Page 24 of Flying

“Okay,” she hesitates, “so Scout?”

“Scout is a senior at Rutgers, and he’ll be home in May. Usually I try to keep him from having to do this sort of thing, but Mama wants him at family dinner tonight anyway, so he offered to help with some of the demo in the cottage out back beforehand.” I shrug.

When the stroke happened, the left side of Dad’s brain was impacted.The doctors said that could have caused loss of language, reason, and logic, not just physical paralysis. His right arm and leg don’t function consistently anymore. He finds light and sound more difficult to process so my parents house is always bathed in low lamp lighting. He’s generally in a pair of noise canceling headphones we gifted him one Father’s Day, listening to books or drowning out the world with music.

Given his cantankerous disposition, I used to joke that his mood had not changed. Except, it is markedly different. There is no mistaking it. After the hospitalization and step-down rehabilitation programs ended, Robert announced he’d found someone to help. Enter Gary: the behemoth man looks like a football player with his husky six-four build and thick dark blond beard. We have him assist with bathing and light exercise a few times during the week, thanks to Robert’s financing. Gary is a recent veteran and given Dad’s military history, they’ve been able to bond over this shared past. Mom keeps encouraging him to go to the VA for a group, but Jonathan is too stubborn. I wish he went, maybe someone else could get him to be nicer to me.

There are so many moments where his pride in Robert, based purely on perceived financial gains, are pushed far too hard in my face. It adds on to why everything I’m doing for the bar is so much more important to me. Starting with the renovations I did the first winter during our slowest season. I made a real effort to evolve beyond an old townie spot. Delia arranged with Gemma Whitter, and her wife Alice Mills-Whitter, to help oversee everything from the interior construction to the decor choices. The work didn’t come cheap, because I wanted to do it once. Do it well. Yes, I took a loan on the property that I now have to pay off. Yes, of course, Dad disapproves of that choice. I just wish he could see my vision. It’s already providing increased revenue; this is about more than my future. It’s all of ours, every ‘George Hendrix’ past and future.

Now, we have major events like the recent party for Stef and Lee on a regular basis. I’m booked solid through the spring and fall for rehearsal dinners, birthday and anniversary parties, and reservations for Easter Brunch. The events offered for Mother’s or Father’s Day fill up within days of being opened.

“River? You still here?” Lily cautiously prods.

Shaking my head, I yawn and stretch a little. “Sorry, still really tired. Was a late night. I decided that I’m going to do a bunch of specials for Sunflower Fest, starting with seasonal beers. I was up last night researching.”

Her smile is magnetic, even through a screen. She swings the camera over her shoulder and shows off the slowly shifting foliage behind her. “Nothing says fall like New England, can you sneak away for a day or two?”

I want to say yes so badly, but I’m nervous to step away right now, wavering I offer, “Let me check in with Delia? She’s my right hand around here and I don’t know if she’d want to tackle this alone.”

With a sugary sing-song voice she adds, “I had a local maple beer last night that would be perfect for the festival… you could say it’s to come get syrup for the batches.” With that dangling suggestion I’m a goner.

“I’ll text you later, promise. I need to go back to sleep. Have a great day.”

“Sweet dreams, River. Talk later.”

Just as quickly as she took over the room, she’s gone. My phone fades to black and I drift into a rough sleep filled with dreams of dark waves of hair wrapping around my face. When I wake again later, it seems my entire body has gotten the message, and I groan before changing to work out and hopefully push these feelings away through exercise.

eighteen

Lily

Vermont, September

Approachingthe black saltbox house with a vibrant green door, whose color can only be described as mossy or cooked asparagus, I knew this would be my home for a bit. There is a group of traveling artists sharing the space. A mix of writers, painters, and others in the social space like myself. It is exactly what I need to reset after being in New Jersey. My new routine will allow me to piece together what comes next, I hope.

Each morning I record my classes with sunrise twinkling amber threads of light between the birch and beech trees lining the property. Then after a shower I edit and pull content for my social pages versus what is living behind the paywall. Mid-morning when the sun is high and the air is warm enough, Pete and I take a long walk. I get lost in the trees and watch as the world begins to prepare for the hibernation of fall.

River is arriving just in time for the upcoming Autumn Equinox event one of the housemates, Piper, is planning. I really hope he enjoys it and finds it to be a little like our hometown: spiritual, quirky, engaged with the natural order of things. More importantly, I really hope he doesn’t think I’ve joined a cult up here.

Piper is planning an intuition humming ritual, and we’ve been asked to prepare something to focus on: gratitude, grounding, mourning a loss, healing something physical or emotional. I didn’t really prepare him for this part during our call, mostly because it slipped my mind. I really didn’t know how to word it in a text so I figured I’d just wait.

As Pete and I crest the hills leading up to our stone walkway, we see River’s old pickup truck. Still well maintained, the ancient Ford F150 shines in cherry red against the mix of deep greens and yellowing leaves. His arrival looks like the final embers of a bonfire glowing against the deepening darkness. He’s like a beacon of hope.

We join him in the driveway and he grabs his duffle out of the cab.

“Hey.” He smiles and that hope fills my chest.Maybe I can stay close-enough like this to keep them all in my life,my thoughts nudge me but I push it down.

“Hi,” I breathily reply. From the hiking I tell myself, but I feel my pulse continuing to tick upwards despite standing still.

“You won’t believe what I had to bribe Mom with to get out of tonight's family dinner. And forget Delia, do you know what a Relavel Case is? I need to find one.” He doesn’t sound the least bit bothered by this though.

I lead River to the bedroom I’ve been sharing with Piper and we crate Pete for the afternoon before heading out to town.

We drive to the brewery I told him about. The converted garage has their glass doors open, around the stone patio are black string lights on poles that rope out the area and criss-cross the sky to provide light in the evenings. Each wooden picnic table has benches attached and a picture frame holding a menu on QR code atop. They are all about making things more sustainable, a practice River keeps discussing dipping a toe into without upsetting his Dad’s focus on profit.

“What do you think of these menus being digital only?” I nudge, curious if he’s seeing what I do with it.

“Seems like the place is still in 2020 a little doesn’t it?” He scans and reviews the list. A few moments later he taps my hand, and electricity seems to zing between us. “You didn’t mean it that way, I cantell because you haven’t stopped chewing your lip.” His cheeks redden with the admission.

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