Page 18 of Unstable

I HAVEN’T THE FAINTEST idea how long I’ve been out here, but Bourbon’s holding strong, only leaving my side a few times to get a drink from the river and immediately return. “Rival River” I’d named it in my head, long ago, because it’s the marker that splits Calvert property from that of my “rival”—Cash land.

In fact, it’s where I first met Keaton Cash.

I was eight when Grandpa finally went into the nursing home and Mom took over the farm, which would have put Keaton at about ten.

I’d snuck off to explore, always the “ornery” one of us as mom said, “brave” if you were asking me. Either way, I was alone that day.

I was looking for critters—bugs, crickets, frogs—when he came crashing into my sanctuary.

“So, which one are you?” he asks, rudely, obviously thinking starting with a “hello” or his own introduction was unnecessary.

“Which one what?” I counter right back, giving the bratty boy my meanest face, muddy hands propped on my hips

“Twin.” He picks up a rock and skips it…four bounces, big deal. “My dad said there’s two of you and your Mama, no daddy though.”

I pick up a rock of my own…and throw it across the river as hard as I can, barely grazing his leg with it. “You and your dad should mind your own business!” I stick out my tongue, since the rock thing hadn’t worked out as well as planned.

“It is our business. Wanna know why?”

I may only be eight, but I’m not stupid—so I know he’s going to tell me no matter what I say, so I humor him. “Sure.”

“My dad says there’s no way your Mom can handle two kids and a big farm all by herself, so won't be long before she sells it to us. Then it’ll be ours. And that makes it our business.”

“Well, my mom said that boys have smaller brains than girls,” she hadn’t really, “so you’re…you’re just a big stupid head! We’ll help my mom with this farm, and it’ll be better than yours! So you and your dad can go suck an egg!”

He’d laughed at me and shook his head like I was a silly twit, hoping for the hopeless. And that was just the beginning of what became a long-standing, ever-growing hatred I held for Keaton Cash.

I never told him “which one” I was either…he figured it out all on his own. Nosy bastard.

The sun begins its decent, the natural transition of day to dusk, about the time my stomach starts growling, so I decide to head back to the house.

When I get inside, the answering machine is blinking with a new message. I can’t help my small grin— who still has a landline, let alone an archaic answering machine?

My mother, that’s who, and probably everyone else in Ashfall over the age of forty. Change simply isn’t welcomed around these parts.

I press the play button and listen to Donna’s always perky voice reel off all the details of my mother’s final arrangements.

Set to happen in two days, beginning with an evening memorial service at the funeral home.

I have no clue of my mother’s standing in the community—how social she was or wasn’t—but it doesn’t matter, there’ll be more people in attendance than I even know. And the thought of even just one showing up is every bit as terrifying as one-hundred.

Not that the whole town doesn’t already know I’m back; between Addison no doubt informing her generation, and Donna, albeit harmless, unable to stop herself from telling the Bridge Club. But everyone being aware is a whole different beast than actually having to face them…all at once.

While memorializing, then burying, my mother.

I’D SWEAR THE TWO days never happened. It feels like the call just came two minutes ago…but it’s time. Gatlin rides with me to the memorial service, unasked but very much appreciated. I’m pretty sure he knows how wrapped up in a ball of nerves I’ve spent the last couple, almost non-existent, days. Barely eating or sleeping. But I now feel somewhat better, knowing this seemingly dependable man, no longer what I consider a stranger, will be there with me.

“I’ll be right beside you, Henley. If it’s too much and you want to leave, just let me know.”

That’s certainly an option, one which I’ve already considered, but adamantly dismissed. Why go at all if only to just run out, once again proving to everyone I’m weak…disappearing anytime things get tough?

No, I’m not seventeen anymore, and it’s my mother. I won’t be the runner this time. I’m done giving away undeserved power for free. This town no longer gets to shame me into hiding, or robbing me of a single, final moment I will ever have with the woman who gave me life.

We arrive about fifteen minutes early, on purpose, and we’re still late. I’d forgotten how Ashfall time worked—if you’re not at least thirty minutes early—you’re late.

Nelson’s parking lot is packed and the hardware store’s lot next to it is half-full with the overflow. People are stopped at the door of the funeral home, waiting in line to enter.

“Okay, no, no fucking way, oh my God!” I ramble out my panic in one long string…then yelp, “What was that?”

---