Page 65 of Four Weekends and a Funeral

Tell the Truth

3:47 PM

Alison:

Minneapolis called an overnight snow emergency. Did you move Sam’s car back?

3:59 PM

Adam:

Shit.

4:02 PM

Alison:

I’ll move it. I can tape while I’m there to get a jump on painting tomorrow.

4:03 PM

Adam:

Okay.

After I move Sam’s car Friday night, I invite Russell over to look for his gear. I direct him to the group of three boxes by the living room windows. Aside from this last stack of boxes and a drop cloth held in place by Adam’s ladder, the place resembles a staged showroom. Once we paint tomorrow and deliver the last of his things, there’ll be nothing left of Sam here. We’ve packed him away like out-of-season decor.

“This is everything that could be relevant to hiking, mountain climbing, and general outdoorsiness.” I nudge a box with my toe.

“No worries. I’m glad we’re finally doing this. Want to crack two of those open?” He points to the six-pack of beer he brought. I open up a can for each of us and watch Russell haphazardly empty the boxes I packed so carefully. I reprimand his chaos with my eyes, but he continues un-nesting all of the backpacks I’ve zipped into one another and tossing them on the ground.

“I’m glad you’re still coming.” At the sound of his voice—missing its normal blitheness—I look up from the box I’m rummaging through. “I was thinking of calling the whole trip off at first. It’s going to be so different without him.” He clears his throat. “But I think it will be good for us. It’s good to have something to look forward to.”

“I get that.” I give him a soft smile and watch him blink—too fast, then too slow—until he seems like the Russell I know and…tolerate.

“There’s a killer new cocktail bar a couple blocks away. We can head over there tonight and talk about the trip. Our crew has a bunch of O Trek virgins, but you’ll be in good hands. It’s gonna be incredible.” Russell’s eyes melt, as if he can make out breathtaking views in the distance.

The way he pictures us out in the wilderness is intoxicating. Maybe I could like doing something like this—maybe this could shake my life by the shoulders. A genuine thirst for adventure could trickle into all parts of me.

Russell is describing collapsible trekking poles, measuring out about a foot with his hands. “He usually kept it all in a gray bag—” He stops at the sound of the door opening.

“I didn’t know we were having a party,” Adam says flatly. I react physically at the sound of his voice, body humming. But the look on his face when he walks into the apartment holding a pizza box twists my stomach.

My pulse quickens like I’ve been caught doing something wrong. But, Alison, we promised we’d only pack our dead friend’s things with each other, he cries out in the soap opera in my mind.

I swallow and force detachment into my voice. “Hey, Adam. Didn’t know you were coming down tonight.”

If I’d known, I would’ve made different decisions tonight, including, but not limited to, not wearing the embroidered train sweatshirt Chelsea gifted me that reads this is how i roll across the front. I pray the floor will open up and swallow me. “You remember Russell.”

“We’ve met many times.” Adam tries for a joke but misses. His tone is all wrong. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for his gear,” I answer for Russell, my voice sounding nervous and guilty.

“For your gear too. Sam wouldn’t mind his girlfriend borrowing a pack for our trip.” Russell’s tone is innocent, but his eyes twinkle with mischief. He knows he’s stumbled into something with Adam and me, and I only wish that I knew what.

“Yeah? Are you going on a trip with him, Alison?” Adam’s face is expressionless, but his voice is all challenge.

I ignore him. “Russell, you said the bag’s gray?”

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