Famous musician, Cory Hartley, has plans to end his own life. When rekindling an old flame that never died, Cory finds himself at a crossroads, as he copes with the traumatic death of his best friend. Forced to face the past that's haunted him for a...
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In the weeks that followed, Cory had found his new lease on life. He was excited to wake up everyday; excited to tag along with Alida during the day and pick up Zora from school in the afternoon.
They'd stop off at Butch'sDiner on their way home; and on their way back, Zora rode shotgun. Cory checked in with Colin everyday, thankful that texting sufficed for his manager and he didn't have to call.
Cory pulled the N95 mask below his chin, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his wrist.
Drywall dust stuck to his perspired skin, the cutoff sleeves of his vintage Nirvana t-shirt covered with white specks sticking to his back and chest from the suffocating heat—despite all the windows of the vacant house under construction being open.
"Need a break?" Alida asked, swinging the mallet to break apart the wall.
"Maybe." Cory smiled, chugging the remaining contents of his SmartWater. He had opted for regular bottled water, but Alida insisted he would need something that opened and closed easily—she was right.
"Why can't you just knock down that whole wall and make it an open concept?" Cory asked.
"Well, you see this archway? The tresses go all the way across. If I knocked that down, the whole thing would fall—lack of support." Alida spoke, peeling off her gloves while pointing along the top of the archway.
Cory couldn't help but to admire her in this moment. She knew what she was doing, and she was beautiful doing it. He peeled his eyes away as the guilt crept in.
Aidan had been wrong about his little sister—she could take care of herself—she knew more than he and Aidan put together.
"I really appreciate you helping me do this. I'm sure you weren't expecting me to put you to work when you showed up here." Alida playfully nudged Cory's arm as she took a seat next to him on one of the several five gallon buckets of joint compound.
"You're good at this. I mean it—you're teaching me all kinds of shit."
"YouTube." Alida chuckled. "Reddit... lots of hands on. My first house didn't go nearly as smooth—it's all trial and error. I'm just trying to get enough money to move into a nice house, one near the city. I gotta get Zora outta here. The schools aren't great." She said, knocking some debris off her leg.
"What could possibly be wrong with Middleton Lane?" Cory quipped sarcastically. The running joke was that South Fallsburg was nothing but institutions—straight out of school, right into prison. You were either a nurse or a corrections officer—or a junkie—a criminal.
