Through the Woods We Ran

Where the Sunbeams End: Chapter 21

Photo by T I M E L O R D on Unsplash

The leaves on the trees were green. It must have been spring, but why does it feel like it was fall? 

Lucy darted into the thick forest. I called and whistled. Then gave in to loss. She was her own being. Free. I turned away from the trees and walked up the grassy hill. Before I reached the top she was back, trailing my heavy footsteps. 

Pricker bushes, brambles, tall power lines, a beaten path. Strangers glaring from their porches. Maybe we were trespassing. Would they shoot? Lucy sprinted on and I followed, one arm raised to the distant strangers. 

I stop, frustrated. I shed my shirt and throw it off to my right. It catches, dangles on a bramble. The dark blue of the United States soccer jersey contrasts with the bright green of the surrounding trees. I stare at my hands momentarily. There are cuts and dried blood. Lucy returns to my side. I pull the silver ring from my finger. An old spinner. I pick at the callus formed by the ring before swirling it like a Frisbee into the trees. We walk on. 

It grows cold. The sun, blocked out by the overhanging trees. But we’re on a road now. Gravel beneath our feet. How long have we been out here? Long enough? 

As the silver pickup truck rumbles toward us I decide it’s time to go back. To face the consequences. We’re lost, but this was our ride. 

Shirtless, ragged, and bloody. Lucy sitting in my arms. The truck stops. A man with a ball cap and a gray beard sits in the cab. He doesn’t say much and neither do I. He pushes the passenger door open, it creaks. 

I climb in, slam the door, and hold Lucy tight to my chest. The only conversation, where was I going? Home was my answer. Was it really home though? Or simply my place of residence? 

The man doesn’t prod me, but the silence nearly forces my tongue. Then we were on Route 11, drifting past Piggy’s bar, that turn just ahead. 

~~~

“If he ever hurts you Mom, I’ll beat the shit outta him!” 

Then I hung up, pulled my lighter out and popped the top on a bottle of Sam Adams. A heavy swig of the foaming beer forced a cough and bit of spittle down my chin. 

I sat out back of our apartment on that little cement patio looking into the trees. Lucy was inside, Judith gone. She wasn’t far. Just enjoying her stay at the psychiatric ward up at Winchester Medical Center. 

Then the thought came like a bullet to the brain. I’ll just drive up there. 

I got Lucy ready, but then decided against taking her for whatever reason. It was only after I turned onto Route 11 that some form of logic returned to me. It was late. Well past visiting hours. I’d probably just make a scene and get arrested. I swung the car around near Piggy’s bar and headed back, defeated. I pushed down hard on the pedal as I made the turn, whipping up gravel in my wake. 

I see the windshield, the light from the dash, was there music blaring? The headlights spewing their beams across the road ahead. That turn. Darkness. 

The car hadn’t landed when my consciousness returned. 

I’m floating. 

~~~

“This is the turn,” I said to the man and pointed to my right. 

He took the turn perfectly. Only small bits of glass remained in the center of the road, where I had abandoned the upturned Toyota. 

~~~

The adrenaline is immense as I climb out through the window. I see shocked faces in the darkness. A truck. Hispanic men who speak no English. I pull myself into the bed of the truck and point towards home. 

I break down the door, the keys still dangling from the ignition. I rush through the apartment, Lucy jumping at my feet. I grab two things. The rest of the beer and an autographed football. Gifts for keeping silent. 

They crack the beer open as we meander down a gravel road. Lucy smiles, enjoying the air against her face, the sun creeps up on the horizon. Once again logic returns. Where was I going? It’s as if the adrenaline had finally run out. But I couldn’t just run from this, could I? 

I tell them to stop. 

I thank them. 

Lucy and I walk towards the mountains. 

~~~

The man pulls into a parking spot outside my apartment. I climb out with Lucy still tight to my chest, the door once again creaking. I thank him and he nods. A thought crosses my mind. Is he an angel? 

I wave as he turns out of the parking lot. 

“They’re looking for you.” 

I turn my head to see one of my neighbors. The guy who always wore the headset. Short skinny man with a buzz cut. 

“Maybe you can call em for me,” I say. 

“I can do that.” 

The phone rings three times. 

“You know what, I’ll just call em myself.”

I turn with my dog in my arms. I look down into her eyes. Her eyes tell me that everything is fine.