5. Bri

5

brI

My heart was pounding in my chest as I walked away from Sarah. It had been a few years since I last spoke to her, and that was by design.

Heading toward the checkout, I tried not to look back over my shoulder at her. She was somehow more beautiful than I remembered. Of course, I'd seen her briefly at town events. And as soon as I did, I would turn on my heels and basically sprint out of there.

I set my purchases on the self-checkout station and started to scan them. The ax felt heavier in my hand, like my wrists had gone weak.

"Need any help today?" A cashier smiled as she paced from station to station.

I shook my head and offered a gentle smile. "No, thanks."

After I paid, I grabbed my ax – and the new wedge I had thrown in – and walked stiffly

through the sliding doors. Once I was out of the store, I nearly sprinted to my truck. Unlocking the door, I slid into the driver's seat.

I didn't feel like I could breathe until the door slammed behind me.

"Fuck." I hissed as I caught my breath.

It felt ridiculous. Sarah and I had been friends for over two decades. But somehow, seeing her made me feel like I was drowning.

I tried to shake the feeling as I turned the truck's key, the click of the ignition eventually giving way to the engine's roar. I put the car in drive and sailed out of the parking lot toward home.

The winding roads always helped clear my mind. I submitted myself to the meditative nature of the drive, trying to stop my anxious excitement from taking the wheel. New Winford's suburbs gave way to the backwoods in a matter of minutes.

But as my truck chugged up the curves of the mountain, my mind was flooded with memories of teenage Sarah. We used to drive these same roads to the overlook all the time. I could still picture her in the passenger seat, belting out the lyrics to Alanis Morrisette.

She was pretty then… and desperately in love with Jason, the football team's star line-backer. It was all she'd talk about, how badly she wanted to be with him. And all I could think about was how badly I wanted to kiss her.

Shaking my head, I made a right onto Harding Road, a one-lane street pretending to be two-way. The driveways became few and far between as I scanned the edge of the road for critters that might jump onto the asphalt.

Before I knew it, I was turning down my long, potholed driveway. It was a bumpy ride, but I had no intention of ever filling the pits – with massive lumber trucks coming up and down nearly every day, the holes would just form again anyway.

Along the trees lining the sides were a few wood sculptures. Most of them were abstract, not distinctly any one thing. But a few of them were recreations of things like my childhood dog or a local waterfall.

At the fork in the driveway, I kept left and headed up the small hill to my house.

Turning off the car and flinging open the door, I was greeted by the singing birds and the rustling leaves.

My body relaxed at the noise. It was easy to forget just how bustling New Winford had become in the last couple of years. But the quiet of these woods was constant.

My boots crunched the loose gravel as I grabbed my gear from the backseat and walked toward the house. At the door, I was greeted by a loud meow.

"Hey, Oakkie." I bent down, careful to keep the ax blade away from the calico's head. Petting him, I shut the door behind me. When I stood upright, he stretched toward me. He reached his paws up toward my hands, begging for more neck pets.

I leaned the new ax against the doorframe and caved, giving him the attention he so desperately needed.

"You're a goofball." I laughed at him. After a moment, I walked over to the dining room table and set the wedge on it. The table wobbled slightly as I set it down.

Shit. I'm gonna have to take that down to the shop.

Upside of building all my furniture myself: I don't have to buy anything. Downside: I have to fix everything.

I popped open some windows, letting the fresh air fill the stale house. The wind brought in a fresh floral scent, maybe a lilac blooming somewhere on the property. But it also brought Sarah back to my mind.

Did she really think I should go back to carpentry?

Looking around, my house was full of handcrafted art. I started whittling in trade school, a joke amongst my hometown friends. Sarah used to say my work should be in museums, and everyone would giggle.

Of course, it was lucrative for a while. But it required a commitment I wasn't ready to make. The firewood industry was booming in New Winford. The market for handcrafted wood sculptures? Not so much.

I took a seat on an old rocking chair on my porch. Sarah had been a bit disappointed when I stopped making stuff, but she was too distracted by screaming toddlers to have a strong opinion on it. All her energy went to that, not to convincing me of the importance of art.

But now, Sarah seemed to feel differently.

I grabbed my phone and opened our old text chain. It had been untouched for a couple years. Ava's birth had been the final straw in Sarah's attention span. And who could blame her?

I typed out a message and left my finger hovering over the send button. It would be so easy to hit send, to let all of the hurt feelings disappear. At least for now.

But instead, I closed the messages app and set my phone on the table.

I brewed myself a cup of coffee and stared at the forest outside my windows. The sun had moved into its early evening position, casting longer shadows over the property.

If she's serious about catching up, she'll find the time.