Chapter 5 #3
I finish my breakfast before Harvey and go to Cloud’s little office. He tries to give me another herbal concoction, but I tell him I want actual medicine, and he looks disappointed as he hands me some Tylenol.
Harvey and Timber are waiting for me, and Timber leads us through a maze of dirt paths into the woods.
On the other side of the woods is the Potomac River. The photos don’t do it justice. The views out here are nice. I can breathe air without smog.
Timber leads us to a covered picnic area. The wood on the benches is old and gray, and grass grows thick around them. The roof has a hole in one corner. A couple of yards away are two small structures: a metal shed and, next to it, a long wooden building.
Timber unlocks a padlock on the metal shed.
He has trouble getting the doors open, but when he does, he walks inside and cuts on a light.
Inside is a mess. When my eyes adjust, I see it’s piled with junk.
Tools of all sizes and types lie everywhere.
Lawn equipment, a pile of wood blocks, another of stones, cobwebs everywhere, and a bunch of other crap fill the space.
I get a sinking feeling.
“As you can see, this hasn’t been cleaned out in a while. It would be nice if we could build or put in some shelves over here.” He points to one side. “Some of these tools are probably useless now, but I’m not really sure. There’s only one way to find out.” He looks at me and Harvey with a smile.
“You want us to do it?” It’s not really a question because I know the answer.
Timber walks out of the shed and unlocks the other building. Inside are three or four canoes, oars scattered around, life jackets, and some floats. One life jacket falls off the wall onto a life preserver.
“This really needs to be cleaned out.” He steps inside. “Be good if you could polish the canoes, get them cleaned up and hung somewhere in here. They’re locally made.” He points to the back of the building. “I think there’s a rowboat over there somewhere.”
The sinking feeling grows as Timber walks to the picnic area. “Maybe we can get this area cleaned up, the grass cut, and that brush cleared away. And if you could replace some of the wood on those benches, that would be really far out.”
I’d think the smart thing for anyone to do is keep us separated. The absolute last thing would be to put us together around a bunch of objects that can be used as weapons.
“Shouldn’t be too hard.” Timber smiles behind his beard.
“You’re both able-bodied young men.” He gestures to a spot in the grass.
“Put any recyclables over here. And anything that’s garbage over here.
” He points to another spot. “We want to make sure it’s disposed of properly.
I’ll come by before dinner with the truck and haul it away.
Sound good?” He props a foot up on one of the benches.
We both must look irritated because Timber comes over to us and lays a hand on each of our shoulders. “Boy, do I know how you feel. I used to be like you two.”
Timber doesn’t understand personal space. He’s close enough I can smell his BO over the patchouli. I take a tiny step back.
“I was lost,” Timber says. “I hit the bottle every night. One day, I was drunk as a skunk and woke up on a park bench. And you know what I saw?”
Harvey says “a hobo” the same time I say “no idea.”
“I saw the trees,” Timber says, looking up.
I look up too, but all I see is sky. “The sunshine. I saw all this beauty around me. And it occurred to me. What was I doing with my life? As far as any of us know, this is it.” He gestures all around us.
“Our only chance, and I was wasting mine. We get to be here. Now. It’s a miracle any of us are here.
Did you ever think about that? All the things that have to happen for you to even exist.”
Some of his words settle inside me, touching a place I forgot about. I wrap my fingers around the leather band on my wrist. I glance at Harvey, and he looks sullen, staring down at his feet.
“And from that day forward,” Timber says, “I never drank again. Never touched another drop. And now I get to live in harmony with the earth, grow things, and help guys like you. It’s pretty righteous.” He pauses for a moment to see if either of us have anything to say about that.
We don’t.
“Well”—he pats our backs—“go ahead and get to work. I’ll bring you guys some water.
” He starts to walk off, then turns around.
“Oh, one more thing.” He goes over to the metal shed and shows us a latch on the door.
“You see this? You gotta be careful because it can get stuck. The doors shut tight, so make sure you prop them open. A possum got in there once.” He nods soberly.
“But we returned it to the earth and honored its spirit. See you later.” He smiles, flashes a peace sign, and walks off.
Once Timber is gone, and we look at the mess, Harvey and I say it at the same time.
Fuck.
“Anyone want to start?”
Canyon’s voice echoes through the woods around us. I can’t really see. The bonfire is bright, but everything beyond it is pitch black.
I glance around the circle. This is the first time I’ve gotten a good look at the other guys here.
They all seem around my age. Some a little older.
Some a little younger. Some stare emptily into the fire; others look worn out.
One guy looks like a punk rocker, his hair gelled into a mohawk.
My gaze lands on Harvey, almost directly across from me, next to the guy with the broken arm.
Canyon never said we had to sit together at the group bonfire, so we didn’t.
I zone out as a tomahawk passes to whoever’s speaking. I’m sore and sunburned. I had to go see Cloud again. He gave me something for the burns and a natural sunblock he mixed in a mason jar.
Harvey doesn’t seem to be paying attention either.
He exchanges the occasional word with the broken arm guy.
I guess he made some friends before I got here.
When he turns his head, I notice a jagged scar across part of his forehead.
I wonder if it’s just a trick of the flickering flames because I didn’t notice it before.
Has it always been there? I would’ve noticed it on New Year’s Eve.
The thought of that night heats my face.
Harvey catches me staring and flips me the bird.
We didn’t get a lot accomplished today. We didn’t kill each other, though. Maybe we can still pull it off.
After we’re excused from the bonfire, I head to the main lodge to use the telephone. It’s about dinner time in Los Angeles, and I promised Bonnie and Floyd I’d check in when I got here. Canyon said there’s a phone here we could use, but only at certain times and for no more than thirty minutes.
When I arrive, someone’s already beaten me to it. I pace near a statue of a Hindu goddess with multiple arms and glance at the little bamboo plants all over the place. When I turn, Harvey is in my face.
“Boo,” he says.
I jerk my head back. “What, are you following me now?”
He messes with a toothpick in his mouth. “I’ve gotta use the phone.”
“I’ve got to use the phone, and I was here first.”
He shakes his head at me, indifferent arrogance written all over his face. “Whatever, man.”
The other guy hangs up and exits the booth. I quickly slip inside in case Harvey tries to cut me off, shut the door, and turn so I don’t have to look at him. I dial, get connected by the operator, and hear Bonnie’s voice over the crackling phone line.
“It’s me,” I say. “I just wanted to let you know I got here okay.”
“Oh, sweetie. That’s wonderful. Floyd!”
I picture them sitting near the patio, Bonnie with her hair done up like Aunt Bee’s, her jangly necklaces, and muumuu. Floyd in a suit, always in a suit even at home, adjusting his thick glasses. I start to feel homesick.
“Hey, champ,” Floyd says. “Good to hear from you. Everything okay so far?”
I glance over my shoulder at Harvey examining the goddess statue. “It’s good. Really good. We just got done with group therapy. We sit around a bonfire.”
“Oh, well that sounds nice,” Bonnie says. They must be sharing the receiver. “How are you feeling about everything? Adjusting okay?”
I know she means without coke and pills and not having to spend every waking moment with Harvey Laden. I omit that detail. “Yeah, I mean, there’s a doctor here. I guess he’s more like an herbalist. He has stuff to help”—I clear my throat—“with that.”
“Oh. That’s good.”
“We sure do miss you, son,” Floyd says. “And we’re proud of you for doing this.”
“Absolutely,” Bonnie chimes in. “We’re very proud of our little boy.”
I laugh. “Little? I’m taller than both of you. And I’m almost twenty-one now, in case you forgot.”
“That’s right. It’s coming up,” Bonnie says. “And you’ll always be our little boy, Austin. That won’t ever change, even when you’re our age.”
I feel a little pang in my gut thinking about being in my sixties, with them already gone.
They adopted me in their forties. The agencies wouldn’t let them adopt a baby because of their ages.
They had to pick an older child, and they picked me.
Now the boy they chose is calling from rehab.
I shake my head against the glass. I don’t know if I deserved to be loved by such wonderful people.
“I love you guys,” I whisper. “And I miss you.” I’m surprised to get choked up. Now’s not the time with Harvey lurking behind me.
“We love and miss you too, champ,” Floyd says.
I swallow and blink back tears. “Well, I won’t keep you. Just wanted to check in. I’ll see if I can call later this week.”
“All right, sweetie,” Bonnie says. “Take care and we’ll talk to you soon.”
We say our goodbyes and hang up. I check my reflection in the glass to see if my face is red before leaving the booth. I walk past Harvey to the cabin, putting as much distance between me and that son of a bitch as possible.