He keeps trying to laugh to ease the tension. “You say you know how I get and you push me there, right to my limit.”
“You’re really blaming me right now?”
“Christ! Listen to yourself. You are certified crazy.”
“You’ve almost done it before. Forgive me for having a guard up.”
“Well, sometimes you almost deserve it. And I’m sorry about that…that time. I was too drunk.” His jaw clenches and his fist slams atop the outdoor table as he tries to calm his aggression.
I fight the tears and back away from him.
Me and Todd fight. We always fight but he’s being vicious this time; Hitting me where it hurts— A place in my mind where I deserve to be punished. I’m drawn to the conflict. I’m obliged to stay and bear it because this is the way I think I need to be treated because, in my mind, it somehow makes up for what we did to Daryl.
“Oh, the silent treatment, huh? Fuck you, bitch.” Todd goes back inside behind the taps to return to serving customers. Billie catches my eye through the window with a look of concern but doesn’t approach me.
Outside, everything falls quiet. All I hear is my breath. All I see is the billow of it. My mind is awash with what-if’s and should-I’s.
I look to the truck, to Landon and the man hauling pieces of his bike into the back.
This punishing sentence is mine to face. I brought this life on myself and I am made to endure it for all I’ve done in the past. Any sadness that comes into my life is karma resetting the balance. If I choose to stay, things will settle back to normal eventually. I can blame this entire Landon thing to be an innocent, naïve mistake— The kind Lucy Rivers makes because of how much she cares for people and how she wants to see the good in everyone. I’ll keep working in the tavern. I’ll keep painting. I’ll agree to be with Todd in whatever capacity he wants me. I’ll accept that this is my life, because only a few days ago I already had.
But now I had a new choice…
I could go.
If I left, I’d be burning bridges beyond repair. I’d destroy my quiet life I’ve struggled to build myself up here in the redwoods. All those lies, all those relationships, all those years wasted in exchange to spend a few more days with Landon, to settle him back into life in Jethrow, life in the club, a life of crime, a life where he’s connected to a woman named Mia, a life where I don’t fit in anywhere. Jethrow, where my mom is either missing, dead, or so high she might as well be.
“What’re you doing out here? Get inside! It’s mad in here.” Billie shouts from the back door.
Auto-pilot rattles my bones. I obey. I walk back towards the door. Behind me, I can hear Landon’s voice beside the truck but dare not look back.
I enter through the Tavern’s kitchen, sidle beside the Tavern’s two chefs, down along the bar behind a sneering Billie, I collect my rucksack and barge through the heaving crowd and finally out the front door.
But what I see before me makes me trip and fall into the gravel. The truck, my way out of here, Landon and any hope for any alternate future, pulls away onto the road.
No.
No, no, no.
It’s not too late.
It can’t be too late.
I have to go after him. I have to take this chance.
I sling my bag back over my shoulders and run so fast I feel rocks flicking up onto my calves.
“Landon!” I squeal as the truck creaks up through its gears. I’m hanging behind so Landon can see me in the mirror, waving my hands furiously. “Landon, please stop!”
I see him lean out the window and squint through the darkness. I’m illuminated only by the red rear lights.
The truck starts breaking. I could slow down too but I don’t. I sprint right up until I’m at his passenger door.
The truck stops and he jumps from the cab. His hands hold either side of my head. “It’s easier if I go… I don’t want a goodbye, Lucy.”
“I don’t want one either.” I pant heavily. “I’m coming with you.”
“You…fascinating thing.” Landon is lost in my eyes and taking my hands in his.
“Hey!” Todd’s voice is heard from beneath the darkness of the road. “Lucy! What the fuck are you doing?! Where are you going?!”
“If you want me to come, it has to be now,” I say to Landon.
He smiles at me and lifts me up into the passenger cab. I give an awkward ‘hello’ to the trucker who I hope is okay with this and climb into the back sleeper section of the cab.
Twang! Twang! Twang!
“Don’t you dare run away from me!” Todd thumps his palm hard on the truck’s side paneling as we drive off. “You fucking bitch! What are you doing?!”
We accelerate. I cry some more, hearing Todd’s shouting get quieter and quieter. Landon’s arm is reaching back for me, squeezing my knee for comfort.
“This is the right choice, darlin’. You’re always safe with me.”
Chapter 17
My knees are bent into my chest. The California highways at night become one big blur of darkness, truck stops, and passing lights.
I wonder what’s running through Todd’s head… Or Billie’s… I’ve just run off with Landon, a goddamned biker I’m not even supposed to know. They have no way to find me or contact me. Will they be panicking? Will they put out a missing persons report? If only I’d had time to do this right or to come up with a story that makes sense. Thing is, life doesn’t wait for the perfect time. I can’t see a hope of ever repairing my relationships here once I go back.
‘…once I go back…’ That thought confirms I haven’t fully chosen yet whether I’ll stay in Jethrow or not. I’ve chosen Landon, sure, but I can’t get my head around staying in that town… Baddock, the security of my studio, nature, and being away from the chaos of too many people— I fear I’ll miss all of that too much.
But that’s not a priority to worry about right now. I have three days to make a decision.
Now’s not the time, Lucy.
“You comfortable back there, darlin’?” Landon asks quietly.
“I’m okay.”
He reaches a hand back towards me and I accept it willingly.
We pulled off the highway to all take a nap and eat then returned on our journey into the morning.
The sun has risen over the hills that wall the horizon. The scenery’s changed from dense forests to open plains once more. Industrial businesses begin appearing, familiar ones. The old county abattoir that shut down in the eighties, still as decrepit as ever, clues me into our impending arrival.
Then I see it…
The worn-down sign…
Jethrow, Oregon, there to tell me I’ve truly left my comfort zone many miles behind me.
I laugh at the graffiti covering the ‘J’ and the ‘E’ that instead spells out ‘DEA’. Kids have done this for years and no matter how hard the town council try fix it, they can’t stop it from happening. Thing is, they’re looking at the problem all wrong. The issue isn’t the kids doing the graffiti— It’s the knuckle-head, addict parents who raise them and make the town the Deathrow it is. Fix them and you fix the sign.
“Great. Looking forward to this,” Landon says, tone dripping in sarcasm.
Driving through the old streets is strange to me but not foreign. Not a lot has changed as far as the buildings and Mom ’n’ Pop stores go. In fact, someone could’ve said to me that I’ve only been gone days, not years, and I’d have believed them.
It’s when we drive by the Savvy 7 Gas Station that my panic starts to kick in. I’ve left my meds behind so am afraid of how I might react just being here. My hands tremble as I rub them together and look into Savvy 7 to the bored, young female working behind the counter like I did back in high school. She was me once, only with less blood on her hands. I time-travel to back then, those six years ago, to Landon’s face watching me through the window of his mom’s truck, him shouting to me to be happy and keep fighting as I drove away. He wore a red baseball cap and hi
s wife-beater was tainted with blood and dirt. This memory would otherwise hurt, keep me confined to my bed for hours, but all I have to do now is reach forward to the passenger seat to place my hand on his arm and I feel comforted.
“Here you go,” the truck driver, Bluey, tells us. We’re standing outside a shitty motel that used to moonlight as the Jethrow brothel. I don’t know if they’d ever be bothered to clean it up.
We thank him, unload Landon’s bike and watch him disappear down the main street. More panic seeps in. I’m in this now. No more running.
After twenty minutes standing in the uncomfortable morning sun, Landon comes back with some keys and gestures me to follow him. He opens a door into a suite that’s embedded with the smell of dampness and stale cigarettes.
“Wow, what a shit hole,” I say.
I wish I could be back in my studio wrapped up with Babeen right now. I drag my tensed eyes over the brown carpet, the pink sheets, the gaudy comforter…Bleck! It’s tacky, disgusting, claustrophobic.
“There’s only one bed,” I notice.
“It’s all they had sweetheart… I’m takin’ the floor anyhow.”
“The floor? You’ll get sick. There’s mould on the wall over there.”
“I’ll survive.”
“Landon, let’s not stay here.”
“They’re the only ones that take cash, Lucy. You got a bank card you want to use?” I don’t answer. I have a bank out of necessity to get my wages and for nothing else. I don’t even know how much is in there at this point. “Didn’t think so. Bluey gave me some money for tonight. He’s old MC crew from Santa Cruz. He gets it. We gotta keep this quiet and stay here till I figure out what’s going on, for our own sakes’.”
I cross my arms. “No.”
“Pardon?”
“I’m not your prisoner. I don’t wanna stay here and I don’t have to. It creeps me the fuck out. Let’s go somewhere else.”
I’m bluffing but I walk outside anyway and down the row of other doorways. There’s someone fucking in #18. I can hear them. A nervous businessman is staring out the window in #13, waiting for his call girl, I guess.