Page 114 of Highball Rush
There was something about the way Gibson navigated the woods with such ease. A big, bearded man in a flannel and jeans, with his strong, calloused hands.
I indulged in a brief daydream. Gibson and me, taking to the woods to disappear. Building a shelter, living off the land. Watching him chop wood. Cozying up in front of a fire to keep warm.
The reality of living in the wilderness wouldn’t be nearly as romantic. But it was still fun to imagine Gibson as a mountain man, taking care of me in the forest.
It made me wonder what would have happened if I’d made it to his apartment that night, instead of being picked up by his father.
“It’s just up here,” he said.
We emerged into a small clearing with a weathered cabin in the center. The wood was gray with age, but the boards were straight. It had a small porch at ground level and one old window that I could see, with remnants of chipping paint on the frame.
Henrietta sat on the porch, her thin legs bent, her back against the door. She had long, graying hair that hung around her shoulders. Her clothes were worn but her sneakers looked new.
“Having some trouble?” Gibson asked.
She nodded and jerked her thumb behind her. As if on cue, there was a crash inside the cabin. Cash barked.
“Another angry raccoon?” he asked.
She shook her head hard, making her hair whip around her face, then held up an arm to indicate height.
“Bigger than an angry raccoon?” he asked.
She nodded, just as vehemently.
“That’s why you think it’s a bear?”
She nodded again, her brown eyes wide.
I grabbed Gibson’s arm. “You can’t go in there if it’s a bear.”
He laid his hand over mine and turned to speak quietly. “It ain’t a bear. Henrietta’s not afraid of much, but for some reason, she’s terrified of raccoons. Makes her exaggerate.”
There was another crash inside the cabin. I still didn’t like this. “Even if it’s a raccoon, that doesn’t sound good. What about rabies?”
“I’ve been vaccinated.”
Cash barked again, the leash going taut in Gibson’s hand.
Henrietta’s eyes fell on me, like she’d noticed me for the first time. Using the door handle to help her stand, she rose on skinny legs. I stood still, mesmerized by her intense gaze. She had deep lines in her forehead and around her eyes. She took slow steps forward, scrutinizing me.
Gibson placed a hand on the small of my back. “This is my friend, Callie. You remember Callie?”
She touched her hand to her chest, still staring at me, then nodded slowly.
“She was gone for a long time, but she found her way back,” Gibson said.
Her face broke into a wide smile. She stopped in front of me and took one of my hands in hers. Her skin was somehow soft and calloused at the same time, her fingernails short and clean. She held my hand up, laying her other hand on top of mine. Her eyes still didn’t leave my face and she nodded, squeezing my hand.
“Hi, Henrietta.”
“I was glad to see her, too,” Gibson said.
Another crash in the cabin reminded us why we were out here. I took Cash’s leash while Gibson dropped his backpack and opened it, pulling out a pair of thick leather gloves, a baggie of dog food, and a big green tarp.
“Okay, Henrietta,” he said, fitting his hands into the gloves. “You stay out here with Callie and Cash. I’ll get your bear.”
Henrietta and I backed up a few steps. Cash barked again but didn’t seem interested in following Gibson into the cabin. He stayed near my legs.
