by Lydia Sharp
“Me, too,” Hunter says. “I thought we might have seen Kai by now. Maybe he’s farther ahead than I guessed …” He rubs the back of his neck. “A quick stop to eat shouldn’t set us too far back, though. We’re close to the Grinning Bear Lodge now. Their moose steak burgers are the best I’ve ever had.”
Moose steak. Thanks, karma. “You’ve been out this way before?”
He hesitates, like he just realized he opened a can of worms and can’t think of how to close it again, and then he says, “Once. When me and Kai were nine, right before we became big brothers for the first time, my dad took us on a weekend trip, just the three of us. I think he wanted to make sure we didn’t get jealous whenever the new baby took his attention away from us or something, wanted to make sure we knew he still loved us.” He shrugs one shoulder. “We stopped at the Grinning Bear for lunch on the way out. I remember the food being really good.”
“Do you think Kai might have stopped there?”
“Not likely, if he’s sticking to Dad’s living-off-the-land rules. They don’t include paying someone to cook and serve your food.”
My chest sinks along with my hope. I’d thought maybe it could be that easy. Stop for lunch and just … happen to see him. Or if someone else had seen him, they might have been able to help us find him faster, let us know if we’re even close. “Why did he need to sell his stuff for money, then, if not to buy food?”
“Supplies he didn’t already have on hand, mostly, and it’s always good to have cash just in case. He probably did pack some emergency food, too, in the chance that his hunting attempts were … unsuccessful …” Hunter’s voice gets this faraway tone, like he’s remembering something.
If it’s about Kai, I want to know. “What kind of a trip was it you went on with your dad out here? A hunting trip?”
“More like a get-out-and-see-nature trip,” he says. “Dad went hunting with his buddies a lot, but he didn’t want to do anything more than fishing with us until we were twelve or thirteen.”
“So did he take you on a hunting trip later?”
“He taught me how to shoot and we went out for practice, but an actual hunting trip? No. He took Kai a few times to some places not far out of Anchorage. I stayed home.”
“Why not you, too?”
“I didn’t want to go.” Another halfhearted shrug. “I don’t like killing animals. I’m not against it; I’m not even vegetarian. I just don’t want to be the one who pulls the trigger. Kai’s never had a problem with it, though. I guess that makes me the bad son.” Hunter presses his lips together. He’s done, and I’m not going to push him on this one.
The lodge is another twenty minutes away—we were driving on back roads through nothingness and then all of a sudden a town appeared, complete with five whole buildings, including this one—so it’s close enough to noon now to eat lunch. And I’m not only starving but, thanks to the coffee, I’m also in dire need of a restroom. A bald guy behind the bar points me in the right direction while Hunter finds us a table. I told him to order right away, so he wouldn’t have to wait on me. The less time we spend here, the faster we can get to Kai. Hopefully all three of us will be back in this same restaurant later today, eating dinner together instead of lunch. On our way back home.
The bathroom stall is smaller than a closet. I can barely bend my arms to get my pants down and back up. One of my elbows hits the toilet paper dispenser and my whole arm prickles like I spanked a nerve. The soap doesn’t get bubbly, the water is ice cold, and the mirror looks like a prop from a haunted house. The glass is distorted in the middle and cracked around the edges, and—yay!—the paper towel dispenser is empty. My pant legs will have to do.
I’ve never been in such a rustic place as this before. The overhead plays lyric-free, acoustic guitar versions of songs that hit the Top Forty ten-plus years ago. If I wasn’t with Hunter I’d never have known this place exists. The jury is still out on whether that’s a good thing or bad. If the food really is as great as he says, that might make up for the … atmosphere.
I find Hunter tucked into a corner booth, sipping at a glass of water. Conversations speckled with laughter rise up around us. No one bats an eyelash at me, despite how outrageously out of place I feel here. This is why I generally don’t like going to new places, trying new things. I don’t know how to act in new environments. I’m a breathing lump of awkward, eyes shifting everywhere at once, taking in as many details as I can without looking like I’m staring. The room is dim, and racks of antlers and various animal skins cover the walls. A faux candle flickers on the table between us. At least the booth cushion is pillowy and comfortable, even if I did have to brush crumbs off it before sitting.
“Nice place,” I say.
Hunter smirks. “I know it’s not really your style. You’ll love the food, though.”
“What do you think my style is?” I take a sip of water—and promptly vow to never touch it again. “Do they have bottled water here, you think? This tastes funny to me.”
“That,” Hunter says, smiling like he caught me in a lie. “That’s your style, Gabi.”
“What, bottled water?”
“Bottled water. Fancy clothes. Perfect hair and makeup, polished nails. Every part of you screams money.”
“And what’s wrong with money?”
“Nothing if you got it,” he says. “Everything if you don’t.”
Okay, I’ll give him that point. “My family didn’t always have money, though. Well, no, that’s not entirely accurate. We’ve always been well off, just not this well off.”
“Yeah?” He sounds genuinely intrigued. “What changed?”
“My mother.” I swallow hard, hoping it’ll force down the growing lump in my throat.
Hunter considers that for a moment. “Your mother changed, or her income changed?”
This better be the final question. “Both.”
“What does she do—”
The waitress saves me from further interrogation by arriving with our plates. Dad made me promise to tell no one we met in Alaska about Mom. All we need is for the wrong person to overhear and we’ll have to move again. Maybe all the way to China. I broke that promise by telling Kai—but not until after we’d been together for a month or so. With how close we became, so quickly, keeping a secret from him felt wrong. It weighed on me heavier and heavier until I had to let it out just to not feel guilty around him. The fact that Hunter knows nothing about my mother proves I made the right choice in trusting Kai. He never said a word, not even to his twin brother, who he shares a bedroom with.
My heart squeezes. I trusted him with my biggest secret, and I don’t regret it, but I’m not sure anymore if he has the same level of trust in me. If he did, wouldn’t he have told me the truth about his dad? And been clearer about his plans to leave?
A sandwich roughly three times the size of my appetite is presented to me like a divine sacrifice. I’m hungry, yeah, but this is about how much I’d eat in one day, not one meal. The burger is full of juicy meat, melted cheese, caramelized onions, and some kind of sauce is pooling beside it on the plate. My nutritionist in LA would have given me sixteen reasons why even smelling this stuff is harmful, but there are certain “bad” foods I don’t mind eating, and greasy sandwiches are one of them. I’m so going to enjoy this now, even if my insides regret it later.
“My name’s Vicki and I’ll be your server today,” the waitress says. “If you’re ordering alcohol, you’ll have to step to the bar. I’m not old enough to serve it.”
“That’s okay,” I tell her. “We’re not old enough to drink it, either.”
“Thanks for your honesty. I wouldn’t have guessed. You look so … mature and sophisticated.” She’s short and curvy with Southern-girl charm—emphasized by the twang in her bubbly voice—curly red hair, and a turned-up nose dotted with freckles. She’s probably around eighteen, but you could mistake her for twelve. “This one already told me his name. And you are?”
“Gabi.”
“Well, Gabi, I hope you enjoy your stay.” She sets another plate in front of each of us, these ones smaller and filled with something I don’t recognize—purple, whipped and fluffy, but also … chunky. A side dish or an appetizer maybe, or an early dessert. “Will you be lodging overnight,” Vicki says, “or are you just in for a quick bite?”
“Just here for lunch. We’re kind of in a hurry.” And it would be awesome if she stopped talking and let us eat now. My stomach is on the verge of a mutinous revolt against my good manners.
“That’s too bad. We got some nice rooms, recently renovated. And that storm’s gonna get worse before it gets better. Well, anyway, enjoy your lunch!”
“Thanks. This smells amazing.” Bet it tastes even better. I’d love to find out. Go.
“You’re welcome,” she says to me while giving Hunter a wink and a dazzling white smile. Then her gaze catches my forehead, and it’s like watching someone get news that their dog died. “What happened—are you all right?”
“Moose,” I grunt, sweeping my hair across my forehead to cover the mark.
Hunter fills her in on the rest.
“Well, you’re lucky you had your own personal medic on hand!” She lets out a trill of laughter, then nudges Hunter on the shoulder like they’ve been friends since birth.
And the more she talks, the stronger her accent. “You’re not from around here, are you?” I say.
“Naw.” She waves a hand in the general direction of no one. “I’m a West Virginia transplant. My daddy loves the mountains, but the Appalachians weren’t big enough, so one day he just said, ‘Hey, we’re moving to Alaska,’ and here we are! He lives up farther north now, way on the other side of Fairbanks, near the Yukon River, like in some extreme bushcraft community. I stayed here to help Mama, though, after their divorce. She still loved Daddy, but she had to let him go; she couldn’t take it anymore. She said, ‘If my body were as strong as my heart, maybe I coulda kept on following him, all the way to the moon.’ People die up there, it’s scary! Not the moon, northern Alaska. Isn’t that where that one guy died on the bus? What was his name? The one they made that movie about?”
“I’ve never seen that one,” I say. I didn’t ask for her life story, either, but Hunter doesn’t seem to mind her rattling on.
“Chris McCandless,” he says when she pauses for a breath. “Into the Wild. He didn’t go as far as Fairbanks, though.”
Her face lights up like she just won the lottery. “That’s the one!” Somber sigh. “I just don’t understand why people do insane stuff like that.”
“Me, either,” Hunter and I say in unison. We cast a knowing glance at each other.
“Thank the Lord I didn’t inherit my daddy’s crazy genes.”
“You didn’t?” I ask, feigning shock.
Hunter shoots me a look that starts out disapproving but then falters into conspiratorial. He can’t deny she’s a little off, even though her quirkiness is adorable.
She’s also oblivious to my jab. “Is there anything else I can get for you two?” she asks.
“A bottle of water?” I say.
“We don’t sell bottled water. Something wrong with the tap?”
“Uh, it’s just a little bland. Can I have a wedge of lemon?”
“Sure thing!” Another explosive grin. She turns away, and Hunter’s gaze follows her all the way back to the kitchen.
“So … ,” I say. “She’s cute.”
“Yeah. Cute.” Hunter gets to work on his sandwich.
After a few bites of my own, during which I’m sure I black out from sheer ecstasy for a few seconds, I say, “Just because we aren’t staying doesn’t mean you can’t flirt a little while we’re here, have a little fun … get her number …”
“That wouldn’t be fair to her. I’m not interested.”
Oh, oops. I thought he was checking her out as she walked away, but maybe he was looking at something else. “Not interested in her specifically or … ?”
“Not in anyone.” He swallows another bite. “I’ve had boyfriends and girlfriends in the past, but not since last year. I’m done playing that game.”
“Why, what happened?” I’ve dated some class-A jerks, the worst of which I broke up with right before leaving LA. That didn’t keep me from wanting to meet someone better. If anything, it strengthened my determination to find the right guy.
Hunter hesitates, and I open my mouth to tell him it’s okay, he doesn’t have to say anything, but then he continues, “My dad died, that’s what happened. And it was hard for all of us, but it destroyed my mom. She didn’t come out of her room for a solid week. Me and Kai literally took care of everything. The family, the funeral … everything. After that it was months before she got back into a normal routine. Even now, she’s still not the same.”
“I’m so sorry, Hunter. I didn’t know you were all going through such a difficult time.”
He offers a pained smile, as if to say “not your fault” or “it’s okay,” but it comes out more like “we’ll manage.” He goes on, “So I promised myself I’d never let anyone who isn’t family get that close to me, and I broke it off with Dakota, my last girlfriend, before we got too serious. It hurt, but she’s with someone else now … We’re both over it.”
Right.
“No one lives forever,” he says. “I don’t want someone else to go through what my mom went through when I die. No falling in love for me. Ever.”
That’s the most illogical logic I’ve ever heard. “How does that benefit you? You’ll live a lonely life, and you won’t save anyone from pain by denying yourself. They’ll just find someone else to get attached to and possibly lose.”
“True,” he says. “But at least I won’t be the one who caused their grief in the end.”
“So you’re doing this just to prevent a guilty conscience?”
He stares at me for a moment. Not harshly, just like he’s thinking. Rolling the thought around in his head like you would an especially delicious piece of food in your mouth. Then, “Yeah, I guess I am. And I don’t see anything wrong with that. There are worse things a person could do than prevent their own guilt.”
“Well, when you put it that way …”
He offers me a satisfied grin before digging into his dish of chunky fluff.
“What is that?” I ask.
He swallows. “Something you should try.”
It must be made of dog lips or something. “Don’t avoid the question.”
“All right, I’ll tell you what this is, but only after you take a bite. Are you willing to trust me that it won’t kill you? That you might even like it?”
“What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger, right?” At least, that’s what Kelly Clarkson says. And if Hunter can eat it without gagging, it can’t be that bad. I scoop out a spoonful and force it into my mouth. It’s sweet. The chunky part is definitely some kind of berry. And the rest of it has a consistency similar to … “Mousse? I mean the dessert kind.”
Headshake. “It’s called akutaq. Do you like it?”
“I wouldn’t say like. But I wouldn’t say hate, either.” I take one more bite and push the rest of it away. That’s more than enough sugar for me. “Okay, I tried it. Now, what’s in it?”
“Whipped fat and berries.”
He can’t be serious. “Like, animal fat?”
“Yeah. And berries.”
“But it’s fat.”
“And berries,” he repeats, smiling, clearly enjoying my display of culture shock.
“The berries are only there to make it taste good. Because it’s fat.” How is this a real thing people pay to eat? How does he not understand this is gross? “It’s flavored. Fat.”
“And it’s good.” He scrapes the last of his out of the dish. “Even you said it wasn’t bad.”
“That’s not the point!”
Hunter’s laughter comes out in spurts, like he’s trying to hold it in and concentrate on more important bodily functions, like chew
ing and swallowing and not spewing his akutaq all over the table. Although it probably wouldn’t look much different in vomit form.
Vicki returns with my lemon wedge.
“Here’s your check,” she says, and slides a scrap of paper onto the table between us. “Not trying to rush you out of here or nothing, but you said you’re in a hurry. And if you’ve got anyplace far you’re going, you’d better get moving before the snow gets any worse.”
I pop a glance out the windows on the far end of the dining room. The snow’s falling heavier now than it was when we first arrived, almost a half hour ago. For a moment I just stare at it, mesmerized. It’s the first time I’ve seen actual snow showering down from the actual sky—not just tiny random specks of white lazily fluttering on a breeze—and it looks just like the fake stuff from snowmakers on movie sets. But it’s real.
Real and really beautiful.
Hunter turns in his seat, follows my gaze, but when he turns to face me again, he isn’t smiling in awe like I am.
Real, check. Really beautiful, check. Very real problem, triple check.
Kai’s out there alone, exposed. We need to find him— now—and get back home as quickly as possible.
“Of course,” Vicki goes on, “you’re welcome to stay the night if you need to. We have plenty of vacancies right now, but once we get close to sunset, especially with the snowstorm, those rooms will fill up fast.”
“Thanks, we’ll keep that in mind,” Hunter says, reaching for the check. “We might be back later if it gets too bad on the way home.” Satisfied, Vicki leaves us to fight over who’s paying.
I pull out the credit card my mom set up for me before we left California. No matter how much I use it, she makes sure there is always a zero balance and no limit. “I can pay for this. And anything else we need while we’re out. Gas for the car, food …” My gaze travels to the window again. I hope we won’t need to spend tonight anywhere but home. But like Hunter said, there is a chance. “Lodging,” I finish.
“Fine,” Hunter concedes, sliding the slip of paper across the table toward me. He shoves his wallet into his back pocket. “I’ll save my cash for an emergency. But when this trip is done, I’ll pay back half of whatever the total comes to. Just because you have enough to cover it yourself doesn’t mean you have to. We’re in this thing together. We should split it equally.”