Chapter 16 #2
Okay, I’ve definitely got to do this. My belly fills with fire, and my eyes focus.
This wood is going down. I can do this. I will do this.
I flex my fingers, take another breath, lift the impossibly heavy axe with the wood attached to it, and slam the chopping block.
One more time, and crunch. The satisfying sound of split wood is like some sort of super ear orgasm.
It echoes through the land and bounces back to me.
“I did it! Holy shit, I didn’t think I would be able to. ”
“Yeah, you did,” Colby says, with a smile that’s wider than mine. “Will it sound super condescending if I say that I’m proud of you?”
Warmth fills me, and rushes to my cheeks. Proud of me. That’s definitely something I haven’t heard maybe since I was a little kid. I focus on grabbing the split wood and tossing it into the ATV trailer, wishing my smile weren’t quite as big as it is right now. “Not condescending at all.”
“For whatever it’s worth, it took me a week of chopping before I could do this,” Colby says, grabbing the axe resting against the chopping block. “And it took you like two tries. I’m both impressed and feel like crap, so… congrats, I guess?”
I laugh. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’m completely worn out and need a break.”
In a very short amount of time, a rhythm builds between us, as if we’ve chopped wood together dozens of times. Colby chops about four pieces, then I do one. She sets up the logs for each of us, I carry the split wood to the trailer.
Colby’s breath comes out in fogs against the cold air, but I see her face build with moisture.
After an hour, both of us have our hats and scarves off, my chest is sticky with sweat, and the crystalized air feels good against my lungs.
The sensation of stinging cold air against my hot body sparks my system, and the longer we’re out here, the more refreshed, the more rejuvenated, I feel.
As I go in for my turn, I grab a bigger log than I’ve done so far.
Colby’s eyebrows arch, but she doesn’t say anything.
A burn fills me. Pictures flood my mind.
Of my dad. Of me bawling over missing Lucky Charms. Of my sobbing mother curled on the floor, or walking around exhausted and snippy, juggling bags of groceries and yelling at us to clean our rooms.
I don’t think I can run from his memory for much longer. Over the years, I’ve buried it so deep I thought it disappeared. But it keeps wiggling itself from me, like it’s trying to purge from my soul, but I’m not letting it escape.
The day he left is burned into me. Branded into my brain like a tattoo.
I raise the axe. His truck filled with boxes, Lucky Charms in the cab, my mom screaming.
I crash into the wood. His face as he looked at me, the way he pressed his hand to the window like he was going to wave, then dropped it and looked ahead like I was invisible.
I grab another piece and slam the axe into the wood.
The way the truck was louder than usual as he sped out of the neighborhood, the way I didn’t understand what was happening, why my dad left, why he took my dog.
My breath is heavy, sweat beads against me.
I wiggle the axe free and raise it again.
The way my mom walked me and my sister back inside but dropped to her knees once she hit the entryway. Crack.
The wood bursts in a loud, cleansing, cathartic crack. My chest heaves, breathless, my heartbeat thuds against my ear. I’m not even sure how much time has passed, but a gentle hand reaches over and tugs the axe from my grip.
“Getting rid of some demons?” Colby asks.
I flick away a few surprising tears. “Apparently,” I say, pushing out a soft smile. “I think I have more pent-up anger issues than I let on.”
Colby rests the axe against the chopping block, then digs out a few water bottles from her bag. “Want to talk about it?” she asks as she hands me a bottle.
Do I? Honestly, I don’t know. I haven’t talked about this in so long.
I really thought I buried this, and that the situation doesn’t affect me anymore, but it’s obvious that it does.
Colby stands next to me, letting the silence fall between us without pressing or prying.
The clean air fills our lungs, and cools our skin, and I take several long moments to look at the snow-laden property as the fragmented memories settle.
I twist off the lid and drink some water. “Remember when I talked about my dog I had when I was little?”
Colby nods. “Lucky Charms, right?”
“Whoa.” Maybe it’s not that odd that she’d remember, and maybe it is. But knowing that someone heard something I said a while ago, an offhand comment, and committed it to memory, makes me warm. “You have a good memory.”
“I mean, you only told me like four days ago.”
It’s more than that, and I think she knows it, too. I cannot believe that I’ve only been here four days. There’s a comfortability like I’ve been here a month. Like my job, my world, my life outside of this place is almost a distant memory. “Doesn’t it feel like I’ve been here a month already?”
“Only in the best way,” Colby says. “But yes, it feels longer.”
Colby still doesn’t pry, and I look out into the forest. The snowfall has almost totally stopped now. I’m not even sure if this is real snow, or just flakes falling from the trees at this point. Colby pulls out a Thermos from her bag, then points to a fallen tree a few yards from us.
We plop down on the tree trunk, the adrenaline from chopping slowing down now, and stare at the silent forest. The rustling pines, the crackling branches, and the sounds of nature fill the silence.
Colby pours the warm tea into the cup, and we pass it back and forth.
The sensations hit me. The sweaty bodies, the cold air, the warm tea heating my insides. Slowly, my body starts to melt.
“So, yeah, I had Lucky Charms for a few years. And God, I loved her so much. She was the sweetest dog in the world. She and Kona would be neck and neck over who would take home the trophy for most loveable dog, you know?” I sip the tea, and hand it back to her.
“I think being in a family with six of us kids, I felt sort of invisible. And I wanted to be visible. And… I don’t know.
Lucky Charms did that for me. I was her person. ”
I think of the tattoos I’ve gotten over the years, and the different hair colors, the activities and lessons, all to help satisfy the craving I was seeking to get people to notice me.
That somehow if they saw me, no matter what it was, it meant I was here, visible, alive.
Worthy. “But when I was twelve, my father had an affair, and he left us to be with this new woman. All of us gone, discarded, just like that.” I try to snap, but with gloves on the effect isn’t there.
“And he took Lucky Charms with him. It fucking broke my heart. He broke my heart. Lucky was my dog, and my dad was my person, and in a heartbeat, they were both just gone.”
Colby inhales a sharp breath. “Oh, Josie. My God. I’m so sorry.
I can’t even begin to imagine how difficult that would’ve been, especially as a kid that probably couldn’t process everything.
” Her gloved hand reaches out and settles on my knee.
She leaves it there for a few moments, and even though I have on snow pants, and her hand is covered, I feel the warmth seep into my leg through multiple layers of fabric. “Do you still talk to him?”
“No,” I say. “He tried, for a while. Sent birthday and Christmas money. Called a few times. He finally stopped when I was probably fourteen, fifteen?”
She pours a bit more tea into the cup and hands it back over. “Were you relieved or mad when he stopped?”
“Honestly, I don’t know.” It’s so hard to think of my emotions back then, as an angry, sad teenager dealing with hormones and first loves, while also dealing with the devastation of my family being torn apart.
Back then, I let those emotions seep in.
Now I don’t. I remember years of being sad, more years being angry, and even more years trying to forget.
“I was so angry, and every time he called or sent birthday cards or something, I’d get even more pissed.
But then when the communication stopped all together, and I didn’t get that birthday call that I could blow up at, or rip a card to shreds, I felt even more empty.
” I let out a self-deprecating chuckle. “I guess I’m all over the place. Looks like not a lot has changed.”
She gives me a soft smile, but she’s not matching my energy with a chuckle.
And then, she sets the cup down by her feet, kneels in front of me, and pulls me into what might be the greatest hug of my life.
Her arms hold me, transfer a message to me that I’m okay, that I’m good enough, that none of this was my fault.
My lips tremble, and I bury my head into her shoulder.
I try to stop the tears. I try so incredibly hard, but I can’t.
I break down, right here, in the middle of the snow-filled forest, on Colby’s soft flannel shirt, and I hold on to her so tight that I think my arms may fall off.
I cry the tears that I’ve withheld for years, I cry for the kid that was left, for the years wasted, for the memories that I buried.
And she holds me. For so long, she holds me and supports me until the tears stop.
For the first time since I was a kid, I feel the first stitch in my broken soul tug tight.