In the Woods, Bears

Chapter 28 - Trouble

Exhausted and sore in places she hadn't known she had, Kennedy slumped in her bus seat and watched the towns pass through the inky dark. The red-eye bus was mostly empty, and her ride home was sucking every bit of will and life out of her. Earlier in the evening, when she'd dragged herself to the truck, she'd made as much noise as possible. Terry hadn't come to say goodbye. Only pride had kept her from going into the barn and demanding he drive her into town. With her fingertip, she traced his name on the window glass. Smearing the letters with her thumb, she tried another spelling. Then she wrote the name, David. He'd tried to talk her out of leaving, at least.

With her body refusing to let her sleep and her phone dead, time slowed. She hadn't known when she stepped onto the bus with the clothes she wore, her wallet, and her phone, how boring the ride would be. She almost missed the repetitive sound of aggressive knitting needles.

A man in the seat ahead of her played his music so loud in his earbuds that she could hear the tinny sound of his music. That and the rumble of the tires on the road were all she had to entertain herself. Every monotonous mile that passed intensified how surreal the last few days had been. All of her stuff was gone, probably being worn by the cult members on the mountain, even her trashy flip-flops. She wanted to be back in her own room, crappy though it was. Her lumpy old mattress sounded like heaven.

By the time the bus pulled into Woodstock, none of what had happened on the mountain seemed real. Just a bad trip. Her life was depressing enough without sky bears. She hated living in her Mom's basement. Being an eternal dependent had never been her life plan, but college hadn't been a good fit. She could try again or maybe go to cosmetology school. Kennedy glanced down at her ragged, untended nails. Her Mega Mart job would never cover student loans and rent. If she stayed at her mom's a little longer, she might make it. Trapped like a troll, she'd keep living in a basement, helping her Mom.

The bit of savings she'd scraped together from her job had been spent trying to find her past. A murderer for a mother, and a family that wished she'd died in the woods. Why hadn't she just bought some shoes? Or gone to Florida.

Terry flashed into her mind, handsome and smiling. There was him. He was something worth remembering. With her thumb, she touched the two grass rings on her finger. David had waited with her at the bus stop, twisting his ball cap and looking fretful. The hug goodbye he had given her was so tender that she'd felt guilty when she pushed him away and got on the bus.

*

Since it was too late for a cab, even if she'd had the money for it, Kennedy set off on foot toward home. The center of her bones hurt. Every porch swing she passed called out to her. In the wee hours of the morning, there was hardly any sound. A lone dog barked a few times in the distance. The roads were abandoned at this time of the morning. She had time to think as she walked home from the bus station, even though she had no desire to do so. Every step hurt.

When she finally saw her favorite oak tree, her heart leaped. There was a gap in the backyard fence she used to help her sneak into the house. The grass needed to be cut. Squeezing through the space, she felt relief at being in her own backyard, even with thigh-high weeds. All she needed was for a snake to bite her as she made her way through the grass and thistles.

Her mother's tabby cat watched her from where he perched on a patio chair with a broken slat. Mr. Pibble's fur was soft and warm as she scratched him behind his ears. He bumped his head upward into her open palm when she greeted him. "Missed me?"

Sometimes, she'd try the back door. After unlocking the deadbolt, she pushed. It rattled, but didn't move. Kennedy groaned. Her Mom must have the security brace up. She didn't want to talk about her trip. She had no tan and no money. David had bought her a bus ticket when they wouldn't accept her old one. They hadn't been willing to refund her for the bus she had missed.

Returning home without a spare pair of underpants seemed sad. She had gotten her slut on. That was true like any fall break runaway would, but otherwise, it would be hard to couch her trip in any other terms than weird. Her bed called to her from inside the house and she rested her forehead on the scarred wood. Kennedy had no choice. She was going to have to use the front door and face the dragon. She was days later than she had said she would be and hadn't called even once.

The Mega Mart had probably fired her again. When her phone was charged, she would go through all the angry texts she'd been left. Since her charger had been stolen, she had a good excuse for not responding. She'd tell them all she got robbed but skip the kidnapping and drugs part.

Kennedy trudged around to the front yard with her house key gripped in her fist. Holding her breath as if that might keep the front door from squeaking, she turned the knob. Please, let her be in her own bed tonight instead of watching late-night shows half asleep in the living room. Her Mom had been on disability for years since the accident took her laughing dad away. Her mother's hip hurt her all the time. Kennedy had seen the x-rays that proved her mom was held together with more metal screws than their kitchen table.

The odds were fifty-fifty, couch or bed. Through the crack, she could hear the T.V. in the living room and see its strange green light as a shopping channel tried to pitch jewelry to late-night watchers. Before she took a single step inside, her mother cleared her throat dramatically. Kennedy's shoulders sank. It was too late for this. All she wanted was to get to her room and sleep for the next twenty-four hours.

Her Mom sat on the living room couch with her feet propped up. Nestled under a blanket and two cats, she clicked the TV off and Kennedy inwardly groaned. There wasn't going to be an easy escape. Mr. Pibble snaked around Kennedy's ankle and slid into the house. Her Mom said, "At least you're not dead."

Closing the door behind herself, Kennedy tried to avoid starting a confrontation she had no energy to finish. "Hey, Mom."

The older woman lifted the edge of her blanket so Mr. Pibble could slide under and claim his spot by her sore hip. The cat acted like keeping her pain warm was his job. He was dutiful. As her mother tucked him in neatly, bitterness tainted her voice, she asked, "How was Florida? A call that you were extending your trip would have been nice."

Kennedy slid out of David's borrowed jacket and looped it onto a hook by the door. The paint was worn off the rounded ends of the knobs. Kennedy stretched, partly because she really was tired, and partly to put on a good show. "I'm exhausted from the bus."

"Are you going to go to bed with lies all around you like a cigarette fog?" Her Mom stared at her.