Chapter 8 August - Let’s get this show on the road
Miller Caswell
If someone needed to strap something to the roof of their car, how would one begin to go about that?
Me
I have bungee cords here. Just pack your shit in your little car and we’ll get it sorted before we all head out
Miller Caswell
Please don’t tell Gwen.
Ichuckle before tossing my phone back on my bed, right on top of the pile of clothes and supplies I need to get packed myself before everyone else arrives. We’re supposed to hit the road to make it to Barefoot Lake by early afternoon, but we’re a caravan of six, so I’m setting my expectations low.
I’m semi-hopeful we make it before sundown.
Truth is, as crazy as Margot’s plan seemed to just about everyone else, I’m pumped for this little getaway. Sawyer and I used to make the trip to Barefoot Lake a hell of a lot more when we were younger. It’s something I wish we kept in our regular rotation of things to do, but life happens.
Some of my best late nights have happened at that campsite nestled in the woods of New Hampshire. It’s got that cozy vibe, or whatever the hell Penelope would say.
Miller invited me to stop by last night, and I took him up on the offer, given the fact that I had nothing else going on, sort of like I do every night after I finish up work.
When I got there, Penelope—unprompted—gave me a play by play of how Daisy spent the afternoon with them packing and having dinner, and I juuuuuuuuuuuust missed her.
I’ll be honest, sometimes it’s hard to keep up with P.
She talks a mile a minute and can change the subject about forty times in a span of ten minutes.
She has these little phrases that make my head tilt, and when I don’t know the answer to one of her nine hundred questions, she’ll shoot me a glare that tells me I should have paid a hell of a lot more attention in school.
Then she tells me to Google the answer.
Smartass.
But I love her. In the course of the time the Caswells have spent in Merrymount, Penelope has shown me that some kids—more specifically, maybe only the kids of my friends—are kind of cool as shit.
Penelope is the first to laugh at my jokes, and even when I’m not in a good mood, she somehow can always spin it around.
It reminds me a lot of Daisy back when I first moved to town. I shake that thought away.
I finish getting my shit sorted into a duffel bag and haul it downstairs when there’s a knock on my front door. Beth is already peeking through the slim window beside it. I’m sure she’s looking to see if she can see me purposely ignoring her.
Which I did consider, so I guess it was deserved.
“It’s unlocked, Beth,” I call.
She enters before I finish saying her name. “You were going to let me stand out there and beat down the door, weren’t you?”
“Thought about it.” I shrug my shoulders, drop my bag by the door, and head off into the kitchen.
Beth trails behind me. “So, you all ready for your little trip?” She grabs her favorite mug from the cupboard and places it in front of the chair she declared hers years ago.
“Just about.” I grab the pot of still-warm coffee and pour the liquid caffeine into Beth’s waiting cup. I find the creamer on the door of the fridge, and slide the sugar pot, a gift from Beth when I moved in here, across the table toward her.
This is a well-rehearsed scene, never changing—the same pattern every time Beth Rivers pays me a visit from across the way at her place. So, I know her next move before she even starts.
Beth quietly assembles her coffee just the way she likes it. She takes the first sip and hums. When she places the mug back on my kitchen table, she crosses her right leg over her left, and sits back in her chair.
“Something’s up,” she declares.
“What?” I ask, amused at her style of interrogation.
“You’re being funny. You’ve been funny since the gender reveal.”
“In what way? And no euphemisms or whatever the hell you’re gonna come up with. I still have to finish packing up the food locker before everyone gets here.”
Beth points a finger at me, leaning over the kitchen table.
“There it is! August,” she sighs. “I’d like to think we’ve always been transparent with each other.
But we also respect our individual spaces…
Like when I actively choose to ignore the parade of women you normally traipse up this driveway during the middle of the night on any given weekend. ”
I turn up my face in disgust. Didn’t need to know she was aware of that. Not sure why that thought never crossed my mind. Gross.
“Anyway, this is one of those times where I feel like I can’t look away. I’m worried about ya, Gus.”
“Why?” I ask, exasperated. I haven’t been doing anything differently. Nothing has changed. This whole weird half-intervention thing is unnecessary. I want to tell Beth as much, but I know better. I’m not as dumb as everyone might think.
“You’re being avoidant, for starters. Sawyer opens his mouth, and you’re ready to rip his head off. And I’m not saying it’s a bad thing, but definitely an odd thing…Maybe not odd, moreso…interesting.”
“Out with it,” I snap, a mistake I clock when Beth narrows her eyes. “Sorry,” I mumble immediately.
“You’ve been following Daisy around here like a moth to a flame.”
“Am not.” I cross my arms over my chest and lean back on the counter.
“You kids think I’m not up with the times.” Beth wiggles her dinosaur aged phone out of her front pocket and holds it up. “I follow the Instaslam pages.”
“Instagram…” I mutter.
Beth huffs. “Whatever! I see the posts. You’re in every single one of ‘em this week.” She somehow manages to open up the app, and scrolls through at least six different pictures and videos, all of them featuring me in some way.
“You waved to the camera in this one, Gus. Since when have you ever been that damn friendly?”
“I’ll be sure to flip it off next time.”
“I’m just gonna come out and ask. Shoot straight from the hip. Did something happen with you and Daisy? The last thing we all need is for you two to let all this pent-up anger out in a way that’s going to break people apart.”
I’ve only lied to Beth Rivers on one occasion, and she called me out on it immediately, but I think I’m about to make the same mistake for a second time.
“Nothing happened. I’m just—We’re just trying to get along for the greater good.”
“Why now?”
“For the kids. I kind of thought that was obvious.” I shrug.
“And I love that sentiment, my boy. I just don’t believe it’s the whole truth. I don’t want to see either of you hurt. Not like last time.”
Fuck. I can’t talk about this with her—with anyone.
I shake my head. “No, it’s not…It’s not like that. I’m not a teenager anymore, Beth.”
The room gets quiet. Beth takes another sip of her coffee, and I don’t dare move.
“Your feelings for that girl have never been the kind that float away with age. I fear I’ve let this get out of control because I was hellbent on teaching you some sort of lesson I’ve forgotten the point of over the years.
Maybe it was just easier on me to ignore and referee on occasion.
Nevertheless, my boy, there are only a few people who know what rumbles behind yours and Daisy’s hearts.
You’ve both been enveloped in rage for so long, I think you forget how easy contempt can switch to adoration. ”
I huff. I sound so much like a fucking cow, I’m grating on my own nerves. But I do not adore Daisy Stiles. She drives me up a goddamn wall. She’s rude and pretentious and just always there.
“Balk all you want. Don’t think I assumed I was walking in here for an easy fight. I’m just asking you to consider everything before you run off and get yourself stuck in a position I can’t argue my way out of for you.”
“Noted,” I say with a short nod. “You taking the kid and the cat this weekend?” I attempt a subject change.
Beth’s eyes light up. I’m not the only one obsessed with Penelope Caswell’s energy. “Mel’s crashing with us too, of course. We’re counting down the minutes ‘till you lot clear out.” She laughs and gets up to discard her empty mug in the sink.
Her hand claps on my elbow, probably about as high as she can reach without standing on her toes. Beth was never tall, but she’s shrinking with age.
“Please be good for me this weekend. And keep an eye on the crew, especially Margot. Lord knows she’s going to find a bug to trip over.”
“Isn’t that Sawyer’s job?” I tease.
Beth’s back at my front door before she responds. “You’re both good boys, but Sawyer would fall with Margot. You’re the one there I trust to catch them before they hit the ground.”
We’re at our fourth rest stop. Margot has to pee every half hour.
Two stops ago, Red proclaimed she had to sympathy pee, a small bladder in solidarity with her pregnant sister.
According to the clock on my dashboard, I’ve spent almost three hours in the car with both of them. If there was ever a time that I longed for a sister or two, that period of my life has officially ceased.
It’s too hot, and then it’s too cold. Can we restart the song?
Margot missed her favorite bridge. Can you pass me the bag of chips?
Do you have a napkin? I could use a moisturizer in my daily skincare routine according to Red.
Don’t worry, Margot has a great suggestion for when we get back to Merrymount.
For some unexplained reason, I somehow got tasked with driving the majority of the camping supplies—tents, coolers, chairs, and food—in the bed of my truck and Margot and Red on the bench seat in the cab.
I spent my childhood ignored, until I was needed as a punching bag.
When I moved in with Sawyer and Beth, as much as they love to prod, things at the house were generally pretty quiet.
Me, alone in a small space with two women who have never heard of a personal boundary a day in their life?
I am weak compared to them. I’m surrendering.
I’m savoring my few moments of silence before they make it back to the truck. I can already hear the plastic bag of snacks they couldn’t pass up rustling in my mind.
A light tap on my window has me jumping and my eyes bugging out. I look to my left and groan. I crank the handle to lower the window against my better judgment. “And to what do I owe this pleasure, Daisy?”
Miller has been carting Sawyer and Daisy in his Corolla.
When one of us has to stop, so does the other.
Like I said earlier, we’re a dysfunctional caravan.
I haven’t spoken to Daisy since we left my place.
She hopped in the back seat of Miller’s car without a second thought and threw those big ass baby blue headphones on to block out the world.
Those headphones are sitting around her neck right now.
They match her eyes.
She rolls those ocean eyes at me. “Hey, listen. Let’s pretend we just argued about something trivial so we can skip to why I’m putting myself through a conversation with you.”
“What a way to start things off,” I offer sarcastically.
“You went viral.” Daisy holds her phone up so it’s about two inches in front of my face. I have no idea what I’m supposed to be looking at.
“Vi-ral,” Daisy repeats with emphasis on each syllable. She taps the picture I think I’m supposed to be focusing on.
I reach out and wrap my hand around her wrist so I can attempt to focus on the screen. “Will you hold still?”
Daisy sucks in a breath but doesn’t try to pull away or say anything else.
Turns out it’s not a picture, it’s the same video Beth had brought up earlier, except looking at it now, I see there are hundreds of comments, thousands of likes, and that the little notification sign keeps popping up every second that ticks by.
“What the…” I let the phrase trail off, releasing Daisy’s wrist.
“Believe me, I said the same thing. As much as this pains me to admit, August, you’re good for business. You’re the last person I want to ask for help, but I’m putting the riverside first here.” She locks her phone and pockets it.
“I don’t get it,” I confess. And I mean it. I’ve never understood social media. I made a profile when Sawyer did back in school, and I scroll through people’s posts when I can’t sleep. But I’ve never uploaded a single thing. Nothing in my life is worth showcasing like that.
“Girls are thirsty for conservative-looking men with liberal opinions in this day and age. The fact that you’re this beast who lugs tree trunks over his shoulder like a bag of flour and works for a woman-owned business is hot to them.”
“I’m just doing my job.” I’m so fucking confused.
Daisy braces a hand on my door. Her knuckles go white like she’s trying to find the strength to not clap me upside the head. I gotta admit, the effort for restraint is comical.
“Fantastic, Gus. You’re employee of the freaking month. Agree to let me film you doing whatever, whenever, and I won’t ask for anything more.”
“Whatever, whenever?” I ask, a grin forming on my face. “My, my, how the turns have tabled. I thought it was a one-time thing?” I go up a few octaves to mimic her voice.
Daisy’s scowl deepens. “I regret everything about this entire interaction and before.”
I lean over, just a little. “You don’t mean that, darling. I know you don’t.” I see the rest of our crew exit the rest stop. “But, I’ll spare ya. Sure, Daze. Paint me like one of your French girls or whatever. Doesn’t matter to me.”
She tracks my line of vision and steps away from the truck, an earnest look on her face. She pulls those headphones, dainty fucking white little bows on either side, back over her ears. “Rivers River’s social media appreciates it.”
I can’t help but chuckle. It wouldn’t be Daisy if she flat-out thanked me for a damn thing herself.
My passenger door flies open, and Margot hops onto the bench, scooting over to her spot in the middle. She leans her head on my shoulder and rests a hand on her belly.
“Do you mind if I nap the rest of the way?” she asks.
Suddenly, my annoyances from before melt away. Maybe I never longed for a sister, but I’ve somehow found myself with a couple of them. And I don’t hate it, not even a little bit.
Red jumps in next to Margot and hands me a bag of beef jerky. I rip the perforated top and toss a handful of dehydrated meat into my mouth before answering Margot, who’s already closed her eyes. “Sleep tight,” I tell her.
Sawyer stops at my door and looks down at Margot, who might have actually passed out in record time, that dopey, lovey look on his face.
“Yeah. That tracks,” Sawyer sighs. “She gets tired pretty easily these days. We ready to go?”
“Let’s get this show on the road,” I say, starting my truck up. We still have about an hour left of this drive, and if we have any chance of actually making it to the site before sundown, we need to get these miles behind us before Margot wakes up.