Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 63100 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63100 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
“Ben, look who’s here,” Rhonda says, and it takes everything in me to not run away when Ben looks at me, pushes his sunglasses up to the top of his head, and frowns. Ben was Austin’s best friend in high school, and judging by the look in his eyes, he’s not happy to see me.
“What are you doing here?” He snaps.
“Ben,” Rhonda hisses, coming to hold onto my arm gently like she’s trying to offer me support which is strange.
“No, you know the way she left Wolf,” he says, looking at Rhonda. Then he looks at me and snarls, “Why are you here?”
I know I deserve this, but I won’t lie and say it doesn’t burn just a little that someone I had once considered a friend was looking at me like I was the scum of the earth. I was hurt, too. Yes, I left, but he never came after me; he never even asked my mom where I was, if I was okay…nothing.
“You know why she’s here, Ben,” Rhonda says softly, moving to stand at his side, resting her hands on his chest. His eyes leave me and go to her. His face goes soft as he wraps his hand around the back of her neck, dropping his forehead to hers and speaking gently. I take two steps back then pull in a deep breath.
“Stay away from him,” Ben says, standing upright and turning his head my way.
“He won’t even know I’m in town,” I tell him, taking a step back then turning on my heels and heading to my car, where I sit for the rest of the ferry ride.
*
“Mom,” I call as I walk into the house.
The smell hits me, and it’s exactly the same as when I was little. It’s so familiar that I almost choke on it as it saturates my lungs.
“Honey,” Mom whispers from the couch, where she is lying covered by one of the many blankets she knitted.
“Are you okay?” I ask, going to her side, getting down on my knees.
She still looks the same as the last time I saw her a month ago. Her hair is long and grey, her face tan from hours in the sun, planting flowers, and her eyes are a brown similar to mine. It’s hard to believe she is so sick, that she only has months to live. The doctors caught the cancer too late, and it has already spread from her uterus to her stomach. They said she could try chemo, but she refused, saying that if she was going to die, she would do it on her terms, and not while having poisons pumped into her body.
I can’t say I agree with her. The idea of her leaving me behind kills me every time I think about it. I want her to fight, but it’s not my battle.
“I’m fine; I just wanted to lie down for a bit. Now tell me, how was your trip?”
“Mom, I spoke to you every few hours,” I remind her while helping her sit up.
“I know, but this is a small town. You never know who you may run into.”
She was right about that. “I saw Rhonda. You never mentioned her being pregnant,” I mutter, leaving out Austin’s best friend, thinking that maybe if I ignore anyone having anything to do with him, I can ignore the fact this is Cordova and chances are I will see him at some point.
“Was Ben with her?” So much for that plan.
“Yes, they seem…happy,” I whisper out the last word. Happiness seems like such a foreign concept to me. I don’t even remember the last time I was really happy.
“What’s wrong?” my mom asks, touching the side of my face.
“Just tired.”
“Your room is all set up, why don’t you go take a nap? Then we will go to The Picnic Basket for dinner.”
“That place is still here?” I ask in disbelief. The Picnic Basket is a small metal trailer that was turned into a restaurant that serves mainly hamburgers and fries, and it’s only open during the summer months. To the kids in Cordova, it’s like McDonald’s. Normally, I would have immediately agreed to eat there, because the burgers are amazing, but the idea of running into anyone else I used to know doesn’t sound appealing.
“Of course it is. Go lie down and we will leave in a couple hours.”
“Mom, I really don’t think I’m up to going out tonight,” I tell her, watching as she folds up the blanket that was covering her and lays it over the back of the couch.
“You loved eating there before you left home,” she says, turning to face me looking disappointed.
“Sorry, you’re right. It sounds great,” I say, putting a smile on my face that I can tell doesn’t reach my eyes. I don’t want my last memories with her to be tainted by my fears or my past; she deserves so much more.