A Boy I Used to Love(21)

"Then take your time."

"I am. I'm sipping my coffee slowly."

"With your two-year-old pack of cigarettes next to you?" Karen asked.

"Are you spying on me?" I asked with a laugh.

"No. I just know how you cope."

"It hasn't failed me yet."

"But you're not happy."

"Neither are you," I said, taking the low-hanging fruit.

Karen got married in college and found out her husband had been cheating the entire time they were together with the woman who was her maid of honor. Worse yet, Karen was in love and naïve, and she'd signed a prenup that got her shit when the pieces fell apart. She left college and moved west, hustling two to three jobs at beach bars and restaurants to survive.

Still, there could have been worse ways to live.

Like hiding in fear like me …

"Lacey," Karen said.

"Karen."

"What are you going to do today?"

The question lingered for a long while. I didn't answer. Karen didn't talk. It was just silence on the phone.

Finally, I asked, "Want to go to the beach?"

"I'm working a double."

"Right. Of course. I'll go to the beach myself."

"No you won't," she said. "I want you to know I'm here for you. If you need anything. To talk. To cry."

"I'm not going to cry, Karen."

"You can, though. You should. Maybe get all that mess out of you. Or maybe the other thing … " 

"What other thing?"

"You know exactly what I mean," Karen said. "If you need anything, you text me or call me."

I ended the call and knew exactly what Karen was talking about. For years, I had been avoiding the actual reality of things, because it all seemed too crazy or too painful.

I stood up and grabbed everything on the table and went back inside.

I wasn't on vacation. I was home. And I had no job.

Everything was lined up for one decision for me to make.

I was going to the spot … to see if River would keep his promise to me.





River





PRESENT DAY





I went through my normal routine. I first checked on the cabin. I did a walk-around to check for any damage from animals. I'd never seen an animal or any damage, but Richie warned me to check the place out no matter what. After I did my walk-around, I went inside. It smelled like the woods. The place was literally untouched. I shook my head, unsure about what the hell Richie was doing, putting a cabin smack-dab in the middle of the woods when he didn't need to.

From there, I jumped back into my truck to go check on the old man. I'd grown up without a father, and while Richie was far from a father figure, he was the closest damn thing I ever had to one. I didn't get to see him as much as I should have, but something was better than nothing.

I gave myself a thirty-minute window to visit him and get back. I also purposely left a fresh pack of smokes on the big rock, just in case she showed up. She'd see the smokes and knew what they meant.

I cruised up along the dirt road to Richie's house, which was three times the size of the cabin, set against the backdrop of a valley that looked like it went on forever. He had been a successful real estate agent but lost his wife to illness and decided to give it all up. He sold his house, cars, and found himself a cabin to buy so he could live in the woods. He bought all the land he possibly could and avoided the real world as much as possible.

When I pulled up to his place, he was standing outside with a cigarette between his lips, a homemade sleeveless shirt, and blood running down his left arm. On the ground next to him was an axe and some freshly cut firewood.

"Richie," I yelled, climbing out of the truck. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Fucking branch caught me," he said, the cigarette bouncing between his lips. "I'm fine. I'm fine."

"Let's get you patched up."

"The fuck you doing here?" he asked. "Wait. It's that time again, huh?"

"Yeah, yeah," I said.

Richie knew the area meant something to me, but didn't know the full story. Only that it revolved around a woman.

Shit, I personally thought the cabin near the big rock was built for me to live in so Richie could have a friend. But I wasn't cut out for the mountain-man kind of living.

Richie was, though. Even in his old age, he still pulled his weight. His facial hair was wild and unkempt, his hair pulled back into a ponytail. He stunk of sweat, smoke, and booze.

"Just wanted to come check on you," I said. "How you been?"

"Alive," he said. "You want something to eat?"

"No. I'm going back down for a bit. Pay a visit and leave, like I always do."

"Stay at the cabin," he said. "It'll do you good."