by Julie Solano
I don’t know how much time has passed when I take out my phone to text Brody.
Me:
Brody? Where are you?
About three seconds lapse between the time I hit send, and the time I see the little bubbles come up on my screen.
Brody:
I’m still in your living room . . . waiting. I told you I’m not going anywhere.
Me:
But it’s been like three days???
Brody:
I’m only eighteen. I figure I have a few good years left in me to wait for you.
At his words, I rip my headphones from my ears, throw my phone on my bed, and run down the hallway to the living room. Brody has obviously been home sometime in the last three days, because he looks unbelievable. He is so hot, he darn near glistens! I can see the outline of his abs through his tight Oregon State Beavers T-shirt and his calves look amazing in his matching basketball shorts. His face lights up when he sees me running at him. I grin and throw myself into his lap, wrapping my arms around his neck. “I thought you were signing on with the Ducks?” I giggle, pulling at the Beaver on his shirt.
“Well, that’s still up in the air. And, you were awfully convincing about me joining Beaver Nation with you. Naaa . . .” he shakes his head, “ . . . the Ducks do have a better football team,” he smirks. “I just wore this lucky Beaver shirt, hoping this would be the day, you’d decide to come out of your room.”
“I’m sorry for making you wait so long . . . I’ve been listening to this really great CD someone gave me for my birthday. Brody, those songs were exactly what I needed to get up and find my way back to you. You’re right, they told our story. They made me realize you’ve been by my side all along . . . and when I was losing my feelings for Pistol a couple months ago, it’s because my feelings for you were trying to knock my butt out, and wake me up to who I was really meant to be with. I mean, by the time we left the Homecoming dance together, I could barely breathe in your presence. I had so much electricity flowing through me, I felt like I was going to blow a circuit.”
Brody, chuckles, “I knew you felt it too. For a while there, I thought I was going crazy . . . especially on Homecoming when you totally threw me into the lion’s den with Chelsea,” he laughs. “That’s when I thought this thing between us was all in my head. But then later that night our first kiss set me straight. I knew after I held you in my arms and felt what you did to me, I was done for. There was no way I was going to be able to stay away from you, even after Caden’s warning. I had more than one sleepless night wondering how I was going to save my manhood. I looked over my shoulder for weeks. But I’ll tell you what Pip, you are worth every bad date I had to get through and every sleepless night I had to endure to bring us together.”
“I’m sorry I put you through that. I should’ve just had the guts to open up to my brother and tell him what I was feeling. Maybe it would’ve helped if he’d known these feelings between us weren’t one sided. I just didn’t know how to let myself have you as more than a friend. There was a raging battle inside my head. I tried to push you out of my mind, but no matter how hard I tried, you kept breaking down the walls. I couldn’t stand feeling disloyal to Pistol, even though I knew he wasn’t right for me anymore.”
“He was never right for you Pip. I saw it from the beginning. I just didn’t realize how wrong he was until it was too late. How could I have let this go so far?” Brody shakes his head in disbelief. “Why didn’t you leave him Pip? Why did you let him treat you that way? You’re so much better than all that.”
“Maybe I was scared. I don’t know if I was more afraid of what he would do to me, or about giving my heart over to my best friend.” I shake my head, pausing to think through what I need to say to Brody. “Now that my mind is clear, I realize, that in my heart, it’s always been you. You’re the one I want, and the one I need. And I know now that I can’t send you away from me; you’re a part of me. There’s not a good day of my life that doesn’t have some part of you embedded in it. All of the best pieces of me have you tangled inside of them. I’ve finally realized that if I let Pistol ruin my life, he’s also ruining yours. I’m still really scared and I have some issues I need to work through . . . like ever leaving the safety of my house again, but it helps knowing you’re there to pick me up if I fall.”
Brody leans in, “Pip, don’t be scared. I’m not going anywhere and I won’t let him hurt you again . . . and, don’t ever try to push me away again you little pip squeak,” he pulls me in closer and kisses the top of my head. He holds onto me like his life depends on it. After twenty minutes of holding me in silence, I begin to wonder if he’s ever going to let me go. Then he whispers, “You need to trust me to take care of you. I’m right here with you every step of the way. I’m stuck to you like glue.”
“Hot glue . . .” I laugh.
He bites the inside of his cheek and raises his eyebrows. Then with a smirk he replies, “Even better.”
“THAT’S THE END OF IT,” my mom says as she stuffs the last of our luggage in the car. “We’d better hurry so we can catch the caravan at the Bailey’s.”
“Hold on, I’ve gotta grab my guitar.”
“I’m not sure that’s going to fit Sweetheart,” my mom looks speculatively at the minimal space left in the backseat. It’s filled to the brim, and there is barely enough room for our legs. It’s a good thing my dad and brother are taking Caden’s truck, so Peyton could ride with them.
“I’ll carry it on my lap, Mom. I’m kinda working on something, and I want to finish it during vacation.”
“Is it really necessary?” she says as I try to pull it onto my lap. The neck, pokes back through the opening in my headrest and pins my head to the side so my seatbelt saws at the exposed skin by my collar.
“Umm, yes, Mom. It’s necessary,” I huff. “It’s this, or another five hundred dollar therapy bill.”
“We’ll make room, Honey,” she smirks, and turns the ignition. We fall into line behind my dad, and make our way through the rainy streets, up to Bailey’s Vineyard.
When we pull up at the vineyard, Mr. Bailey comes out with a large crate. “Thought we’d try out some of this season’s new wines,” he winks toward my parents. Then turning his head toward our crowd of friends, he shoots us a stern look, “Adults only kids . . . no signs needed. If it’s in a bottle, stay away from it!” He lifts his eyebrows and presses his lips into a straight line.
Our parents have been on us ever since the barn dance. They were not too impressed with our Apple Cider sign swap fiasco, and the dangers that ensued that night.
“Don’t you think we’ve learned our lesson by now Dad?” retorts Jenna. “We’ve all been grounded for three weeks . . . not that we’d ever pull a stunt like that again anyway.”
“Ya, we were all scared shitless, Mr. Bailey.”
“Ahem . . . language Son,” my dad replies smacking Caden upside the back of the head.
“We’d better get going guys,” Mr. Bailey warns. “The road report says a storm’s headed our way around eleven this morning. We want to make it to the cabin before it gets icy, not to mention, we need enough time to cook that turkey.” Mr. Bailey pats his belly and lifts his eyebrows. “And you know how this ole boy loves his leftover turkey sandwiches.”
“Good idea Honey,” Cinda claps her hands together, “Chop chop kids . . . time to go.” At that, we all shuffle into our respective vehicles and take off toward Dotty’s hamburger joint where Mason and his family are waiting to lead the way to their cabins at Forks of the Salmon.
When we finally pull up at Dotty’s, Mason is sitting on the picnic table in the parking lot, huddled next to his and Brody’s grandparents. The temperature has dropped and the valley skies are beginning to show signs of snow. Everyone is super excited for the first snowfall of the year.
“You got those chains ready for that little BMW Bad Boy, Bailey?” my dad puffs out his chest, ready to take on the potential challenge of hazardous driving.
<
br /> “Ya, how ‘bout you Woodley? Got yours?”
“No need my friend,” my dad beats his chest like Tarzan. “Only four-wheel drive for this ole country boy. But if you need help putting chains on your little beast, the boys are still needing to work off the rest of their punishment from the barn dance.”
“Oh ya,” laughs Mr. Bailey, “It was really great getting all that free labor the other weekend. And I really enjoyed watching them work off those hangovers. The vineyard looks amazing and I’m pretty sure I have enough kindling for the winter now.”
“Way to beat a dead horse into the ground, Dad,” snarls Caden. “Are you ever going to let us live that down? The girls were in on it too, you know.”
“Well that settles it then. If it snows today, the girls get to put the chains on.”
Everyone laughs but us.
Jenna and I turn our heads and look at each other. Then we look up at the sky. Crap.
Jenna bursts out, “What are we waiting for? It’s time to hit the road!” She snaps her fingers and we all load up. Mason, his Dad, and his grandparents lead the way, followed by Brody and his parents. My dad, Caden, and Peyton, take up the third position. We are at the tail end of the pack, sandwiching the Baileys snugly in between us. Our five vehicle caravan is quite a sight. There are sleeping bags, pillows, air mattresses, luggage, grocery sacks, and all kinds of unimaginable supplies, shoved up against the windows and poking through seats. I search intently, through the tiny non-obstructed openings in the windows of the cars in front of me, and can see some of my travel mates, bobbing their heads and whipping them around, back and forth. They’re fidgeting in their cramped seats, just as much as I am. I think they are searching for each other too. Every once in a while, I catch a wildly waving hand, and know that my friends have made contact. It’s a fun way to stay in touch on such a remote road, where cell service is hit and miss.
The road to the cabins is desolate. Outside of our caravan, there’s not another car in sight. The road is long and windy, and curls through the steep, heavily forested cliff sides. Drops of rain begin splattering the windshield, and draw my attention upward. I strain to see through the grey mist, and I can barely make out the sliver of sky peeking through the giant cedars, and intersecting mountaintops. Dense, grey clouds, begin to float downward with the increasing winds. My gaze follows them as they sink below the road, toward the valley floor. It’s always been so strange to me to sit above the clouds, but on this kind of road, where the ravine is hundreds of feet below us, it’s quite common to see at this time of year. The odd placement makes me feel like I’m trapped in a child’s three-dimensional view finder.
As we get closer to the cabins, I notice the heavy, green gates are still open to traffic. In a few weeks that will no longer be the case. As soon as the first heavy snowfall comes, the Forest Service will come and close the roads off to traffic. A bit of an eerie thought overcomes me “Mom, could you imagine getting stuck out here? What if they shut the gates and didn’t know there were people staying back here? That would be creepy.”
She looks over her shoulder at the back seat and laughs, “Well it’s a good thing we brought enough food to feed an army. It’s a pretty good possibility that we’ll be getting enough snow to keep us here for a while.”
“You’re joking right? I mean Thanksgiving break is only five days, and my independent study is up at the end of it. I cannot miss any more school.”
“Oh Honey, we wouldn’t have brought the entire crew down here if we thought there was a chance we couldn’t get back out. We all have four wheel drives or chains, we’ll be fine . . . Hey look!” my mom points at a crazy, gnarly bend in the road. “It’s Jump Off Joe!”
“What is Jump Off Joe?”
“Oh wow, I have never told you the story about the cowboy named Joe?”
“Not that I remember.”
“Do you see that turn right there? Decades ago, a local cowboy was down here looking for his stray cattle. It was just after a big snow storm. Well, he found darned near all of them, and at the end of his successful day, he was trying to pull his overstocked trailer around that sharp turn. Sadly, he lost his brakes when the cattle truck hit ice and he slid off the road, plummeting down that precipice back there. It’s been told, that on snowy nights, along this stretch of road, people have spotted a man who fits Joe’s description, just wandering around. I guess if you listen very carefully, you can also hear the sound of cowbells off in the distance.”
“Holy hell mom! You know how much I hate ghost stories.” I am livid that my mom just freaked me out with that. “Thanks a lot!” Goosebumps creep their way down my spine, as I try to shake the thought of dead Cowboy Joe’s spirit clinging to the side of my car. The drizzling rain and low clouds add to the eeriness of this section of road.
My mom chuckles when I draw in closer to the center console, “Well, that’s the way the old timers tell it. You know, it’s probably not even true. I bet Joe was driving a logging truck and didn’t even own cattle.”
“I don’t care what he was driving! Now I’m going to be freaked out the rest of the way to the cabin.” Suddenly I feel like I’m riding in a car at Disney’s Haunted Mansion. I check the side of me just to make sure Joe’s not sitting next to me. “I wasn’t really up for an invisible hitchhiker today.”
“Don’t be ridiculous Kaitlyn. It’s just an urban legend.” My mom shakes her head and dismisses my phasmophobia.
“What are we doing?” I cry, as my mom begins to slow to a stop.
“Look, the Bailey’s are pulling over. We can’t just pass by without seeing what’s wrong.”
“Don’t stop here! Don’t stop here . . . What are you doing Mom?” I cannot believe she is pulling over with Cowboy Joe haunting this hillside.
One by one the cars pull over and stop on the side of the road. When we come to a halt behind the Baileys, anxiety begins to fill me. If there’s one thing I know about myself, it’s that my greatest fear is ghosts, and I’ll be darned if I’m going to let myself see one right now. I pull my pillow over my head, as my heart rate accelerates and the adrenaline courses through me.
When my mom rolls down the window to see what’s going on, I pull my head out from under the pillow to find Mason doubled over on the side of the road. Caden and Brody are standing at his side pointing at the ground, and chuckling with each gagging noise. Seriously . . . now puke? I have two phobias in my life. The first is ghosts, and the second is puke. Now I’m dealing with both of them simultaneously. I bury my head back under my pillow, and in a muffled tone, say, “Mason is not staying in a cabin with us, right?”
“You’ve got to get over your Germaphobia Kaitlyn. Last time I was sick you barricaded yourself in your room for three days. You wouldn’t even respond to my texts for help. Did you think my germs were going to transmit through the phone or something? Auntie Cinda had to bring me soup and crackers.” My mom shakes her head and laughs at my ridiculous phobia. “How are you ever going to be a mother when you can’t even look at a little vomit?” My mom criticizes.
“I don’t even want kids . . .” I rapidly dismiss her comment as soon as it leaves her mouth. “So is he?”
“Is he what?”
“Staying in our cabin?
“No Dear, Brody’s and Mason’s family are staying in the cabin next door. We’re staying in the same cabin as the Baileys. Obviously, Caden will be staying the night with the guys, since Peyton will be in a cabin with us. No stinky teenage boys in our cabin,” she laughs. “Does that sound like a plan?”
“Sounds great mom, as long as I’m not dealing with any bacteria or viruses.”
“Oh Kaitlyn, it’s only car sickness. He will be fine as soon as we get to the cabin. We’ll be there in about fifteen minutes. Looks like he’s doing better already. They’re all loading up.”
The rest of the ride is uneventful. We travel several miles down a long gravel road, past some green meadows, grazing cattle, and a small Forest Service camp site. As
we continue back into the forest, the trees begin to close in and the road narrows. The ride grows slightly darker as the trees begin to drown out the light from above. Finally, we come to a stop. Gazing up to the left of the gently sloping hill, I see four cabins set no more than fifty feet apart from each other. With the exception of the cabin off to the right, which has been screened in and looks as though it’s been sitting vacant for a few years, the area is just like I remembered it.
I open the door, and step down onto the gravel road. The brisk mountain air opens my lungs, and I breathe in the refreshing mist. The roaring sound of water draws my attention down the hillside, and I can’t help but follow the short trail of moss covered rocks. I stop a few feet below the road, where I look down through the manzanita to see the rushing Salmon River. Standing on the rocks, and glancing over at Mule Bridge brings back so many childhood memories of fishing with the family, splashing around in the pristine swimming hole, and playing hide and seek between the giant evergreens.
“Kaitlyn,” I hear my dad’s voice. “You need to get back up here and help us unload. We’ve got to get that bird in the oven so we can eat at a decent hour!”
“Sorry Dad, just checking out the water level.” And I am. It’s raging compared to the Scott River. The drought must not have hit this part of the Marbles quite as hard as it did on the other side of the mountain range. “Coming!” I yell, as I trek back up the hill to the car.