We passed into the woods and I began to follow a familiar path, barely more than a single track in the dirt. It was much more overgrown than I remembered, probably since Markus had stopped walking it a long time ago. But the path was still there, and my memory held firm.
Soon enough, I could hear it just ahead. We crossed through some bushes and there ahead of us was a small stream running over the rocks.
“This is where I learned to fish,” I said.
“Doesn’t seem like many fish live here,” Hartley observed.
I laughed. “Back then it seemed huge.”
“How old were you?”
“Seven maybe? Probably younger. It’s hard to say.”
“Markus taught you?”
“He sure did. My father didn’t teach me shit about the world.”
“That can’t be true.”
“Believe me, it is.”
Hartley stood next to me, close and almost touching. “We have something like this back on my farm.”
“Yeah?”
“Sure. A little stream. A bit deeper and bigger, but a lot like this. My dad taught me and my brothers how to fish in that stream, too.” She smiled to herself. “We used to compete to see who could catch the biggest fish. Dad always won.”
I couldn’t help but smile while picturing little Hartley trying to beat her brothers in a fishing competition.
“Markus used to tell me stories,” I recalled. “Mostly bullshit, I’m sure, but it was good to getting treated normal for a little while.”
“I understand that. I liked being treated like one of the boys back then. My momma always tried to get me in the kitchen, but I wasn’t interested.”
“Not a surprise there,” I said, smirking at her.
“Hey now. I haven’t cooked for you. I think you’d be pleasantly surprised.”
“I just think I’d be surprised period.” I looked back out over the stream. “Good memories are here, though. I used to want to be just like my old man, except for when I was here.”
“What did you want when you were here?”
“Never to leave.”
We lapsed into a short silence then. I bent over and found a smooth stone and skipped it over the water. Hartley did the same, and we skipped stones for a bit together.
“I used to climb trees,” Hartley said finally. “My parents hated it. I used to climb to the tops of the trees on the farm, and my brothers would try to follow, but they were always too scared.”
“I like that,” I said. “I can see you doing that.”
“They used to whine. ‘Hartley, come back down, you’re too high.’ As if I were breaking some kind of rule by being a better climber than they were.”
I laughed and skipped a stone deep across the stream. “For a boy, getting beat by a girl is like some kind of big deal.”
“It’s stupid. I don’t know where that comes from.”
I shrugged. “Who fucking knows. Culture, I guess.”
“I never let it bother me much, though. I just kept climbing, higher and higher, until I couldn’t hear their whining anymore.”
I skipped one last stone and then sighed, watching the ripples spread out across the water. Soon the ripples disappeared into the water, swallowed by the relentless and unstoppable march of water.
“My brother used to kick my ass,” I said. “He used to beat my ass for any old reason. I hated him, hated his fucking guts.” I stretched and looked at her. “Once, in middle school, there was this big fella, Justin Thoreaux. His family was a bunch of rednecks, like all of us, but they were worse.
“Anyway, he picked on me one day after school, stole my backpack from me and was just dumping it on the ground while he laughed at me. I got so mad I punched that kid square in the jaw, but he was twice my size and two years older, so it didn’t do much. Only pissed him off.
“He started whooping my ass. I mean, shit, I might have died if Ray hadn’t stepped in. But Ray did step in, and he threw that kid to the ground. He punched and kicked that boy Justin until he was crying and bloody, and when he was done he stood over him, just breathing real hard. He said to him, ‘Nobody beats on my brother but me.’ Then he just walked away.”
Hartley shook her head. “Did you guys become close after that?”
“Nah,” I said, “but I hated him less and less. We didn’t fight as much. He didn’t try beating on me as much, and I didn’t try to one-up him in everything like little brothers do sometimes.”
“I understand that,” she said, nodding.
“Anyway, it’s all history now. Ray is just a memory. I guess we have more important things to worry about.”