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Chapter 3 - Ben
Underneath my anger at the rude woman who seemed hellbent on jumping over the edge of the mountain, I was pretty shaken up. Seeing her about to risk her life like that made me realize, once again, how tenuous life is. That woman thought she’d be fine doing stupid things, dangerous things, but people died unexpectedly every day of the week doing perfectly normal things like try to get from one city to another. Purposely adding danger into the mix was just plain stupid, and then after she was a broken heap at the bottom of the ravine, it would be her family and loved ones who’d have to continue on. Constantly remembering, constantly fighting the pain of her loss.
“Okay, wow,” I said out loud, pumping the brakes to see I was at the crossroads leading into the small town of Keen Arrow. “Time to breathe, Ben.”
I had driven all the way down in an almost mindless panic. I couldn’t do things like that anymore. That was one of the reasons I came here, to calm and center myself. I couldn’t let a stranger get me worked up into a trauma cycle like that. I took a few deep breaths and tried to put her out of my mind. The breathing exercises helped me stop being so unnecessarily angry, but I couldn’t get her out of my head.
She was certainly beautiful. Even trying to kill me. Though, to be fair it probably seemed like I was the one trying to kill her. I laughed and clamped my mouth shut, the sound and the feeling alarming me. When was the last time I found something really funny?
I started to turn the jeep around to head back to my temporary home, but remembered I had set out in the first place to get some supplies. Unless I wanted to eat plain toast for dinner, which I didn’t, I needed to find a shop. My stomach growled, and I followed the signs for Keen Arrow and the grocery store.
The town had a rustic charm about it, trying to be touristy, and probably succeeded better in the winter when people would want to ski at the resort on the other side of the mountain. On the main drag, there was a bait and tackle shop, a hardware store, a tiny theater that was showing a ten-year-old movie, and a diner that advertised the nation’s best baked potato, which made me laugh again. What a thing to be proud of.
“See,” I told myself. “The mountain air was a good idea.”
I turned the corner and drove past a bank and a pharmacy and a few artsy shops to find the grocery store at the end of the street. It had that slightly run down feel of most old, small towns, but everything was clean and the ridiculously blue sky and the dramatic mountain peaks in the background made me forget everything else. Yes, coming here was the right idea. I already felt calmer. My stomach rumbled again, and I grabbed a couple of steaks, a bottle of wine, and some salad fixings. I wasn’t a chef by any means, but I could sear a steak and cut up a head of lettuce. I didn’t want to be one of those helpless bachelors my sister-in-law always made fun of, so I taught myself basic kitchen skills while I was in college.
I stopped and took a deep breath like I always did when I thought of Callie or my dad. I noted the sting but tried to focus on the good. In the beginning, I’d tried to stop thinking of them altogether, but now, almost a year out from the accident, I was getting better at being able to remember them without losing my shit. Better, but still not great.
After the cashier totaled me up, I handed over my card, only looking up when she refused to take it.
“Sorry, the internet’s out and we can’t take credit cards right now.”
The chance that I would have any cash on me was slim, I just never carried it when I could pay for everything with a simple swipe instead. I checked my wallet and my pockets anyway, knowing there was no chance of there being an odd twenty in my rental car. I was sure I had a wad back in my suitcase but a lot of good that did me here.
“Uh, can I leave this stuff here and go to the bank?” I asked, annoyed.
The cashier looked at my food and shrugged. “Sure, I guess.”
“I’ve got it, Cath,” a voice behind me said.
An oddly familiar voice, considering I’d only met one person here so far. My annoyance growing, I turned to find Miss Death Wish behind me holding out a twenty dollar bill. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail and her face was suntanned and freshly scrubbed. She smiled at me, overly sweetly. There was nothing sincere in that smile, but now I was beholden to her. Well, not for long.
“Thanks,” I said, taking my groceries.
I waited while she checked out, noticing with chagrin that she was buying compression bandages and a bag of ice. I wasn’t the sort to turn to mush over a beautiful woman, especially one who was clearly trouble, but I couldn’t keep my eyes off her. She’d changed from her climbing gear to shorts that revealed long, tanned legs and drew my eye to her curvy ass. Or maybe my eye got drawn there because it was just about perfect. She chatted and laughed for a bit with the cashier, her eyes sparkling with easy friendliness. When was the last time I hung out with a friend and laughed and talked about nothing? I felt overwhelmingly lonely but pushed it down. I didn’t come here for that.
When she was finished, I walked beside her out of the store, noticing she favored her left leg. Yeah, that was kind of my fault. At the curb, I instinctively took her arm to help her step down and she raised her eyebrows at me but accepted the help.
Maybe we could make a fresh start.
“The bank’s just down that way,” she said, already heading in that direction. I watched her limp a few feet until she turned around and gave me an impatient look. “Are you going to pay me back or what?”
So, no fresh start then.
I shook my head and pointed to my car. When she crossed her arms in front of her chest, I opened the passenger side door and pointed again. “In the car.”
Finally, she broke out into a smile, but I could tell she was fighting it with all she had. “I’m not a dog.”
I found it charming and had to fight that feeling with all I had or I’d be smiling back. “Sit in the damn car and let me wrap your damn ankle.”
A series of expressions crossed her face, but she hobbled over and sat on the seat with her legs hanging out the door. I took her bag and squatted down to inspect her injuries. Her ankle was swollen, but it didn’t look too bad. I wondered if she was playing up the limp. I supposed it would serve me right for tackling her, but I wouldn’t apologize.
“Are you a doctor?” she asked.
I snorted. “Far from it. I’m a photographer.”
She started to pull her foot away, but I gripped the toe of her shoe. “I’ve bandaged up plenty of sprained ankles, including my own.”
