They hit the road with screeching tires.
Chapter 6
Owen
It has been a week since he got here, and the nightmares are not letting go. He’s glad he has a working conscience, but he also misses good, solid sleep.
“Where are you off to?” his aunt asks as he puts on his shoes. She’s drinking coffee and smoking on the porch.
“I’m going to walk around town and stop at the library.”
“Weren’t you there two days ago?”
“I finished the book I took. It’s a bummer they only let you borrow one at a time.”
“Old Francie can be strict like that. Try sweet-talking her and batting your eyelids.”
“No, thank you.”
She takes a drag of her cigarette. “Suit yourself. You making friends around town?”
He finishes putting on his shoes. “I’m friendly with some. I like how laid-back people are.”
“Don’t mix laid-back with plain lazy, ’cause there areplenty of those around here. I can tell you what’s what on anyone in town.”
He’s sure she can, but he doesn’t want to have his relationships affected by his grumpy aunt’s opinions. “No need. Oh, I heard you arguing with the sheriff yesterday evening. Everything okay?”
She looks away, anger in her tight jaw. “Mitch had a silly idea I needed to squash early. It’s fine now.”
“Okay. Are you working this morning?”
“Starting at noon. Pick up some milk on your way, and call your mom later. She’s driving me crazy.”
“Welcome to my world.”
She raises a finger. “You watch your mouth when you speak about my sister.”
He rolls his eyes and straps his backpack over his shoulder. “Bye, Aunt Sheryl. Smoking is bad for you.”
“You’ve been out of rehab for a minute, kid. Zip it.”
She has a point.
It’s walking distance to town, and the day is warm yet cloudy. He didn’t think he’d get used to the slow rhythm of Van Buren so fast, but here he is, walking lazily like he has all the time in the world. When he reaches the town center, he waves to the few familiar faces he recognizes, then stops to buy some pastries from a bakery. He adds a cup of strong coffee and goes to sit on a bench by the square. As he drinks, he tries to remember if he has seen any homeless people around town. They’re a common sight back home, but he can’tremember a single one he saw in Van Buren. What he did see were people who clearly use drugs. He can spot them in a heartbeat, and he hates knowing he was once one of them.
With his stomach full, he walks over to the library. He was skeptical about the place when he first saw it, but he’s grown to appreciate its simplicity. They don’t have the variety he would have liked, but they have comfortable armchairs for reading. Francie, the librarian, claims that Owen’s taste in books is messy. He’d borrow a thriller, then a biography, then a fantasy book. She says that most readers stick to one genre for a while.
There are only four people inside the rather dim library. The scent of books and leather is strong and pleasant in the air. He waves Francie hello, and she nods back before returning to reading her book. Owen is in the mood for a thriller this time, something dark and weird. Maybe a story that takes place in a small town like this one. He stands in the relevant aisle and begins to check out his options. From the corner of his eye, he notices the front door open as someone enters. He’s surprised to see Will Thomas. He met the man twice, and both times, Will left rather quickly. He was polite, but it seemed that something about Owen rubbed him the wrong way. He would have speculated it has something to do with Owen being gay, but it’s not like he walked around town with a pride flag, announcing his gayness.
Will seems even more surprised to see Owen. Hestands as if he’s debating whether to come say hello, but he eventually does, clearly out of politeness.
Owen puts back the book he was holding. “Hey, Will.”
“Owen. Good morning.”
“Are you also a bookworm?”
“Just the worm, I’m afraid. It’s for my sister. She’s… not well. I bring her books, but she goes through them so fast.”
