“You really dodged a bullet there,” Tommy says, sliding his plate toward the center of the table. I do the same. The longer I stare at the mound of decaying slime, the more I feel it staring back at me.
“Let me take care of those,” Brenda says, snatching the plates off the table. “You two sit tight and I’ll be right back with some sticky dickies.”
Tommy groans and nods, and I’m suddenly feeling very flushed.
“What did she just say?” I ask in a hushed embarrassment as Brenda stomps off.
“Oh, do you not like your dicky sticky?”
Another flash of heat behind my cheeks has me positively sweltering.
Tommy laughs. “They’re doughnuts, Nick. Grilled doughnuts, with bacon and honey drizzled on top.”
“That sounds… like death on a plate.”
“But what a way to go. I swear, you’ll love them.”
I grin. “All right then, I trust you.”
Tommy’s smile retracts, if only for a second, his gaze glossing over. It’s gone just as quick as it came, his own grin replacing the fleeting sadness.
“Right,” he says, nodding and adjusting his posture. “You’ve got nothing to worry about.”
“Let’s make one thing clear, however.” I lean in, beckoning him to do the same. “This absolutely cannot make it back to my mother. If she catches even a whiff of what’s going on here, I’ll be doing wheatgrass shooters for a month.”
“Why do I get the feeling those are far less pleasant than they sound?”
I ponder for a moment. “Have you ever fallen face first into the ground with your mouth open?”
“Can’t say I have. I did eat a clump of grass on a dare once.”
“It’s more or less the same.”
Tommy sticks out his tongue with a blech!
We laugh and his usual animosity feels worlds away. Rolling back through the day, I can’t pick out a single moment of unease. We laughed as we skipped rocks along the Chattahoochee. I listened when Tommy shared stories of his kayaking adventures with his mom. And when it was my turn to tell the story of when Reese and I decided to bake an entire four-layer cake while being completely baked ourselves, Tommy didn’t roll his eyes. Not even once.
Brenda returns to our table, a fresh layer of sweat beading on her smooth forehead. A pair of identical plates slide across the pitted table, stopping dead center between the two of us.
“Stick that in your face hole and love it, boys.”
The towers of golden brown are stacked three doughnuts high, oozing with glistening honey. Between each layer protrudes strips of reddish bacon, so crispy they don’t bend, but form supports for the sugary structure.
“Oh, I almost forgot!” Brenda leans over the counter, rummaging around. She returns with a can of whipped cream, dispensing the piece de resistance in swirls of white, fluffy dreams. “Bone ape the teeth.”
I raise an eyebrow at Tommy, but he’s already digging into the top layer. He shovels it into his mouth, eyes rolling back as he chews. A low groan rumbles in his chest.
The whole thing is like, sensual.
Maybe I should get in on this sticky-whatever.
I raise my fork with a steady hand, cutting through the whipped cream and doughnut with gentle pressure.
Brenda coaches me along. “Make sure you get some bacon in that first bite.”
I do as instructed, assembling the perfect ratio of doughnut and bacon. My mouth waters as I bring the fork closer, the sweet, yeasty smell of the doughnut driving me crazy. I take my first bite.
I can’t help but groan myself.
Brenda leans back on a stool. “Music to my ears.”
“This…” I take a second to compose myself. “This should be illegal.”
“I’m pretty sure it is in California,” Tommy says, already halfway through his own sticky dicky.
“It’s like Jesus on a plate. You should call it the second coming.”
“Well, you’re not far off from what we wanted to call it originally.”
“Do you make these doughnuts?”
“Every morning. Fry ‘em up myself. See, the secret is—”
“Hell’s bells, Brenda!” Dot interrupts from across the restaurant. “I’ve been waiting on a waffle for twenty goddamn minutes!”
“You know how to use the waffle iron, Dot! I saw you use it to curl your hair the other day!” Brenda turns back to us, “Duty calls.”
Tommy slides out of the booth to give Brenda a hug. “Thanks for the dickies.”
“Anytime, Hun. Nick, wipe your face. You got sticky all over you.” She gives me a nod, then skirts around the counter and through the swinging door.
I grab my napkin as Tommy takes his seat.
“That lady is incredible,” I say, scrubbing at the sticky patch on my chin. “I need to get the recipe for these doughnuts. They’re out of this world.”
The table falls quiet. I look up and Tommy is distant again, staring down at the sugar canister. I don’t interrupt.
“Do you still want to see the Drop?” he asks, out of the blue.
I speak around a mouthful of doughnut, “Wait, what?”
“The Drop,” Tommy says, raising his voice above the bickering of Dot and Brenda. “You and your friend wanted to go there. I could take you sometime. You know, if you still want to go, or whatever.”
I scratch at the gauze wrapped around my arm. The stings haven’t bothered me all day, until now.
“You sure?” I ask, then set my fork down because my stomach is suddenly very tight. “I mean, don’t feel like you have to.”
“I want to,” Tommy says, the edges of his mouth twitching with a smile. “It’ll be fun.”
“Okay, sure thing. When do you want to go?”
“The store’s closed for inventory tomorrow. We could go in the morning before it gets too hot.”
“Well, I’ll have to check my very busy calendar…” I pull out my phone and pretend to scroll. Tommy looks down, his hands folding in his lap. “Dude, I’m kidding. Tomorrow would be great.”
He grins, then picks up where he left off with his sticky.
“Where do you wanna meet up?” I ask. Reese is going to freak when I tell her I’m going. Maybe I’ll snap a couple of shots for her.
“The north trail is the easiest way. The entrance is just past the Methodist church. Bring lots of water and sunscreen. We can meet up around six-thirty.”
“In the morning?”
“Uh, yes?”
“Ugh, okay fine. I’ll be there. But don’t expect me to be happy about it.”
Tommy lights up with another laugh and he runs a hand through his hair. “This will be fun.”
“You’re what?! Nicky, I’m going to kill you!”
I glance over to my computer screen. “That’s a bit of an overreaction, don’t you think Reese?”
“It is not! You know I’ve been dying to get a snap of that view! And now you’re going without me and I kind of hate you. Wait. Who’s taking you? I know for a fact that your mother would rather go talk to those, and I quote, ‘leftist nutjobs’ at CNN than hike for an entire afternoon.”
“Tommy is taking me.”
“Tommy? Like, Tommy from the river, Tommy? Doesn’t he sort of hate your guts?”
“Turns out it’s the opposite. I think he likes me.”
“And what gives you that impression?”
“He told me.”
Reese’s face is suddenly very close to the screen. “Excuse me? Why is this the first I’m hearing about it?”
“Because it’s a recent development. And I’m not exactly thrilled with my source of this information. I don’t want you to judge me.”
“Nicky, sweetie, who is the saint that held your hand while you ralphed an entire bottle of Goldschlager at my eighteenth birthday party? Who sat beside you and was a pillar of emotional support at Sammy’s funeral? Who helped you cover up that hickey from George Spatz in eighth grade?”
I give
her a look. “Reese, Janet did all of that.”
“And who do you think told her to do all those things? That’s right, me. Anyways, lets not focus on the semantics. What I’m getting at is that I would never judge you. Now tell me all of your dirty, dirty secrets.”
My phone vibrates. It’s him.
“Hey, I’ve got to take this,” I say to Reese, hovering my mouse over the ‘X’.
“Are you serious? Just before the gooey details?”
“We’ll talk tomorrow, I promise. That is, if I survive the hike.”
“Okay, fine, I hate you, I love you, byeee.”
“Love you, bye.”
I end the video chat, swiping open Tommy’s message. There’s already a second waiting.
I finally did it. I asked him to hang out with me. We’re going hiking tomorrow. 9:43pm
Holy shit, we’re going hiking tomorrow. Why did I do this? I’m going to be all sweaty and then I’ll probably smell bad and then he’ll think I’m gross and won’t want to hang out anymore. 9:44pm
Aww. He’s freaking out. It’s sort of adorable.
What if I get us lost? Or we run into a mountain lion? Or it rains? Oh god, I think it’s supposed to rain tomorrow. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. What do I do? 9:45pm
Did he just say mountain lion? Oh, hell no!
Me: Whoa, whoa, whoa, first off, don’t text me another word until you take three very deep breaths. 9:46pm
Okay. It didn’t really help, but I did check the weather and it’s only a thirty percent chance of impending doom tomorrow. 9:46pm
Me: That’s better than nothing. Listen, you’re going to do fine. I’m sure everything will go according to plan. You’ll have the perfect day. You’ll fall madly in love. You’ll get married at a drive-thru wedding chapel in Vegas. You’ll adopt two adorable cocker spaniels named Tina and Lowel. You’ll inevitably fall out of love with each other about thirty years in but decide it’s best for the granddogs that you stay together, and then spend the last years of your life silently resenting each other and praying you aren’t the first to drop dead. You know, the great American Dream. 9:48pm
Can I trade the cocker spaniels in for chocolate labs? Because everything else is perfect. 9:48pm
Me: Totally. But you have to concede that you’ll run some sort of shitty Bed and Breakfast out of your home. You’ll make all your guests terribly uncomfortable with stories about how your Grandmother died in their bed. 9:49pm
amazing. I’m in. 9:49pm
Me: See? Tomorrow will be perfect. Even if it does involve waking up too early. Better get some sleep! 9:50pm
Oh fuck. No, no, no! He didn’t tell me what time. Rookie mistake, Nick! How could you be so dumb? Damn, he’s typing.
Wait, how did you know I needed to wake up early? 9:51pm
Me: Lucky guess? I mean, when me and my friends go hiking, we usually like to start when the sun is just coming up. You know, beat the heat and all that. Lol 9:51pm
Definitely. Well, you’re totally right. I’ve got to get up at six, so I’m going to hit the hay. Talk to you later! 9:52pm
Me: Sure thing! Have fun! ;) 9:53pm
I exhale the tension from my lungs.
Smooth move, dumbass.
“Oh, God. This is where I die.”
Nick stumbles to catch up to me, his brow dripping with sweat already. His time as Lottie the Latte has done little to condition him for our hike.
I slow my pace to increase the chances we’ll both reach the Drop alive.
The morning sun has just started to crest over the peaks of the Blue Ridges. It’s something special, this in between night and day on the open trail.
“This was my favorite. Getting lost in the woods with you. I’m glad you’re not doing it alone now.”
I’m not sure yet if I share the same sentiment. I’m glad that he agreed to come along, but being here, on this trail, it’s stirring far too many memories for my liking.
“I gotta take a breather,” Nick pants, leaning up against one of the steely rocks that line one side of the trail.
Honestly, I was surprised he showed up on time this morning, bright eyed and bushy tailed. Ready for an adventure. Now he probably regrets agreeing to come along.
I get it. Hester isn’t for everyone. And this hike especially isn’t. It was ours, Chase. Is that why this feels weird?
“Don’t focus on that. Just have fun.”
“How much farther is it to the Drop?”
I need to get my head on straight. I kick a pinecone off the path and into the tree line to buy a second to compose myself. “Dude, we’re just getting started. We’ve gone like, a mile. Four more to go.”
Nick guzzles from a pristine metal tumbler before saying, “This isn’t exactly how I saw myself spending my day off.”
“We can turn around if you want. I don’t want to kill you.”
He shakes his head, stowing the tumbler on the side of his backpack. “Sorry. I don’t mean to complain. I’m just not exactly accustomed to this type of leisure activity. I’m more of a video games and pizza kind of guy.”
“No kidding,” I scoff.
“What’s so special about this Drop, anyways? I told Reese we were going, and she flipped. To hear her go on, you’d think it’s a second Grand Canyon, hiding among the pines.”
“Well, I’ve never seen the Grand Canyon, so I don’t have much to compare it to.” I prop myself against the rock too, tucking one gangly arm under the other. “The Drop isn’t something you can explain. You have to experience it. I don’t pretend to speak for everyone, but standing there, at what feels like the end of the world, your problems shrink to an infinitesimal size. If you try hard enough, you can toss them, right over the edge, like they’re nothing.”
I haven’t been there since you died, Chase. Will I try to send you over the edge, along with the guilt?
“That’s surprisingly poetic, Tommy.”
Heat flashes across my face.
“Let’s keep going,” I say, turning away from Nick and his almost pitying expression. We need to get a move on. Before I think about it too much.
With a groan and just enough muttering, Nick and I start back on the trail.
So far, our hike has been quiet. Just the occasional observation from Nick or complaint fueled by a rock in his shoe or whatever. But the sun cresting over the hill must wake something in him and the rambling begins.
“So, like, do you hike up here pretty regularly? That’s crazy. You must be in hella good shape. Even when I ran cross country, I could never do the hills. It’s torture. Like my lungs were going to burst out of my chest, straight Alien style. Know what I mean?”
“Um. Not really?”
“Dude, Alien. Like, Sigourney Weaver’s magnum opus? The best movie ever created in the history of cinema?”
“Still have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Seriously? What a fail. Were you raised by the amish or something? Oh! I know! Religious cult. That would explain the haircut.”
“No cult. Just not a sci-fi fan, I guess.”
“I’m surprised your dad never showed you. Even my shitty excuse for a parental unit took it upon himself to grace me with the wonder of the U.S.S Sucalo and her crew of alien snacks. I mean, no offense, but your dad sucks.”
“He’s dead.”
Nick falls silent. Even though I can still hear his footsteps trailing me, I imagine he’s taking a big bite out of his Timberlands.
“Shit. I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” I say, brushing the topic away along with a mosquito. “It was a long time ago. To your credit, I don’t think we would have watched that even if he was still here. Him and Mom were too into romantic comedies.”
Nick manages to squeeze his laugh through the huffing and puffing.
“I can’t even picture my father watching anything other than Fox News at this point.” Nick’s caught up to me now, walking an arm’s length to my right. “Mom either, now that I think about it.
They’re both just so caught up in their own stuff. They probably haven’t sat down and watched a movie in a decade.”
I step over a cluster of roots that disrupt the smooth trail. The sun streaks down through the canopy of leaves in pillars of brilliant golds and greens. “I’m surprised I haven’t seen your mom around Claudine’s. How does she ignore the siren call of caffeine? Does she not imbibe?”
Nick laughs again. The nasally quality is starting to grow on me. “Hell, no. She doesn’t do caffeine, sugar, nitrates, gluten, or really anything with flavor. That is, unless I’m baking something. I’m always the exception to her rules.”
Sounds like the diet Mom went on during chemotherapy. Why would anyone choose that willingly? Gross.
“That would explain her absence. You just eliminated all the food groups in Hester.”
“No kidding. Mom would have died if she saw Brenda’s sticky-dicky.
“I’m shocked we didn’t die from it either.”
Nick sucks in a sudden breath and clutches his chest. But then he’s laughing, and I find a smile creeping onto my face too. I’m actually kind of having fun.
That’s new.
It’s past noon when the trees start to thin along the path, signaling our destination is close. Nick rambles on, oblivious to the fact that we’ve arrived.
“—is totally not true. I mean, how was I supposed to know the toaster was going to explode? That’s not exactly something we went over in science class, right? Well there I am, standing practically naked, with buttered toast stuck to the ceiling, a glass of prune juice in my hand, and my grandmother passed out drunk at the kitchen table—”
“We’re here.”
Nick pauses his story, jogging to catch up with me. I’ve stopped just shy of the mouth of the path to my favorite spot. A part of me wants to keep going along the public trail, to keep the spot we shared secret. But that won’t do anyone any good. And there’s no way I’m hiking all the way up here to not get that view.
Ghosting You Page 16