CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
My phone rings just as Joe is coming to pick me up. We’re supposed to take a drive out to see Brandon’s digs in Cherry Hill, and Joe said he’d drive. My truck has been terminal for months, and I can hardly blame it; it’s taken me through literally every state in the union and has twice the mileage of even the worst pieces of crap that hit the highway long enough to make it into legend. It’ll die soon for sure. But fortunately, thanks to Uncle Ernie’s single redeeming grace and predictions from the auction guys, it looks like I might have enough to buy a new truck.
Or, if this call is what it might be, a plane ticket.
“You ready?” Joe asks.
I gesture to my phone, beckon him in to sit on any of my lavish furnishings (a box, a crate, the couch with my bedsheets still on it), and step aside to keep listening. Joe shrugs and sits on the floor. Randomly, glancing over at Joe, it occurs to me that my hatred of Tommy is justified. Joe is as strapping and classically pretty as Tommy, but I don’t hate him at all. There really is something about Tommy. It’s not just his girl-melting appearance — that would make me petty.
I pace the apartment while on the phone, mostly listening, sometimes interjecting excitedly to ask questions. I find a pencil but not paper, so I scribble dates and potential figures on the wall. Fuck it. The auction guys will paint anyway.
After I hang up, Joe looks right at me. Not leaving his stationary presence for my conversation gives him the right, I suppose, to be nosy.
“You going somewhere?”
I can’t get the smile off my face. “Alaska, it looks like. One of my old roommates in Portland knows someone who knows someone … long story short, they’re looking for pipeline workers.”
“This is something you aspire to? Working on the pipeline?”
“I aspire to Alaska. It’s the only state I haven’t been to, other than Hawaii.”
“Hell,” Joe says, coming to his feet. “Give me Hawaii.”
“I’ll get there eventually, but whatever. Hawaii is for honeymooners. Now, Alaska? That’s wild frontier. I hear there’s nothing like it in the lower forty-eight.”
“Okay.”
“I was planning to use Ernie’s — ” I make air quotes, “ — estate to buy a new truck, but a plane ticket might make more sense.”
“Except that you’re stuck there if you do it that way, with no truck.”
“That’s what the job is for, Joe. Haven’t you ever been a drifter?”
Joe shrugs.
“Hey. Will you take my cat when I go?”
Joe looks at Carl. “Take your fucking cat.”
“I’m not going to take Carl on a plane. He hates traveling.”
“Rowr,” Carl says.
“See?”
“So, what, you’re heading right out? Not sticking around to hang out?”
“It’s Alaska, Joe. I’ve been wanting to go there forever. Only reason I haven’t gone yet is because it’s so far. I was going to go after Portland. It was always the plan to head north. But then … ” I gesture around the pathetic living room to indicate my distracting bump in the road.
“When?”
“Soon. Maybe a week?”
“Hell. What if the house doesn’t sell before then?”
“It’s an auction, not a normal listing. It’ll sell in a day.”
“What if it doesn’t?”
“No worries. I’ve signed the papers. They can keep trying without me.”
“You won’t have your money yet, for your ticket.”
“I figured I’d put it on a credit card then pay it off later. It’ll be a pricey ticket, but Ernie can handle it. Even if the house doesn’t get what they think it will, there should be plenty left even after the ticket to get me most of the way to a shitty new truck. I’ll make up the difference by working the pipeline job.”
“Isn’t that dangerous?”
“The job, or my plan to pay for the ticket now and pay it off later?”
“Both.”
I smile. “I repeat: Haven’t you ever been a drifter?”
Joe looks at me and sighs.
“What?”
“You’re not going to Alaska, Grady.”
“What choo talkin’ ‘bout, Willis?” I’m feeling giddy, but watching Joe kills my grin’s most potent corners. My brain hasn’t caught on to whatever Joe is talkin’ ‘bout (Willis), but I’ve known him long enough to anticipate the times he’s right when I hear them coming.
“Where were you on Thursday, Champ?”
“Who are you, the FBI?”
“Why did you about bite Tommy’s head off the other day?”
“Because he’s a fuckhole.”
“You’re such an ass. Don’t you know everyone is talking behind your back?”
“Like I give a shit what Inferno Falls thinks of me.” I hate when Joe is like this. He’s smart and solid, honest and never impulsive. In our history, I’ve always had the wild ideas, and he’s always patiently explained why they won’t work. He’s not a buzzkill; he’s just not stupid like I am when I get worked up.
But I want to be right this time. I wasn’t kidding about Alaska. It’s been on my bucket list since I started my cross-country trek, and it was always meant to be the second-to-last state I crossed off — maybe the place I finally settled. But if I want to take Vince’s cousin up on his offer, I need to do it now. In a handful of months, Alaska will barely have any daytime left. I can tolerate a lot, but I don’t want to work twenty-hour nights if I can help it.
“I’m not talking about townies,” Joe says. “I’m talking about me, Brandon, and Bridget.”
“Oh, Bridget has too many damned opinions as it is.”
“We get together when you refuse to join us, and we talk about you. About how stupid you are.”
“Like this is news.”
“You’ve been spending time with Maya.”
My jaw works. Stubbornly, knowing it sounds childish, I say, “No I haven’t.”
“That shit with Tommy. The dreamy-ass way you keep turning us down. You were always good to go out and hang, Grady.”
“I’m older. Nowadays, I’m seasoned.”
“You’re being a whiny sack of shit. We all agree that you need to man up and stop being such a pussy.”
“Man up and stop being such a pussy? You’re so macho, Joe.”
He shrugs. This isn’t really a debate or a conversation. It’s Joe stating facts. It sucks because he’s right.
“Ernie is gone. Your parents have been gone for years. You were a kid back then, and yeah, I guess I’d have left in your shoes. Shit, Brandon defended you for the longest time. So did Bridget. You know those two, out of everyone we used to know, would understand the need for a fresh start. Whenever you emailed or called or whatever, we ended up talking about you. And when you said you were coming back, we knew it wasn’t about Ernie’s house. It was just time.”
“Someone had to handle this, Joe,” I say, now feeling defensive.
“This?” He looks around incredulously. “This is a cakewalk. You could probably have done it over the phone.”
“Fax,” I pout.
“You came back because you knew you made a mistake. I’ve known you as long as anyone, Grady. You don’t shirk responsibility, and you’re never disloyal. Those were special circumstances, but they’re gone. Nobody’s going to make you live with your asshole uncle anymore. I don’t know if you were serious, but nobody’s actually talking about you — not in bad ways, anyhow. Everyone liked your dad. Hell, I ran into Vincent Brush the other day, and he wouldn’t leave me alone, going on and on about how much he liked your old man. And how he once had a buddy named Mudvein, who got his dick stuck … well, you know Vincent’s stories.”
I don’t even chuckle. That’s how much I resent Joe speaking his mind.
“There’s nothing left to run from, Grady.”
“I’m not running. I wanted to see the world.”
“You saw it! For ten fucking years, you saw the world! The States, anyway.”
“There’s still, like, two hundred countries left.”
Joe shakes his head. “Just stop it, Grady. You’re not going to Alaska, and you know it.”
I look at my phone like it’s a run-over childhood keepsake. Five minutes ago, I felt happy. I finally had everything I needed, and was going to get all I’ve ever wanted. Now I believe Joe, that this isn’t what I’m supposed to do. Maybe because what I need and want isn’t in Alaska after all.
In a small voice, I mumble all I can think to say: “Fucking Tommy Finch.”
“Tommy was never anything to run from, Buddy.”
I wonder if he’s right. I wonder if I really did come back to right a wrong. My departure from the Falls marks my largest selfish act — the one thing out of all I’ve done that I’m ashamed of every day. Back in Portland, I couldn’t walk past a fucking cat without saving it. It’s ludicrous to think that I’ve never meant to return and heal the damage.
I wonder if what was broken can be fixed. I wonder if it’s too late.
My mind fills with images of the redhead girl I once knew, with her stubborn temper and emerald eyes. I remember long days and nights spent beside her. I remember, just three days ago now, the feel of her hand in mine. The memory of her lips, if I can ever find my way to forgiving their lies.
I think of the little girl who seemed to like me so much. I can’t blame her for coming into the world. She shouldn’t need to suffer because I’m afraid.
I think of the woman, and I think of the girl.
The girl with the big blue eyes and blonde hair, both so much like her father’s.