The relief was still there, underneath the confusion. If I let go of the anger, what did that mean? That Johnny was forgiven? That Firefly got away with it? That all those years of pain were for nothing?
I didn't know.
But my chest didn't hurt as much. I didn't know what to do with that. I turned the key. The truck rumbled to life. Johnny could keep being a dad. Keep drowning in laundry, and divorce papers, and teenagers who wouldn't listen. We didn't need to be friends. We didn't need some healing moment where we hugged it out and pretended high school never happened.
We needed to stop living there.
I pulled out of the driveway. The sun painted Firefly in shades of orange, the mountains dark against the sky.
For twenty years, I'd looked at this town and seen only the worst of it. The bullies. The gossip. The suffocating smallness that made me feel like I couldn't breathe. I still saw that. But sitting there in Johnny's driveway, something had shifted.
I didn't know what it meant yet. But for the first time since coming back, I thought maybe I could figure it out.
THE CYCLE STOPS
Mum had opted to attend the spaghetti dinner. Somebody in town had a kitchen fire, and they were raising money for new appliances. Like a dutiful son, I offered to take her. She said she wanted me to have the night off from babysitting. Gladys arrived minutes later. While we didn’t talk, we exchanged knowing glances. To reinforce her earlier statement, she threw the key over her shoulder again.
I noted the good intentions.
With the night off, I texted Nick. Not that I wanted to sneak him into the house like a horny teenager, but the thought had crossed my mind. I could only imagine that Lacie had dragged him to the spaghetti dinner, determined to celebrate the breaking of the curse. She’d be up on a table, can of Moxie held in the air as she cheered.
Instead of getting laid or partying with a mouthful of meatballs, I called it an early night. As soon as I walked into my bedroom, the rush of nostalgia set in. I closed the door, taking in the movie posters and sketches tacked to the wall. It would be easy to become that antisocial kid again. After today, I wanted to have a conversation with my younger self.
“Why did I hide?”
The house didn’t answer. No divine light shone through the window. The spirits didn’t shake the walls. The only person who could answer that was me, and every time I attempted, I found myself lost in memories. Johnny had made my life hell. Nobody had come to my rescue…
I reached into my pocket. I held the compass, top flipped open, and the needle inside was unmoving. “It’s a lie,” I whispered. I acted as if I had been alone, and nobody reached through the pain, offering me safety. There had been somebody who never stopped trying.
I eyed the scrapbook on the desk.
“Pops,” I muttered the word, taking in a ragged breath.
I sat down, running my hand over the textured cover. Firefly might have shunned me, but I couldn’t unload the blame. Not on them alone. A car outside backfired, and my head shot up. It sounded like a knock at the door. I waited for it to open, to see the glint of his glasses one more time as he asked if I wanted to go fishing. I’d have given anything to hear his voice.
“Sounds great, Pops.”
I wiped the tears from my eyes. There was no point in dwelling on the past. The Sandfords were anything but wallowers. I set the compass on the scrapbook and reached into the drawer. Flipping through my sketchbooks, I searched for a blank page. There were demons, castles, more than a few knights, and even a caricature of my history teacher.
I needed a memento, a reminder of this feeling squeezing my chest and keeping my heart lodged in my throat. Pulling charcoal from the middle drawer, I coated the page in black. Flipping the pencil around, I used the eraser to draw. I had a bare spot on my right thigh that I had saved for something special.
For the next hour, I scribbled until I looked at something that embodied the release of the past. Against the dark night, an oldlantern inspired by the one Pop’s hung in the garage. Instead of a flame lighting the way, I filled it with fireflies, a nod… apeace offeringfor me and the town. If I had packed my gun, I’d be inking my leg for the rest of the evening.
Satisfied, I tore the page free and tacked it with the others to the corkboard. It’d only be a matter of time before my skin replaced the paper.
I jumped as my phone buzzed. I grabbed it before kicking off my sneakers and jumping onto the bed. The springs groaned, annoyed that I had packed on a few extra pounds.
Nick: Pack your bag. We’re going on an adventure.
Charlie: A trip?
Nick: A camping trip.
Charlie: You want to go camping again?
Nick: I’m a convert… an outdoorsman.
Charlie: I won’t say no to another night by the fire.
