Chapter Three #2
Once her things were just inside the door, Mo turned to shut and lock it behind herself.
Stepping over her pile, she pulled the long-sleeved shirt she was wearing up and over her head in a fluid movement, flinging it onto the love seat.
She adjusted the tank top she was wearing underneath before kicking her boots to the side, undoing her belt and chinos, then dropping them to the floor.
With an agile maneuver, she jumped up onto the counter to close the blinds on the singular kitchen window and made a beeline for the bed.
Launching herself into the middle, Mo groaned in satisfaction at finally being able to lay horizontal.
Of course she knew she needed to unpack her things, get acquainted with the space, and maybe even take that coupon Odessa mentioned down to the local market for food.
But lying on this unfamiliar bedding, undeniably hungry, with a heart that yearned to meticulously go through the VHS collection with Annie, was what Mo believed she deserved.
So she didn’t move, allowing her eyes to slowly creep closed instead.
* * *
The melodic ring of Mo’s cell phone stirred her from a deep, heavy slumber.
Blinking rapidly, she groaned as she noticed a terrible headache that was radiating outward from between her eyes.
There was light filtering in around the shades, and Mo had somehow ended up tangled in cotton sheets beneath the comforter she remembered falling asleep on.
“What the fuck?” Mo groaned, her voice deep and crackly, as she tried to kick out of her bed prison.
Dazed, she rolled to the edge and stretched out her long arms to grab her chinos and drag them closer to her. Just as she pulled her cell phone from her pocket, it stopped ringing, so she checked her notifications instead.
(3) Missed Calls
(12) Text Messages
(982) Emails
Mo had been ignoring her emails for a really long time, so she swiped that notification right off the screen.
Then she clicked on missed calls—all three were from Bud.
If Mo had to guess, the twelve texts were probably also from Bud, as he had a penchant for overcommunication.
But before she could check her messages, Mo noticed that she had been sleeping for a little over twenty-four hours and it was now the next afternoon.
For a normal functioning person, that would be cause for alarm, but for Mo, that was the most sleep she had gotten in months.
She wiggled her way back to the headboard, propping herself against the cold, bare wood as she checked her messages. They were indeed all from her old friend, and she moaned loudly at his lack of tact as she scrolled up to the oldest one.
Hey beanstalk, did you get to the park?
MO
IMOGEN
You better not be dead you little shit
Opal said its like only 5 hours so where the fuck are you?
Are you ignoring me?
I don’t want to annoy you and shit, being as you are a grown ass adult
But I will come up there and I will tan your hide so red you’ll look the Kool-Aid man kissed your ass
It’s the next morning
Please respond
This is ridiculous, Mo. I will remember you doing this to me
Pepperidge Farms always remembers
Mo couldn’t help but laugh at the joke made at the expense of his last name, even as she felt a twinge of guilt for ignoring him. So Mo typed out a noncommittal apology, figuring something was better than nothing.
Sorry dude, I fell asleep right after I got here.
Please forgive me. Also, service is spotty as fuck.
Don’t expect me to check in daily.
I hate you
But also, glad you’re alive
And you better fucking check in with me hourly!!!
Mo rolled her eyes at his response, closing her phone with a click before tossing it onto the pillow next to her.
It was then she pondered just going back to bed.
It was comfortable, warm, and expectations were always at their lowest under the covers.
But Mo had ignored her stomach for too long, and she knew her general weak disposition was because she hadn’t eaten since before the drive.
A few steps from the bed, Mo took off the rest of her clothes for a hot shower, utilizing the little shampoo bottles she found already inside.
Never a long shower kind of gal, Mo finished the basics before hopping out, dripping wet, moving to the mirror to get a good look at herself.
She was having difficulty recognizing her now exceptionally gaunt features.
She was almost painful to look at, so she focused on using a towel to style her hair so that it could dry in a semipresentable way.
Mo opened her suitcase by the door, pulling out each piece of clothing without much care for where it landed.
She dressed herself slowly, thinking about what she would wear on her jaunt to the market.
Odessa Pearson had sounded like a casual sort of woman, so she figured her family’s market was probably like most rural places and needed very little in the way of fanfare.
Annie had loved her masculine style, so she finally decided on her favorite green, yellow, and cream long-sleeved flannel shirt.
Then she pulled on a pair of chinos, unfortunately deeply wrinkled, and rolled up the bottom cuffs.
Mo had always made sure to roll the bottoms of her pants in order to highlight her many nice pairs of boots.
But in the wake of losing Annie, she was left with only one brown pair.
She had given the rest to her favorite cobbler at the Downtown Palo Alto Farmers’ Market.
It felt wrong to keep them when Annie wasn’t around to enjoy them.
Tightening her belt one more hole than usual, Mo leaned over to grab her boots and slip them on.
Part of her wanted to take everything right back off and climb back into bed.
But if she was gonna make the redwoods her last stop, there was no way she was gonna go out asleep in a random cabin nearby.
No, Mo wanted to see Annie’s favorite creek, and in order to do that, she needed to eat.
She didn’t check herself in the mirror before grabbing her keys, wallet, and Annie’s treasure from her dirty pair of pants.
After she was satisfied that she was ready to go, Mo expertly stepped over all her things in the doorway and made her way out onto the porch.
Once in the car, Mo didn’t mess with any of the GPS settings before pulling out of the driveway.
She let her brain go into autopilot, retracing her path back to the 101.
Mo looked both ways before making a right, going over the bridge she had passed earlier.
She took it slowly, glancing to her left and right frequently to take in the flowing clear water and multitude of large gray rocks that littered the creek bed.
At the end of the bridge and off to the right was a huge—at least twelve feet in diameter—circular slice of a redwood tree mounted unceremoniously on rather weak-looking sawhorses.
To the left was a boarded-up old cinema, the faded red letters above the marquee reading Orick.
The marquee itself displayed Star Wars: A New Hope, with the H barely hanging on by a thread.
Mo snorted, wondering if that was the last movie that played there.
She turned her head again and noticed the Orick Family Market sign.
She checked her mirrors before swinging into the gravel lot, instantly noticing how badly maintained it was.
She parked her Outback next to a baby-blue Honda Fit, using it as a guide because she couldn’t figure out how the spaces were marked.
Mo’s eyes stayed on the redwood disk as she unceremoniously climbed out of her car, locking it behind her.
She wanted to move toward it. To reach out and touch the hundreds of rings.
To see if the texture was soft or scratchy.
How had the tree fallen? Did humans intervene for their own personal gains, or did someone stumble upon it, fallen and broken on the ground?
A certain kinship to that idea bubbled up inside of her, urging her to walk toward it.
To wonder if a similar fate could befall her in the forest.
But instead, Mo just turned away, deciding to walk toward the sidewalk near what looked like a small post office.
She strolled on by, her focus on getting the bare essentials and retreating back to her cabin.
But as she arrived at the front of the market, a strong savory scent hit her nostrils, making her mouth water.
The smell reminded her of burgers and wings, transporting her to a sports bar in the middle of the 49ers playoff season.
It was heavenly, drawing Mo past the market to finally notice the large sign for Dry Creek Bar & Grill.