Page 17 of Into the Mountains
Ethan just shrugs and ushers the black furball into her crate that has a small stuffy and a cat bed ready for her. “I don’t know. I might be tired after moving everything.”
“It’ll be fun. We can order a pizza and get some popcorn with extra butter and maybe some candy too?”
His ears perk up at the mention of candy. One thing about Ethan is that he inherited my sweet tooth. If we could sustain ourselves on candy alone and get all our daily nutritional requirements, we wouldn’t hesitate to cut out everything else and camp out with endless boxes of Sour Patch Kids.
“Is anyone helping us move?” he asks.
“Yeah, a few people.”
“A few people as in?”
“Well, Aunt Sky and Uncle Jacob said they’d come help and bring their truck with them—”
“Is Charlotte coming?” I can’t help but notice the hope in his little voice at the possibility of Charlotte showing up for him. I didn’t ask for her help, but she was there when we talked to Jacob and I wonder if she would. Or if Avery would dragher along with her and Hudson. They must have had a serious bonding session the other day at the clinic. As much as I want to hate that, I don’t. Ethan has plenty of people in his life, but another person that can maybe understand him in ways that I might not is good in my book. Maybe this can be a way to bridge the gap between Charlotte and me. Find some common ground.
“She might show up, but I’m not sure, bud.” I muss his mop of hair that is in desperate need for a cut and I file away a thought for later to get something scheduled before his birthday—which may be over a month away, but if I know anything, it’s that time passes quicker than anyone is prepared for. It’s another big thing to put on my to-do list. A nine year old’s birthday party. I have no idea how I’m going to pull that off. The last few years, he never cared much for parties. He just wanted a cake and a movie night with the family. This year though, he’s dropped hints here and there that he might want something more with his family and some of his friends around town. The whole idea of it is overwhelming and I have no clue where to start.
The sound of tires on gravel relieves me from diving deeper into the sinkhole of birthday party panic. I glance out of the kitchen window above the sink and see Hudson pulling into the driveway in a U-Haul with a train of trucks behind him. Each one backs up into the yard one after the other until they are lined up, the truck beds a few feet away from the house. Jacob, Avery, Skylar, George and Isabelle get out of their respective trucks and start walking toward the house as Hudson prepares the back of the U-Haul.
I meet everyone out on the porch with Ethan trailing close behind, cat carrier in hand.
“Waters moving company at your service.” George walks the few steps up to the porch and claps me on the shoulder.
“Grandpa, this is so cool!” Ethan stares in wonder at the huge empty trailer and makes a beeline for it.
“I didn’t realize you were bringing the whole calvary.” I knew a few would come to help, but I didn’t expect everyone. And I didn’t expect them to each bring a vehicle. We don’t have that many things to move.
“I’m shocked that you expected anything less, son,” George says.
Isabelle follows close behind him and greets me with her usual hug, this time letting it last a bit longer than usual. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask for your help. I didn’t want to put you in the position that made you feel like you had to.”
This was the last place Sarah lived and while they’ve been over for visits and babysitting since she died, I thought cleaning everything out and leaving it empty would be too hard for them. Shit, it’s going to be hard for me. There’s not a day that has gone by that I don’t think of Sarah on our tan and red striped couch, reading one of her books and drinking coffee; or her and Ethan playing in the little plastic pool we bought the summer we moved here. I think about the empty side of my bed, and how she’s supposed to be there when I wake up. I used to bring her coffee every morning, at least the ones that I woke up before her, which wasn’t very often. But on the days that I did, I’d get the coffee machine going and bring her a cup to enjoy in bed and along with whatever book she was reading so she could relax and have a slow morning.
Ethan and I would go toBooks & Beansand pick up lattes, a smoothie for him, and some pastries for us all to eat at our breakfast nook when we got back. Sarah would always open the windows above the table, wanting all the fresh air in the morning. The breeze would blow in and rustle her brightly colored scarves and we’d laugh over whatever story Ethan was coming up with at the time. Looking at each other, holdinghands as if we could pause that moment in time if only we wished for it hard enough.
Isabelle pats my cheek, letting her hand rest there for a moment before lowering it to her side along with all the memories flooding through my mind. “Don’t ever feel like you can’t ask for help. We get through things as a family. You know that.”
“I do,” I admit. Even though it’s still hard to come to terms with sometimes since it was never something I grew up with. Until I met Sarah, I was too used to going through things on my own.
Isabelle turns to go inside, but I give her arm a brief squeeze before she does and try to put as many things I want to say into it. Her hand comes to rest over mine and I think she understands. Both holding back tears, she breaks our contact and walks the rest of the way inside, finding George at the breakfast nook, his usual crossword puzzle already out on the table as he waits for everyone else.
Ethan’s laughter echoes from the back of the truck and when I look his way, I am met with a searing gaze from the woman next to him and a smile that doesn’t disappear as soon as she sees me. Progress? Possibly.
She must have ridden in the back seat with someone considering I didn’t see her ride in with anyone. Not that I was looking anyway.
Charlotte’s eyes meet mine briefly before she looks down, followed by the look I know all too well. The one that says she’s not happy to be in my presence. I look down at my clothes and wonder what I could have possibly done to offend her this early in the morning and then I realize.
We are wearing the same sweater.
Hers is oversized, the hem of the dark blue fabric stopping just above mid thigh, so I’m pretty sure it’s the exact samesweater. The weather is cool enough in the early fall mornings to get our sweaters out And my mine are my favorite part of my wardrobe. My friends in college always gave me shit for it, but I ignored them.
Everyone starts filing into the house as I hold the door open. We say our good mornings and I let them all know coffee is on the counter if they want some. Mugs are the one thing I haven’t packed up yet, considering I knew some of them would be coming.
Charlotte is at the end of the procession and she can’t resist passing me without saying something. “You better go change.”
“Can’t,” I shrug, stuffing the hand that isn’t holding the door open into my pocket.
“Can and will.” Stubborn as always. “I’m not going all the way back home. Your clothes are here. Go change. We cannot match all day.”
