Chapter Thirteen #2
“Of course,” Aspen said, following Mo across. “I’m not the fishing type so I’m not sure on all the types, but Kyle liked the trout.”
“He came out here with you?”
“Yeah, fishing was the only way to get him here. Though he preferred getting drunk and passing out in a rented cabin over sleeping in a tent,” Aspen grumbled. “Enough about him, what was that Annie story I was promised?”
“Ah, right.” Mo breathed in, reaching the end of the bridge and continuing down the trail. “Remember how I said that she wasn’t actually interested in me when we met? Like, at all?”
“Aww, yeah,” Aspen said. “Were you not her type?”
“I think I was too much her type,” Mo returned, noticing that the trail was going up into the hills to their left now, obscuring their view of the creek. “Are we going the right way?”
“Yeah, the water is too deep here to wade, so we will follow the trail up a bit. It will snake back down to the creek eventually. Though I think there is a scramble we will have to traverse. I’m unsure if they cleared the downed trees from last year.”
“I’m so glad you know.” Mo beamed, relieved that she wouldn’t have to worry about getting lost.
“My pleasure to serve you,” Aspen sang brightly. “So, did she tell you to kick rocks?”
“Kinda? She agreed to Bud and I joining the band and almost immediately gave me, and only me, a speech about how she was done with dating in her twenties.”
“I love that.” Aspen sighed wistfully. “A woman who is up-front about what she wants.”
“I did too, actually. I thought she was a breath of fresh air. First off, for knowing I was crushing on her and second off, for communicating her boundaries.” Mo went on, smiling slightly at the memory of Annie’s seriousness. “I respected it, obviously, but it made me like her more, not less.”
“Ain’t that how it always works.” Aspen’s voice took on a knowing tone. “We want what we can’t have.”
“Yeah, her included. She later told me how she was instantly infatuated but decided I was a terrible idea. I’m thankful, because it allowed us to get to know each other without all the crazy pretenses.
I learned every little quirk during jam sessions in that garage, and instead of actively pursuing her, I just learned to let it be.
” Mo’s breathing grew labored as they made their way up a switchback.
“So who initiated more?”
“Both of us?” Mo questioned the sky. “Her?”
“Which is it?”
“Both, I guess. She was the singer and the brain behind our entire band. She would pick a song and then bring it to us with ideas, kind of conducting the first changes we would make to countrify it. But she wasn’t the best at any one instrument, so I offered to teach her more after a session,” Mo said as they reached the first sharp turn in the switchback.
“I asked her to bring her guitar, and she brought me this beat-up old Taylor, gouged to all hell right outside the pick guard. She would play all choked up like a—”
“Huh?” Aspen interrupted. “I’m not musical in any way so you’ve lost me.”
“It’s like…” Mo stopped and turned to Aspen, miming like she was holding a guitar. “You know how people hold a guitar and strum across the strings over the sound hole?”
“Yeah.” Aspen nodded, stepping closer to Mo like she could actually see the imaginary guitar.
“Well, Annie played hers all choked up, so her strumming hand swung the pick over the strings closer to the neck and damaged the guitar.”
“Ooh, I love her. She went her own way.”
“And didn’t care what anyone thought either. I was so confused by it that I had her hold the guitar and show me her technique and she played it all…” She mimed erratic and unskilled guitar strokes, making it look more like she was swinging a hammer than strumming a guitar.
Aspen snorted. “What did you do?”
“I asked her if she wanted me to show her a better technique. I will never forget how her face almost…” Mo tapered off, her hand moving as she tried to find the right words.
“Fell? But like, in an affectionate way. Then she played a perfect rendition of ‘Hallelujah,’ her choked-up technique be damned.”
“I’m not following…”
“She had kind of tricked me into thinking she was bad at guitar so I’d offer to spend time with her.
I guess she wanted to be sure I was into her, previous baggage and all, and I was.
But she ended up romancing me more with her version of the song than anything.
” Mo chuckled as they reached the end of the switchback.
It looked like the trail went flat for twenty or so feet before a gentle descent back toward the creek.
“Aww,” Aspen cooed, obviously smitten with Annie’s antics. “That’s a cute story.”
“Ain’t it? She was a character.” Mo sighed. “Thanks for listening.”
“No, thank you for telling me. I need to know as much as I can, you know,” Aspen said with a lightness that was music to Mo’s ears.
“Why’s that?” Mo asked, taking the hill down to the creek at a steady pace.
“More for me to talk to her about when we get this phone installed. I can contrast how sweet you were then with how grumpy you are now.”
“Hey now, that’s not fair,” Mo whined.
“I mean, yeah, you are a tad less grumpy today. But I am watching you.”