Page 65 of Years in the Making

TWENTY-FIVE

TEDDY

We’ve been on the road for about forty-five minutes and have said a total of fifty-two words. Most of them are directed at a very excited Kevin who is currently balanced on my thighs with his nose pressed against the window. I’ve got one hand on his chest while my other fidgets with the only thing that has stayed with me since I was diagnosed with anxiety at eighteen. The smooth silver of the ring glides over the surface of the stable metal below as it goes round and round. Before I had the ring, the skin on my thumbs was constantly raw and I was self-conscious about it. It was Zoe who found the ring online, and I’ve worn it since the day it arrived.

My anxiety doesn’t tend to manifest in other ways. Sometimes I don’t even realize I’m feeling anxious until I notice I’m spinning the ring continuously for a while. Jobs that depend on using my hands help too. Despite my very hands-on job at Morgan Estate Rescue, I’ve noticed that I’ve been spinning the damn ring a lot more since that day with Nellie in the car. I’ve also noticed that I’ve craved this anxious feeling like neverbefore. Nellie-induced anxiety makes me feel more alive than just about anything else.

“So,” she says suddenly, drawing my attention to her profile, “I already have to pee so I’m going to be stopping at the first rest stop I see. I guess we’ll have to take turns staying in the car with Kevin.”

That was not what I was expecting her to say but at least it’s something. “I don’t have to go, but I’ll take him out to see if he does.”

“Okay, well if you change your mind between now and”—she squints at the sign we pass—“twenty kilometers from here, just let me know before we leave. I want to get to the first stop before dark.”

I see her jaw set again and figure she’s done talking, but I don’t want to be. “Where exactly is the first stop?” I got used to not planning while I traveled, so for some reason I decided to take the same kind of approach with this journey. Seeing how it’s a small town out in the middle of nowhere, I figured scheduling down to the minute wasn’t necessary. It turns out I was right. The shelter is actually run out of a couple’s house, and the wife, Betty, told me not to worry because she’d “be around.”

“Cyprus Creek, about three hours north of Algonquin. I think we could actually push it further, but I’d rather be off the road when the animals start to think about crossing en masse.”

“That’s fair.” I nod.

“And there’s a campsite there with showers and a bathroom so it seemed ideal,” she adds.

I’m sleeping in the truck with Kevin while she uses the bed in the Airstream. I do have a tent packed as well if I decide that the truck is too much of a tight squeeze.

“Do…” I start to say, but when her eyes land on me briefly I lose my train of thought. “Um, sorry, forgot what I was going to ask,” I say, shaking my head and looking back out the window.

“Do I want you to tell me what made you disappear for over a decade?”

“I didn’t disappear, I was just gone.”

“Youdisappeared, Teddy.”

“I’m sorry,” I say in a strained whisper.

“Stop saying that,” she grits out. “I don’t need any more sorry’s. I got enough of them after you left. ‘I’m so sorry he’s gone, Nellie,’ ‘I’m sorry he broke your heart, Nellie,’ ‘I’m sorry I left, Nellie.’ I have a cabinet of sorry’s, and it’s near bursting.”

I genuinely don’t know what to say to that because “I’m sorry” is the only thing that comes to mind. So I say nothing.

“I want you to tell me why, and I don’t want another apology. I know you feel bad. I just want to know why.”

“Not yet,” I say.

“Why?” she snaps.

Because I don’t know if you’ll drive into a tree or break down when you hear it, I think.

“Listen, I don’t know how you’re going to react, and in all honesty, I’d rather not find out when you’re behind the wheel.”

She looks over again, and I see her face soften slightly. “Well, now I’m even more nervous.”

“You have nothing to be nervous about.”

“Teddy.” She exhales my name like she is giving up. “I thought the worst of you for so long, and then I come to find out that your mom died. Now you won’t tell me why you fully disappeared because you’re worried about how I’ll take it? I’m sorry, but I won’t just be shrugging it off.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, other than to repeat that you have nothing to be nervous about.”

Her only response is another deep exhale, and we sink back into silence.

Twenty-five minutes later, we pull into a rest stop, and she jumps out without saying a word. I watch her walk towards thebuilding and don’t get out with Kevin until she has slipped through the door.

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