by Lynn Red
And I mean, there I was, brain completely isolated from the very real danger I was in, making intricate plans about the removal of a goddamn body.
The road was only sparsely populated with traffic, and what little there was, happened to be on the side heading into town rather than going out into the woods. Good thing, too. In a haze, I took the exit to Dan’s favorite little alone-time spot, and wound along the narrow, unpaved, pothole-ridden road until Crane Landing spread out in front of me.
That’s a very grandiose name for what it actually is. Really, Crane Landing is little more than an earthen peninsula jutting out over a river. The only settlement for ten miles in any direction were a series of rental cabins to the east, and a trailer park to the west.
With the sour taste of bile building up in the back of my throat, I took a deep breath and climbed out of the truck.
I couldn’t just dump him and take the truck back. Assuming anyone believed me that my husband just went off one weekend and never returned, I think having his truck sitting in the driveway would make that story seem slightly implausible.
At the same time, I couldn’t take it to a chop shop or a junkyard or something because... well, paper trail.
“Here I am,” I announced to the empty woods. “I am going to leave a truck in the forest and walk ten miles back to town because... I don’t have any choice.”
The next several minutes of my life seemed like distant memories even as I was living them. Dan’s weight, the sound of him falling into the water, the groan of his ancient truck as I nudged it close enough to the drop off to be convincing, but not to have it fall off on him – I think in the back of my mind I sorta hoped he’d come-to when he hit the water – felt distant.
Looking back, it felt like those weird moments I had all the time in high school when I’d be walking down a hall to the next class, thinking about something else, and suddenly I was ten feet behind myself, watching my body walk down the corridor. It sounds weird, and I admit a little crazy, but there it is.
It all seemed so unreal; a movie playing out in front of my eyes where I was the protagonist pushed a step too far and had no choice but to explode. I guess, when it comes down to the line, I did have a choice about what to do, and I picked the one I thought most useful.
I swallowed. Hard. Walking back from the drop off, I decided to take a fairly ragged, unkempt hiking trail rather than risk running into someone on the road and having them realize shortly after what had happened. I might’ve been in a weird haze, but if anything, I’m not stupid.
I was already thirty minutes late for karaoke, and the twenty it took me to hike back to the road felt like eternity. Once I got back and saw that open road stretching out in front of me, I was struck like the cat on an inspirational poster. I was alone, standing on the shoulder of an interstate, and completely helpless. But... what the hell, I was free.
And that was something I hadn’t felt in a long, long time. Freedom.
I was actually smiling, and looking up at the stars as I trod the first few lonely steps on the asphalt. I let my thoughts drift to the past, to the future. Would I ever find someone who treated me like I should be treated? Hell, I’d settle for someone that treated me like a human, screw being a princess.
I was tapping a gentle, slow rhythm on the back of my phone, which was nestled in my front pocket.
“Oh right,” I said out loud, announcing reality to no one except myself. “Taxis exist.”
Coming up with a plan for what to tell the driver why I needed a pickup at mile marker 8, highway 174 was a secondary worry to what would happen to my feet if I actually tried to walk ten miles down the shoulder of a badly paved road.
Hey. A girl’s gotta have priorities, right?
*
It was well past seven by the time the rickety old cab showed up. It reminded me of an ancient police car – a white Crown Vic with a bunch of nicks, bruises and bangs all over the sides. There were about eight years of registration stickers piled up on the license plate, and one of the wheel wells seemed to be rattling a little too much to be safe.
“You call for a ride?” the cabbie called out of an open passenger window. “Weird place to wait for a cab.”
I laughed to deflect the fact that I was so nervous my armpits had developed wet spots of a similar size to a kiddie pool. “Oh you know,” I said, “just out here doing some drugs with my boyfriend.”
I’m not entirely sure why that was the first place my mind turned, but what the hell, it was believable enough. The puckered lips on the cabbie’s face told me he didn’t particularly buy it, but at the same time, he didn’t particularly care. This was going to be the prize winning fare of the night, I thought.
“Yeah well, get in. Clock’s ticking.”
Climbing in, the scent of musty Pine-sol air freshener struck me square in the face. I settled in, and clutched my purse in front of me like I was holding a shield against the world. “Nice night,” I said.
The cabbie grunted his assent, and took a call on his radio.
I sank down deeper into the ratty back seat, doing my best to disappear from the entire world. The highway bumped beneath me, every single pitch and yaw of the car sickening me as I remembered the way Dan’s limp body flopped around the pickup bed. There was just nothing I could do – no half-assed attempts at meditation, no happy-place seeking – to get my mind off what just happened. Surprisingly, I didn’t feel bad about it, not exactly, I was just absolutely petrified at what was supposed to come next.
Somehow, I entertained myself with increasing paranoia by the time the cab pulled into the pub’s parking lot. From inside, I heard someone with a crackly voice crooning the chorus of some Beach Boys song. Don’t hold it against me, they all sound the same in my head.
“Forty-six bucks,” the cabbie said. “Best fare of the night, assuming you don’t cheap out on the tip.”
He chuckled with feigned good nature, but I was too stunned by my own brain to do anything except nod. “Yeah,” I said, as I handed over a wad of cash. He smiled, so I must not have stiffed him.
I stood and stared at the garish neon shamrock out front of the pub for a few seconds while I tried to remember what I was doing and why I was there.
“Raine!” Karen called as she emerged from the front door. “Hey! Glad you came! Matt’s in there getting another round. I gotta talk to some asshole from work for a minute, go on in. The karaoke party is hopping tonight, baby! By that I mean “really embarrassingly awesome.”
She smiled, and I returned the gesture, but mine was hollow and distracted. “Yeah,” I heard myself say. “Sounds good.”
Inside, the smell of old beer, sweat, and a lingering cigarette-stank – although smoking hadn’t been allowed inside for almost three years, if that gives you an idea – flooded my senses. Unpleasant, maybe, but that musty aroma brought me back to myself, almost like I was remembering who I was. A cursory glance around the place didn’t reveal my dark-haired dream, which I felt stupid even for thinking about.
Matt called to me, and I wandered over to the table, sitting down and immediately downing beer number one. It was strong, but I hardly tasted it.
“Damn, girl,” he said with his charming Southern twang. “Thirsty?”
I chuffed a soft laugh. “Yeah, you could say that.” More like I just murdered my husband and now I’m drinking at a bar, I thought. I shook my head. “Another one? I’m buying.”
“When have I ever said no?” he asked with a smirk.
That’s about all I remember, really. Not because I got raging, black-out drunk, although I wouldn’t have minded that much. It was all just so surreal. They sang, I sang. The hours just melted by until the lights came on and the beefcake behind the bar called for final drink orders.
“One more round?” I remember Karen asking. None of us needed it, but what the hell? It’s not like we were driving anywhere.
When she returned, my friend had a look of concern on her face. And this is the only reason I remember this
particular exchange. “What’s eating you, Raine?” she asked.
I scrunched my forehead up, acting like I didn’t know what she was talking about. The problem with having the same friends for most of your conscious life is that they can see right through your bullshit without any problem at all. After a moment’s pause, I shrugged. “Just a lot going on,” I admitted.
“Yeah? Anything terrible?”
If only you knew, sister. If only you knew. “No, not really. Just normal stuff.”
“Is it about Dan?” She may as well have been a psychic. Of course, I had told her about how he wasn’t such a good guy in our last conversation, but... yeah, I really didn’t know what to say. I looked around the bar again, hoping to see the guy I knew, deep down, I wouldn’t. The feeling kept gnawing at me though, and I couldn’t deny what I felt.
“He’s gone.”
“Wait, what? Dan?”
“Yeah,” I said, talking a long drink.
“Like he left you? Are you serious?”
I nodded. It wasn’t entirely dishonest. “He went camping, like I said.” I had to be careful not to talk my drunk ass into a corner and admit what I’d done, but just saying some of that stuff took the weight off my chest little by little. “He called a little while before I got here and told me he wasn’t coming back.”
Her eyes were as wide as saucers. “He... that’s... what a fucking prick.”
I nodded. “I don’t know why. I guess maybe he found someone else? It’s all just really weird.”
Karen and Matt were both just shaking their heads. “What are you gonna do?” Matt asked. “I mean, just thinking practically – for money or whatever. And did you get a lawyer?”
“No,” I said. “I mean, not yet. I should. As far as money goes, I have enough for a while. That should be fine.” It was sort of true, but not as much as I was trying to let on.
“Jesus,” he said. “This is... I hate to be blunt, but you don’t seem all that upset about it.”
Hearing him say that was like having an ocean wave slide over me. It was suffocating, but warm and hauntingly comfortable. “I guess,” I began and then bit my lip. “I guess I’m really not. Things haven’t been all that great for a while.”
After a few minutes spent sitting in silence, Karen spoke up. “Well, you know what? You deserve better than someone who’d do that to you. You should go get that bartender to take you home.”
She smiled, and then started laughing.
This is what I missed. Karen’s irreverent sense of humor, Matt’s serious demeanor tinged with just a dash of sardonic wit.
“Maybe I should,” I said. “But I was thinking about going on a road trip. You know, just kind of drive around and see what I can see?”
The two of them looked at one another. “You might want to think about that for a while,” Matt said. “You don’t want to do something you’ll regret later.”
Karen shrugged. “I dunno. I’ve never regretted anything I’ve done as much as I’ve regretted things I wanted to do, but didn’t. You don’t have anything holding you down, you know? Don’t have to worry about kids or a job or anything. When the hell are you gonna have a chance like this again?”
Just listening to the back and forth had at once steeled my reserve, but also cracked my wall just a hair. Before I knew it, I had been chewing on my lip for so long that a shock of pain went through me. “I’m scared,” I said. A tear ran down my face, though again I didn’t notice it until the warm droplet hit my neck. “I don’t... I’ve never been alone, not really.”
The two of them exchanged another glance. “I’ve got some vacation time coming,” Karen said. “You want some company for a few days?”
“I... I couldn’t ask you to do that,” I said. “Waste your vacation looking after me? I couldn’t—”
“No,” Matt cut in. “It’s a good idea. A perfect idea. We’re best friends, right?”
I nodded.
“Well, what the hell do you think friends are for? Whenever I leave my old battle axe for a hot, nubile eighteen-year-old freshman, you can repay the favor.”
Karen slugged him good right in the shoulder. He laughed at first, and then a second later, winced when she did it again. She was smiling too, but was hitting him hard enough that I knew it hurt.
“You wouldn’t know what to do with an eighteen year old,” she said, still grinning.
For the first time in a lot longer than I care to admit, I was smiling too. That warm sensation of comfort, of security, that you only get when you’re with people who really love you? That exact feeling flooded through me. “I can’t possibly thank you enough,” I said, as more tears ran down my cheeks. Karen reached over the table and grabbed my shoulders.
“You don’t have to,” she said with absolute seriousness. “I know you’d do exactly the same thing for me. We are best friends, and this is what we do.”
I swallowed hard enough to hear my own throat clicking. Then I started to reply, but I couldn’t find my voice. Instead, I just nodded, sniffing back another round of tears.
“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Matt said, swigging back the last of his beer. “You gonna finish that?” he asked as he reached for mine. I couldn’t do anything but smile, and laugh just a little.
“Go right ahead,” I managed to say, even though he already had the glass tipped back when I did.
The night outside the bar was cool enough that it gave me just the slightest chill when we stepped through the door and waited for a cab. “I really appreciate this,” I said to Karen as Matt was wandering around waving his arms at cars to get us a ride.
“Like I said,” she replied, “don’t worry about it. Truth is, I’d rather use my vacation time hanging out with you – who, by the way, I haven’t seen anywhere near enough in the past few years – than I would on another boring trip to Branson with Matt.”
“Branson?” I snickered. “Is he eighty?”
“In his heart, yes,” she said. “I have no idea how any thirty-three-year-old man could love Lawrence Welk and the dancing water show as much as he does, but... I’ll be damned if he doesn’t turn into a giddy little kid when we go.”
“It must be nice,” I said, accidentally falling back into my thoughtful mood. “Having someone you love so much you’ll put up with Branson.”
She shrugged. “He puts up with my Nintendo collection. Give and take,” she said. “It’s all about give and take. Don’t worry. You’ll find someone just like him. Although maybe with less of a belly and bigger arms.”
We both laughed like we had for years and years... although she was right – we hadn’t been together anywhere near enough lately. When the laughter trailed off, she put her arm around my shoulder. “You will,” she said. “You’ll find someone you don’t care has a little too much of a gut, and who doesn’t work out as much as he should, and drinks a little too much beer. That’s what love is really about, you know.”
I nodded. “So I’ve been told,” I said, smiling to try and hide the fact that in reality, my only idea of what love was supposed to be like was confused, clouded, and came mostly from Sandra Bullock movies.
I felt my shoulders shake, and knew I wasn’t going to be able to fight off this round of sobs. Thankfully, by the time it came, Matt had found us a cab, and I was able to just bury myself in Karen’s shoulder, and have a good damn cry.
Sometimes, that’s the only thing that can really make a person feel any better, you know? Letting go of all that emotion, all that anger and sadness and confusion in a torrent of salty tears. And right then? It’s exactly what I needed.
-6-
And sometimes, it ALL goes down the river
After my “rousing” rendition of whatever Michael Bolton song it was that Matt and Karen forced me to sing at karaoke, the rest of the evening was kind of a blur. My numbness gave way to anger, which gave way a little later to a feeling of pure, boiling rage. How dare Dan do all those things to me? How dare he keep me prisoner in my own
house for all those years, and how the hell did he dare to keep haunting me even after he was gone?
I remember settling down into the easy chair – a big, worn-out, soft brown one – Dan never let me use. He called it his “throne” and always went on and on about how the house was his castle, and kings need thrones. I sighed, sinking down into the morass of that chair. A spring in the lower left part of the back stuck me slightly, and the lingering scent of Dan’s cheap cologne filled my nose.
It was just like him, really. All pretense, no substance.
He poured cheap drugstore cologne into an expensive bottle. I never actually knew before him that anyone cared enough about what others thought to go to such an effort, but that was Dan.
Karen stayed over for a couple of days, just like she said she would. We talked, we laughed and watched a whole lot of bad movies. She even convinced me to go out with her to the gym, which is no small feat.
The day she left, we talked about my trip, and how good it would be for me. She called it a ‘growth opportunity’ but I think really it was just a chance for me to escape the shell I’d grown around myself for all those years.
The night before I left, I grabbed myself a bottle of cabernet, and sat down in Dan’s easy chair again, though this time, I just sat, without thinking about him at all until the scent of his cologne met my nose again.
“No one ever came over here,” I said out loud, laughing with a soft giggle. “Did he think he was fooling me with the cologne bottle?”
My fingers trickled down the armrest. Unconsciously, I picked at a frayed hole out of which, stuffing was poking.
It was like my mind was trying to decide what was real and what was pretend. I know I keep harping on this, but I can’t get it out of my head. I kept vacillating between numbness, anger, and terror. I knew that his truck wasn’t going to be out there long before someone came across it. And after that, it was just a matter of time until someone found his body.
A pin-prick of a hole in the wall beside the TV caught my undivided attention. Funny the things that we fixate on when we’re in a mood to be fixated. I tried to remember what had been pinned there. It was a poster, I recalled that much, but what it was exactly, escaped me. Really though, it didn’t much matter. That it was gone was yet another reminder that with Dan, the only thing I was, was his.