River saved me, and I’ll only believe what I see with my own eyes and forget the rest.
That evening, the Yamaha conks out shortly before Las Vegas, and we find ourselves without a wheeled vehicle in the middle of the desert and two lonely mountain ranges to the right and left. So, we push the bike for two hours toward Lund and stay in a motel on the outskirts of the city.
That night, after a long time, I dream of Chester again. In the dream, he’s pushing my face under the water. As I struggleto get free and the air bubbles around me, I hear him shouting, “We’re starting over. The two of us!” His voice fills my mind with a scarlet color that flows down my throat and into my lungs. His sweaty hand slides under my shirt.
When I wake, I’m drenched in sweat and breathless. The area next to me is empty; the pillow and duvet look as unused as they did last night.
“River?” My voice is soft, as if I’m afraid Chester might be lurking in one of the dark corners of the room. Exhausted, I push my damp hair out of my face and look around.
River isn’t here.
I take my phone and put it into the top pocket of my sleep shirt, then wrap myself in the blanket and walk to the bathroom with a bad feeling.
Please, don’t let him hurt himself again!
The emptiness of the bathroom yawns at me, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Indecisively, I stand there not knowing what to do. The chill of the nightmare lies like a film of ice on my skin. If I ever have to return to Cottage Grove, Chester will make my life miserable—unless River is by my side.
He’s probably outside, smoking.
Wrapped in the warm blanket, I go to the front door and tentatively open it. At first, the night seems quiet. All I hear is the wind blowing across the vast landscape between the mountain ranges, a gentle, steady roar occasionally accompanied by an eerie creak from the motel’s old beams.
I realize that River isn’t sleeping once again. I unintentionally think of Chester’s words as well as my dad’s warning. This lack of sleep may be a sign of illness. Or the sign of ongoing drug addiction; amphetamines can do something like that. Speed is a drug that can keep you awake for days, but I’ve already suspected it. Maybe it’s totally naive not to get help andnot tell Dad our whereabouts. What do I do if River cuts himself so deeply that any help comes too late?
I thoughtfully wipe my damp forehead with one hand, step onto the narrow porch in front of the rooms, and breathe in the cool air. Countless stars cover the sky, and the white band of the Milky Way hovers like a veil above me. I look around. Our room is the second to last in the row. The motel is like an island in the wasteland, with the broken Yamaha next to a wooden beam flanking the porch and supporting the overhang. Okay, so River isn’t out here smoking either.
The creak of timber and a voice drift over to me. River. He must have gone around the corner to make a phone call.
Why?
I tiptoe along the porch so I can hear him better.
“But I have...” I hear him protest and then remain silent.
I creep even closer. The wood creaks as if he’s pacing back and forth. I pull the down comforter closer around me and hold my breath.
“I’ve always—always—let you know where I was... even when I was miserable as shit, I called you from the motel. Even if the drunk owner wanted a fortune for it.”
He was on the phone when he was sleeping so much? How? And when? And why didn’t I notice?
River interrupts my thoughts as he huffs in annoyance. “Of course, I turned off the GPS then... That wasn’t part of the agreement. You were following me around like I needed a fucking babysitter, for God’s sake! What should I have done?” His steps quicken, like his inner unrest is increasing. “I just wanted a few weeks...”
I feel terrible for eavesdropping, but if I honestly want to help him, I need information.
“Damn it—” “Leave her out of this! What did Chester...”
It’s as quiet as a mouse for a while. The wind blows harshly, and I think River has hung up when I hear him suck in a sharp breath.
“Don’t you dare!”It’s a growl of horror and blind anger. “How could you... Don’t give me a fucking ultimatum, got it?” he shouts so loudly I step back. I hear a pop, and I think he kicked something I can’t see.
“Dammit, Davidson! Have you thought about what that means?”
“I swore it. And I promised June something. Don’t you dare!” Now he sounds so desperate that my heart sinks.
His ragged breath breaks in the night air. “She is fine. Sammy.Please!” The last is a plea. “Sammy! Listen to me! No... you listen to me!”
“What? Kansas should... why was she upset? Did she write to Chester?”
“That’s bullshit!”