Page 15 of Love Never Happens with your Brother’s Best Friend

“Thanks for the ride home,” I say getting out of Brodie’s Dodge onto the sidewalk still running with water. The rain has completely stopped, and the town looks washed clean. “Good night.”

Chapter 8

Brodie

I’ve forgotten that the weather can be extreme around here. The temperature can change from warm to chilly in an instant. After dropping Rita off, the rain stops and the sky clears. I turn off the windshield wipers and tune the radio to a news channel for a weather update on the drive back to Dylan’s house.

The announcer says the storm is moving away, and the forecast is fine for the next couple of days. I’m relieved. My rosy image of a few fun-filled days camping in the sunshine was replaced with me trudging through rain and mud with a loaded pack on my back: an idea that is absolutely no fun, even with my best mate. The weather announcer concludes the update and segues into the news headlines. I wince when I hear my name and turn the radio off. I know what the story is about, and I don’t need to hear it.

Finding out that Rita is going to be a guide on the trip is exciting but also off-putting. Unlike the rest of her family, who seem happy to see me, I’m not getting the warm fuzzies from Rita. She is keeping her distance and being guarded around me and I’m not a hundred percent sure why. I know there’s this ugly news about me, but she should know that it is a complete fabrication. I feel let down by her. If there’s one person in the world I need to believe me, it’s Rita.

In the café earlier, I put Rita’s frostiness down to her being in her workplace, so an element of professionalism dictates a certain reserve regarding behavior. I mean, I didn’t expect her to run at me, jump into my arms, and cover me with thousands of kisses straight off. Although, that would have been nice. But tonight, at dinner, I would say that she was positively hostile toward me.

Does Rita still hate me after all this time? Is she holding a grudge? Or is it the horrible news story? Does she really think I am that person the media is holding up as the cold-hearted, love-‘em-and-leave-‘em kind of guy? Does she really think I would do something like get a girl pregnant, then dump her, and run to the hills? And, on top of that, swear my innocence in front of her family, the nicest people on earth? I hope not. Perhaps there’s something else going on with her. Maybe on the trail, I can get close and find out what’s wrong. Maybe it’s nothing to do with me. But perhaps I can help in some way. I hope she doesn’t hate me.

Driving up to the house, part of me is hoping the trip will be called off. But how can I tell Dylan that a beach bar in Barbados is beckoning? I can’t. I’ve said that I’ll go camping, so I’m going.

Dylan is a ball of enthusiasm the next morning. He raps on my door to wake me up. Then again twenty minutes later, to make sure I hadn’t dozed off again. I cover my head with the pillow. How can anyone be this cheerful when the sun is barely up?

“Leaving in ten,” Dylan says behind the closed door of the spare bedroom.

I almost tell him to go without me, but then thoughts of Rita jolt me upright. And I’m up, showered, and dressed, and waiting for Dylan, with my backpack, in the hall, in record time.

Dylan’s 4x4 van is loaded with all the camping gear in the back. I jump in the passenger’s seat, buoyed up by Dylan’s surge of morning energy, excited about the day ahead. He shifts the van into gear and slowly rumbles down the driveway, leaving the dogs on the porch wagging their tails.

“We’ll pick up Rita and meet the campers at the parking lot at the park’s main entrance,” says Dylan with manic wide eyes of the truly committed outdoor type.

There’s little traffic on the drive to town. Rita is standing on the empty sidewalk waiting for us outside the café, which is sadly still closed. I suppress my longing for a strong flat white to kick start my day. Dylan slows to a stop. I open the door and scoot over to allow Rita to climb in. She wedges her backpack on the floor between her knees.

“All set?” says Dylan. “Let’s go.”

“I’m so pleased it’s not raining,” Rita says, checking the straps on her pack. “Looks like it’s going to be a beautiful morning.”

“Yes.” I turn to face her directly. “And I hope the chilliness of last night has lifted.”

Rita doesn’t respond but narrows her eyes at me, then haughtily looks out of the window.

Dylan turns on the radio. He tunelessly sings along to a Creedence Clear Water Revival song, ‘Have You Ever Seen the Rain’, an oldie but a goodie, and strangely appropriate. The lyrics make me smile. I shake my head. Is this the calm before the storm? Possibly.

There’s only one other vehicle in the parking lot when we pull up. Rita opens the door, jumps out then grabs her pack. I fish around for my pack behind the seat then jump out too. Dylan is already at the back of the van.

“Alright. We’ll wait here for the others,” Dylan says as he checks his phone for messages. “They shouldn’t be too long. I mean, we’re super early.” He lifts open the rear door and checks the gear one more time.

“Sure. No problem,” I say, stretching my arms above my head in preparation for the hike and looking around. Rita has wandered to a gate in the parking lot fence where the trail begins. A wooden sign with an arrow points the way.

“I’ll go over the hike details when everyone else is here,” says Dylan. “This is going to be so much fun, Bro.” He slaps my arm playfully.

A car with a family arrives. The dad who is driving honks as he pulls up. Three kids spill out of the back door when the car stops: two boys aged around eight and thirteen, and a girl who looks to be ten or eleven, I guess. Dylan greets them and checks the names off his list to make sure we have everyone. Then Dylan looks down at his phone and sighs.

“Well, the couple have pulled out. Good to know now.” He beams at the family who pause their activities to listen. “So, yeah, it’s just us, which is great,” Dylan continues. He has everyone’s full attention. “I can see you all have hiking boots. Perfect.” The dad smiles and gives Dylan a double thumbs-up. “We’re going to need them today after last night’s storm. The trail is going to be a bit more challenging than usual. We’re all going to get muddy.” I watch the boys’ faces light up at the idea: the girl’s and both parents’ not so much. “So, everyone carries a backpack. I have them here for each of you.” Dylan walks to the van and slaps a hand on the baggage piled up in the back. “But first let me introduce Rita, she’s a qualified trail guide, and also a wilderness first responder, like me, so if you get a blister, we’ve got a whole heap of Band-Aids for you.” Rita raises a hand and says hi. “And this is Brodie. He’s here for a fun time, just like you guys.”

“Hey. Are you Brodie Kent?” asks the youngest kid.

“Hi there. Yep. That’s me.” I wave and smile.

“Whoa, wait til I tell the kids back in school I camped out with Brodie Kent.” The boy beams a huge grin up at his parents and then punches his older brother’s arm. “This is going to be awesome.”

The parents smile down at their children then shoot me an untrusting look, as if I am about to initiate them into the Occult or something. Luckily Dylan continues, diverting attention away from me.

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