Everett sat firmly on the passenger side of Thomas's old pick-up. Bumping on the unkept road. They were driving further out, closer to the mountains. Where the logging trails lay, and the roads were unpaved. Everett said very little; the throbbing in his thigh was burning. He stepped too hard down, still shrouded by the fantasy. Though a fantasy was all it was, and yet so desperately he wanted to return. To run and run until his legs shook with exhaustion. That stale pain that forms from working too hard. Everett wanted to flip his arms out like a bird, to sore through the blades of grass that crinkled between his toes, the sparkling, crisp smell of the cool morning air tantalizing his everything. To be free, what a concept. And in that hazy golden paradise, he would turn his head and see him. His soft pale face and bright evergreen eyes starring cheekily at Everett. That cocked smirk that quickly would turn into a crooked grin, all while his dark raven hair danced in the breeze. Bouncing like waves of crushed black velvet. That face that Everett grew to adore vanishing within the darkness.
Everett couldn't even think of any reason why Ash had left so quickly, and his palms grew slick at what this all may indicate. Maybe Ash had lied that night. How long ago was it now, a week maybe two, it was at that little blue diner. Everett could still taste the musty sticky smog of Ash's cigarette smoke, a scent he had always hated. Everett really did believe he met a friend, a good friend, but would a friend make such a face before leaving, Everett was dying to know, but honestly, He couldn't chase after him even if he wanted to.428Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8DH55Y8hM4
Thomas glanced over, one hand planted tight to the steering wheel, the other limp at his thigh. He didn't say much. Thomas wasn't one to start a conversation, but he could only bite his chapped lips for so long before they would begin to bleed.
"You doing okay," Thomas asks softly. Everett jumped slightly, his body tensing with Thomas's tender hum. Everett's mouth was dry like he had indulged in eating one too many soda crackers, puffing out clouds of crumbs and salt as he thought on what to say. Another wave of pain flashed through Everett. He felt himself shake, his hands so weak, his mind a mess, a fragile body of bones and flesh. He wanted to scream, to yell and thrash about. Wave his fist in the air and tell the world to "just fuck off," but instead, he smiled.
"What would I have to be upset about?" Everett chuckled through gritted teeth. Thomas let out a slow blink, clearly taken aback by Everett's response. But after a moment of deciphering, all Thomas did was nod. His nod continued all the way until it merged into the bumping of the gravel of an old-looking driveway.
The old truck hissed to a halt, rattling with the bumpy loose gravel. The two wasted no time thudding out of the rusted vehicle. All around the two were trees. Rows and rows of tall, straight cedars, pine, firs, and oaks, standing tense like rugged soldiers, casting a large shadow on such a bright summer evening. White clumps of moss wrapped tight like spider webs around their thick grounded trunks highlighting the fallen needles that littered the course gravel clearing.
Everett shuffled forward and was greeted by three large houses. They all looked similar in make but different in size. The closest to them was a greyish house with a thin porch. It was the smallest and, to its credit, seemed the most modern. The middle house was the largest. Like a castle, it stood tall. It might not be as large as a medieval fortress; it still was the one in the worst shape. It buckled slightly at the base, with chipped blue paint and foggy windows. The last house was the most lived in, in the way that the outside was decorated with potted plants, wind chimes, and even a freshly cleaned mosaic birdbath nestled near a man-made pound. The house was a bright yellow, and through its over-decorated exterior, one could tell it was well-loved.
Thomas pointed out toward the middle house, his arm perfectly straight, "this is the spot," he bluntly explained. Everett nodded, looking up at the weathered and mossy roof.
"There's a room inside; it's been prepared, so your only job is to get into it," Thomas shifted his weight, so he was leaning closer to Everett. "I'd show you inside, but I forgot my key, and Florence seems to be out."
"Florence?" Everett asked.
Thomas nodded, the same hand that pointed out toward the decrepit middle house now found its way to the soft yellow house. Thomas explained how three families lived here, but through the years, they all moved away except Florence, who still lives and manages this land despite her old age. Everett smiled at the thought and commented on being hopeful to meet her, but Thomas made an expression that seemed less enthusiastic.428Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwsHkq1niSP
It was an exciting trip, but there really was no point in them staying without a key to look inside. They hopped back inside, Thomas noting to put the key under the doormat.428Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJwKweL3ORb
"I'll meet you here on Monday, or should I pick you up?" Thomas asked.428Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHMS9xSKhjL
Everett stared straight out, his vision becoming blurry as he focused his gaze.
"There's no need for you to come," Everett interjected. "it's easy to get here, and I'm sure my little car can handle these roads."
Thomas let out a huff; he was about to turn his keys to start the bustling engine, but instead, his hand slid down to his knee. Thomas turned to Everett, his dark almond eyes set fixed on Everett. Everett wanted to ignore him, but there wasn't anywhere to go, let alone look.
When Everett finally glanced at Thomas, he was confronted with a face he had seen many times before on many other people. It wasn't a face of concern for Everett. It was a face of pity but again not for him instead for the circumstance. It was a face made up of a rather tedious expression, squinted eyes, and a straight frown. It buckled the nose and wrinkled the forehead. It was an expression that showed Thomas's age. Perhaps it was the glaring beans that twinkled in through the tall trees and cast their powerful rays down into his side window that highlighted his dark poker hair and thin strands of gray weaved throughout. Thomas always seemed like a well-versed man, stoic and kind-hearted he fuelled the stereotype of his race well, in appearance and outside attitude. But inside, he was just a man, an aging man, a man who was beaten and weathered from the years, whose dark eyes let in no light, and whose stern expression kept others guessing.
"You don't need to treat me with so much kindness," Everett softly stated. It was as if the words left his tightly pouted lips without much thought.
Thomas broke away, a slight chuckle to clear the air, his hand now was resting on the steering wheel. "you're just a boy."
"I'm almost 18," Everett barked.
"Only a boy, you didn't deserve this."
Everett bit his lip. He could feel his face get hot, "you don't know what I deserved."428Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKKWPsdRbto
"not this," Thomas interrupted.
"I asked for a job, and you gave me that; that's all I needed." Everett lifted himself from his seat, his arms stiff and face fully burning. "If you're doing this because my father worked for you-"
"I'm not doing this for Liam," Thomas jumped in.
"Then why?" Everett pleaded. He stared up at the frowning older man. His face had softened slightly, but this only accentuated the course creases on his face.
"Because he always was so fond of you, he cared so much, Evens wouldn't want-"
"EVENS IS DEAD."
"Yet you still wear his jacket," Thomas spat. "You think he was just your father's friend, he was mine too, and the moment I saw you, in that cord jacket, I knew." he stopped himself. Thomas was smart enough to know that Everett didn't need anything explained to him.
Everett flipped his head down, staring at hands that limply rested on his knees. He didn't want to talk about it. Any of this was too much. He didn't want to say his name, yet he cursed it so casually. Evens was always in Everett's life, an old friend of his father's who owned the small farm he and his family lived on, but he was more than that. The kind of man many might be taken back by, large, with tan leathery skin and broad features. A proper lumberjack type. A heart made of pure flesh and blood, humble with every good attribute. And when Everett's parents chased their tails on what to do, he was there. He was there with a warm smile and open arms. He took the job at the docks because he was smart enough to know that Everett's father couldn't do much with his ever-growing arthritis. He did it for Everett, the only person who treated Everett the same after the accident. A good person, but as Everett has come to realize, good people, don't last long.
The vehicle rattled to a start. A puff of thick black smoke gasped out the engine. And just as they made it to the old house, they left. Bumping down the gravel roads and back into town. It was still daylight, but it felt dark. The two men didn't say anything to each other. Too preoccupied with their own wandering minds. However, the closer they got to Miss Whitman's, the worse Everett felt. A hard lump sat heavy in his gut, and with each bump and sway of the road, it felt as if he would throw up everything. He didn't like to get so worked up, yet these emotions flooded him. Emotions he never had shown before now drowning him in shallow waters. And perhaps Thomas could tell because once they made it to the brick building with the sign 1616, he let out a smile.428Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOotKoT0Rw7
Thomas talked in the same tone, soft yet rough. He didn't seem phased or concerned, and as before, he let Everett know he'll meet him on Monday. Everett just nodded while he slipped his way out of the truck, and with one final wave, Thomas zoomed away.
He should have said sorry, but he couldn't think of how to pronounce it. Everett's leg still throbbed, and the handle to the glass door was heavier than before. The shop was empty; even Karma was missing. Everett took no care as he thudded his way to the back staircase. The cluttered shop felt overwhelming, but not because of the mess, but rather because it felt barren. Up he went, taking his time as his body hissed with pain.
At the foot of his door were more crystals arranged, in a way that seemed to mock him—they all were a clear foggy colour, pointed up and placed in a circle. Inside was the dark stone that had been crumbled into pieces, sprinkled around like confetti. The shards were dark; no light reflected off them. If he hadn't seen them in Miss Whiteman's hands, Everett might have mistaken the crystals for soot. Everett spent no time analyzing. He just made his way inside.
The room was dark, and it was hot, but quickly Everett knew it wasn't the room. He slipped his hand up to his forehead, like touching an element that was heating up. Turning around, he was confronted with the hole in the drywall. The very spot he and Ash were to fix. However, he didn't want to fix it anymore. He wasn't sure why but he was afraid too.
Everett slid down the door till he reached the bottom, his knees tucked up to his chest, his hand that sat at his forehead not made its way to his mouth. He made a fist, his mouth opening up before snapping down onto the side of his thumb. His teeth gritted onto his flesh. Pushing down hard, but luckily he didn't draw blood. Instead, large beads of tears rolled down his cheeks, muffled moans turned into wails. He clenched harder down on his thumb; he couldn't feel the pain in his hand. It was overtaken by the stinging burn that engulfed his being. It was hard to breathe. His heart raced, Everett slumped into himself, hearing his own desperate cries. He wanted to drown himself in that black sea, but how could he when he felt more grounded than ever
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