Page 9 of Wildly Yours
He’s glowing as he is talking about his research. About the animals he cares so much about. About the forest he lives in, breathes, and would die for. My guts start warring. I want to be angry at him. I want to hang onto the comfort of our feud. The comfort of knowing where we stand with each other, and of being the one who was harmed. But sitting across from him while his mountain man exterior is being crushed against the soft center that I know lives inside him, doesn’t make it easy to stay in my comfort zone.
“Mr. Miller has allowed a small company of modern day prospectors to reopen the mines on his land. They’re looking for rare earth minerals for use in modern technology, and they're making a mess of everything. Their lights are on twenty four hours a day, which impacts not only the movement patterns of birds, but also the insects they depend on for food. Those same insects impact the local maternal bat colony, which you also likely know—”
“What do you want me to do about it?”
“I need help with funding to purchase Mr. Miller’s land for the park and grandfather him into the deal so he and his wife can stay living there.”
I lean back in my chair as the spell he cast on me with his words and passion is broken. Cody is a constituent. A community member. Not my best friend. Not the man I pined for, for years. He came to me because of money. And the one person in town who is running a campaign against me is trying to convince everyone in Owl Creek that I mismanage community funds. How can I trust that if I help Cody, this won’t blow up in my face come election day?
“With respect Mr. Barone—”
His face reddens like I slapped him.
“Mr. Barone? Really? We’ve known each other our whole lives.”
He starts tapping his hand on his knee.
“Knew. Wekneweach other. And now you are sitting in front of me not because you are visiting an old friend, but because you are a community member asking for help from the city on a special project. So why not show you the respect the nature and level of familiarity our relationship dictates, and call you Mr. Barone?”
His jaw clenches under his scruff and I watch the muscles work. I flash quickly to the last time we were together. The night he told me he was leaving to figure something out. I blink a couple times and focus on the pen on my desk.
Blue. Ball point. Missing cap. Off-brand.
“This isn’t a special project. This could affect the entire town. I’ve already heard multiple complaints from the early season tourists that it isn’t quiet. They’ve threatened to contact the organization that awards that certificate. This is a huge deal for our local economy. People depend on tourist income in this town.”
“I’m fully aware of our tourist economy.”
“So then you know that this could kill that.”
“But is it possible that the mining operation could more than make up for that with an increase in jobs?”
“I can’t believe you’re asking me that.”
“I have to look at all the angles, especially given the threat to my position. My opponent has been baselessly claiming that I misused funds to save the library last fall. I have to be extra careful about what I do and say, especially around the public purse. And besides, I’m not sure there is anything the town can do. Do we even have jurisdiction?”
“That’s where it gets a little squirrely.”
Even though we’ve both lived most of our lives in this town, and even though I’m the mayor and he’s the park ranger, neither one of us knows the giant mess that is the boundaries and jurisdiction of the mountainside park where he works and lives.
But he’s right, this could jeopardize everything both of us are trying to do for Owl Creek. This could make my campaign that much harder to run if people start complaining about their loss of income. Folks in this town depend on that seasonal money to stay afloat. Hell, my family’s business needs tourists to buy locally made artisanal foods and crafts to stay afloat.
We go through the cabinets that are lining the hallway to search for any documents that can help him, discovering a small handful that date back to the last land acquisition.
“I’ll look into what we have downstairs and get back to you. Can you give me two days?”
“Do I have a choice?”
Meredith makes copies of all the files we discovered as I look over any phone messages I can deal with tomorrow. Now that we’ve dug everything up we can find, there’s an awkward silence hanging in the air. I don’t know why he isn’t leaving. He got as much as I could give him until I can dig through the basement, but he’s still here, his presence as large in my office as it is in my mind.
I feel him looking at the back of my head while I stuff the messages in my bag and open the drawer with the cake. I spin around looking for a clean tupperware I might have tucked away somewhere when his voice startles me.
“Thanks for your help.”
We make eye contact for a split second before my body is awash with an awkward feeling. It felt good to help him, and I don't want to admit it, so I nod.
“Cake?” I hold the cake out toward him.
Because that isn’t weird.
