In the Echo of this Ghost Town

by CL Walters

  All my life I thought my name meant monster, and that’s kind of how I’ve acted.

  Like one of those self-fulfilling prophecies or something.

  The truth is, though, Max,

  I didn’t guard my treasure. I pushed her away.

  I wish there was something I could say to fix it,

  But I messed it up.

  I’m sorry for that.

  I heard you aren’t coming home for spring break, which made me sad.

  I had hoped to tell you ‘I’m sorry’ in person, but I get it.

  You’re moving on.

  Maybe with the many number of Bens in your life

  I hope you have fun and enjoy your break.

  I’m trying to follow your relationship rules, so I wanted you to know that no matter what, I want to be a better treasure guardian.

  I will always treasure our friendship—

  I miss that, most.

  I will always treasure the lessons you taught me,

  and the way you made it clear you believed in me.

  I will always treasure the way you made me feel like I was the best version of myself,

  and now that I know what that feels like, I can work for that on my own.

  I treasure that you made me face my shit

  (well, you and Cal).

  So, for all of that, thank you, Maxwell Wallace.

  Your friend forever, Griffin.

  * * *

  She doesn’t respond.

  2

  When I go to the kitchen to get some food, Mom is sitting on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket on the couch watching late night TV.

  “Hey,” she says when I walk through to the kitchen.

  “Where’s Bill?”

  “Not sure.”

  The way she says it sounds weird.

  “Everything okay?” I walk to the opening between the rooms, lean against the wall, and study at her. It’s a rare opportunity to do so. This woman who never sits, never watches TV, never idle. She doesn’t have time for it. Instead, she’s been a flurry of movement, of problem solving, of tough love. Now, she looks quiet and still.

  She glances at me and then looks back at the TV. “I broke it off with him.”

  “Really?” I’m surprised and go to the couch to sit down next to her. “How come? I thought you really liked him.”

  We listen to the studio audience laugh at something the host says.

  She mutes the TV. “I did like him. I mean, I do like him, but there was just something in my gut telling me I was having to try too hard to be content.”

  “But aren’t relationships about work?”

  “Definitely.” She looks at me. “I’m no expert or anything, but it felt a lot like I was working to keep things together, and I don’t want that for myself again. I want someone who’s willing to work for me too.” She looks at me. “Do you know what I’m saying?”

  “I think so.”

  “You told me not to settle. And as nice as a person as Bill is, that’s what I felt like I was doing. Making allowances for all the ways I was having to adjust. I don’t want to be the only one making adjustments.”

  “I’m proud of you, Mom.”

  A smile blooms on her face. “Why would you say that?”

  “Because you’re strong. You’ve held us together. You’ve been both my mom and my dad. I think you’re the best. And whoever you date should know that and treat you that way too.”

  She adjusts on the couch and leans against my shoulder. “Thank you for that, Griffin.” She unmutes the TV a while, and we watch the jokes and then the interviews.

  I get up and make us some microwave popcorn which we share.

  We laugh at a stupid monologue and silly commercials. Eventually, Mom mutes the TV again and says, “You know? If no one comes along, I’m okay with that, too.”

  I look at her a nod. Strangely, having gone through what I’ve experienced with Bella, and even with Max, I understand what she means. At one time, I remember hiding from being alone, but now, having faced it and found comfort in my own skin, I’m not afraid to face it anymore.

  “Let’s catch the popcorn,” I tell her and take a popped kernel, throw it up and try to catch it with my mouth. It hits me on the chin.

  Mom laughs. “No, thanks.” She snuggles in closer, and we watch a black and white movie until sleep makes it impossible to watch anymore.

  I’m alone at the farmhouse the next day, earbuds in my ears, listening to the playlist I made Max for our road trip. One of my favorite songs is in the midst of a guitar solo, and there’s a nice beat that makes spreading paint on the walls easier. Otherwise, I’d be bored out of my mind, especially since Cal isn’t here for company. Not that he talks all that much, but there’s something nice about just being around someone and the comfort of knowing they’re there.

  The key, I decide, is being content either way.

  My phone pings through my headphones. I wrap an arm around the extended pole of the paint roller and hold it against my side to check who’s texted, figuring it’s Tanner and hoping it’s not Bella. He left for California a couple of days ago on some big adventure to offer a grand gesture to Emma. He’s staying with Josh, and going to watch our former classmate, Atticus Baker, in his basketball game. It sounds like fun, but I’m content to be here, where I can be close to Bella, who called me yesterday after the appointment and said her blood pressure was a little high. “No big deal,” she reassured me. “The baby is fine.”

  The text is from Tanner: Dude. Cali is crazy.

  Me: Why?

  Tanner: Hard to explain. I thought the city was big. San Fran is giant. So many people. And the PACIFIC OCEAN!

  Me: Pretty?

  Tanner: Well… When you can see it through the fog, yeah.

  Me: Pics? How’s Josh?

  Tanner: Same. He say’s s’up?

  Me: Yo! How’s Emma?

  Tanner: Haven’t seen her yet. Tomorrow.

  Me: Nervous?

  Tanner: Fuck yeah. She can skewer me with a word.

  Me: I don’t think she would have said yes if she wasn’t interested. What did Josh say?

  Tanner: Same.

  Me: You’re good. Use the Tanner swagger. Got to go. Some people have to work.

  I replace the phone in my pocket with a smile and rewet the roller with the same gray shade Max picked out for downstairs, continued in the upstairs landing hallway. I’m so grateful my friends are back in my life. I wonder if Max is having fun on her spring break trip with Ben. Shit. No. Her friends, but in my head, I’ve worked it up to be with Ben and wishing she was with me. I just miss her.

  My phone pings again. “Freaking Tanner,” I say out loud and rest the painting pole in a one-armed hug again to balance it against my shoulder.

  It isn’t Tanner. Max has initiated a text. Hey.

  I hesitate, heart pounding. There’s a lot riding on my response. I text: Hey.

  And roll my eyes at myself. Idiot.

  Max: Is my dad home?

  It’s a weird question. I glance about, even though it’s a dumb response, since I know he isn’t.

  Me: No. Out on a job. Why?

  There’s a thump downstairs. I turn off the music, hear the door close, and text her again: Wait. I think he just got back. Need me to tell him something?

  “Cal?” I call down the stairs, but he doesn’t answer. I lean the paint poll against the wall, knowing I’m going to have to fix it after and hop down the stairs. “Cal? Need some help–” But I stall on the bottom step. “What the–”

  Max is standing just this side of the closed door, a bag on the floor near her feet. She looks good, so good. Perfect. Beautiful, and I know what she feels like against my hands. I tamp down my longing to kiss her. She isn’t smiling and looks worried. Unsure. This isn’t how I think of Max, whose tenacity sat with me, a stranger, outside of a convenience store, who asked me if I was a serial killer while she laughed.

  I take the final step down, my chest tigh
t with concern. “Are you okay? What happened? You’re supposed to be—not here.”

  She nods, then her mouth skews sideways like she’s trying to hold in her emotions.

  I shove my hands into my pockets and fist them to keep myself steady. But my muscles seem to decide to pulse with adrenaline, nerves twitching, so I withdraw my hands and cross my arms tightly.

  She scrunches up her nose like she needs to sneeze. Her eyes are shiny. She closes them. “You’re painting.”

  I nod and look up the stairwell. “Finishing upstairs. Working on the punch list to finish it out.” When I return my gaze to her, she’s looking up the stairs past me. “What are you doing here?”

  She chews on her upper lip, then says, “I didn’t go.”

  “I see that.”

  She smiles, but it’s subdued and at the floor, not at me. “Right. Let me fix that.” She looks up with a nod, as if she’s come to a decision, and meets my gaze. Her eyes crash into mine, and the longing in them tugs at my belly as the tightening reaches around to my back. “I didn’t want to go,” she says. “I thought I did, but the closer it got, the more I thought about home.”

  I swallow and struggle because my mouth is dry. Her eyes are telling me one thing, but I’m trying to line it up with her words and actions, which aren’t clear. “Your dad will be happy.”

  “Yeah. Um. He will be.” She crosses her arms and takes a step forward. “But he isn’t the reason I came home.” She pauses and takes another step. “I wanted to see you, Griffin, and I miss you, and–”

  But I don’t let her finish. I close the distance between us in two steps, take her face between my hands and kiss her. God, I kiss her, like every fiber of my being is fused with hers. It’s like getting a deep drink of water after walking through the desert. “I’m sorry.” I kiss her with the worship I feel moving through me. When I draw away from her, I say, “I’m sorry. I should have asked.”

  She smiles, and her shiny eyes spill over with tears. She reaches up and pushes some of my hair off my forehead. “I was hoping it wasn’t too late.”

  I wrap my arms around her. “I’m sorry, Max. So sorry. You were right.”

  She clings to my back, my t-shirt bunched up in her hands, the cool air in the house biting at the skin of my back. “I should have stayed and fought with you. For you. I shouldn’t have walked away. I’m sorry, too. I didn’t follow my rules.”

  I kiss her forehead, her temple, her cheek. I swipe at the tears on her cheeks with my thumbs. “You’re here now. Do we still need to fight about it?” I ask and smile against her lips. “I could muster some fighting words if you give me a moment, I’m sure.”

  She shakes her head with a growing smile under my lips and tugs my body closer to hers. The kiss she gives me is sweet, until it isn’t. Her mouth begins to take, and I give, her want like mine, deep and insistent. My stomach clenches, and my heart trips up as I shiver, the heat turning up a few notches in my chest. When her breathing becomes heavy and she whispers my name into my mouth, it’s nearly my undoing.

  “Max. Max,” I say against her skin, pulling away.

  I’m at work.

  I’m at work.

  “I’m at work,” I finally say. “And I have to not get fired, because your dad will have my head if I mess up again.”

  “Again?”

  “Yeah, I can’t let him down.”

  Her fingers graze my face. “I’ll help.” She smiles. “Help me with my bags?”

  I nod and follow her up the stairs, wondering how I’m going to finish the work with her beside me when all I want to do is keep her in my arms.

  It turns out, however, that moving through the punch list isn’t so bad when we check off the items together. The painting, the outlet covers, caulking goes quickly because we talk, which I’m pretty sure is probably more important between us at the moment than the physical stuff.

  “Was Renna upset you didn’t go with them?”

  “Maybe, but she understood.”

  “And Ben?” I ask.

  “Worried about all the Bens in my life?”

  “Just one.”

  “Ben and I went out for coffee.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’re here,” I say.

  “I am. He isn’t you.”

  I set the putty down and lean against the counter next to her.

  “I read and reread your texts. I loved them.”

  “I just…I needed to talk to you. I missed you and I didn’t know how else to figure out what was happening.” I pause, drawing a breath, examining my open palms, not looking at her. “You didn’t text back.”

  “I wanted to. I just didn’t know what to say.”

  I meet her gaze.

  “I wrote you a letter; I just never sent it.”

  “What did it say?”

  “About how I was feeling, and how much you mean to me and about how for the first time in my life, you made me feel like I was just right.”

  “You are.”

  “I was—am—insecure about Bella. I don’t want to be, but I am.”

  “Bella and I aren’t like that. Even with one night, we weren’t ever anything, you know. Drunk. We’re just partners for the baby.” I pause, knowing what I need to say and a little tentative because I know it could be what ends things. But it’s her choice. I can’t decide for her. “That’s really important to me, Max.”

  Max reaches out and plucks something from my t-shirt on my arm. The touch burns through to my skin and into my bloodstream.

  I move to stand in front of her. With a finger curled under her chin, I lift her face to look at me and wait until she does. “Plus, there’s a big problem with Bella.”

  Her eyes search mine. “And what’s that?”

  “She isn’t you.”

  Max smiles. That dimple.

  I lean down. “I mean it.” I press my lips against that little divot just to the left of her mouth.

  She pulls me against her and turns her head, so our lips connect.

  I groan. “Max.”

  She hums, tilting her head so the kiss deepens.

  I reach down and lift her so she’s sitting on the counter, then step in between her legs. “I’m supposed to be working.”

  She smiles against my mouth. “But isn’t this more fun.”

  My heart skydives in my chest. “Yes. Stop.” I run my fingers through her hair and straighten. “Max?”

  “Yeah?” She tilts her head closer to my hand.

  “Are you really okay with the idea of me being a dad? I understand, Max, if you aren’t. It’s big. I’m having a kid.”

  Her eyes flutter open, and she measures my face with her gaze. “I’m not scared of that.”

  “I can’t promise it won’t be complicated, but Max, if you’ll have me, I’m all in.”

  She grins. “All in, huh?” Her eyes flick up to mine.

  “Are you being naughty?”

  She wiggles my hips using my belt loops and grins. “Yes.”

  “I’m at work.”

  “Fine. Where’s the paint brush.” She gives me a quick kiss. “I’ll follow you.”

  She does.

  We spend the rest of the afternoon talking, stealing kisses and touches, and finishing the punch list. I think about Mom and her decision to break-up with Bill, her feeling like she was making all of the allowances. I don’t feel like that with Max, and maybe we’re being naïve to think we can work through a baby that’s going to take up a huge part of my life, but right now, whatever this is, I feel seen. I feel heard. I feel respected. And I look at her and feel the same. I see her. I hear her. I respect her. Maybe that’s all we can strive for in any relationship.

  3

  The lake sparkles through the trees when I park the car in the space in front of Josh’s family cabin. It’s a bright blue-green sparkling in the spring sunshine. Remnants of snow are spread thin or in piles clinging to the landscape, but this isn’t a trip to frolic in the sun
shine. When I climb out of the car, my nerves are exposed and compressed with anticipation. I glance at Max as she gets out of the passenger’s side. We spent most of the two-hour drive talking with ease, but the reality of finally being alone hovers like the cold mountain air.

  After nearly a week of making out in my car, dodging Cal, and putting off Max who seems okay with having sex in the backseat, but I’ve refused—I want our first time to be memorable and special—I’ve finally reached out to my friends for advice. Awkward, but kind of perfect for a new bro code we’re creating, Tanner brings it up to Josh (they are still in California together, Tanner’s grand gesture a success), and Josh suggests his family’s cabin which is free and clear for a private, weekend getaway before she returns to school for her final term.

  “This is beautiful,” she says.

  I wait a beat before saying, “I’ll make sure the key works before we unload.”

  She nods and stretches.

  The three stairs up onto the covered deck are packed with a cycle of snow that has melted a few times over. I notice that I’m focusing on the details of things, as if to calm my insides from the anticipation, the fear, the hope wrapped up in being with Max. Holding the screen door with my body, the key slips into the lock, and the door opens with a slight shove to loosen it from the swollen frame. It’s dark and cold inside.

  Her footsteps thud against the wood of the porch, then I feel her warmth behind me. She leans and looks over my shoulder. “It’s cute.” She walks past me into the main room and turns. “I’ll open it up and air it out a bit.”

  A few trips between the car and the cabin later, I stand at the front door with a bag slung over my shoulder.

  Max has opened the curtains so the light filters in through the large windows. She’s also opened windows, and the musty smell that met me has already waned. The cabin is a comfortable space, not large like Josh’s house, but cabin cozy. A small family room in an open living space decorated in reds and greens, includes a table large enough for six people. The main room connects to a kitchen and a hallway that leads to the back of the house. There’s a cold fireplace, waiting to be lit to warm the whole place, and an open stairwell leading to an upper level.