer. We’re friends now and I’m about to drink for free.” I take a long swallow and he follows along, both of us putting back our whiskey far sooner than necessary.
“You think so?” he jokes back, as he sets his empty glass on the bar, his tone flirty.
“I know so,” I retort, winking at him.
“You’re a cheeky girl, Campbell. I can see why Ben’s still hung up on you.” His words catch me off guard and I cock my head to the side, giving him a questioning look. Next thing I know he’s setting a shot down in front of me and the moment has passed.
I hold up my glass, my eyes lingering on him for a long second, a loose, but sad smile on my face, “Here’s to new friends,” I say, and we put it back together.
An hour passes quickly and I’m far drunker than I planned on getting, but Alex keeps serving them and I keep drinking. He has me laughing so hard at one point that tears stream from my eyes. As much fun as I’m having, I know I still have no place to stay. Benji hates me, and I’m almost nine hours from home.
“You weren’t supposed to get me drunk,” I say, as a hiccup escapes my mouth and causes Alex to laugh out loud.
&nbs
p; “Same goes for you,” he says argumentatively, but still playful. I watch him pick up his phone, holding up one finger as if to signal he’ll be back, he steps away from the bar.
He returns again with another shot, his face flushed, and is now wearing just a t-shirt and jeans; losing the wool sweater he was originally wearing. He holds up his glass and says, “Last one of the night.”
I giggle; I’m too drunk to care that I have no place to sleep tonight. “Cheers!” I slur before adding, “Here’s to sleeping in my car!” And Alex lets out a deep laugh that I find terribly adorable. After what happened with Carson and then Benji, it feels good to have a guy just enjoy my company and laugh with me.
In the next second, the door to the bar swings open and Benji is standing there.
I look quickly at him and then to Alex before shouting, “Oh my god, I know him!” My finger is pointing in the direction of where Benji is standing and my words come out a garbled mess, but that doesn’t stop Alex from laughing again.
“She’s all yours, dude,” he says to Benji.
“What the fuck, Alex?” I demand, realizing in this drunken haze that he called Benji to come get me. “I thought we were friends?”
“We are, Campbell, which is why I’m not letting you sleep in your car.” He winks at me and Benji scowls at him and after what Alex said, I wonder if Benji is jealous. In the past it was never hard to make him jealous; I always belonged to him.
When I step off the bar stool, I find that I’m far drunker than I thought, I mean I know I’m drunk, but paired with the small amount of food I’ve eaten today, I’m pretty much shitfaced. I stumble and grab the back of the chair to steady myself and in that instant, Benji’s arm slips around my waist, pulling me into his side.
“Come on,” he says quietly, and his voice makes me weak. It’s been so long since I last heard it and right now it’s exactly as I remember. No animosity or uncertainty behind it, just kindness.
“Wait,” I practically shout, clinging to Benji’s arm for support, I turn to look at Alex. “I need to pay my bar tab.” I flash him a wicked grin and he chuckles.
