Page 2 of The Forever Formula
The little diner called Lotaburger was still there. It had easily been standing for three decades now, and it was starting to look its age. I recalled outings there with my grandfather, sitting in the sticky vinyl booths, and the green chili burgers on the menu.
A small pinch formed in my chest for the man who had raised me, along with disbelief that he was gone. It still didn’t seem real. Surely, he’d be out on the porch to greet me, just like always, when I arrived.
There was a new brick building with a sign that readTribal Courthouse, and a few marijuana dispensaries that must have cropped up with the changing laws over the past several years. There was also a new veterinary clinic called Paradise Pet Hospital, and a vegetarian restaurant that I couldn’t imagine Grandpa Paul eating at.
He thought gravy was its own food group, smoked a pack a day, and ate aspirin like it was candy. It was a miracle he’d lived as long as he had. He’d survived two heart attacks and a bout with cancer. He’d had his knee replaced and was supposed to use a breathing machine when he slept. I don’t think he’d ever taken a vitamin in his entire life. And yet he seemed invincible like he’d live on forever.
Of course he hadn’t. Eighty-four years, and now he was gone.
I hated that we wouldn’t have any more long conversations, or Christmases spent together around an evergreen tree he’d cut down just for the occasion, the wood-burning fireplace crackling softly in the background.
Grandpa was completely unnerved by crying. He didn’t know how to react to tears, so it was something I learned not to do too often. Maybethatwas the reason I hadn’t cried yet.
As I made the final turn off the main road that led to town onto the dirt mountain road, my nostalgia only deepened.
I finally pulled up to the cabin and parked in the gravel driveway, stepping out into the fresh mountain air. I stretched and let out a quiet groan. A squirrel dashed away at the sight of me.
Grandpa had insisted we didn’t have a funeral; he always found those to be depressing. Instead, his ashes would be waiting for me at the funeral home per his carefully written instructions. I was to scatter them around the property.
Considering that I was leaning toward selling it, though, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to honor his wishes. Not if I’d never be able to come back to this place and be in his presence.
But that was future Rachel’s problem. For now, all I wanted to do was stretch my legs a bit and make sure the cabin was in a livable state, since I was exhausted and would need sleep very soon.
Sticking my key in the old lock, I gave it the familiar wiggle to the right. The thing always stuck, but Grandpa called it our security system.
As the door creaked open, the familiar smell of the place hit my nostrils, sending another pang of loss through me. It was surreal to be here without him.
2
NO LOOKING BACK
Noah
“Did you hear what happened to old man Tyson?” my brother Austen asked, joining me in the work shed.
I was hunched over a label maker, trying to get the damn thing to cooperate. “Yeah, Mom said something yesterday. It’s a damn shame.”
Austen nodded, adjusting his ball cap.
Paul Tyson, our elderly neighbor, died a few days ago when his truck hit a moose out on the stretch of two-lane highway. Moose tended to become disoriented this time of year—during rut. Paul had been a good neighbor for as long as I could remember, and I hated to think he was gone. Just like that.
“Probably smelled a female on the other side of the road,” Austen said.
I nodded and smoothed my thumb over the label I’d just affixed to a bottle of beer.
“Looks crooked,” Mom said, coming in behind Austen.
I rolled my eyes.Way to be helpful, Mom.
“Brought you breakfast,” she said, placing a couple of foil-wrapped breakfast sandwiches on the workbench between Austen and me.
“Thanks,” I grumbled.
Mom produced a thermos of coffee next and two enamel mugs. “Eat up. It’s going to be a long day.”
She wasn’t wrong. There were three cases of beer bottles that needed labeling and firewood to split, not to mention loading the truck for an upcoming shipment.
Staying on time with shipments was important to our business. Austen and I had a certain reputation of being more reliable than other small brewers. And if every label was going to be as painful as this one to affix, it was going to take me a long-ass time to get this right.
