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‘Wow, you really do like your isolation,’ I say.
‘That’s the idea,’ he says. I can’t help but feel that this remark is pointed toward me. He switches off the ignition. ‘Look, I’ll go get your tire. Why don’t you head on over the road and get whatever groceries you need? And get me some butter, too. I’m almost out.’
‘Sure,’ I say. ‘Anything else you need?’
‘Got an entire ranch’s worth of beef in the freezer, and I tend to stockpile tins once a month or so, so I don’t need to come out. I’ll be fine, I think.’ He looks at me with those bright blue eyes, and his expression softens. ‘Thanks, though. It’s kind of you to ask.’
I give Finn some of the small amount of cash I have in my wallet to buy my tire, and then I head over the road. The grocery store is hardly a Whole Foods. It’s a squat little building, no bigger than a gas station. It has a sign that reads GROCERIES in big, dirty red letters — or at least, it’s meant to say that. The last four letters have fallen off and there are just dirty smudges where they used to be. Now, the red letters just read GROCE.
Gross indeed, I think, smirking to myself as I walk in.
‘Greetings, stranger,’ says a wispy old guy behind the counter when I walk in. He’s got a long, ginger mustache and a face like cracked soil. When he smiles at me, I see at least three of his teeth are missing. At least he matches the sign outside his store.
Talk about hicksville, I think, as I head over to the juice cartons.
And then I catch myself for being so judgmental. Prejudice is about the most toxic thing in the world. That guy was perfectly polite to me when I walked in. You wouldn’t be greeted like that in the city, where nobody talks to anybody else. ‘Morning,’ I call back to the guy, then I pick out some orange juice and put it in a basket. I get some butter too, and then I think perhaps I should get some milk, in case we have another coffee.
No, Addison. Stop trying to change this guy. You tried to change Chris, to make him into someone he wasn’t, and look where that got you.
Having lived in New York for so long, I’m used to buying a certain type of ingredient. Health food stuff mainly — flax seeds, tempeh, live yogurt, fresh salmon from Jewish delis and seafood stores. This place doesn’t have anything like that. Far from it. But it does actually have some of the things I remember eating when I used to stay up in the mountains with my dad.
I know it’s dumb, getting sentimental over a packet of cookies, but honestly… Entenmann’s, Campbell’s soup, Kraft cheese slices… it all comes flooding back. I can remember the taste of these things, as clear as day, and remember sitting out on the porch with my dad and my sister, eating some strange combination of cobbled-together ingredients for dinner, savoring every single mouthful. Everything tastes good in the great outdoors.
I think that’s a big part of why I love being a Little. It means I’m allowed to wallow in that melancholic feeling, and re-live the happiest days of my life. I guess that’s the main difference between Finn and me: he’s running away from his past, and I’m running straight into mine.
I find myself tearing up with the nostalgia, and remind myself what I’m meant to be doing. Looking for something to cook up for lunch for Finn. I’ve no idea what he likes, but he doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy who’s fussy, especially if someone else is making him food, so I grab some bread and cheese and decide to keep it simple. Grilled cheese sandwiches. I grab a few beers, too. An extra little thank you.
‘Greetings, Finn, my lad,’ says Old Ginger Mustache behind me, and I spin around to see Finn walking toward me.
‘Did you get it?’ I ask. ‘The tire?’
Finn hands me a few coins and says, ‘It’s all sorted. I put it in the trunk.’
I pay for my groceries, and say goodbye to the toothless store owner, and we get back into the car. Finn is still strangely quiet, but he doesn’t put the radio on this time.
‘Listen, darlin’,’ he says, as we leave Westcreek far behind us, heading once more out toward the lush green mountains. ‘There are some things you need to know.’
I haven’t heard his voice quite like this before. Strange, small. It sounds as though he’s nervous. I wonder if this is what he was trying to pluck up the courage to tell me before.
‘There are forces at work here that you don’t know anything about. I can’t make your decision for you. Only you can do that. But you need to know the facts before you decide.’
‘Decide what?’
‘Whether to do as your sister wanted. To stay with me for a while, in the woods.’
I pull my green sweater sleeves over my hands, a childish gesture that’s been a habit of mine since I was a little girl. What was it Finn said green stood for? Change. Maybe I’m subconsciously wearing this color becauseIwant to change too. I cross my arms.
‘Has my sister been hiding something from me?’ I ask. ‘Is she trying to protect me from something? I’m a big girl, you know. I can deal with it.’
Ha. Does a Big Girl really need tosaythat she’s a Big Girl?
Finn shifts into fifth gear and then takes his eyes off the road, just for a split second, and puts them on me. My spine tingles when I see his expression. ‘Before I tell you anything, you need to know that you’re safe with me. There’s no need to be scared.’
‘Me? Scared? I’m not scared.’ If I’m not scared, I don’t know why my hands are starting to tremble. ‘I thought Violet just wanted me to stay out here to get some fresh air for a while. Is there more to it than that?’ My lip trembles, too.
‘Your sister wants you off-grid for a while. Where you can’t be easily found.’
I’m starting to raise my voice a little now. ‘Found bywho? What imaginary person is supposedly out there looking for me?’
