Why does he say the name like he doesn’t believe me?
I thoughtfully go back to River, and as he’s still lying in bed, I feel a twinge of frustration and disappointment.
I shake his shoulder, and he opens one eye as if it takes great effort. “Hmm,” he mumbles indistinctly. “What’s wrong, Tucks?”
Do you need a doctor?I ask him in front of his face.
His eyes widen, and he grabs my hand, squeezing his fingers so hard it hurts. “I’m sorry.” He loosens his grip, a pleading tonein his sleepy eyes. “No doctor. Nobody. Just you and me. Give me another day, and I’ll be fine again,” he says in a rough voice.
Just you and me. I examine him carefully. I have no idea what to do, but his condition scares me too much to tolerate it any longer.
He raises his hand and strokes my hair. “Tomorrow, we’re leaving and heading toward Vegas. I promise you.” I close my eyes for a moment and enjoy the touch. I miss it so much my heart aches: his kisses, his touches, River as he was before.
Another day passes. I sat by River’s bed throughout the morning, keeping vigil, but then I headed off to slackline around noon. His cell phone still doesn’t work.
As I climb the low embankment along the path, I resolve not to be too disappointed if he doesn’t get up today, despite his promise. I should just think about what I could actually do to help him.
A little later, I carefully put one foot in front of the other, my eyes focused on the trunk of the fir tree. Everything is quiet, too quiet; even the birds aren’t chirping today. It’s too hot. I happened to hear on the radio earlier when I bought a chocolate bar from the machine at the reception desk that it’s about ninety-five degrees in the shade.
At the end of the low slackline, I do a turn, wipe the sweat from my brow with my forearm, and look absentmindedly at the shabby motel that lies below the edge of the forest.
I only ever leave shards behind.
He’s definitely on drugs. That would explain all of his behavior. Maybe amphetamines, that student drug that keeps you awake forever, and now, after days of withdrawal, River is catching up on all his sleep. That’s how it has to be; there can be no other explanation.
Exhausted, I put my face in my hands when there’s a cracking in the undergrowth behind me, as if someone—or something—stepped on a dry branch.
I abruptly turn and peer intently into the dense forest. The dark fir trees rise far into the blue sky, looking like statues. No breeze shakes the branches. There is nothing. No grizzly, no moose—just this silence.
Goosebumps crawl up my bare forearms. Something about it reminds me of my school—that calm before the storm.
I instinctively pull River’s white shirt down, but the hem only barely reaches my butt. Actually, I’ve had enough for today anyway.
I grab the small water bottle, ready to return, when I hear crunching footfalls from below. Someone is walking around the motel. A long shadow appears at the end of the last wooden shack. At first, I think River has finally gotten up and is coming to me on the slackline, but when the shadow turns the corner, my breath catches in my throat.
It’s John.Blond John from Berry’s Supermarket!
When he spots me, a strange grin crosses his face. “Look at that! Look who we got here. The blonde angel from the supermarket.” With long strides, he runs across the gravel backyard toward the embankment at the height of which I have stretched my line. “All alone?”
At first, I don't know how to react. I automatically glance into our motel window, but of course, River isn’t standing there. He’s in bed.
I take a deep breath.
“Don’t worry, I just wanna chat. Well, that might be difficult.” John laughs, and I notice in passing that he still looks like it’s been weeks since he’s seen the inside of a shower. His lumberjack shirt and jeans are covered in dirt, and his dripping ponytail looks like it could be wrung out.
He stops briefly along the path that leads up the embankment. “You know, my old man told us where to find you. This dump belongs to him.”
Us? My internal warning system goes on alert, and I automatically turn.
The water bottle slips from my fingers. The black-haired man is standing between the fir trees behind the slackline, but he only has to take one big step to overcome it.
“Hey, darlin’.” He winks at me, a dark glow flickering in his deep-set eyes.
I can’t move for seconds. Can’t breathe, nothing.
“Yeah, old Buddy had a lot to drink. Even told us about your companion, who we’ve never seen. Maybe he already left.”
“Maybe he didn’t come back from getting cigarettes!” John laughs at his own joke, then suddenly grows serious. “Hey, Jack, I think she truly is mute. She can’t even say peep.”
