Hall of Mosses

by Evans, Nicoline

  “Want me to accompany you home?” he asked.

  “No, I’ll be fine, but thanks.”

  He wanted to kiss her again but did not make the move. Instead he smiled and rode off. She sensed his inner turmoil. Part of her wanted his affection while the other part did not want to ruin their friendship. She had a feeling there was no avoiding the latter. As his feelings grew they’d eventually need to face the inevitable: try dating romantically or resign to a friendship that would never truly be the same. Once the confession was out in the open there was no taking it back. Deep inside, she hoped it came when she felt ready for that kind of relationship. He already waited two years, so he was obviously aware of the importance of timing too, but she did not imagine he’d be able to stifle his feelings much longer. It was a lot to think about after so much time spent with zero social excitement. She liked the quiet of solitude, enjoyed the long-term break from the non-stop drama she escaped, but her basic instincts wanted more. She wouldn’t last like this forever and was very aware of how good he’d be for her.

  The whole ride back she listened for the voices, but couldn’t hear anything over the engine of the Jaden Jaunt. She couldn’t hear the trees, but she felt them. Their tall, looming presence accompanied her every inch of the trip, and though she was in touch with their energy previously, she felt even more connected now. It felt like she was granted exclusive entry into a secret club no one else in the world knew about. Suddenly her friendship with the trees didn’t seem so crazy. Maybe she was entering a whole new realm of existence on Earth. The gift was exhilarating and she did her best to contain her optimism. There was reason to believe this was the start of something good, and after a long life of let downs, silencing her hope felt wrong. She was allowed to be happy, she was deserving of miracles. Fueled by confidence she reclaimed after her time spent in the woods of Washington, she breathed easier. She was getting there, and sooner than she expected. The pieces of her broken spirit were coming back together, her wounds were now fading scars.

  She was finding herself in the forest.

  Chapter 3

  As her home came into view she was reminded of all the household chores she’d been putting off. The green paint on her shutters was chipping and the porch needed a good power wash. Inside, she added these chores to the large “To-Do” chalkboard hanging on her kitchen wall. The list was growing. She’d need to cut her next trip into the woods short by a day if she wanted to tackle it all.

  Muddy and in desperate need of a shower, she collapsed onto her couch. Old and brightly colored, most people would find it ugly, but she found its odd personality beautiful. Everything in her cottage was bought from yard sales, antique stores, and pawnshops. Her budget was small and the furniture, utensils, and trinkets that filled her home were as unique as she was. Colorful, quirky, and often passed over by other shoppers, she gave a home to the weird and charming objects she found.

  When she left New York, she had minimal money and resources. After working and saving most of what she made in Port Angeles for two years, she was able to live much more comfortably.

  The antiquated answering machine on the side table next to the couch blinked. Having no use for a cell phone and wanting to be off the grid, she resorted to a landline phone for emergencies. No one had called her in months, probably since she rarely ever answered or called back.

  She pressed the large green button and the recording played. It was her Aunt Mallory.

  “Thought you’d like to know your Uncle Ozzie died. He had a heart attack a few days ago. Wasn’t gonna bother you with the news since you never answer or return my calls, but Irene insisted. He loved you.” The words sounded like they hurt coming out of her mouth. She grew harsh again. “The wake is Monday, funeral is on Tuesday. I don’t expect you’ll have the decency to show up.” The recording clicked and the message was over.

  Juniper shut her eyes and took a deep breath. Her Aunt Mallory and Uncle Ozzie raised her after her parents died. She was twelve, traumatized by the brutality of their accident, and thrown into the wild and troubled world of her mother’s younger sister. Mallory had little room for compassion when Juniper arrived. She was deep into her own drama revolving around her alcoholism and the legal trouble it got her into. Ozzie was decent, but far from tender. He was solid, but impossible to find comfort in. Their kids—Irene, Zoe, and Ethan—were reckless and misbehaved. They had no house rules to follow, no parental guidance to keep them in line, so they ran free, sewing mischief into everything. Irene was seventeen when Juniper moved in, Zoe fifteen, and Ethan thirteen. No one helped her grieve, at least not in a productive way; instead they dragged her along on their escapades and pulled her into their trouble.

  Through them she made all the wrong friends. Kids her age who were self-destructive with alcohol, drugs, and violence; friends who did not respect her personal boundaries or beliefs. They didn’t force her to partake in their extracurricular actives, but they ragged on her when she chose to abstain. Before she found the strength to leave, she had tried almost everything at least once.

  The group was large and tightly-knit, which made the emotional abuse sting that much more. For a while she accepted this treatment, unsure how to get away and feeling bound to them by loyalty. She was the person they all went to when they were down and out, knowing she was the best listener. And though she was always honest, she never judged them for their terrible decisions. They were safe with her.

  But she was not safe with them. While they found retribution and forgiveness in her, she had regressed into a broken shell of the strong little girl she used to be. She often wished to be eleven again. She liked that version of herself much better. They tore her down and leaned on her too heavily. They ripped her apart yet demanded her to be loyal and whole. She didn’t suspect they did it on purpose, but the damage was done all the same. By the time she was 18 she saw through their selfish behavior, realized she was being taken for granted, and decided she had enough.

  She pulled away and received hateful backlash. Her cousins were angry she turned her back on their group but dealt with it the best they could. She was family, plus she still lived with them, so they could not write her off as easily as the others did. In an attempt to make new friends, she reached out to acquaintances from high school, hoping she’d have better luck. They ended up being as devious as her former friends, but with their own brand of toxic companionship.

  It was a small group of females who pretended to be friends but were secretly resentful of each other. Whether the cause was superficial reasons or legitimate sublimated issues, these girls were vicious. The secretive competition, bitter manipulation, fake sympathies, and temperamental loyalty was maddening. By age 22, it all came crashing down. When she caught her former best friend sleeping with her then-boyfriend, she burned that bridge and never looked back.

  All alone and in need of support, she spent three years letting the old crew back into her life. She accepted them with caution, never allowing them to get too close. She began dating one of Ethan’s best friends, Damien, and though it was a rebound, he managed to destroy her thoroughly. He was addicted to painkillers and the emotional abuse was potent. He was a control freak and if she wasn’t perfect, he wasn’t happy. The world revolved around him and somehow, she fell into the captive grip of his orbit. After a while, she knew no other way to live except to bend and break at his will.

  Her Uncle Oz was the only one who noticed her slow decline into a ghost of the girl that showed up at his doorstep seventeen years prior. He insisted she go on a camping trip with him to upstate New York, just the two of them. She resisted and tried to come up with excuses, never revealing the true reason for not wanting to go was her anxious attachment to her boyfriend, but he forced her into his truck and took her away.

  The drive was long and quiet; he wasn’t a big talker. When they arrived at the campsite four hours later, Juniper soaked in the sun and inhaled as much of the fresh forest air as her body would allow. They spent two
days together; fishing, barbecuing, and dirt biking. He never said a word about her current mental state—he let the forest take care of that. By the time the weekend was over, Juniper did not want to leave. On the ride back he indicated his awareness of her situation for the first time.

  “Better now?”

  She smiled and nodded. With the push of her uncle, the forest brought her back to life.

  She broke up with Damien and left. She said good-bye and expressed her gratitude to her extended family, but they could only see her departure as abandonment. Ozzie was the only one who wished her well.

  Juniper played the message again. Her last shift was Sunday afternoon and she could make the funeral if she booked a flight now. Annoyed this was thrust upon her after years of distant healing, but saddened by her uncle’s death, she got up and considered her options in the shower. It didn’t take much to come to the conclusion that she had to go. Not for them but for him, in thanks for his subtle but significant role in her re-discovery.

  Also for herself; returning and proving to herself that seeing those people again would not destroy her was an important test. It was essential in her healing and would prove that she was solid in her transformation.

  She dried off, threw her hair into a wet braid, and left for work early. She stopped at the local travel agency to find a flight. Living her new simple life, she opted not to have a laptop or internet at her house. It was a detrimental distraction and she didn’t want to get sucked into the vortex of social media. It was impossible to heal if she was seeing constant reminders of the past that hurt her.

  They found her a cheap flight and she left with a round trip ticket in hand. There was still an hour to kill before her shift started so she took Jaden Jaunt on a cruise around town. She drove along the coast of Port Angeles and breathed in the salty air of the Salish Sea. The Strait of Juan de Fuca was filled with cargo ships making afternoon deliveries. Juniper watched the locals working hard and sweating beneath the warm, spring sun. She knew most of them and waved as she rode by. Those who saw her waved back and Jeb McLeer mimed drinking a beer. She answered him with a thumbs up. He laughed and got back to work. She’d be seeing him and many of his co-workers at the end of the day.

  Having killed more time than she realized, she headed to work. It was 4 p.m. and Dipper Dive was empty besides the employees and a few day drinkers. Juniper took her place behind the bar, relieved Misty and Brett set up for the happy hour rush. She was alone for the first hour but she’d get help at 5 p.m.

  Carine and Teek showed up at quarter to. At half past, the regulars started pouring in. Dipper Dive was a good place to work because it didn’t attract tourists; they generally went to the more exciting bars in town. This was perfect in Juniper’s world as she did not like surprises or unpredictable vibes. At the Dipper Dive, she rarely had to worry about having a tough night with the patrons. They were usually the same, and they all liked and respected her and her co-workers. They were crazy and loud, but never caused her any emotional strife. After two years serving them their beverages she grew to like the folks of Port Angeles a lot. They grew very fond of her too and were always there for her. She never asked for help but they kept a protective eye on her from afar and offered assistance whenever they thought she may need some.

  “What are you having, Jeb?”

  “The usual.”

  Juniper grabbed a bottle of Bud Light from the fridge, cracked the top off, and slid it to him. He took a swig as she opened his tab.

  “How was your time off, Juni?”

  “Good. I went camping. Roscoe Boswald came by a few times.”

  “Ah, that handsome ranger is keen on ya. He knows I frequent here and he asks about you every time I run into him in town.”

  “Yeah, he’s really nice. It’s nice to have a friend, especially one as in love with the forest as I am.”

  “He wants more than a friendship.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I do. Mark my words, it won’t be long before he makes a move.”

  Juniper rolled her eyes and took care of the guy next to Jeb. He didn’t need to know Roscoe already fulfilled that prophecy.

  “I’m taking a smoke break,” Carine informed her and Teek before walking out the back.

  “Can you grab the appetizers for seats 101 and 102? Lady at 208 ordered a goddamn mojito,” Teek asked Juniper while organizing the ingredients to make the laborious cocktail.

  Juniper smirked and headed to the kitchen. She grabbed the plates of hot wings, French fries, and mozzarella sticks, then carefully carried them to the diners. When she exited the kitchen she saw Roscoe and Clark sitting next to Jeb in their park ranger uniforms. She delivered the food then walked over to them.

  “Hey, whatcha guys doing here?”

  “Decided to stop in after our shift ended,” Clark responded. “How’s it going?”

  “Good, same crowd as usual. Do you know what you’d like to order?”

  “I’ll have a cheeseburger, nothing on it, and a Blue Moon,” Roscoe answered.

  “And I’ll take a chicken sandwich and a club soda.”

  Juniper entered the order, poured the drinks, and leaned against the bar where they sat.

  “Thanks for coming by.”

  “Of course,” Roscoe smiled. “It’s always nice seeing you outside the forest.”

  “You too.” She smiled back and Jeb winked at her. She shook her head, half humored and half embarrassed, then tended to a couple whose glasses were empty.

  The night passed in a blur as the bar got packed and the orders came in non-stop, but Clark and Roscoe stayed long after they finished eating. They talked to Jeb and his buddy Rick, and Juniper chatted with them whenever she found a minute to breathe. There was a lull in activity around midnight; everyone was drunk and occupied in conversations, darts, pool, or dancing.

  Juniper collapsed onto her elbows in front of Roscoe.

  “You gonna make it?” he asked in jest.

  “Two more hours.” Then she plopped her head onto her arm. Roscoe rubbed the back of her shoulders for a moment before she stood back up. “And I don’t even get a break after my Sunday shift. I have to travel east for a funeral.”

  “Who died?” Roscoe asked concerned.

  “My uncle.” She never told him the story of where she came from or how she came to be here.

  “I’m really sorry to hear that. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. It’s sad but I’ll be okay.”

  “When is it?”

  “Monday and Tuesday.”

  “Want company? I’ll go with you if it will help.”

  Juniper was taken aback. “Really?”

  “Yeah, I have plenty of vacation days that I never end up using anyway.”

  They both glanced at Clark.

  “I’m fine with you taking a few days off. I’ll have Cindy come up from Quinault to cover your areas.”

  “Do you want me to go with you?” Roscoe asked, looking at Juniper with sympathy. She thought it over for a few moments before responding.

  “Yeah, actually. I think it would be really nice to have you there with me.”

  “Okay, count me in. Tell me your flight info and I’ll get a ticket.”

  “Thanks.” She was relieved he’d be by her side. He’d keep her focused, grounded, safe.

  “Anything for you.”

  Jeb winked at her again and she rolled her eyes before walking away.

  The night ended in a drunken haze for many. Clark left a little after midnight, but Roscoe hung around. At 2 a.m., the patrons trickled out, catching cabs or walking home, and some unwisely drove themselves. Since she opened the shift, Carine and Teek closed up shop. She preferred cleaning up prior to her shift since the end of the night mess was always worse.

  Roscoe only had two beers and was sober, so he followed her back to her place on his motorcycle. At the end of her driveway they both stopped.

  “Thanks for keeping me company tonight.”

 
; “It was fun. I needed a night out.”

  She gave him a hug. “I’ll be on Southwest #236 to LaGuardia. Let me know when you get your ticket.”

  “Will do.”

  She nodded and drove her motorbike to the shed in her backyard. Roscoe waited until she was parked and inside before leaving.

  She didn’t need much sleep and was up with the sun on Saturday morning. She sat on her back porch for hours, watching the stillness of the street’s shared lake. None of her neighbors were out yet, though she suspected the kids would be swimming as soon as they woke. She enjoyed the quiet while it lasted. By noon the neighborhood kids were outside, splashing around in the lake. She enjoyed watching their innocent revelry.

  She had the later shift. Misty was doing bar set-up at 4, so she took her time getting ready. Teek was on their shift too, but he strolled in late.

  “You stink like whiskey.”

  “Probably because I just drank some.”

  Misty poured him a glass of water. “Sober up. There’s a cruise ship docked in Seattle today and tonight might get crazy. You’re no use to us drunk.”

  “I’m not drunk,” Teek said with a slur, “just a little buzzed.”

  “Lies.” Misty grabbed his face and examined his glazed eyes. “What on earth were you doing today?”

  “Brett had friends in town from Cali and we were out on his boat.”

  “Tipsy is one thing, but you’re on the fast track to hammered.”

  “I told you, I’m not drunk.”

  “You’re on your way,” Juniper said, picking up the glass of water and handing it to him. “Whatever you drank is catching up to you. Misty and I aren’t dealing with the tourists alone. Drink up.”

  Teek begrudgingly took a sip of water.

  “Buncha buzzkills,” he muttered as he walked away.

  “Frank will freak if he sees him like this on a day a cruise is in town,” Misty said, concerned that their manager would fire him. Teek already had too many strikes.