And something deep inside of me tells me that story is exactly what the town was supposed to know,even though I don’t believe a word of it.
I drop my eyes to our joined hands.
“Nan,” I clear my throat, letting go of her hand. “Did you happen to have a chance to pick up a new phone from the store for me?”
“Oh, yes.” The legs of the wooden chair screech across the tiled flooring as she draws it back and stands, starting out of theroom before returning with a plastic bag in her hand. “I don’t know if you need to charge it, or whatever you kids do.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, ripping open the box with my teeth and dropping the device into my hand. I rise to my feet and leave the rubbish at the table. “Do you mind if I…” I pause, angling my thumb toward the door.
“Not at all. Can you please let that beautiful boy know that I’m thinking of him.” I nod, and she runs a hand over the sunflower in front of her, then looks up at me. “Maybe we can have the cinnamon buns for dinner?” she smiles sadly. And I pause at the edge of the room and nod again, brushing away the tear that rolls down my cheek.
“I’d like that.”
I knew his number by heart.
I tuck my legs beneath me, the wicker swing at the end of the porch lulling me as I punch it in, bite my lip and rest the phone gently at my ear.
The dial tone comes in ebbed waves and I close my eyes, squeezing them when I hit his voicemail.
A shiver ratchets down my spine.
There's no message, no sign of life, just a clipped beep.
I hang up and make good on dialing back.
Immediately, I’m met with the same wall of impact. Goosebumps break across my limbs, hard and strong. Pulling the phone away, I see that the call is still connected. I return it to my ear.
“Uh…Chase, it’s me, Laiken. I, uh…” I pause and let go of my breath. “Call me, please,” I whisper, then I hang up.
I stay outside all night with the phone clasped in the palm of my clammy hand, and henevercalls back.
Two Weeks Later
Agraphite sky settled over Devil’s Peak hours ago.
I watch him pull up beneath the gnarled and wrinkled branches of a wet oak tree.
The night wind tears at my still damp hair, dragging it across my sunken and bare cheekbones and into my watery eyes. I reach for each strand, tucking them away, cupping my neck.
The streetlights are dull, most had blown and never been replaced, serving as a reminder that this town belonged to nothing more than the darkness.
A light shines inside the cabin and I only see Harlen. When I search forhim,a gust of wind forces me to squint, and I squeeze my eyes closed.
He wasn’t with him. I knew he wouldn’t be, and I exhale my disappointment, like I’d been holding that same breath for the past two weeks.
It had stopped raining thirty minutes ago and it left the air more humid than it had found it. Sweat sticks to my skin, I drag my hands over my thighs, palming, then squeezing twitchy, jolting knees. I’m sitting, perched on the concrete step at the front of Nan’s house beneath the white arch. My arms nowlooped around my still black and blue shins, and even though it is far from cold, I am shivering.
Nan had long fallen asleep in front of her favorite cooking program. After moving in two weeks ago, I had come to learn that it was seldom that she’d made it to her bed for a night of rest, often waking in the same leather recliner with her same crochet blanket tucked around her frail bones.
She had known I was heading out after the storm passed. She had also known that I hadn’t seen or heard fromhimsince I watched him walk out of my hospital room.
It had been fourteen days.
Every phone call had been left unanswered, my text messages remained unread, my cries for Chase muted, cast aside,dead.
My throat feels like a funnel, and my chest like it’s caught in a vise.
I hadn’t spoken to Harlen about it, wasn’t sure I would. I could sense that the three times he’d been to visit, he had tried his best to avoid any conversation that involved his best friend.
