Ghosting You

by Alexander C. Eberhart

  Oh. I shouldn’t be surprised she didn’t come all this way just to see me. So why am I? I’ve known Reese for years. I should be used to this by now. But it still stings.

  I swallow my disappointment. “You’ve been going through the brochures, haven’t you? Is that why you dragged me out of bed this morning?”

  Reese grabs her bag from the backseat. “Hush your face. We’re going for a leisurely hike. If we just so happen to end up at a few key locations where I may or may not snap a couple of photos, then it would be a complete coincidence.”

  “Al-righty then.”

  “Come on, lazy bones. The sooner we hit the trail, the sooner we can get back to the cabin and watch a movie.”

  “Now you’re speaking my language.”

  I climb out of the car and stretch. Reese’s car may be the perfect size for her, but for a six-foot guy, it’s a contortionist’s box.

  “Get a move on!”

  I do as my red-headed dictator demands and follow her up the path from the small parking lot. If you force me to pick a day on which I would subject myself to physical activity, I suppose today isn’t the worst day. The sky is a perfect unobstructed blue. The air isn’t thick, like your breathing through a wet towel. The temperature is almost cool in the shade. All-in-all, it’s a fairly agreeable morning. That is, until we reach the trail.

  “Does that say six miles?!”

  I stare in disbelief at the wooden sign holding a map of the different trails.

  “Relax, dude,” Reese says, snapping a picture of the map with her phone. “Six miles will go by like that.” She snaps her fingers, but it doesn’t make me feel any better.

  “Reese, I’m a city boy. The last time I walked six miles was never. I get cranky if I have to walk to the end of our driveway because my amazon package was small enough to fit in the freaking mailbox! And you’re about to drag me six bleeping miles through the woods? Do you see the problem here?”

  “No,” Reese says then lets out a yawn. “I just see a big baby. Hey, junior, have you seen my friend Nick around anywhere?”

  I cross my arms in a pout. “I’m not a baby.”

  “Coulda fooled me, sweet cheeks. Now, if you’re done with your toddler tantrum, we’re burning daylight here. I need to get these pictures before I lose the light.”

  If going back to the cabin and spending the day listening to my mother hammer away on her laptop while cooking enough brussels sprouts to fumigate a stadium wasn’t my only alternative, I wouldn’t dream of following.

  Needless to say, I trudge right along beside her.

  Reese doesn’t let the calming sounds of nature outshine her.

  “Did I tell you that my dad set me up with an internship this summer? I’ll get to run a couple of shoots for the magazine and if I do a good job, he’s promised me a cover shot some time in autumn.”

  “Dude! What? That’s fantastic! Wish I had anything half as exciting going on. But no, I’m stranded here in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere. They don’t even have a Redbox, Reese. I mean, what am I supposed to do for eight weeks?”

  Reese wraps an arm through mine, which is sweet, but I think it’s only to make sure I’m keeping up with her. “You could get a job too,” she says, as if that were even an option.

  “You mean here? Sure. Let me get right on that. I’ll shovel horse shit or milk cows or whatever it is people do around these parts.”

  “As much as I would pay to see you do either of those things, I meant something a little more suited to your skill set. I know! I saw this adorable little coffee shop in town with a ‘Help Wanted’ sign out front. We could get you a job there!”

  “You say it like it’s the simplest thing. You do know that you can’t just walk into places and walk out with a job, right?” It’s just like Reese to just assume I can find a job like it’s nothing.

  “Of course, I do, I’m not an idiot, Nick. Just think about it. It’ll get you out of the house and away from Gretchen and her crazy. Plus, think of all the free coffee! It’s a match made in heaven.”

  It does sound intriguing. No lie, I’ve always low-key wanted be a barista. If only for a time. Dad would never allow me to do it more than the summer. So, what the hell?

  “I’ll give it a shot,” I say.

  “That’s my boy. The summer is full of possibilities! Don’t let your surroundings take that from you.”

  “Seriously, how am I going to make it six more weeks without you, Reese?”

  She turns her nose up at me. “Make new friends. I’m sick of your dumb ass anyways.”

  I swing my hip into hers and we both laugh.

  Our hike continues along the trail, the surroundings a lush green backdrop that blurs together after the first mile. Reese is what’s important right now. Spending every last minute I can with her before she’s headed back to civilization without me.

  She’s my sanity, this pillar of auburn curls and freckly skin. We’ve been inseparable since middle school. Through my brother’s death and through her Nana’s cancer, we’re each other’s rock. What am I supposed to do without her?

  “Fuck me,” Reese huffs, pulling her phone out to zoom into the photo of the map. “We’re not supposed to be anywhere near the river. I think we’re on the wrong trail.”

  “Does that mean I don’t have to walk six miles today? Because that would be amazing. My health app has been sending me thinly veiled insults all day like, ‘Wow, you must have looked in a mirror!’ and ‘Did you steal Nick’s phone?’”

  “It means that we’re not headed to the Drop, which is literally the only reason I wanted to do this.”

  I unhook her arm from mine, rotating my shoulder until I get feeling back in my hand. “Well, how far are we from that?”

  She looks at her phone again. “A long way. We’ve been walking in the opposite direction all morning.”

  “Well we can just take some shots down by the water today. Maybe you can come back later in the season for the Drop or whatever it is.”

  “This sucks. I’ve been dreaming of those shots all week!”

  “Come on.” I take her by the hand, pulling her down the slope that leads toward the rushing sound of the river. “It’s going to be so pretty, you won’t even care. I promise.”

  Reese doesn’t complain any further, but her discontent is evident in the frown that won’t leave her pale face as we draw closer to the river.

  Reese’s phone pings and she pulls it out. “Oooh! My weekly horoscope is in. Want to see yours?”

  “Duh. Gimme.”

  I take her phone, skimming through the categories. It’s kind of silly, but this is another thing we share. I stop on the ‘Love’ section.

  “’Stick to water. You’ll find love, strong as the pull of the tide, and swift like the rivers current.’ Oh man, they totally just ripped off Mulan.”

  Reese laughs as I hand her back her phone.

  The forest floor grows rocky under our feet as the roar of the water gets louder. When we break through the trees, my breath catches in my chest. The river moves swiftly, flowing over rocks and roots and falling to create a small cascade before continuing its journey. The spray of the water hits my face, cooling my flushed cheeks.

  Reese lets out a small gasp beside me. “Whoa.”

  “Yeah. Whoa.”

  We both stand, immobilized by nature’s impressive display.

  “Think we can make it up to the rock?” Reese asks, pointing to the place where the water tumbles down. A boulder juts up from the water, forming a ledge.

  “We can certainly give it the old college try.”

  “Ew, you sound like your dad.”

  I recoil. “God, you’re right. What’s something he’d never say? Um… I wish Obama were president again. Phew. That was a close one.”

  The ripples of Reese’s laugh bounce along the water.

  Scrubbing toilets isn’t the worst thing. I could be starving in a third world country. I could be a prisoner of war. I could be stuck
at your Aunt Hilda’s fiftieth birthday dinner.

  Do you remember when she made that waiter cry because he brought her the wrong salad dressing? That was brutal. Don’t fuck with Hilda’s Raspberry Vinaigrette. 11:43pm

  Message Failed. Number not in service. 11:43pm

  You’d think that message would’ve stopped surprising me by now. 11:44pm

  Message Failed. Number not in service. 11:44pm

  It’s Sunday, and my first weekend shift off since I started working at Claudine’s. I’ve wasted no time getting out. The rocky trail crunches under my boots, the smell of dew sweet in my nose as the first streaks of sunlight peek their way through the emerald canopy above me. The world is quiet this morning, which is perfect. Between the constant hiss coming from the espresso machine and my co-workers incessant chatter, silence has been a scarcity in my life.

  It’s in the quietest moments, I hear you the loudest.

  “I love this place. Give me an open trail and the sun on my back any day.”

  I stop for a moment at the crest of a hill to appreciate the smattering of buildings that make up our hometown.

  Our little Hester, tucked away from the hustle and bustle of the hot mess that is Atlanta. The only reason I know about the history is because you told it to me. It was a sleepy little thing—so they say—until about fifteen years ago when a developer bought up half the land and started building luxury cabins along the hills. Now we’re bombarded every holiday and summer with visitors escaping their cares in the city.

  Not that the city of Hester complains. It brings in revenue, opened up a ton of job opportunities; it even built us a highway to connect our little slice of paradise with the outside world. But it also means we’ve got to deal with the snobs that rent the three-thousand dollar a week cabins. To say they aren’t the nicest folks would be putting it kindly. It didn’t take us long to start calling them outsiders. You started it, I think. But soon it spread through our school—a lot like that horrible case of swine flu—and everyone was calling them by the nickname.

  Always the trendsetter, aren’t you?

  Last year, when Mom worked at the diner full time, she was stiffed more times than she could count because apparently these rich bastards didn’t think the service was up to their standards.

  Can you believe that? If it were me, I would have spit in their tea.

  But Mom is far more gracious than I am, and honestly, she needed the job. So, she decided to grin and bear it and hold on to the hope that karma will roll around one day to bite them in the ass.

  Now, I’ve gotten my chance to deal with them. All week, it’s been complaint after complaint from these uppity housewives while their children run unchecked, destroying the shop. Even Rod and Mel seemed annoyed, which is strange, seeing as they spend the majority of their time ignoring me and flirting with each other.

  But at the end of the day, the customers pay for their coffee, and that means that tomorrow, I’ll collect my pay check, and all of the bullshit will be worth it.

  It will be worth it, right? I need it to be. Because I want to run screaming from that place and never go back.

  I exhale those worries with a sigh. No need to bring any of that negativity to my day. It’s been a perfect morning and I’m going to see that it continues into a perfect afternoon. Even if it kills me.

  Sorry. Too soon.

  The trail forks ahead, split in half by a pine that stretches to the heavens. I lean a shoulder against the tree, deciding which path to take.

  If I go right, then the trail will continue up until I reach the Drop Off, and even though it’s one of my favorite places in the world, I’ll be exhausted by the time I reach it.

  If I go left, then I’ll circle back down to the river and will probably spend the rest of the day skipping rocks and wading in the shallows. Just like old times.

  I start left, because I’m already tired from my week and the promise of cool river water is too good to pass up. The grade of the path slopes downward through the trees, soft earth under my shoes giving with every step. Our spring was extraordinarily wet, causing moss to sprout up on random trunks and rocks. You’d think the forest couldn’t get any greener, and yet nature tends to prove us wrong at every turn.

  I almost wish I’d brought my camera along. It must be so dusty by now. I haven’t touched it since… never mind.

  As I near the river, the tell-tale signs of water begin. Insects buzz through the air, too busy to bother. Animals dart through the trees, unimpressed with my presence. The babbling noise that sounds in the distance is a calming thing. It lessens the tension between my shoulders and allows me to breathe deep.

  I feel better than I have all week.

  See, who needs anxiety medication? I just have to live in the woods and never interact with people again. Then I’ll be set.

  Mom wouldn’t go for it, unfortunately. She enjoys indoor plumbing a little too much to go full-on mountain people. And I’m sure that her doctor wouldn’t be thrilled about it either.

  Maybe I can find a nice family of coyotes to adopt me.

  As I break through the tree line, the noise of the river intensifies, coming from the cascade that parts around a large boulder in the center. On top of it is a couple, I notice, standing close as they peer over the edge to watch the water fall.

  They’re talking to each other, but their words are drowned out by the dull roar of falling water.

  I don’t recognize them, which isn’t saying much. Even though Hester is as small as towns can get, I still can’t remember the names of half the people I interact with on the daily. I relied on you for that.

  Trails, sure, I can memorize them with no issue. They pretty much stay the same. But people are so volatile. They change at the drop of a hat. How can they expect me to keep up?

  I make my way to the edge of the water, bending down to allow it a path over my fingers. I splash the icy water on the back of my neck to help fight the sweltering heat. It’s refreshing. Noon is approaching, which means the hottest part of the day isn’t far behind. We’ve made it to the oasis just in time.

  “Hey!”

  I look up to the girl now waving wildly from the rock. She’s staring right at me.

  “Hello,” I say back.

  “What?” she yells.

  “Hello!” I repeat, louder. The boy standing beside shakes with laughter. My ears would be burning if I wasn’t already sweating so much.

  Turning away from the strangers, I shed my backpack, setting it on the bank. My boots come off next, followed by socks. I tuck my phone in the front pocket of my bag for safe keeping. The stones radiate warmth under my feet, holding onto the sun’s energy as long as they can. I wish I was like them. Able to take in the best of something and reflect it back out. I’m feeling more black hole lately. Sucking the warmth and light from everything I touch.

  I shiver, despite the oppressive heat.

  The two on the boulder continue to talk to each other, though I only catch the skeletal sound of the words that manage to rise above the tumultuous water.

  Once the legs of my jeans have been rolled just below my knee, I’m ready to wade into the shallow edge of the river.

  The Chattahoochee is just as much a part of the history of Hester as the mountains. Remember when we hiked to the headwaters near Jack’s Knob last summer? Duh, how could you forget? It was the last day I got to spend with you before…

  Never mind.

  From there the river flows down into Hester and on to Atlanta and beyond.

  Mom and me haven’t touched a kayak in over a year. It used to be our escape, but I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to climb into one again.

  God, what am I doing here? Confined to the shallows of the river, skipping stones instead of cresting cascades.

  Like the couple on the boulder, I’m teetering dangerously close to the edge.

  My breath catches as the invigorating water washes up to my ankles. Once I’m accustomed to the temperature, I begin my se
arch for the perfect stone. Not too big but with enough weight the wind won’t snatch it from me. Rounded at the edges, but not too thick.

  “Hello again!”

  The voice startles me, my foot slipping on the slimy rock’s under-toe.

  With a splash, I fall into the water.

  Submerging my feet took my breath away, but my lower half sinking beneath the surface steals the very life from my lungs.

  “Oh, God. Are you okay?”

  I scramble to right myself before the current can grab hold of me. Once I’m back on my feet, I discover the source of my misfortune—the girl from the boulder—standing on the bank with fiery hair and a furrowed brow.

  “Sorry,” she says, her voice flirting with a southern drawl. “Didn’t mean to send you swimming.”

  “It’s fine,” I say, flicking my arms to shake off the residual water. It’s sort of awful, the sensation of sweating and freezing at the same time. Duality was your strong suit, never mine.

  “I was just going to ask you a quick question,” the redhead continues, obviously over the guilt of surprising me. “Just how far is the Drop from here?”

  “If you mean the Drop Off, it’s about seven miles that way.” I point to the woods behind her. “It’s a bitch of a hike. It’s too late in the day to start unless you brought flashlights.”

  “Damn it.” The girl kicks a stone into the river with a splash. “It’s not happening, Nick!”

  The guy leaps down from the ledge overlooking the cascade, landing deftly on the rocky round. “Told you it was too far. It’ll be fine. We’ll hike it the next time you visit.”

  He walks—no, more like saunters—over to her, pushing up the sleeves of his plaid button up. The two of them look sensationally out of place. Like they’ve jumped out of the display window of Recreation Equipment INC. I catch myself lingering over the boy and how the dark curls of his hair change color when the sun hits them.

  Outsiders, no doubt. Probably bored to tears in our little Hester.

  The girl’s frown just deepens in response to him.