by Blue Saffire
“Hell, of all of you, I reckon you love your mama more than anyone.”
I dart my eyes to her. “Now, what the hell would make you say that?”
She goes for the sigh again—the same one from earlier that tells me I’m only a small step up from an orangutan on her own personal IQ scale. It’s like she can’t help herself.
“I’m not stupid, Denny.” She smooths her hair back again and watches as two of the other girls join in the dancing. “And neither is anyone else back home.”
The squeaking brakes of the outfitter bus tell me our ride is here, but I’m not done with this little conversation. Rosie takes a step toward the ridge and the waiting bus, but I move in front of her and grab her arm. Her skin is warm and soft, but I try to ignore how it feels against my palm and fingers.
“You seem to think you know a lot about me, Rosie. But my life is perfect just as it is.” And it’s true. I get to do what I want when I want, and I don’t form attachments to people or things anymore. I live simple and take life one day at a time. “I’m not looking back.”
She meets my eyes again and I swear she’s trying to get a peek inside my brain she’s straining so damn hard. But there’s nothing to see. I’ve already spoken the truth. When I left home four years ago, I didn’t look back. And even if I wanted too—which I don’t—they’d never forgive me, so it’s not worth sparing it even a single thought.
Yet Rosie continues to stare until I can’t take it anymore and I break both our eye contact and my grip on her arm. I watch the group of women as they gather all the paddles and vests without me even having to ask. I turn to help and Rosie’s voice hits me square in the back.
“Maybe you need to adjust your expectations, Denny Brooks.”
“Thanks, Denny. We had a great time!” Courtney shouts from the drivers’ seat of a bright yellow VW Bug while three other girls wave from its windows.
I’ve had time to regain my composure, so I wave and send my best grin in their direction. “See y’all next time!” Despite my initial plans of procuring some evening entertainment, I’m content to watch them drive away. Two more of the women linger, talking to a grinning Brody and a wide-eyed Josh. That boy had better put his eyes back in his head or he’ll never have a shot.
I carry a stack of paddles back to the boathouse and notice Rosie and Gwen standing beside a silver Jeep Wrangler. They appear to be arguing about something, but I pretend I don’t even see them. Rosie’s trip here was a fool’s errand and I wish I hadn’t even laid eyes on her.
The equipment has never been arranged so neatly by the time I finally come back outside. I tell myself my attention to detail has nothing to do with wanting to avoid Rosie, but I can’t say I’m upset when I see the Wrangler no longer in the gravel lot and Brody and Josh the only people still milling around. My chest feels a little tight, but I chalk that up to not eating enough today.
“Yo!” Brody lopes over, his shaggy blond hair a tangled mess and his tall frame eating up the distance in no time. He’s got his phone in one hand and holds it up to me. “That Gwen girl wanted me to give you a number.”
I feel my brows draw together. Gwen? Now, that, I didn’t expect. I shake my head but he waves me off. “Not Gwen’s number. Rosina’s. And thanks, by the way.”
The sarcasm isn’t lost on me. “For what?” I cross my arms over my chest and wait for whatever bullshit is coming.
“For ruining my date with Rosina. You obviously pissed her off with whatever the hell you did today. I couldn’t even get a word out of her when they came back.”
My spine straightens like a nun’s ruler and I take a step toward Brody before it even registers what I’m doing. “Not in this fucking lifetime or any other.” I’m practically growling and don’t recognize my own voice.
Instead of being intimidated, Brody throws his head back and guffaws. “That’s what I thought.”
I turn and stalk back to the boathouse, my head a tangle of conflicting urges and thoughts.
“I’m texting you her number!” Brody calls out after me. “Gwen said they’re staying on campus tonight but they’ll be leaving in the morning!”
Morning can’t come soon enough, as far as I’m concerned. Then I’ll be rid of Rosie and her damn presumptions for good.
4
The phone rings on the other end for the fourth time and I can feel the sweat forming on my palm where I grip the plastic case.
Fuck. This was a stupid idea.
I let the phone fall to my lap and am about to hit the end button when I hear a familiar voice on the other end.
“Denny?” Her tone is sleepy—and why shouldn’t it be? It’s going on three a.m. and any sane person is fast asleep right now. Except for me. And, now, my baby sister.
“Hello?” Her voice comes a little louder this time, followed by a mumbled, “Please don’t let this be a damn butt dial,” that brings an immediate smile to my face.
I lift the phone back to my ear. “Hey, Lynnie.”
“Oh my God!” she practically squeals, and I feel my chest loosen the tiniest bit.
It seems it wasn’t my lack of breakfast that was causing my chest to feel tight all evening. The big-ass burger and sweet-potato fries I downed for dinner proved this by doing nothing to ease it, and by the time I went to bed I was half convinced I was gonna have a heart attack.
I got up the first time at one and tried doing some pushups and chugging a glass of water. At two, I turned on the TV and had a beer. And for the last half hour, I’ve been sitting on the edge of my bed holding my phone and cursing up and down until I finally admitted defeat and dialed Lynn’s number. I reckon she’s the least likely to murder me in my sleep and the most likely to keep her damn mouth shut.
“Keep your voice down, will ya? I don’t want you waking the whole house.”
Her voice drops to a whisper. “Sorry. I’m just so happy to hear your voice.”
Well, shit. I mean, it’s not like I expected her to spit into the phone, but I never thought she’d be so… cheerful.
“Good to hear yours too. What have you been up to?”
The question is ridiculously inadequate, but she doesn’t miss a beat.
“Mama grounded me ‘cuz she caught me making out with Ben Weller in the backseat of his car.” She lets out a half-laugh/half-groan and I switch the phone to my other ear.
“Ben Weller? Little Ben Weller from Haw Creek?”
Lynn snickers. “Not so little anymore, if you know what I mean?”
I almost drop my phone, but the sheer force of my shock keeps it in my hand. “Jesus, Lynn! What the hell?”
She’s outright laughing now. “Don’t get your panties in a twist. I’m just kiddin’. Well, kind of.”
I growl for the second time today and stand from the bed. “Kind of, my ass! You tell that kid he’d best keep his hands to himself if he wants to live to see… wait, how old is he anyway?”
“Duh. Seventeen, Denny. Same as me.”
This hits me like a bullet to the gut. It’s not like I don’t know how old Lynn is; it’s just that I haven’t allowed myself to think about it long enough to picture her as anything but the lanky thirteen-year-old she was when I left.
Hell, Luca’s the only person from home I’ve stayed in touch with, and that’s just because he’s not blood and he’s the most stubborn person—besides me—that I know. There was also that one time Cash came to hunt me down when I got back from Colorado, but that’s not worth rehashing.
“Well, he won’t see eighteen if he takes you out in his car again. What were you thinking anyway? Mama must be fit to be tied.” I’m pacing the wood floor now.
Lynn tsks in my ear. “I was thinkin’ the exact same thing you were when Gretchen Seager’s mom caught you and her nasty-ass daughter in the bed of Daddy’s F150!”
How the hell did she know about that? And Gretchen wasn’t nasty. She was just… well, all right, maybe she was a tad waspish. And then there were those awful fake nails. But th
e girl sure knew how to use her… “You don’t know what you’re talking about. For God’s sake. What do Miller and Cash have to say about this?” I can’t imagine my brothers would let this slide.
“Please. They don’t know a thing. I’m a sweet little lady, don’t you know?” I can practically picture her polishing her imaginary halo over the line.
Jesus. Isn’t anybody keeping Lynn in line?
A voice from the back of my head scoffs at that. You should be the one taking care of her, asshole! I push it aside.
“Well, at least you have Mama to keep an eye on you.”
Lynn goes quiet and I know I’ve finally touched a nerve. I’m amazed it’s taken so long.
“Hey.” I stop pacing and keep my voice soft and steady. “She’ll be all right. It’s just knee surgery.”
I finally get a quiet response. “I know.”
We’re both silent for several long seconds.
“Don’t you let your head go there. It was a fluke—nothing more. Just one of those things.”
The unmistakable sound of sniffling crosses over the airwaves. Dammit. That tightness is back and it’s more constricting than ever, threatening to steal both my voice and my breath. But I can’t leave her hanging. I just can’t—which is preposterous given that it’s exactly what I’ve been doing to all of them for the past four years. Since the day after my dad’s funeral. The same day Rosie begged me to stay and I left anyway.
I force a confident tone. “You know Mama. She’d march up to St. Peter and demand he call her a taxi if she ever reached those pearly gates. And he’d do it if Mama said so—you know it as well as I do.”
Her laugh is watery. “You did come by your stubborn streak naturally, I suppose. You and Mama are two peas in a pod.”
“Damn straight!” I patently ignore the second part of her comment.
There’s another moment of silence and I hear her blow her nose before coming back to the phone.
“Denny?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you calling because you’re coming home, or are you calling because you’re not?”
Shit. The last thing I want to do is hurt my baby sister, but I don’t have it in me to go there. So I take the easy way out.
“You don’t need me there. Remember, Mama’s gonna be just fine.” When Lynn doesn’t respond, I add, “And anyway, I’m scheduled to work.” Which is the absolute truth, but it’s also the thing that makes me an absolute prick.
Her voice is quieter still when she finally responds. “Sure. I understand.” I don’t like the artificial tone she’d adopted. “I gotta go back to bed. You know, school tomorrow.”
“Oh, right.” I hadn’t even thought of that, but I know it’s not the reason she’s ending the call. “Hey, you take care and make sure you tell Ben Weller to keep his hands to himself.”
“Love you, Denny,” Lynn says. She hangs up before I even have a chance to decide what I might say in return.
I get a couple restless hours of sleep before I give up entirely and throw on a t-shirt and a pair of shorts for an early morning run. The sounds of the forest usually do such a thorough job at keeping me company that I don’t need headphones and my phone to pump in music for distraction. I don’t see the need to be distracted from all the sights and sounds surrounding me when it’s just me, my footfalls, and Mother Nature.
This morning is different, however.
I can’t get Lynn’s voice out of my head no matter how loud the birds call back and forth, attracting mates and echoing against the canyon. Hell, even that notion makes me angry all over again about that damn Weller kid and his apparent death wish. I know it’s a double standard, but I don’t give a shit. I pump my legs harder in a futile attempt to outrun my thoughts.
Logically, I know I was right in what I told Lynn. Mama will be just fine. The chances of both our parents dying from complications with general anesthesia are probably about a million to one. And our mother is healthy as a horse—or at least she was when I left. She hikes and rides her bike and tends her giant garden, in addition to working full time. From the minimal info Luca forced on me, this knee surgery is probably due more to her acting half her age instead of any deterioration to be concerned with.
Still, I understand Lynn. Only all too well.
I wipe sweat from my face with the t-shirt I shed and tucked into the back of my shorts. It’s still early but the air is warm and the sky is cloudless.
Half of me regrets calling Lynn and the other half is treasuring the youthful lilt of her voice still resonant in my mind. The familiarity is clawing its way through my entire body like water through a fissure in a dam, and I’m afraid the entire thing will collapse if I don’t fortify it right away.
I blaze faster down the dirt path, my breathing ragged as my body lets muscle memory propel me forward while avoiding the occasional tree root or rock. I don’t even realize where I’m headed until I break through a clearing and see the boathouse.
I skid to a quick stop, kicking up a cloud of dust around me before I bend over and grab my knees. I’m breathing too hard—much harder than I should be from a morning run. Shit. Maybe I am having a heart attack. I drop to my ass and gasp for air. Of all the ways I thought I might go, lying in the dirt covered in pine needles and sweat isn’t anywhere near the top of the list. I always figured I’d bite it over a waterfall or something equally spectacular—or spectacularly stupid, depending on how you look at it.
Blackness creeps into the edges of my vision and my head spins. Yup. This is it. I’m dying.
The last thing I hear before the blackness takes over is the sound of Lynn’s voice telling me she loves me.
My immediate thought is one of surprise that the afterlife is so dark. I mean, you always hear about going to the light and all that crap, so I guess I wasn’t prepared for darkness. I also wasn’t prepared for the pain. Nobody warns you that your initiation into heaven involves an ass-kicking. Or… wait… shit! I should have anticipated this. Hell is exactly the kind of place you’d get your ass beaten at the door.
“Stop fucking around and get up!” This must be the voice of my official tour guide of hell. Funny, though, it sounds a lot like Brody.
It dawns on me that I have the ability to open my eyes and when I do, sure enough, there stands Brody, but he’s silhouetted by a bright light behind him. The fires of hell, perhaps?
“I didn’t know you had another job,” I say, contemplating for a moment just how much a job in the underworld might pay before reality finally sets in.
I lift my hands to look at them and they’re covered in dirt. “What the hell happened?”
I see his shoulders shrug and then he bends down to pull me up to sitting. “You tell me. I figured you were faking it. I guess I shouldn’t have kicked you so hard.” He lets go of me once I’m steady and scratches the blond scruff on his cheek. “Sorry about that.”
I turn my head from side to side, testing for dizziness, but it’s gone. My breathing has also returned to normal. Huh. That was really fucking weird.
“You need a doctor?” Brody’s voice is laced with concern now that he’s stopped beating me up.
I drop my face to my hands and groan as I remember it all.
“Shit. I’ll call 9-1-1.” I can hear the panic in his voice so I quickly wave him off.
“No. Don’t. I don’t need a doctor.”
“You sure? What can I get you?”
I tip my head back and close my eyes, letting the rising sun spill down on me.
I pull in a slow breath and do my best to brace myself. “We can start with your phone.”
5
The second time Rosie Carmichael tried to kiss me I called her stupid. Well, technically, my words were, “Don’t be stupid,” but I imagine the effect was the same. She was having a sleepover party for her thirteenth birthday and my mother sent me over with a present. I was getting packed up to leave for college and wasn’t about to say no to Mama. But Rosie somehow got me alone a
nd tried to plant one on me. Thankfully, I saw it coming and ducked out of the way.
“What do you think you’re doing?” She was a kid, for God’s sake. And I was a man.
Her cheeks flamed red as she stood there in an oversized Kings of Leon t-shirt, her tangled brown hair covering half her face. “I figured since we’re both teenagers now…” she trailed off, looking down at her bare feet.
“Don’t be stupid, Rosie. I’m nineteen. You’re just a kid.” Yeah, I was the master of tact.
There was no mistaking the tears in her eyes when she brought them up to meet mine. I felt like a total asshole. So I dropped my voice and put a hand on her shoulder, relatively certain I wouldn’t be arrested for it.
“Hey. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” I sighed, trying to think of what I could say that would get her silly crush to fade. I ended up going with the tried and true, “You’ll find somebody who’s right for you, you’ll see. Then you won’t even remember why you ever wanted to kiss some old guy like me.”
Yeah, I was pretty sure I knew everything there was to know in the world at that point. I know better now how life can deliver a curveball faster than Sandy Koufax at his prime.
I lean against Brody’s car with his phone to my ear while I watch him drag a kayak from the boathouse. He likes to fish whenever he can, and working for the outfitter provides the perks of free equipment and a couple trucks to haul it. For the second time in a few short hours, a sleepy female voice greets me over the line.
“Hello?”
This one hits my gut in an entirely different way than the last one, however.
“Mornin’, Sunshine!”
I don’t know why I call her that or why I’m acting so damn exuberant, but after my little bout of anxiety, I’m just happy my voice works at all.