by Sara Biren
He pulls me close and kisses me hard. “This is going to be a weekend we’ll never forget,” he whispers.
The drive to Mitchell is seven long hours. Hannah promises to stay awake to keep Dustin company while he drives, but I’m tired. My knees are smashed against Hannah’s seat back, my cheek against the cold window. There’s a crick in my neck.
“Lucy,” Simon says after a while, “that can’t be comfortable.”
He pulls me toward him. He’s warm. His shoulder, his smell, have become familiar. He wraps an arm around me and I fall asleep there.
31 · Ben
Guthrie and I are out in the backyard at the fire pit when I get the text from Tami.
Have you seen Lucy today? No one has seen or heard from her since last night.
My first thought is, Why is Tami asking me? How the hell would I know? But then my stomach heaves.
Lucy is missing. I hit call.
“Tami,” I say when she picks up, “what do you mean no one has heard from her?”
“Daniel called.” She sounds worried. “Lucy’s parents are flipping out. They thought she was here today, but when she didn’t come home for dinner, her dad tried to call her. It went straight to voicemail. Same with Hannah’s phone. Have you seen either of them today?”
“No.” My stomach twists again. I don’t know what I’ll do if something happened to Lucy, too. “I’ll call you back if I find out anything.” I stand up and pace back and forth in front of the fire.
“What’s up?” Guthrie asks.
“Lucy. She’s missing.”
Guthrie takes a swig from his bottle of water. “She’s not missing. Everyone knows she went to South Dakota with Hannah and Dustin and Simon.”
Fuck.
“What? How do you know?”
“Hannah told me Lucy’s parents wouldn’t let her go to the rodeo this weekend, but they were going to go anyway.”
“When did you see Hannah?”
“I see her around,” he says.
I sit back down and call Tami again.
“You should ask Lucy’s mom and dad if they know of any reason she might have gone to South Dakota for the weekend.” I hang up before Tami can say anything.
“Dude, you need another beer,” Guthrie says and hands me an ice-cold bottle from the cooler at his feet. The glass feels good in my hot, sweaty hand. The beer feels even better as it chills and numbs my throat. I want to be numb.
Numb is better than the feeling of worry that crept deep into me and twisted my insides. For thirty seconds, tops, I thought something had happened to Lucy. Those thirty seconds felt like the ceiling had crashed in, that the world had spun to a halt.
I remember that feeling.
The beer goes down easy. I throw my empty bottle on the ground by the cooler and stand up again.
“I gotta go,” I say.
Guthrie shrugs. “Be careful, Ben.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Get your shit together. Either you want to be with her or you don’t, but make a decision and stop messing with people.”
He stands up and waves as he walks toward the house. “In case you’re wondering, the rodeo is in Mitchell. Mitchell, South Dakota.”
There are a lot of reasons why Guthrie is my best friend, has been since second grade when we both got in trouble for hiding out in the woods behind school, trying to hit squirrels with a slingshot, instead of coming in after recess. Guthrie gets it.
I’ve had a couple of beers but don’t feel a thing. I get in the car and send a text to Mum that I’m staying at Guthrie’s tonight. I’ve got a full tank of gas and GPS on my cell and fuckall, I’m going to drive to Mitchell, South Dakota.
I think about Lucy. I think about how much I’ve missed her, her laughter, her smile, and how, when I get to Mitchell, I’m finally going to get the balls to apologize.
I crank the radio loud to stay awake. For a while I even catch Darkness Radio out of the Twin Cities, talk radio about paranormal shit, and when the story of a mysterious unsolved murder in St. Cloud freaks me out too much, I switch over to a classical station and blast it.
I get to Marshall, a town on the western edge of Minnesota, close to the South Dakota border, and I stop to take a leak and get gas.
I’ve been driving three, maybe three and a half hours. I’ve got at least three more to go.
But I’m standing in front of the cooler in the gas station when suddenly it hits me.
I’m an idiot. I’m driving to Mitchell, South Dakota, to try to find my dead sister’s best friend at a fucking rodeo. And she’s there with another guy. And let’s not forget that I’ve got a girlfriend. How stupid am I?
Pretty fucking stupid.
What would I say to her? How the hell would I even find her?
She wouldn’t forgive me, anyway.
What I said was unforgiveable.
I am unforgiveable.
I buy a Coke and turn around.
Somewhere around Willmar, I start to cry. Not big, racking sobs like right after Trixie died, but these pools of tears that make it impossible to see, no matter how often I rub them away. It’s ridiculous. I don’t even know why I’m crying. I pull over at a park bordering a lake. I walk down to the beach, and my heart is pounding so hard, I feel like I can’t breathe.
I drop down to my knees and sift through the sand and grass looking for good rocks, and then I remember the stones I found at Guthrie’s that are in the pockets of my shorts. I stack the rocks, and the act of putting one stone on top of another calms me somehow.
I’ve stacked rocks everywhere. Next to the cracked concrete steps at the shack where we clean fish. In the grass at the edge of the parking lot at the bank. At the top of the Fire Tower.
And even though I promised myself I wouldn’t go back to the cemetery, I stacked them on top of Trixie’s gravestone, where I’d seen Lucy put the candy. The wind probably blew them down before I even got to my car, but it was enough that, for a few minutes at least, there was balance, and it soothed something inside of me, that constant ache.
Trixie would know what to do. She would know how I should ask Lucy for forgiveness.
But she’s not here.
I stack the rocks and they fall and I stack them again until I find balance.
32 · Lucy
Mitchell, South Dakota, is hot, humid, and dusty. We’re here plenty early so we wander around town, watch part of the parade, have lunch at a small-town diner not unlike the Full Loon Café. Simon orders a slice of coconut cream pie, and even though he practically licks the plate clean, declares that it’s nowhere near as good as the pie at the Full Loon. Overheated and sweating, we set up our tents at the campground, then head over to the rodeo grounds.
I’ve never seen Hannah so happy, so at home, so relaxed. She’s wearing a tight white T-shirt from another rodeo that says, “Put Something Exciting Between Your Legs.” She shows us every nook and cranny of the rodeo. She flirts with cowboys and the guys grilling hamburgers. Dustin stands beside her, his hand on her back, and grins in his cretin way while she finagles down the price on a purple straw cowboy hat.
“Sweetheart, I saw you out back behind the trailer, colorin’ this with purple spray paint,” she says in a sweet voice. “Now, come on. This white one here is five dollars less. It’s only a little spray paint, sugar—don’t you want to sell me this for the same price?”
Apparently he does, and Hannah gets the hat for five dollars off.
I turn on my phone as we walk from Vendor Alley back to the stands. Eighteen missed calls, seven voicemail messages, most from my dad. Thirty-two text messages from Dad, Mom, Daniel, Tami, even one from Clayton. His is the only one I open.
Girl UR in deep shit. I’ve never been prouder.
I stumble and bite my bottom lip to stop its sudden tremble.
“You okay, Lucille?” Hannah says as she grabs my arm to steady me. “Trip over your own feet?”
“You might say that.”
I hold the phone out for her to see.
She laughs. “This will all blow over, you’ll see.”
We watch the Grand March and the first few events. Hannah whoops and hollers during barrel racing and steer wrestling.
Simon reaches for my hand. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
I shake my head. “Seriously? We came all this way to see a rodeo. Don’t you want to, you know, see the rodeo?”
He smiles. “Nah, I came all this way to spend time with you. Don’t you want to, you know, spend time with me?”
“Of course,” I say. “We’re spending time together now.”
“I don’t care about the rodeo, and I don’t think you do, either. It’s not your thing. I mean, look at Hannah. Look at how excited she is whenever some dude falls off a horse trying to rope a calf.” He pauses, then says, “How about we, um, go back to the campground?”
I don’t answer right away.
I’m here with Simon, who slipped into my life so easily. My boyfriend.
Ben doesn’t want to be with me. He’s made that clear, time and again.
Simon does.
“Yeah,” I say finally, “let’s go.”
Hannah raises her eyebrows at me when we get up to leave. I shrug.
The walk back is brutal. It’s about a hundred degrees, even at nine o’clock at night, and by the time we reach our tent, rivers of sweat drip down my back. It’s cooler down by the lake at least. The campground is nearly deserted—everyone is still at the rodeo and will be for another couple of hours. I can hear the roar of the crowd and the tinny, twangy voice of the announcer from here.
We sit in the camp chairs outside the tent and watch the darkness fall over the lake. Simon gets up from his chair and kneels in front of me. He takes my hands in his.
“Having fun?”
I smile. I’m hot, sweaty, dusty. “Yeah. It’s been fun.”
“I always have fun with you, Lucy. It’s been a great summer so far.”
I nod. He stands and pulls me to my feet, into him, his chin on the top of my head.
“You’re amazing, Lucy. You’ve made this such an awesome summer for me. I don’t want to go home.”
I can feel his heartbeat against my cheek, his T-shirt damp with sweat. “There’s still a lot of summer left.”
“Not enough,” he murmurs.
The rumble of his voice, the thick air around us, the warmth of his arms—it all wraps around me, holds me tight.
This boy wants to be with me.
Simon kisses me and I kiss him back. He leads me into the tent. He guides me down to the sleeping bag, his weight heavy on top of me.
“Is this okay?” he asks. “I mean, we don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
He’s nervous.
Strangely, I’m not.
He asks again, “Is this okay?”
It is. I nod.
He says, “I love you, Lucy.”
When I don’t say anything, he continues. “No matter what, I love you. I had no idea what was in store for me this summer when my mom said we’d be renting some house up north. But now I know that I’m the luckiest guy on earth.”
He kisses me, and it’s sweet and gentle and I believe that he loves me.
I close my eyes. I tell myself that I’m moving on. I’m letting Ben go.
Simon holds my hand across the space between our two camp chairs outside the tent. The sky is deep bluish-black, the bright spotlights from the rodeo grounds visible in the distance. The cheering has died down, though, so Hannah and Dustin should be on their way back.
“Lucy, are you okay?” Simon sounds anxious, almost uncomfortable, asking me this. We weren’t in the tent long, and I was grateful when he gave me privacy after, to clean up and get dressed.
“Yes.” I feel strange, thinned out. But it’s okay.
“Okay.” He lets out a long breath. “Good.”
When I don’t respond, he changes the subject. “I’ve always wanted to see the Corn Palace. You think we’ll have time tomorrow?”
The World’s Only Corn Palace is a big tourist attraction in town, decorated each year in a design made of more than a quarter of a million ears of corn.
“Maybe.”
“Don’t you think it’s fascinating? I mean, for one, think of the effort it must take to grow all that corn—all those different colors—and then to actually nail it to the wall. It’s a work of art.” He smiles. “You want to go?”
A loud whoop comes from a couple sites down, and I look up to see Hannah and Dustin. Dustin carries a bundle of firewood.
“You missed the big finale!” Hannah winks at me. “How are you two lovebirds?”
The heat rushes over my face.
“Never better.” Simon’s voice cracks and he reaches for a bottle of water.
“Let’s make a fire,” Dustin says. “I’ll teach you how, city boy.”
• • •
After the fire burns down, Hannah insists that she and I sleep in one tent, the boys in the other. This is a surprise to everyone, even me.
“Come on, babe,” Dustin says, his hands on her butt. He squeezes. “You’re kidding, right?”
She shakes her head and gives Dustin a playful shove. “Her parents would kill me.”
They’ll probably kill me first.
The embers hiss as Dustin pours water over them. He takes off his cowboy hat, kisses Hannah, and ducks into the tent. Simon pulls me to my feet and hugs me.
“Good night, Lucy,” he whispers into my ear. “I love you.”
He follows Dustin into the tent.
Hannah unzips the opening of our tent, holds it back for me, and follows me in.
“You want to talk about anything?” she asks. She’s curled up the edges of her purple crocheted cowboy hat. She takes it off and swats it against my arm. She smiles. Beautiful Hannah, always happy.
I nod. “But not yet. Not when they might hear us.”
I barely sleep in the heat and humidity. I toss and turn and wait for morning.
33 · Ben
Mum’s all over me in the morning. “Ben, you look terrible. What’s wrong? Are you ill?”
I don’t know. I didn’t sleep. I drove all night and sat in my car in Guthrie’s driveway until I figured it was late enough to go home.
Lucy shouldn’t be dating that guy. But it’s not like I think she should be with me, right, so I’m not really entitled to that opinion.
Except I am.
She shouldn’t be dating that guy.
Mum sets a mug of hot coffee in front of me. “Tami told me about Lucy. Did you know anything about this?”
The coffee is scorching hot, but it’s what I need. I hope it will burn, destroy everything that’s killing me from the inside right now. I shouldn’t feel like this. I pushed Lucy away a long time ago.
“Ben? Did you hear me?”
I shake my head and stand up. “I have to go. I’m supposed to be at the resort.”
“You’re off today,” Mum says. “Please stay. I want to talk to you.”
“Emily asked me to take her fishing.” I walk across the kitchen, open the screen door to the garage, and let it slam behind me.
• • •
The sun is so bright and blue, bluebird skies. A perfect, sunny summer day, but not so great for catching fish. Emily won’t know the difference. She’s thrilled that I want to take her fishing.
I drive to the resort and find Emily and Tami at the table on the deck, the umbrella shading them from the bright sun. Emily’s coloring.
“Hey, Em, you ready to go fishing?”
Emily jumps up from her chair and bounces. “Yes, yes, yes!”
“Fishing?” Tami asks.
“See? I told you Ben was going to take me fishing today!” Emily shouts.
“But—” Tami starts, then pauses. “I thought you weren’t comfortable taking Emily out on the boat.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I say.
She’s quiet f
or a minute, and then says, “Thanks for the tip about the rodeo.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
Emily saves me. She stops bouncing and tugs on my hand instead. “C’mon, Ben, let’s go!”
She pulls me down the hill to the boat.
I’m wrecked, tired as hell, but I’m going to help Emily catch some fish.
I take us to a quiet, shady spot on the lake, not too weedy, so she won’t get her line tangled. She’s spinning her chair in the bow, watching her bobber.
“Ben,” she says, “why didn’t you go to the rodeo with Lucy?”
“I wasn’t invited,” I tell her. Simple enough. How does she know about the rodeo anyway?
“I’m going to get married,” she says, an abrupt change of topic. I’m used to it by now. She hasn’t stopped talking about weddings and brides and dresses since we got back from Duluth.
“Really?”
“Yes, someday,” she says. “Can I marry you?”
I smile. “Nope. I’m your cousin. You can’t marry someone who is related to you.”
She thinks about this for a minute. “Is Lucy related?”
“You want to marry Lucy?”
She laughs. “No, I don’t want to marry Lucy. You should marry Lucy. If we’re not related to her.”
I’m surprised at how tight my chest feels. “No, we’re not related.”
“Well?”
“Well, what?”
“Well, will you marry her?”
I take a deep breath. I had hoped for an easy day of fishing and instead I get barraged with questions about weddings. And Lucy.
“Well, it’s complicated.”
“Oh, I know what that means. Lucy explained it to me. Complicated is like when all the pieces of the puzzle don’t come together right.”
I nod. “That sounds about right. Lucy’s pretty smart.”
Emily grins. “I know. Which is why you should marry her. Will you tell me a Trixie?”
“What do you mean, Em? What’s a Trixie?” My throat is tight.
“A Trixie. A story about her. Lucy tells them.”