Stay_Men of Hidden Creek

by Avery Ford

  “Isn’t he like twelve?”

  “No. He’s definitely older. Like, sixteen?” Mary blinked. “How old are you, Hale?”

  “Fourteen,” Hale admitted quietly.

  Mary frowned, then shrugged and laughed it off. “Well, I heard there’s no legal drinking age in Norway. If he’s hanging out with us, then we can just keep an eye on him to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid, right?”

  “Norway is like, so progressive,” someone agreed. “It must be okay.”

  “Right? It all depends on perspective. Let’s get our boy a beer and have some fun!”

  Hale had no idea how he’d gotten so lucky, but he hoped against hope that his luck didn’t run out. He’d never felt so good about himself. For once in his life, he wasn’t being pushed away or ignored, and all this attention made him feel like he could get through life in his small town no matter what the rumors said about him.

  “Sway. No, no, Hale, honey, sway. That’s it. That’s better. You’ve got it.” Mary grinned at him. “Don’t think you can hide your body behind your clothes anymore. You’re out now, and I’m going to make sure you’re proud of it.”

  Hale didn’t think he’d ever swung his hips before in his life, but Mary was a good teacher, and she was patient, even when he was making a fool of himself on the impromptu living room dance floor. He was attracting more eyes than ever, but Hale didn’t notice anyone looking at him with reproach. People were smiling at him. It was the strangest thing.

  “There you go.” Mary smiled at him. She’d brought him into her circle of friends, but he was the only one she was paying attention to right now. “You’re going to want to know how to move now that you’re in high school. There are so many dances you’ll have to go to. Homecoming, semi-formal, all the holiday dances, prom...”

  “I don’t know if I can go,” Hale admitted. The music was still blasting, and he had to raise his voice to make himself heard. “Lots of kids aren’t supposed to talk to me.”

  “You know what you can tell them?” Mary glanced from side to side conspiratorially, then leaned in so that only he could hear. “Tell them to go fuck themselves. You’re so cute that it would be a crime not to have you at dances!”

  Hale smiled. He didn’t think she was leading him on.

  “And you know what?” Mary drew back from him but lost her balance and stumbled for a second. She caught herself, blinked in confusion, then laughed. “As long as you keep learning from the best, you’re going to be one of the sexiest dancers at any HCHS dance. It’s all in the hips.”

  “It’s all in the hips,” Hale mumbled. He mimicked the way Mary moved, following her lead.

  “You’ve got it! Yeah! Own it!” She laughed again. “Oh my god, do you want another beer?”

  “You drank mine for me, remember?” Hale asked. “I didn’t like it.”

  “Oh. Um. Right. Right.” Mary waved him off. “Well, you stay right here and I’m going to go get another beer because Austin’s house party is amazing!”

  With nothing more to be said, she left him in the crowd. Hale kept swaying to the music, trying his best to remember what Mary had told him to do.

  It’s all in the hips... all in the hips...

  Across the room, he spotted Michael. Tiffany Chen was on his arm, and her hair was disheveled. That meant that Austin was—

  “You’ve got some smooth moves for a twerp,” Austin said, too close to Hale’s ear for comfort. Hale jumped, his heart clogging his throat. He spun on his heels to face Austin, who didn’t look disheveled at all. Hale was sure he was red in the face. “Has Mary been kind to you?”

  “Y-Yeah,” Hale admitted. He looked into Austin’s eyes and, for a moment, he thought he noticed Austin’s expression change. The cocky, confident grin slipped from his face, and he looked at Hale with what appeared to be wonder. But as quickly as the moment arrived, it was gone again, and Hale was left wondering if it was all a trick of his mind.

  “Good stuff,” Austin said. He winked. “Have fun with the ladies tonight, Hale. You’ve certainly got them eating out of your hand.”

  The only person Hale wanted to have fun with was the one he’d never get to touch. He watched Austin leave the circle of Mary’s friends and disappear down the hall.

  No matter what kind of magic Mary and her friends worked on him, he’d never have the one he wanted. Painfully beautiful, painfully straight Austin was out of the picture.

  But, no matter how many years passed, he was never entirely out of Hale’s mind.

  Chapter One

  Austin

  “Sometimes I feel like I’m falling.” Austin closed his eyes and rested his head against the back of the lounger. “There’s only darkness. It’s not... not normal darkness. You know when you first turn out the lights at night, if you have blackout curtains, there’s nothing at all?”

  “Yes,” Dr. Shimota said. She paused. “What about it?”

  “It’s not like that kind of darkness at all. When you’re in the darkness of your room, even if it’s totally dark, you have spatial awareness. You know that there’s a dresser to your right, or that your bed is three big steps away, or that eventually you’ll feel the plush fibers of the carpet by your bedside beneath your feet. It’s... not like that at all. Not the darkness I’m talking about. It’s like I’m weightless. There’s nothing. Everything is gone, and all that’s left is me as I’m toppling into the abyss.”

  “Like you’re in space,” Dr. Shimota reasoned.

  “I’ve never been in space before, Doc,” Austin replied. He opened her eyes and gave her a lingering look. By all accounts, Dr. Shimota was a beautiful woman who fit his standards to a T. Tall and lithe with long, dark hair and intelligent eyes, she was the kind of woman who’d give him a run for his money—the kind who would challenge him, if he gave her a chance. In his early twenties, Austin would have pursued her. Now, he barely felt anything. “I don’t know what space feels like, but I have a feeling it doesn’t feel like what I keep going back to. It’s this... rushing, horrible weightlessness. You know that you’re headed somewhere, and that you’re gonna hit the ground eventually, but you can’t see in order to brace yourself for impact. All you can do is keep falling, and falling, and your anxiety builds and your world crumbles to pieces. In space, there are stars. In my head? There’s nothing. No light, no semblance of stability, and no relief from the fear.”

  Dr. Shimota hummed. It was her turn to sit back in her chair. She pushed her lips to the side like she was thinking, then slowly sat up straight and looked him in the eyes. “When do you feel this way?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I guess what I’m getting at is, whether perhaps, there is a certain time that this feeling affects you?”

  The question was casual enough that Austin knew he shouldn’t overthink it, but he couldn’t help himself. If he told her, was she going to judge him? Would word spread around Hidden Creek? It was bad enough that he’d been coming to therapy since he’d come home with his tail tucked between his legs. If anyone knew the details...

  “I don’t know,” he mumbled. “I guess it just happens from time to time. Sometimes when I’m out in public, sometimes when I’m watching TV, and sometimes when I’m in bed. There’s no rhyme or reason to it.”

  “I think there might be,” she said. “It wouldn’t be the first flashback you’ve had, Austin.”

  “Flashback?” The word set Austin off, and the dark feeling of falling started to consume him. “I haven’t had one of those in months. Not since we got my meds right. Besides, it can’t be a flashback. There’s... nothing. All of it is nothing.”

  “I disagree.” Dr. Shimota folded her hands on her lap. “I think that it goes much deeper than that. Flashbacks aren’t exclusive to images, Austin. The feeling of dread, the rushing, falling sensation... that’s enough. Don’t you think it speaks to your experience?”

  If he admitted that it did, it’d mean they’d put him on more meds, or tweak what he was
already taking even though he’d finally found treatment he was of the opinion worked. Austin tightened his jaw and clenched his shoulders, but as he did, a tremor ran through his body, and his hands started to shake. The rushing feeling of nothingness in his head grew, and the darkness started to obscure his vision.

  “Austin?” Dr. Shimota asked.

  “I’m... okay,” Austin said. He blinked a few times to chase away the darkness, then sat back heavily in the lounger just in case he passed out. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

  “You don’t look well.”

  “I’m processing,” Austin said. He hoped it wasn’t saying too much. “I don’t know if I agree with what you’re saying. We worked through my flashbacks. It’s not... it can’t be that.”

  “I think you’ve made tremendous progress, and you’re right—it might not be what I said it is. As long as you feel like it’s not impeding your quality of life, that’s all that matters, right? What’s most important is that you’ve found comfort and satisfaction within yourself. Ultimately, that’s our shared goal, isn’t it?”

  Austin nodded. Since the accident, he still wasn’t entirely back to normal, but he was getting there. There’d been a time, shortly after his return to Hidden Creek, where he’d checked in with Dr. Shimota three to four times a week. Those visits had gradually tapered down to one a week, and now he saw her only once every two weeks. Soon enough, he wouldn’t need to see her at all unless he wanted to.

  What a strange day that would be.

  “What’s on your mind?” Dr. Shimota asked.

  “I’m thinking about how strange it would be if we didn’t see each other anymore,” Austin said. He paused, then shook his head. “Not that I think you’re a bad person on anything, but I was thinking about how often I was coming here after they hauled me out from the wreckage of the crash versus how often we see each other now.”

  “You know, you’re always welcome to schedule additional appointments if you feel like you need them,” Dr. Shimota said. “I’m often booked in advance, but if there are cancellations, or if I can squeeze you in, I’ll never turn you down.”

  Austin chuckled. “Cashing in on that sweet co-pay, huh, Doc?”

  She laughed. “The money isn’t why I’m in this, Austin. Psychology is probably the worst field to get into if you’re only looking for money. There are far easier, less stress-inducing careers to choose from. I’m here because I want to hear about what you’re going through—I want to help.”

  “You’ve done what you set out to do, then.” He offered her a smile, but he couldn’t find the strength of will to back it up inside. “If it is a flashback, it’s minor enough that it doesn’t inconvenience my life. Not like the others have, at least.”

  “Then let’s move on to something else.” She returned his smile, and as far as he could tell, it was genuine. “Why don’t we get back to what we were talking about last time—about strategies to cope with difficult feelings during your day to day life. Have you found any instances since we last spoke where you’ve been able to apply what we discussed, and how did it go for you?”

  Austin held back a laugh. Hell yeah, he’d found instances in his life where he’d had to cope. Had he managed to do it successfully? Well, that was up for debate.

  He cracked his knuckles and settled into the lounger a little more comfortably. “Well, Doc, get ready for a wild ride you’re not going to believe. Let me tell you all about how I conquered my PTSD last Friday after a helicopter cut over Moore Wood park.”

  Austin’s apartment door closed behind him, and he clicked the lock into place, then threaded the chain and latched the deadbolt. When he was done, he tested the knob, just to make sure, then stepped back and eyed the door to make sure there were no structurally weak points. Ultimately, he knew that no wooden door was secure, but the locks gave him the illusion of safety. It helped him sleep better at night.

  After today’s appointment with Dr. Shimota, he gave the lock a second look. Why did he think this was okay?

  He lifted a hand to undo the deadbolt only to find that he was shaking again. The tremor passed all the way down his arm and twitched its way into his fingers. He closed his eyes and tried to talk himself down from whatever anxiety he was internalizing, but it wasn’t much use. The trembling didn’t stop.

  Frustrated with himself, Austin yanked the deadbolt out of place and undid the chain lock. When had anyone tried to break into his apartment? Hidden Creek wasn’t that kind of town. He had nothing to worry about. If anything, Hidden Creek should be terrified of him.

  He looked down at his trembling hands.

  I look like I’m going to fly off the goddamn handle. Everyone should be afraid of me. Who knows if I’ll snap?

  He tore himself away from the cyclical pattern of negative self-talk that Dr. Shimota had warned him about. If his head wasn’t going to shut up, he needed to find something to fill it with. Dr. Shimota had given him different exercises to help drown out the negativity, and he’d found his own coping mechanisms in online gaming, but right now, nothing felt right. The fog of depression had settled in, as it did so often after his therapy sessions, and left him feeling totally uninspired.

  “Snap out of it, Reeves,” he mumbled. “Pull yourself together. You’re better than this.”

  The depression didn’t listen.

  Holding back a sigh, Austin headed to the kitchen. There was a coffee he’d made yesterday waiting in the fridge for him, begging him to heat it up. He opened the fridge door, stared at the cling-wrap covered coffee cup, and faltered. It was going on five in the afternoon. If he had coffee now, he was going to be up all night.

  But if he didn’t drink coffee, he had no idea how he was going to stay awake.

  Melancholy tugged at his eyelids. He pursed his lips and tried to fight it off, blinking several times in rapid succession to chase it away, but it was no use. Exhaustion had its claws in him, and until he succumbed to it, wouldn’t leave him alone.

  He closed the fridge and made the trip to the bedroom. A little sleep wouldn’t hurt, would it? He’d had a big day. He’d woken up, showered, dressed, and gone to therapy. It was a more productive day than several he’d had that week.

  Maybe it’s time I admit defeat and schedule some extra appointments with Dr. Shimota. This... isn’t normal.

  The thought of picking up the phone was debilitating, so Austin curled up in bed instead, tucking himself beneath his blankets so he could hide from the world. If he was this tired, a nap wouldn’t hurt. He’d wake up in an hour or two, revitalized. The cloud of depression would be gone, and he could turn the day from an absolute mess into something he could be proud of.

  Right. And how many times have I told myself that exact thing, then never followed through with it?

  But the darkness was a temptation that Austin didn’t have the willpower to avoid. He remained curled beneath the blankets as his body heat warmed the space and his mind wandered to ugly places. In the quiet of his bedroom, there was no ignoring the memories, and there was no forgetting the heartache.

  The fear.

  The pain.

  The guilt.

  Austin squeezed his eyes shut and went through one of the affirmations that Dr. Shimota had taught him, but it did little good. Before he knew it, he was falling all over again, tumbling through the dark, weightless and scared, as smoke flooded his nostrils and darkness set in. Once upon a time, the impact had robbed him of his conscious mind and deadened him to his terror. Safe back home in Hidden Creek, he didn’t have such lethal luxury.

  He was tired of falling, not knowing when he’d hit the ground, or if he’d be okay... but he had a feeling it wasn’t something Dr. Shimota could teach him, or that medication could fix. When it came down to it, he was the only one who could make it stop. He only wished that he knew how.

  Chapter Two

  Hale

  “Where’s Michael?” Hale asked as Aunt Susan passed him the peas. He spooned some onto his plate d
utifully, then returned his attention to his aunt, who seemed less than eager to bring that topic of conversation up. “He hasn’t been to the last three family dinners.”

  “You know Michael,” Aunt Susan said with a sigh. “The boy is off somewhere, up to no good, I’m betting. He always shows up after a while like nothing happened.”

  “He’s never been gone for three weeks before,” Hale argued. He was momentarily silenced as Aunt Susan passed him the plate of sliced roast. “Don’t you think something might be going on? He hasn’t been answering my calls.”

  “He hasn’t been answering mine, either,” Uncle John said gruffly. “The boy’s been AWOL from work. We’ve been scrambling to fill in for him.”

  “I know,” Hale said in a small voice. “I’ve been filling in for him. But seriously, you don’t think there’s something going on?”

  “It’s not the first time he’s decided he’s too good for us out of the blue and disappeared without a trace. I’d give it another three to five days before he comes back home. He’s always talking about re-enlisting in the Navy, but never follows through. I’m assuming this time it’s more of the same.”

  Hale wasn’t satisfied with that answer, but there was nothing he could do. His mother moved the conversation from Michael’s whereabouts to last night’s episode of ‘Dancing with the Stars’ and all hope that he’d be taken seriously was lost. Hale pushed a few potatoes onto his plate from the dish Aunt Susan had given him, then waited until everyone was served before he started to poke at his roast. His appetite was gone. Yeah, Michael was a little bit of a flake, but he’d never vanished for such a long time before. It didn’t make sense.

  But maybe he was exaggerating. He seemed to be the only one to think Michael’s disappearance was suspicious.