Page 61 of Revelry
Maybe hikes were fun after all.
The trek did little to diminish Gertrude’s energy as she skipped from one thing to another. Dragging me over to look at a smooth rock, or a cute bush, before tugging me away to look at a fuzzy caterpillar or an intriguing clump of moss. She dazzled me with her spirit and enthusiasm for nature and love of the little things.
It was the most chaotic hike I’d ever been on.
She paused abruptly to look at another of nature’s marvels, but I wasn’t paying attention and walked into her, nudging her forward. I wrapped an arm around her middle to keep her from tumbling into the leaves.
“Careful,” I huffed, righting her. She glanced around, her pink bottom lip drawn between her teeth, her finger tapping her cheek as she looked from left to right.
“Hum,” she began, spinning in the opposite direction. “Interesting…”
My stomach plummeted. “We’re lost, aren’t we?” The peaceful sensation I’d been enjoying immediately disappeared.
“You really have no faith in me, do you?” She was kidding, but there was an edge to her voice and guilt pricked at me.
I held up my hands. “Apologies.”
She twisted one-eighty and then thrust her hand out. “This way!” she declared, marching off, her hair bouncing behind her, her round ass shaking with each step and I hurried to keep pace beside her before I dragged her down into the leaves and had my way with her.
We eventually came to a clearing by a hot spring, steam rising in the cool fall air, a group of rocks towering out over the water like a ledge and I followed Gertrude to the smooth surface.
“Perfect place to stop,” she said, sitting down and taking her backpack off. She laid down, resting her head on her pack and I took a seat beside her, leaning my elbows on my knees and closing my eyes, listening to the bubbling of the spring, the birds calling.
“Me and Kat like to come here sometimes,” she began. “When we were teenagers, we’d ride the horses here to hide out from some pending punishment. Charlie used to hunt us down though and drag us back and make us work the pastures until well into the night. He’d tell us horror stories of man-eating wolves or bears and scare us something rotten, so we’d comerunning in begging and apologizing, swearing we’d never be bad again,” she chuckled to herself. “That man was diabolical. He knew exactly how to get under your skin but the second you apologized, all was forgiven. He was a great father figure to me.”
I looked down at her, her eyes closed and expression serene, but the pinch of her lips told me she wasn’t as relaxed as she looked.
“What happened to your father?” I asked, inching closer to her. She peeked one violet eye open at me before closing it.
“Don’t know. He went to prison and got released years ago. Out on good behavior,” she scoffed. “I worried he would come looking for Mom or me but he never did. He stayed away.” I could feel the tension drifting off her in waves and I leaned over, wrapping an arm around her bent knees and stroked her calf to soothe her. I didn’t have a lot of experience comforting someone, but I hated seeing her like this.
“I was so scared to come home and face Mom after what Gary did to me. I hid from everyone. I hid from Kat, I missed Charlie’s funeral and for that I’ll never forgive myself.”
“Why did you hide?” I asked softly.
“Because I was embarrassed and scared. I knew better. Ishould’veknown better, but I didn’t. I fell for his act and his sorrys, even though I knew better. I’m so mad at myself for it.” She threw an arm over her eyes.
“Hey, no, don’t do that. People are manipulative. You’re someone who cares and has a lot of empathy and he used that against you. Don’t blame yourself for the actions of someone else.”
She lowered her arm and glanced up at me, covering my hand with hers and stroking the back of it. “Is that what you did?”
“You mean for my mom?”
She nodded and I looked away. “I guess.”
“Can you tell me about it?”
I squeezed her knee tighter as the memories flooded me and her soft strokes on my hand increased. “I left for college. Some days she was supportive, usually when she was on her pills. But sometimes she’d forget to take them or ran out and those days she wasn’t supportive. She was clingy and desperate.” I paused. I’d never spoken to anyone about this before, not even Neil. He knew I wouldn’t take medication for my OCD because of my mom. We’d discussed the incident in some sessions but not in great detail. I’d spoken in facts, not in feelings or on reflection.
“It’s okay,” Gertrude whispered.
“I promised her that I would come home that first weekend and that kept her calm. Well, as calm as she could be. But then I made friends, for the first time in…years. And they wanted to party and hang out and I wanted that too. God, I just wanted to have fun, I was a kid!” I yelled, the emotions rushing me.
“And there’s nothing wrong with that,” Gertrude soothed.
“Ma didn’t take it well. I said I’d come home the following weekend and she said she didn’t know what she would do if I didn’t come home immediately. But I didn’t want to be manipulated anymore so I refused to back down and she froze me out. She ignored my calls and messages and when I came home the following weekend, I walked into the house and found her…” I couldn’t finish, couldn’t get the words out and wiped a hand over my mouth.
Gertrude sat up and wrapped her arms around me. “I’m so sorry Tate, that’s awful. No son, nooneshould ever have to go through that.”
