“Here,” He answers.
A few hundred feet into the woods is a small bridge over a large, nearly frozen river. The brush below us is tangled and gray, covered in about three inches of snow, the trees thin and bone-like. There’s a ridge of a mountain in the distance. The snow falling completed the picturesque view.
“Follow me,” I bundle my coat tighter—it’s windy by the water. I follow Dean through a small opening in the brush leading to a worn path with the only clearing being a set of footprints.
There’s a large boulder on the bank of the river that Dean climbs on top of. He offers me a hand, that I take, and hauls me up onto the boulder as well. We stand because it’s too cold to sit.
“I used to come here in high school. I’d ride my bike down here and try to fish.” He tells me, gazing out towards the water. While there’s ice covering the bank, the water flows freely in the middle of the river.
“Did you ever catch anything?” I ask.
“No.” Dean presses his lips together. “I was never a good outdoorsman, even though that’s what everyone does here. Mygrandfather used to get so mad at me for always scaring the fish off.”
“It’s not for everybody,” I offer.
“It’s what’s for you out here,” Dean sighs. “I think I mostly just read out here.”
“What did you read?” I ask.
“Anything and everything I could get from the library. Ten books at a time. Capote, Steinbeck, Twain, whoever.”
It’s my turn to laugh. “I’d like to see that. You, carrying ten books.”
“You should see my apartment back in York Falls.”
“Have you always lived here?” I ask, sucking my hands back into my coat, scuffing my foot on the rock.
“Yep. This is my hometown.”
“What about the house? Have you always lived there?”
“My great-grandfather built the house sometime in the early 1900s. Our family has been there ever since,” Dean answers. “Sierra and I are to inherit it fifty-fifty after our mother passes on. I think I’ll just sell her my half if she wants it.”
“Why’s that?” I nod.
“I never wanted to live there.” Dean turns his head to look at me instead of the river, snowflakes catching in his hair. “I wish my mother had moved out of the house, but she’s set on tradition.”
“I like York Falls,” I agree, sniffling from the cold now. “But this view is beautiful.”
“Madeline,” Dean takes a half-step towards me, and I’m scared for what’s going to come out of his mouth next, because I know it’s going to be about last night by the way he says my name. He reaches to grab my arm. “I’m sorry if I pushed you too far last night.”
“You didn’t,” I say without hesitation.
He nods in response, listening to me.
“I was tired of being afraid,” I admit.
“Being afraid of what?” Dean squeezes my arm.
“Being afraid of everything. Being afraid of getting sick. Being afraid of my own body.” I avert my eyes from his face because my stomach feels like it’s being shaken right now. “When we…you know…something just clicked in me. It’s all in my mind, more than I thought.”
He turns to face me.
“It took me five years. Five years to realize it’s all in my head.” I whisper. “I couldn’t have done a thing to prevent Andy’s death. And I can’t do anything to prevent my own. I’m going to practice letting it go. And I think I’m better for it. So, thank you.”
“You don’t need to thank me. You did all the work, Madeline,” Dean whispers.
“No, I do need to thank you. I can’t explain it…” I start. “Just…having another body in the same plane of space as myself helps. To be assured that I’m existing correctly. That I’m not some kind of freak.”
