In the a fairytale you would think the worst thing a hero could do was not save the princess. Somehow I did something worse.
+++
Further and further into the woods we go. Mom is talking a millions miles a minute with one hand hanging off the steering wheel, but I have no idea what she is saying.
I turn up mt MP3 player and let the headphones hang limp in my ears.
For the better part of 15 hours my eyes were trained on the window.
Finally Mom stops talking and places both hands on the steering
wheel. I pull the bandages on my knuckles out of habit, our road trip is coming to an end and soon we'll part for the rest of the summer. Maybe for the rest of my life.
30 minutes ago we had made a quick stop at what I guess was supposed to be the center of this godforsaken backwater mountain town.
With a population of 3,000 this place is fucking deserted. The buildings were huddled together in what looked like a cheesy 70's version of the Old West. Signs
hung in the windows advertising things GENERAL STORE, BAKERY, FLORIST. There wasn't a decent chain in site and damn could I go for some french fries.
We had stopped at the stuck-in-the-80's Quik-vience service station, which was really just a wooden
shack crammed with aisles. They guy behind the counter eyed me with a smile as I fit my 6'3 frame into the tiny store.
I didn’t waste time grabbing a Coke, chips and a handful of protein and candy bars; I lifted a finger to the Newport display behind the counter. The attendant slid the pack on the counter and held out his hands for my ID.
When I gave it to him he held it up close, looking back and forth between me and the ID. I was getting a little jittery, I knew it wasn’t the picture or my age. . . it was the name.
“Cillian”, he says with a thick country accent , “You’re Cillian O’Conner ? Cirian O'Conner's kid ?”
I didn’t answer as he took in my warm skin, dark eyes and messy cropped black hair. Since I'd bulked up over the past two years I learned that if I just stared down at someone, stayed quiet, and pretended like I was about to fuck them up. . . they’d back down. They always backed down sooner or later.
If they didn't. . . well I didn't want to think about that.
“Cillian”, Mama’s voice had come from behind me, she had placed her items on the counter and looked from me to the attendant, “What’s wrong ? Is everything okay ? Go wait in the car I’ll get this.”
She was talking so fast as she smiled at the attendant. Mama paid for the cigarettes, giving the guy a cheerful “thank you and good bye.”
I stood by the door and watched her.That was the thing about
my mom, she was nice to everyone. Even people who didn’t deserve it.
People like me.
All she does now is walk around on eggshells trying to make up for the past 2 1/2 years.
In the car I rip the plastic open and push out a cigarette , Mama swipes her hand at me knocking it from my hands , the car veers a little. Not that there is anything to hit but trees and a large wooded sign that reads ‘ALMOST THERE’
“Stop that”, she says, “Don’t do that around your grandfather, okay ? You want to show him what a good boy—man you are”
But I’m not, I think but don't say aloud.
I'm the worst son of a bitch scum there is.
Fuck
FUCK
I resist the urge to slam my fist against the window, and instead force my knuckles together.
15 hours ago we had driven away from the Los Angels city limits till the highway ran out, then we caught Route 80 towards
the bend in the Sierra Nevada mountain range. I don’t think I’d ever seen actual mountains or ever been that close before.
I couldn’t take my eyes off the window at the sight of being so high. Pretty soon we were in the middle of nowhere.
Cascade Falls, CA
We turn up a path into the forest and the car slows to a stop infront of, you guessed it, another sign.This one is a low hanging wooden sign with odd flourishes and symbols surrounding the words :
O’CONNER CAMPING : WORLD FAMOUS CAMPING EXPERIENCE
CASCADE FALLS, CA
EST. 1915
Mama gets out the car and pops the trunk.
Even though it is clear in the afternoon I can hear chirping and buzzing in the forest that seemed to cover us on all sides. Mama looks around before beckoning me out of the car.
I plant my feet in the grass standing to my full height.
“Okay”, she says looking around, “This is nice just like I remembered.” Her voice went faint and I wondered how she could remember a place after not setting foot in it for 19 years.
I looked around then back at her
“Big John thought this place had a lot of promise.”, Mom continues.
She starts telling the story I knew all to well. Big John was my mom’s father, but
everyone called him Big John.
Big John was a dreamer.
He spent his day and nights working as a blackjack dealer and later manager at the Pachenga Casino and Spa.
He couldn't stand it.
To loud
To noisy
To indoors
Then one day he quit. In 1993 he answered an ad in the newspaper to work up in the mountains at O'Conner Camping.
Everything was good, really good, too good. That’s what she would say.
Long story short, when you start a new life you should probably make sure your 16 year old daughter doesn’t get pregnant by the campground owners son. Especially if that son is Cirian O’Conner. Cause then you get run the hell out of town.
Cirian O'Connr, my dad, was kind of a big deal
Big John went back to Pachenga. He worked in that casino
till he died two years ago. I was glad he died before he saw what kind of person I became. Even though he only worked at O'Conner Camping for a year, he loved the town Cascade Falls. He told
stories about it for years, he said he never felt happier here.
“Cillian”, Mama said, “After this summer we will get everything back on track. You, me the baby-“
“Dominick”, I added mentioning my new fat ass stepfather. I'm sure he had been good to my mom while I was gone, but when I looked at him all I saw was all his extra skin.
“and Dominick”, she says, “I promise next year you will go off to community college and it will be like the past two years never happened. Right ?”
I nodded and flinch as the wind shuffles the brush and
grass next to my feet. I knew college was a long shot with the record I had but my mom was a constant optimist.
“Leaving ?”, It came out like a question. Like a boy who didn't want to say goodbye to his mom again.
“Yeah.”, she said casually looking at the welcome center , “I should head back. I just. . . don’t want to get in the way. Besides Mr. O'Conner--um, your Grandfather-- invited you not me.”
She walked around in a small circle as I slung my bag across my shoulder. She ran her fingers through the carvings in the sign and along the back.
“This is the exact spot I met your father you know”, she said, “We carved our initials on the back of the sign”
I nodded in agreement as I stood where my father once stood. Once again I was reminded that he was only a few years older than me when he died.
She ran her hands on the back of the sign again then made her way back over to me.
“Okay ?”, she asked
I wasn’t, but I couldn’t tell her that.
No.
I didn’t want to be in the small backwoods town of Cascade Falls, hundreds of miles from civilization. I also didn’t want to be with my Mom and her new family.
At least here I had a summer job and could make some money
“Call me when you are settled.”, she calls back.
I nod.
“I love you.”, she calls
I just lift my hand in response.
+++
I take my time walking up the path to the welcome center. It was an impressively sized wood cabin with a "O’Conner Camping” sign and logo plastered everywhere.
A bell sounds when I walk through the door.
There is a large lounge with
tables of brochures, maps and camping tips. A series of shelves in
the corner that passes as a well stocked mini-store with camping supplies and snacks. In the center is a
fireplace next to a fancy coffee machine and plush couches.
In the back corner is a set of steps with a sign that reads ; STAFF ONLY
A large service desk takes up most of the space, a clunky cream colored computer sitting on top of it.
My feet scrape across the floor as I look around for signs of life.
“Hmpf.”
I hear a sound from the couch.
What I thought was a pile of blankets begins to move and rustle. I drag my feet over to the couch, both hands on the strap of my bag.
As I get closer I see an older man lying on the couch watching the fire. A silver walker is folded up next to him. He has sparse grey hair and tight wrinkles.
The table in front of him is littered with empty cups of yogurt, a lone plastic spoon still clutched in his hands.
His eyes widened when he sees me and he attempts to sit up, but quickly gives up.
“Cillian ?”, he asks, “look at you. I haven’t seen you since you were five years old."
I said nothing. I didn't have a lot of memories of my dad's dad. It had been so long.
" You ready to work, son ?”, he asked
I stiffened at the of the word "son". I just didn't like the way he said it.
“Sure.”, I said not sure what he wanted to hear.
“Call me Jerry.”, he says.
What no Grandpa ? Didn't matter I was cool with that.
I nodded
“Logan !”, Jerry shouts, “Logan !”
The backdoor of the cabin opens and a short stocky guy with long
frizzy blonde hair appears. He looked more Huntington Beach than Cascade Falls. He sounded it too.
“Sup”, Logan calls over to Jerry
“Help me up”, Jerry said,”Want you to meet my grandson”
Logan easily passes over me and helps Jerry up. They joked a little going back and forth as Logan expertly helps Jerry to his walker. I wondered if he was my cousin or relative or something.
“I tell yah.”, Jerry says, “breaking a hip is a bitch.”
“That will teach you to chase those ladies at the retirement home.”, Logan jokes
Now standing Jerry grabs his walker and step by step made his way to the stairs.
“Now”, Jerry got real business like, “I stay in the backroom, on account I can’t get up the stairs. The apartment upstairs is free but I think it’s better you stay in the old foreman's cabins so you can be close by if a guest needs something.”
The old foreman's cabin ? I guess it was better than my former living arrangements.
“Okay.”, I say.
“Logan will make sure you get settled. Then we’ll have lunch.”
Jerry was matter of fact for an old guy, he didn’t seem excited to see me or like he cared. Like I was another summer employee and not his long lost grandson.I follow Logan out the backdoor, there is a trail marked with signs pointing in all sorts of directions.
PINE OAK CABINS
MAPLE RV PARK
OAKDALE DELUXE CABINS
GREAT FIR FAMILY CABINS
Logan suddenly goes off path and in the back of the forest almost completely out of view of the trail. Eventually a squat faded cabin came into view.
He didn’t even pull out a key, he just bangs on the door
till it swings open, dust and wood splinters move with the wind.
This obviously wasn’t a deluxe cabin.
It was barley a cabin, more of a spacious shed.
There was an uncomfortable looking bed pushed up to the side of the wall covered in dusty green sheets. The floor is littered with empty Coke bottles, plastic bags and garbage. Stacked plastic bins serve as a dresser and next to it was a hot plate and scratched up green mini fridge.
“Okay”,. Logan says, “This place is all yours. I work during the day, but you are on call 24/7. You'll have a standard issue cell phone so guest can contact you. Tourist are set to arrive in two weeks. We are booked all summer long. Everything changes here in the summer“
He tosses me a round silver flip phone inside a Velcro holster.
“Shouldn’t I be getting training ? or something ?”
He laughs
“It’s the outdoors, Cillian. There isn’t much to it. The guest just need someone they can complain to. If you have any questions just call me. Just don’t bother Jerry. He is supposed to be on bed rest all summer and we're a little short handed.”
I sit down on the bed, a full color Playboy calendar from 1999 sits on a pillow.
“Jesus Christ !”, I jump up as a litter of spiders crawl out from beneath the calendar spilling over the bedsheets
Fucking incests. I hated them.
Logan watches as I start to have a fit, even though the spiders are gone and I know they are gone . I can still feel them.
“You okay ?”, Logan says laughing. He probably can't believe a big guy like me hates bugs.
“Yeah, the fuck was that?”, I say looking for more spiders.
“Nature my friend”, Logan walks over to the bed, “The spiders I mean, not the women. . . obviously.”
He smiles, but I didn’t return it.
“Fuck.”, I say kicking the door. I’d had bad summers, but this was setting up to the the worst. I had gone from one prison to another.
“Buck up city boy.”, Logan said, “We got work to do.”
+++
“Husslers shootin' eightball Throwin' darts at the wall”I shift my eyes as Logan begins to sing, wail really.
“Ol' T.W.'s girlfriend done slapped him outta his chair Poor ole boy, it ain't his fault”, Logan screams off key, “At that honky tonk badonkadonk Keepin' perfect rhythm, Make ya wanna swing along”
“Logan”, I say
“At that honky tonk badonkadonk !”, he was getting louder
“Logan”, I was louder, an edge to my voice, my fish tightening.
That shut him up
Logan stares for a while, then he turns to the bench he was setting up , pressing down on it with both hands to check the weight and went to assemble the next one. He was deep in concentration, his hair pulled into a messy ponytail
I balanced the hammer in my hands and continue working, or
trying to anyway. We were sitting in The Grande Pavillion just behind the fanciest cabins I'd ever seen; some even had waterfalls in the pools
“So”, he said after a while, “You really are Cirian O’Conner kid ?”
“Yeah”, I say
Logan’s face splits into a smile, like I’ve given him the best news of his life.
“Man, Cirian is a legend. They got his picture up in my ol' high school down in Lake Tahoe. Damn son, that's like being related to Derek Jeter. I had one of his baseball cards and I saw him play once how lucky is that ? My Dad was going to take me to get my card signed just before he--”
“He died”, I finished. I knew that much. I was five years
old when it happened. It was the last time I'd seen Jerry. At Cirian's media frenzy funeral. He was the next big thing in baseball and just as quickly he wasn't.
Logan got quiet and he bent his head down and got back to work. I put my headphones back in and try to look busy.
“You got any of that baseball talent ?”, he asked
“Nope”
“Smartness ?”
“Nope”, I said although I was pretty sure ‘smartness’ wasn’t a word.
“You got the looks though”
“Sure”, I said
“Sure”, Logan said as if he had accomplished something by getting me to agree with him.
+++
After an awkward lunch that involved Jerry complaining about his broken hip, Logan
making jokes I didn’t understand and a slew of of questions, Logan gave me a tour
of O’Conner Camping, the place I would be working for the next 3 months.
It was a large facility and he explained the three tiers of campers.
Tier 1 was the families that left their mini vans in the parking lot and roughed it with tents, canned beans, hammocks the whole nine yards
Tier 2 campers were the ones who usually kept to their RVs or the lower rent cabins; they were hikers, nature fanatics, real travelers.
Tier 3 or as Logan called them Drifters made up the majority.
Drifters were the "rich folks" that stayed in the Oakdale Deluxe Cabins by the lake, which were more like luxury vacation homes, and that’s how they treated it. They did everything they did at home watched TV (“We got satellite"”), held parties, went shopping (“fanciest shopping is out 70 miles)” they just did it in Cascade Falls so that made it a vacation.
Logan swore that all Drifters did was spend their days on the lake drifting on blow-up rafts and tanning. Hence the name Drifters.
After the tour I walked around the welcome center. A large
collage behind the counter showed Jerry and Logan, Jerry at Cirian O'Conners memorial at Dodger Stadium, and A few people who I guess
used to work for him. In one of them, a blurry one, I recognized a teenage
version of my mom and my dad with me at Dodger Stadium
“Take it”, I had turned to see Jerry coming up behind me.
I didn’t want it, but I unpinned it from the wall and tucked it into my pocket.
“You know your mom told me you've change. And after What happened . . . Just understand that kind of shit doesn’t fly here. This is a place for you to make good. No judgement”
I wanted to tell him he didn’t know me. He couldn’t tell me how to behave. He didn’t know what I’d been through. Instead I just turned and walked away.
I got lost for 20 minutes before I found my cabin. Logan was right though, I did get my father’s looks. My ex-girlfriend used to say I was all angles; Sharp jaw and dark eyes. My hair was usually unruly was now growing out of a buzz cut.
Placing the photo on top of the plastic dresser, I take
the time and find the outhouse and shower out back. Something about the air in this town was just depressing.
I grabbed an electric lantern and set it on the makeshift porch and watch the sunset. It was true what they said about the stars. They were big and bright without city lights to get in the way. It was so quiet I felt like the only man in the world.
Inside I carefully stripped the bed and replaced the sheets, the air feels thick with anxiety. Grabbing a ragged quilt I climbed into bed and give the photo one last look.
As the lantern dims I settle into sleep.
That was the first night I had the nightmare.
+++
It’s not a nightmare so much as it’s me. . .. reliving the second worst night of my life.
In the dream I’m young, really young just five years old. My dad is there too. It’s summer time. I spent summers with my dad. In my dream I realize how young he is, he looks like he could have been one of my friends.
It’s late before the summer season starts. Just dad an I are out camping in the woods. We were staying in the Great Fir Family cabins but in the middle of the night dad grabs a tent and we sleep under the stars.
I wake up in the middle of the night and dad’s sleeping bag is empty
“Daddy ?”, I called for him
I turn in circles then I start calling for him again. I’m just so scared.
Then it happens
I take one step and I hear chirping and buzzing, it’s so loud I hold my small hands to my ears. It gets louder and beneath me thousands of grasshoppers merge from the nest I’ve stepped on. They swarm me.
Their dry brittle wings scarping and snapping against me. I scream and try to run away but I fall. They hop and jump all over me. Big black shiny eyes peer at me as the grasshoppers take flight.
“Daddy ! Save me”, I shout
It feels like hours till Dad is pulling me away, tearing grasshoppers off me. He is apologizing but I can still hear the buzzing.
I wake up screaming and in a cold sweat. I toss everything out of my bag till the orange bottle Rx hits the floor scattering the light and dark blue pills in every direction.
Without thinking I run out of the cabin and through the woods. I need to get away. I feel like the grasshoppers are chasing me. I catch the glimmer of a lake and dive in with a splash.
It’s damn cold, but it wakes me up.
I hate insects those fucking little bastards. I punched my fist into the water and could hear them chirping in the distance. I dip my head back under the water and came back up for air.
One hell of a summer.
A/N
I wrote this so long ago . . . breathes. I mean this literally spilled on to the page a few years ago. This is an introduction and I can't believe I've let it see the light of day.
Dead Parent ? Check
Disabled Grandfather with a walker ? Check
My work here is done.Yes, the Trace Atkins song was HonkyTonk Bodakadonk !
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