by C. V. Hunt
Calling anything home after leaving that house when I was a kid was a joke. It always felt by the time we settled into a new place we were on the move again. We never lived in one place for more than a year or two. Mom was always looking for ‘a safer place to live’ or ‘somewhere with a better school system’ but as I grew into a teen I recognized these as fibs. Mom lied or explained her way out of the endless phone calls from bill collectors and numerous yellow envelopes that arrived in the mail with the large red word ‘overdue’ stamped on the front. The ‘safer place’ and ‘better schools’ were something she told us instead of admitting she’d been let go from another job and we were being evicted again. She jumped from job to job. Sometimes she worked two or three jobs to keep food on the table. Sometimes when she was let go from a job she locked herself in the bathroom and cried for an hour. All it took was for one of us to get sick, or for her to get sick, or for the car to break down and the finely tuned budget of supporting our family was thrown into chaos. She finally got a break after Phillip and I moved out. She found a decent job at a high paying factory and began to save her money. And eventually she had enough to purchase the cabin and her retirement kicked in. The cabin was on the edge of a state park and was one of two on a secluded dead end road. Both structures were originally used as rentals for couples or small families who vacationed in the area. The owner split the property and sold them after falling ill and not being able to manage them any longer. I’d never been to the cabin but Mom brought pictures along during holidays shortly after she’d purchased it. She was so proud of the place but I was sure she was just happy she’d managed to finally find some security in owning a home.
Holly snapped, “Just sell it.” Her gaze flicked to me and she softened her next statement. “Both of you wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore and you could split the profit.”
It was noticeable they’d had this argument a hundred times. And you’d have to be ignorant not to be blatantly aware Holly was purely interested in the money. It was written all over her. From the top of her meticulously salon colored head to the tips of her expensive pedicure. My bringing up the subject struck a nerve with her. Hell, my existence struck a nerve with her because it meant once the cabin sold she would only get half the money.
Phillip sounded irritated. “We’ve gone over this. If we do the repairs we can sell it for more.”
She rocked her head from side to side, inviting the image of a snotty teen girl, while she stared at her plate and cut another piece of her pizza. “And in the meantime it’s costing us money to pay the property taxes and utilities.”
Phillip inhaled deeply and let it out slowly. He took another bite of his pizza and ignored her to insinuate he was done arguing. Phillip’s method of arguing was to state his piece calmly and immediately shut down so the argument became one-sided and couldn’t continue without the other person looking like a raving lunatic. Nothing much about him had changed since childhood. I knew he didn’t want to talk about it anymore with Holly and I couldn’t blame him. She wanted him to sell it. He wanted to sate her money hungry ways. And I wasn’t sure if he was working on it so he could get a chance to do something he enjoyed every once in a while or because in doing so he was able to escape being around his family for a day. I didn’t want to put Phillip in an awkward position of fighting with his wife but I was genuinely curious about its progress. As much as I’d love to see Holly squirm for the money, and for the remodeling to be prolonged, I could have really used some cash in my current predicament also. And the more the better.
My photography kept the utilities paid when Naomi and I were together and my two days a week at the coffee shop afforded me to put gas in my car, pay for upkeep on said car, and buy a book or two or an album or go see a movie now and then. Even if the cabin wasn’t sold for much it was better than nothing and unless I took up working at the coffee shop full-time I didn’t see myself being able to afford a place of my own for a long time. The money from Mom’s cabin would keep me afloat for a while if I kept to a stingy lifestyle and it would give me time to figure out how to make more money from my photography. Maybe I could become a wedding photographer.
I asked, “What’s left to be done to the cabin?”
“We’ve already spent the money on the supplies,” Holly said. “It’s just sitting there collecting dust.” It became clear she wasn’t speaking to me but trying to continue her and Phillip’s argument. “You could list it and add the cost of the materials to the asking price. All the buyer would have to do is hire someone to do the work . . . or do it themselves.”
Phillip ignored her and answered my question. “The wood floor still needs to be refinished. That little dog she had did a number on the finish. The bathroom is done but the kitchen still needs to be gutted. The cabinets and countertops are sitting in the storage under the cabin. She had those awful particle board cabinets and I bought real wood replacements.”
I asked, “Whatever happened to Mom’s dog?”
“My Pete hated that dog,” Holly said indignantly. “We put it up for adoption at a no-kill shelter. None of my friends wanted to take in an animal that wasn’t completely housebroken.”
I thought, No. You didn’t want to take in a dog that wasn’t completely housebroken. I couldn’t imagine the type of person who chose to be friends with Holly. I decided she probably didn’t have any friends at all and referred to her coworkers as friends because aside from Phillip and Makayla and her hairstylist and manicurist they were the only people she saw on a regular basis. Those coworkers would most likely be mortified to find out the office ice queen told people they were her friends.
Makayla pulled the layer of melted cheese she’d picked free of toppings off her pizza. She lifted the congealed blob above her head and ate it as if she were a royal subject being fed grapes. Once she’d stuffed it all in her mouth she noisily sucked the grease from her fingers.
Her mother reprimanded her. “That’s not ladylike. Stop playing with your food.”
“I’m eating it, aren’t I?”
Holly gave her a stern look, turned her attention back to her own plate, and changed the subject. “Do you have homework?”
“Does it matter?”
The two exchanged defiant expressions yet again in silence.
“I could help you,” I told Phillip. “Actually . . .” A thought struck me. “Let me throw this at ya. What if I moved out there and worked for free in exchange for rent? Once the work is done I’ll find another place and you can sell it. You won’t have to drive out there all the time and I’ll take care of the utilities and taxes as long as I live there.”
Makayla and Holly dropped their impending battle and turned their attention to me. I recognized an expression of approval immediately on Phillip’s face. He turned to Holly for the final answer. I could see the wheels of dubiousness turning in her head. It was hard to decipher Makayla’s thoughts on the situation through her heavy makeup and lack of eyebrows—of which the latter factored into a person’s ability to exhibit facial expressions naturally—but she appeared expectant and marginally excited herself. Of course the girl wanted me out of the house. She wanted the place to herself throughout her summer vacation to do whatever it was she wanted to do . . . sacrifice a goat . . . host a satanic teen orgy.
Holly made an uncertain sound and cleared her throat.
“A year,” I said. “I won’t be there more than one year.”
“I think it’s a good idea,” Makayla said.
I could tell from the silent exchange passing between Phillip and Holly this was something they wanted to discuss without me in the room. Or without Makayla whining about how she’d been promised to have a solitary run of the house. And it was also obvious nothing was ever executed or approved in this household without Holly’s full consent.
I said, “Maybe I should let you guys discuss this.”
Phillip turned his attention back to me. “We’ll talk it over.”
I nodded. I tried t
o finish my pizza but found my appetite had disappeared. I was celebrating inside because I knew Holly wanted me in her home about as much as she wanted a bedbug infestation. I wanted to celebrate. I knew the cat was in the bag and I would have a place to myself soon. My hunger was replaced with a craving for a beer. I would have to go out later and make a stop at a bar to have a couple celebratory drinks. I couldn’t buy a six pack because Holly approved of alcohol about as much as she approved of anything or anyone else in her life.
4
Phillip’s car crawled down the narrow, curvy two-lane highway. I trailed him in my own car. Overgrown trees and brush lined the highway and I knew he was having difficulty finding the road to the cabin. My GPS had stopped working five miles back and I was sure his was in the same state. I couldn’t remember the last time I went anywhere without relying on GPS to get to my destination. I was panicked and lost without the guidance of the small digital blue triangle hovering above the road on the screen of my phone and the calm female voice notifying me of my approaching turns and telling me when to merge. Phillip warned me about the poor cell reception and told me I would probably want to purchase a physical map of the area if I needed to get around until I memorized the roads and landmarks. The state park wasn’t a complete dead zone for cellphone signals but damn close. I eyed the screen of my phone again, hoping it had picked up a faint signal, but no luck.
I checked my rearview mirror to make sure a line of cars hadn’t formed behind our slow moving caravan. The sharp curves, combined with the dense flora, had me paranoid a car would come speeding around a corner any moment and rear end me before the driver could realize I was doing half the speed limit. The road was an accident waiting to happen if you didn’t at least keep up with the posted speed. Currently there weren’t any cars behinds me. I turned my attention back to Phillip’s car.
A movement on the side of the road caught my attention. A wild turkey scuttled into the thick brush, followed by three baby turkeys. Their sudden appearance excited me as I observed the last little bird trip on some long grass before bouncing up and disappearing into the thicket.
Phillip’s passenger side turn signal began to blink and his brake lights illuminated. I spotted a lone pole with two green signs extending horizontally from the top containing house numbers. Beside the pole were two mail boxes and the entrance to a narrow and steep driveway. A blue dumpster was situated across the road, opposite of the drive. I made a mental note of the landmarks. I would have to rely on them and my odometer to get around until I found a map.
Phillip eased his car onto the steep drive and proceeded cautiously. I gave him a wide berth before turning onto the drive and following him.
Once all four of my tires were situated on the abrupt slope the framed photos in the back seat flipped forward and clacked loudly against each other when they hit the back of my seat. I cursed under my breath and hoped the jostling hadn’t caused any damage to them. The pitch of the drive, combined with the fact it was graveled, made the descent terrifying. I couldn’t imagine driving up or down the drive with the slightest amount of snow or rain, especially in my ancient Honda with balding tires. It felt as if the gravel would give at any second and my car would slide down the slope, crash into Phillip’s pristine new car, and the both of us would fly into the dry ravine at the bottom.
Phillip reached a sharp ninety degree turn and the road leveled beyond that point. My car whined as I held the brake and turned onto the horizontal path. Just beyond the edge of the gravel drive was a sharp drop on the driver’s side. The roof of Mom’s cabin could be seen a couple hundred feet ahead. The top of the cabin was a few feet above the level of the drive with the foundation set into the slope of the ravine. A set of wooden railings on that side of the drive were the only indicator for the steps that descended to the cabin. Someone had gouged out parking spaces in the inclined earth across from the steps. The parking area was barely enough room for two cars.
Phillip parked and I pulled in beside him. There wasn’t a lot of room in between our vehicles. I slipped out of my car cautiously, holding my door tight, terrified it would bang into Phillip’s car and scratch it. I knew he wouldn’t be upset about a scratch but I was certain he would never hear the end of it from Holly. Phillip had less trouble exiting his vehicle.
Phillip said, “I guess we should unload the trunks first, huh?”
“Not a lot of room for parking,” I responded.
“You plan on having large dinner parties?”
“If anyone ever came to visit they’d have to move in. I don’t know if they could make it back up the drive.”
Phillip walked to the trunk of his car and opened it. “You saw the mailbox and dumpster, right?”
I mimicked him and opened my own trunk. “Yeah.”
“Mom always complained about having to climb the drive to take out the trash and check the mail. I think she drove her car up to do it.” He stacked a box on top of another in his trunk and lifted them. He nodded over his shoulder. “She ended up having the neighbor do it when she got sick.”
I peered down the drive and Phillip’s gaze followed mine. Approximately one hundred feet farther down the drive the road ended in front of another cabin. The structure was built more level with the drive and was located on the opposite side. The place was cast in dark shadow by the massive trees surrounding it. The darkness made the place appear ominous. The other cabin sat on short stilts instead of having a concrete foundation like most houses, leaving the crawlspace open to the elements. A battered maroon station wagon was parked in their parking spot, fashioned similar to mine.
A woman in a white cotton dress stood on the heavily shadow-covered porch, watching us. She had long brown hair and appeared pale and thin. It was hard to discern much about her from the distance. A gruff male voice sounded from somewhere and the woman hastily retreated into her cabin. Her exit was punctuated by the hard slap of wood from the spring-hinged screen door.
I said, “They seem friendly.”
He shrugged and started toward the steps. I grabbed a few things and followed him.
The steps were wooden and fashioned into two tiers. A small landing separated the tiers. The steps ended at an elaborate deck running along the side and back of the cabin in an L-shape. Once we reached the door at the side of the cabin I noticed another set of stairs descending to the ground at the back of the cabin.
I took in the heavy foliage and severe angle of the ground. The ground was mainly covered in decaying leaves and pine needles. There wasn’t much in the way of grass due to the massive trees shading the majority of the ground and restricting the sunlight. Phillip set down his boxes and fumbled with the keys.
I said, “I guess I won’t have to worry about mowing?”
He opened the door. “Nope. The only yard tool she owned was an axe to cut away fallen branches and to chop wood for heat.” He retrieved his boxes and entered the cabin.
I’d forgotten the cabin didn’t have a conventional heating system. Mom had told us how much of a pain it was to set an alarm in the middle of the night so she could throw a couple of pieces of wood on the fire to keep it from going out in the winter.
When I entered the cabin I was hit with the overwhelming stench of sawdust, dust, wet dog, and the dry heat of an attic. The weather of the last two weeks had been mild. Summer was threatening to happen any moment. But the cabin was a tad too warm and I attributed it to the place being shut up and the sun beating down on the metal roof.
The layout of the interior was one giant room with the exception of the restroom having been walled off with a sliding wooden door installed. The kitchen was located inside the door we’d entered and ran all the way across and up against the wall separating it from the restroom. The rest of the cabin had no distinguishing features except for the ordinary fireplace situated catty-corner from the restroom. The ceiling was high and the wood beams were exposed. Two ceiling fans with lights were suspended from the main beam running along the peak of the r
oof. The walls were the exposed timbers of the wood constructing the cabin. With the absence of furniture the wood floors appeared scarred from the nails of Mom’s dog.