by Tess Oliver
"You never answered the question about Vick." Mom carried plates to our wobbly kitchen table. I'd been eating at that same table with the uneven legs and chipped corner all my life. My parents were never the type to waste money when they thought what they already had was good enough. Dad used to put shims under the short leg to try and balance the thing, but the 'extra horseshoe' as Dad liked to call it never stayed put. I sat down at my usual seat, the one that gave me a view across the road to a gulley of trees. The table shifted slightly my direction as she put down the plate.
"Uh, I think he's finished another clinical trial. The tumors have stayed in remission . . . for now."
"It's a shame they couldn't shrink the tumors completely. It always seems remission is just a short reprieve." The lines on Mom's forehead and around her mouth had grown deeper. They were permanent reminders of the incredibly sad expression she always wore when she was in the depths of her illness. There was no way to erase them. They were always there. Back then, the lines around her mouth were always a warning sign that one of her dark moods was descending upon the household. The lines would grow more prominent, her weak smile would fade away completely and the corners of her mouth would turn down like a sad face emoji. Whenever I saw that frown, I knew everything was going to go to shit again and that I'd be stuck searching for breakfast in empty cupboards and wearing dirty clothes to school.
I peered up at my mom, not realizing I was staring until she laughed lightly. "What are you looking at, Kingston? In shock at how old your mom is getting?"
"Huh? No, not at all. Just thinking how pretty you look when you smile."
Her cheeks blushed. She reached over and took hold of my hand, gave it a gentle squeeze and released it just as my dad had returned from washing up in the bathroom. He hadn't noticed the exchange and went straight to patting his stomach.
"Hmm, that smells good. You should come more often." He motioned his head toward me. "She never cooks me gourmet meals unless you're here."
Mom laughed. It seemed I'd heard her laugh more in the short time I'd been at the house than during the last five years of my childhood.
"I make you macaroni and cheese all the time," she noted as she took her usual place across from me. It seemed I'd spent far more meals, if toast and cereal could be considered meals, with that chair empty than full. It always felt so much more complete when she was sitting across from me, and the smile she was wearing made it almost surreal. How many times as a messed-up kid had I imagined just this scene, and now that I was an adult, and I'd taken charge of my own life and future, there it was, the three of us eating my favorite food in a tidy kitchen filled with good aromas and a fucking pumpkin patch in the front yard. And while Mom had never bought that red and white checkered table cloth I'd always included in my imagination, she'd put down decorative fall leaf placemats.
Dad took a bite, closed his eyes to savor it, then nodded with approval. "It's the ham that takes it over the top."
"So what else is new, King?" Mom asked. Another thing I was having to get used to since she'd made so much progress with her mental health. I had always been jealous when Bronx's mom called him from work to ask how his day had been. He pretended to be annoyed by it, but I knew he was glad. Mom was usually too steeped in misery to even check whether I'd made it in the door, let alone ask how my day went. Dad would occasionally ask, but I'd longed to hear the same question from my mom. Now she was asking it all the time. While most adults got annoyed by parents prying into their lives, I was just happy she asked.
"You know how it is in late fall. Fire season is pretty much behind us. I'm going to work for the local fire station near my house. They're always shorthanded when they're working on mitigation. Looking forward to it."
"That's nice."
Dad swallowed and nodded at the same time. "Good to keep busy during the down times. Think they're going to be doing some mitigation up here soon. So many pines lost to those bark beetles. Dead trees are an accelerant for forest fires." He chuckled. "Guess you knew that."
"Yup, been near a few when they went up in smoke."
Mom picked up her glass of tea. "That reminds me—" she shook her head. "Terrible that the phrase up in smoke should remind me about the awful tragedy you guys endured."
"Yeah, it's still hard thinking about Bulldozer." The topic had sort of melted the airy cheer at the table, but that didn't stop my mom from continuing.
"Is Jack still seeing his widow? Layla?"
I nodded. "Yes, they're very close. I've never seen Bronx so happy."
Mom smiled again. "I'm happy for Jack. He's such a good boy." She covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. "Can't believe I'm still thinking of you big strong men as boys." Her mirth ended quickly, and a slight frown crossed her brow. "Guess I missed so much of that time when you were boys." There was a waver in her voice that caused me to reach across and place my hand on her arm.
"No sense in getting all sniffly about it," Dad said, as usual dismissing her emotions rather than letting her talk about them. "How was the drive in? I swear there's so much road construction happening, it's almost impossible to get here. Don't know why the developers are bothering."
I grabbed the salt and pepper shakers. "Developers? What developers?"
"You haven't heard?" Mom said with an edge of excitement. Growing up, it had been rare for her to even join into a dinner conversation. Her therapist and doctor needed fucking gold medals. "Westridge is going through gentrification."
A laugh spurted from my mouth before I could stop it. My parents didn't look too pleased. "Sorry, but I think gentrification only happens in rundown urban areas not rundown mountain towns."
"What your mom means is rich people are buying up property here to make the whole place into some kind of resort. The last purchase was the Jensen property."
I sat forward with interest. "I saw that the place had been torn down. Thought maybe old Jensen had come back to town."
Dad had never liked it when I referred to Kenzie's dad as old Jensen. He clucked his tongue now as if I was still fifteen. "Sheriff Jensen," he said pointedly, "bought himself a cabin about ten miles from here. Middle of nowhere from what I could tell by the pictures he showed me. He said he was just going to fish and hunt and relax until the lord took him away."
"Sooner would be better than later," I muttered. It seemed I was fifteen again. "Sorry," I said to the scornful looks coming my way. "It's just, he was so mean. He was always looking to make everyone's lives miserable, especially Kenzie and Sutton."
"He came right over that time someone broke into your dad's truck," Mom said by way of excuse for the fact that the man was an utter and complete asshole who wore his uniform everywhere just to remind everyone of his power.
"That's because it was his job," I said. "He never found the vandal either. He never let Kenzie and Sutton do anything. They weren't even allowed to go to the school dances."
Mom looked down at her plate. "Those poor girls," she said quietly. "I blame their mother for running out on them." She said it confidently for a woman who tried to run out on her kid with a bottle of sleeping pills.
"Enough of this gloomy talk," Dad said in his usual attempt to avoid anything sticky or grim. "Mom and I are just waiting for our offer, then I think we might pick up stakes and move down the hill."
A piece of food caught in my throat. I grabbed water to wash it down. "Seriously? Are you guys thinking of moving?"
Mom pretended to busy herself with her food as if the topic wasn't interesting enough to listen to. I turned back to Dad.
He shrugged. "People are getting twice the market value up here."
"Twice of nothing is still nothing." Mom cleared her throat and continued to spin the cheesy pasta around her plate.
"It's true, values up here aren't great," Dad conceded. "But it's not as if people are knocking down the door to buy this place. I'm getting tired of mountain living."
"What about you, Mom?" I asked. It sounded like a reasonable
plan to me. They were both getting older, and I wasn't able to make it up to Westridge often. If they were closer, I could keep an eye on them.
Mom's chair scraped the floor as she hopped up. "Brownies anyone? I frosted them too."
"I never say no to a brownie." I looked over at my dad as she turned away from the table.
He shrugged again to let me know Mom wasn't on board with the whole moving idea.
Mom returned with the tray of brownies and a carton of cold milk and the talk of relocating was not broached again at the dinner table.
3
An amazing autumn sunset, with colors to match the trees, filled the sky above Westridge. I'd eaten enough macaroni and cheese to feed an entire third grade classroom, and I didn't let that stop me from downing three huge brownies. I'd helped my mom wash dishes, then popped open a cold beer to head out under the coming stars.
I sat on the rickety front steps, a place I used to sit when I couldn't stand to be in the house and it was too dark or too cold to go to the park or the river. One of my best memories was Kenzie Jensen pedaling over on her bike to sit with me. Her dad was always working, and after her Mom left, she was rarely supervised. It was the finest strict parent irony in the world. The sisters couldn't attend a chaperoned school function because their old man was sure dances led to unwanted pregnancies but when he was on the night shift, Kenzie roamed the town on her bicycle, without any supervision at all. That night, remnants of the August heat were still clinging to the air. The frogs had quieted down from their crazy spring mating season, but the crickets were still in full musical mode. Kenzie had her ear buds in, and she was dancing to music only she could hear as she sashayed up the walkway to the steps. Even at fourteen, Kenzie had been one of those people who just made everything around her light up with energy. It was as if the trees and the critters and, most especially, every guy in town just held their breath in anticipation whenever she strolled into view. That night was no different for me. I held my breath until she sat down next to me. Only then did I dare release it and quietly so she couldn't hear how her presence affected me. We sat for a long time just listening to the outside noises, both of us knowing we had shitty circumstances at home and there wasn't anything either of us could do about it. We'd laughed hard after a debate about which was the best flavor of ice cream. I'd fallen on the side of rocky road, and for Kenzie, it was mint chip. After all the time we'd spent together, rafting down the river on inner tubes, jumping from the falls, hiking up to places where we could get far away from the town, I don't think we'd ever bonded as much as we had that night on my front porch.
The screen door squeaked, and Dad stepped out on the porch. He was carrying his own cold beer. "I'm gonna sit down next to you, but I warn you I'm going to need a hand up. My knees just aren't what they used to be."
I swept some of the dust off the step and he sat down. We both drank our beers as we gazed up at the streaky colors of dusk painted over the tops of the towering pines.
"What a sunset, eh?" Dad said.
"Yeah, it's funny how much more I appreciate the landscape, the nature around this town now that I'm grown up. As a kid, all these trees felt suffocating, as if there was some big, grand world out there just waiting for me, and the trees were keeping me in like prison bars."
Dad took another drink of beer. "And now, you're one of the guardians of this great landscape. I don't say it enough, in fact, not sure when I've ever said it, but I am proud of you, Kingston. There was a time when I worried you wouldn't make it out of your wild teens, but you did and like I said, the way you turned out, it makes me proud."
"Thanks, Dad." I glanced back toward the screen door to make sure Mom wasn't in earshot. Dad seemed to sense it.
"She's taking a bath," he noted.
I nodded. "Can't believe the change," I said. "She's—she's an entirely different person."
"Yep, only wish we'd gone to this doctor sooner." He looked over at me. The dying light cast shadows across his weathered face. "It sure would have made growing up a lot easier for you. But you're tough, King. You made it through, and I know I wasn't always around—"
"You were dealing with it in your own way, Dad, but yeah, I could have used your support a little more." I'd decided not to let him off entirely. He had compounded the problem by ignoring it, pretending Mom was just fine, even when she hadn't left her bed in weeks. His face showed that he was absorbing my criticism with humility.
He nodded again. "I should have been there for you, King." He patted my back. "If it's not too late, I'd like to be there for you now. Is there anything you need? I've got a little money I've been socking away—"
"No really, Dad. I'm doing just fine. But, you know, I was thinking, maybe you should consider moving out of the mountains, closer to me, near base camp. Then if you needed something—"
Dad put his beer down and leaned his elbows on the step behind him. He stretched out his legs and groaned slightly as his knees unfolded. "Hear that? Those are old man groans." He chuckled. "Still not quite ready for a walker or a babysitter."
"No, Dad, that's not what I meant."
"I know, I know, and it would be nice seeing you more often. But you saw your mom's reaction when I brought up accepting a developer's offer. She's tied to this place. I think it has to do with her—her illness." It was the first time in my life that I'd heard the man refer to it as an illness. It seemed her therapy had been helping both of them. "She can't even imagine leaving the cozy, safe walls of her crummy little house, or, for that matter, moving out of her familiar little town. It's too big of a change for her, but I'm hoping, with time, she'll be ready to consider it. She might not have any choice if the big shots move in here with their fancy lodges and restaurants."
"I still can't believe someone is trying to turn this town into a resort. It's the farthest thing from that. Did they research the history of Westridge? It's like buying the Amityville house."
Dad sat forward. "You're being a little harsh, aren't you? I know you don't have too many great memories of this place, but it's not all that bad."
I looked over at him with a raised brow. "Suicides, missing people and what about that fire, the one in the barn over at the end of the creek. You said three girls you went to school with died in a fire, and no one ever figured out how they ended up in that deserted barn."
Dad reached down and pulled a weed that was growing between the two steps. "Those girls had gone in there to hide or dance or drink some of their parents' beer. They shouldn't have been in there, that's all. I don't think there was anything sinister. Just some truly terrible luck."
"Terrible luck? The barn caught fire in the middle of winter. When you used to talk about it with your old friend, Jerry or Jimmy, can't remember, but he was the guy who moved to the city to study law. You guys used to ponder what actually happened, as if the explanation wasn't so cut and dry as three girls sneaking a beer."
"Yeah, well, you know how you talk gossip when you're with a friend. The town accepted the tragedy as an accident and moved on."
"Yep, Westridge has a habit of that, just like with Kenzie's death." Sitting on the porch and thinking about the day she had ridden up on her bicycle brought me back to the fucked up day when they pulled her limp body from the river. I stood by with half the town, filled with horror, as they placed her on the gurney. The paramedics made a show of trying to revive her, but the bluish tint to her skin and the way her arm fell limply off the gurney assured me she was dead. The worst moment of the nightmarish scene was when Sutton, Kenzie's twin sister, had come around the corner on her bicycle to find out what was going on at the river. Her screams echoed off the surrounding mountain. She nearly had to be carried off on a stretcher herself. Kenzie's dad had been out on patrol on the highway. His car came screeching through town to the site. His body shook but he remained stoic and silent as helped them push the gurney into the ambulance, the medics still pushing on her heart and giving her mouth to mouth as they shut the doors and drove off.
"Kenzie's death was a tragedy, but it was deemed a suicide. I hardly think we're the only town with its share of teen suicides."
"It wasn't a suicide. Dad, I've lived my whole life with someone who was always silently plotting how to take her own life. Hell, she even gave it a half-hearted try once. Kenzie was not the suicidal type. She was fierce, full of energy, and she was a fighter. She didn't take shit from anyone."
Dad shook his head. "Some people hide their pain. Don't forget her mother left them when they were young teens, a vulnerable time for any kid. From what I knew, that marriage was never a happy one, so unhappy that it pushed Mary Jensen right out the door. She never said good-bye to anyone."
"Yeah, sounds fishy don't you think?"
"Happens all the time. So, what about your love life?" he asked in a quick, obvious pivot away from all the town scandals. Dad rarely ventured into the topic of my personal life, so he really wanted away from the previous subject.
"Well, Dad, I have a life and I've loved some women, but the two paths haven't converged yet."
Dad chuckled. "Sometimes you've just got to find the right path, take it and not worry about anything converging."
"Well said, Dad." I picked up my beer and we toasted to his wisdom. "You know, Jack knew when he'd found the right person. It wasn't easy or smooth considering she had been married to Bulldozer, but he knew it and he never let go of the hope that they'd be together. I hope I'll know too. With any luck, that person is out there just waiting for me to run into her."
"As I recall, you never had a shortage of girls coming by the house or following you around town when you were a teenager."
"That's because in a small town like this, the young people hang together. It's sort of a herd mentality. Stick together. After all, we were pretty secluded here in Westridge. There just weren't many chances to meet outside people."
Dad was quiet for a long moment, reflecting it seemed. "You know, when I met your mom at a church social, I knew she was the one. Saw her across the room with that pretty smile and I was a goner. We never even discussed where we might live, even though she came from across the ridge. I just assumed we'd stay here and raise a family. I'd work for the lumber company, and we'd have a safe, carefree existence in the middle of all this gorgeous nature." He paused and looked over at me. "I never considered for a second that it wasn't an ideal place to raise a son, but I know how envious you were of Jack when he moved out of Westridge. I'm sorry, Kingston. I'm sorry if I was being selfish and not even considering it from your point of view. And then, with your mom being—"