Hopewell.....Ch. 1

As my car rumbles across the covered bridge leading into Hopewell, the Paskinak River glitters beside me like a ribbon of diamonds.  Small sailboats dot the surface and if not for the fact that I don't know anyone or know where anything is, I could see myself really enjoying it here.  Almost as a silent testament to how much I wish I were back at home, I flick my cigarette butt out the window and watch as the wind whips it behind me and over the bank into the river.  Take that, Hopewell.
         Shaking my head in dismay, I continue following the car in front of me, the one holding my father and sister.  As much as I dislike the idea of moving, it's gotta be even harder for my sister.  She should be graduating this year with all her childhood friends and they should laugh and cry and share all the memories as this chapter of their lives closes.  Instead, for some oblong reason, she - along with Dad and me - had to pack up our lives and move to this small burg, a place where we know nobody and where the life that we once led is not only irrelevant, but so much so that it may as well as never happened.
         Bringing our cars to a halt at a traffic light, I take a look around, trying to absorb as many details of this new venue as I can.  And that's when I see her.
         According to popular myth, when Marco Polo first set foot on Asian soil, so breathtaking was the geography and architecture before him that he fell to his knees and cried, conflicted as to whether he would ever want to return to his homeland.  That's sort of what this is like, only I'm driving, so I can't fall to my knees, and ‘returning to my homeland' is pretty much out of the question.  But none of that matters, because, Jesus Christ, she's friggin' hot.  I can't help but feel a little stalker-ish as I look at her, my eyes hidden behind my sunglasses.  Her long-ish brown hair is pulled back into a ponytail and she's got a certain grace to her step that belies a dancing background.  And I hate to bring it back to the physical, but she's a got a body that just won't quit and judging by the way she dresses, she knows it.  The lower half of her fantastic body is covered by jean shorts so short it doesn't even do them justice to call them shorts.  An enticingly small black Panic! At The Disco quote-unquote "shirt" covers the intimate parts of her upper body and not much else and she's wearing those big sunglasses that make hot chicks kinda look like a stupid bug.  But it's okay, man.  She's still friggin' hot.  Man, do I love summer.  A girl in a white Toyota Camry behind me blasts her horn, bringing me back to the here and now and sticks her head out the window.
         "I know green's a pretty color, but you're supposed to go when you see it in a traffic light!  C'mon!  Jesus!  Fuckin' spaz!" she yells, honking the horn again for good measure before pulling her head back in.
         "Bitch," I say to myself, but I oblige her.  I take one last look at the hot girl as my car goes through the intersection, now about half a mile behind my father's car.

..................................................................
         "Welcome to our new home," my father says, beaming at my sister and me.  We look at him, then at the house, and then back at him.
         "Here?" I ask, incredulous.
         "Yeah!" my dad exclaims, throwing his arms out wide, as though encompassing the whole of the property.  Which, y'know, is pretty big.
         "Here," I confirm.  My dad's smile fades as he lowers his arms.
         "Yes, Calvin.  Here.  What's the problem?  I thought you'd be happy."
         "Well guess what?  You thought wrong," I say, the bitterness starting to creep into my voice.  "It's a nice house, Dad.  A real nice house.  You know the one thing it doesn't have, though?"
         "Don't say a pool, because it does," he says.
         "My friends, Dad.  It doesn't have any of my friends," I say, my righteous rage causing me to shake a little as I stand in front of my new house.  My dad looks at me, and then rolls his eyes and snorts.
         "Calvin, you're my son.  And I hope you know that I love you.  But really, for God's sake, you're 22 years old.  Do us all a favor and man up a little bit.  You're standing there, shaking, your voice quivering with what I can only assume you feel is righteous rage, and all I hear is ‘wah, wah, wah'.  This move isn't easy on any of us.  You think you're the only one who had to leave people you care about behind?  Grow up, Cal," he says.  I feel my face turn red and bite back a reply.  He's right, sadly; I'm not the only one this move has affected.  My poor sister's gonna graduate with 200 strangers and I'm not even gonna go into what my dad's going through.
         "It certainly is...big," Mackenzie says, shading her eyes with her hand as she looks up at the blue sky behind the dormer window.  My father's smile returns.
         "You bet your ass it is!  And I got it at a great price, too!  Your old man's not as useless as you thought, huh, sweetheart?" he asks.  My sister tsks and gives my father a peck on the cheek.
         "I never thought you were useless, Daddy.  I just wish you were around more."
         "Well now you don't have to worry about it, pumpkin.  I'm gonna be around a lot more.  In case you didn't know, I'm going to be working right in the city, fifteen miles away, so I'll be only a quick phone call away if you ever need anything."
         Mackenzie smiles and they hug.  My father looks at me over her head.
         "What?" I ask, self-conscious.
         "Do you have anything to say about the house, Calvin?  Aside from..." he starts, and then puts a sniveling tone into his voice.  "....your friends not being here?"
         He throws in a lip-quiver, just for good measure.  I roll my eyes.
         "It's great, Dad.  You're doing a great job buying our love," I say.  His gaze hardens as he stares at me.
         "I'm not ‘buying your love'.  I'm trying to provide you kids with a nice new home."
         "I'm not a kid anymore, Dad," I snap.
         "Then stop acting like one, Calvin," he shoots back.  I clench my fists and it's all I can do to stop myself from slugging the bastard right there.
         "Stop it!" Mackenzie yells.  My dad and I look at her.  "Both of you!  This has gone on for years!  Just stop!  We have the chance to make a new start here, and you two are still going at it like nothing's changed.  Everything's changed!  Everything!  After everything that's happened, after Mom..."
         She starts to cry and now both my dad and I feel like assholes.  And with good reason, because we are.  I sigh, and hold out my hand, albeit reluctantly.
         "She's right, Dad.  Let's let bygones be bygones, huh?" I ask.  He looks at my hand, then snorts and shakes his head.
         "Buckling so quickly, Calvin?  I wish I could say I'm surprised," he says, and then walks inside.  I watch him go, then shake my head and get back into my car.
         "The more things change, the more they stay the same, huh?" I say to Mackenzie.  She sniffles and shrugs.
         "I don't want things to stay the same, Cal.  You two are the only people in the world I know here, and I don't want you guys fighting all the time."
         "I don't know that we can change that, Mac.  This has been the norm for so long.  The only solace is that he's going to spend most of his time at the office."
         "But why does it have to be that way?" she asks.  I shrug as I light up a cigarette.
         "There is no ‘why', Mac.  It's just the way of things....the way of the beast," I say, taking a drag.  I exhale a small cloud of smoke while my sister looks at me.
         "What does that even mean, Cal?" she asks.  Huh?
         "It means, y'know....beasts, um....always fight, like Dad and I do.  So, it's the way of the beast, y'know?"
         "That's pretty weak, Cal," she says.  I pause, considering her words and my response carefully.
         "Shut up, Mackenzie," I say, taking another drag and starting my car.
         "What are you doing?  You don't even know where you're going and you still have to unpack," she says.  I shrug and ash my cigarette.
         "I'll do it later.  I'm gonna drive around, chill out for a bit, try to get my bearings," I say.  Mackenzie looks at me, worry in her eyes and I smile at her.  "Don't sweat it.  I'll be back soon, okay?"
         "Okay," she says, still looking worried.  I flash another smile and pull my car out of the driveway, onto the main road.  Well, what feels like the main road, anyway.

.............................................................
Ten miles down the road, it's fairly obvious that this isn't the main road into town.  At least, not in the direction I'm heading.  Woods surround me, blocking out a lot of the sunlight and despite the fact that it's beautiful, I can't help but be a little pissed off because I've just headed ten miles in the wrong direction in an area I don't know near a town that I already hate through no fault of its own.
Shaking my head, I pull a quick k-turn in the middle of the road, then reach into the center console and pull out a joint.  Lighting it up, I take a big hit and hold it in, feeling the smoke expand within my lungs.  Within minutes, being in the woods about ten miles out of the way of where I'm headed doesn't seem so bad.  I got good tunes, good bud, a big bottle of water and plenty of smokes.  Not too bad, I have to say.
I finish the joint about ten minutes later, right as my car meanders into town.  There are quite a few people out walking around, going to dinner and buying little trinkets in the quaint shops lining Main Street.  I drive around for a few minutes, getting a feel for the layout of the town and in that time, it suddenly becomes apparent that I'm hungry as hell.  I pull up to the curb in front of a small restaurant called The Whirling Dervish.  Don't really know what it serves, but at this point I'd eat a boot as long as it had some ketchup on it.
I walk in, pocketing my keys as I do so, and take a look around the dimly lit establishment.  It's not very crowded, despite being almost dinner-time, and the number of empty tables outnumbers the number of customers by a ratio of at least 2:1.  I stand near the hostess stand, waiting to be seated, as the sign says I should.  As I wait, my mind wanders to the problem of scoring weed in this little burg and I realize that until I actually up and meet someone, it looks like my bud situation's gonna be in the red for a little bit.
"Hey, newb!  What's the deal?  Is there a green light at the hostess stand too?" someone yells from one of the few occupied tables.  I look up and, of course, it's the girl who drives the white Camry, pissin' me off again.  And, of course, wouldn't you know it, she's hot.  I laugh sarcastically, holding my stomach as I do.
"Is that what passes for wit in this one-horse town, annoying brunette girl?" I ask, looking her right in the eyes.  She returns my look with an almost withering glare, and it's all I can do to not laugh in her face.
"No, that's what passes for kindness here, city boy.  Sorry there's no welcome wagon; we were busy milking cows and sleeping with our cousins," she says, all sarcastic.  I snort a laugh at her, which only serves to piss her off more.
"Yeah, I fuckin' bet.  I figured this place sucked and you just confirmed it, so thanks."
"Go screw, city boy.  This place was just fine until you rolled into town, stopping traffic and looking like a moron."
"How do you know I'm from the city?" I ask, genuinely curious.
"Because you're not from around here.  All you city assholes are the same, walking around like you own the place, gawking at our small town-ness.  Get your fill and then get the hell out and let us get back to our lives," she says, and her moronic friends chime in with their two cents.  And somehow, it's this that pisses me right off, even through my high.
"Okay, I can see that you guys aren't going to let this go.  Yes, I'm from the city, but if you think I'm here by choice, you're obviously as stupid as your wardrobe makes you look.  If I could bomb this rat-shit hellhole out of existence, please believe that it would be foremost on my list of things to do.  I'm here because my fuckin' dad dragged me and my sister here.  And to increase the fun that I've already had for the past week, now I've got some under-loved, impudent skank givin' me shit for a decision that I had nothing to do with.  So wah-wah, there's new blood in town and you guys don't like.  Tough shit, homos.  We're here; deal with it," I say, then angrily grab a menu from the stack and take a seat at the counter.
"Now listen here...." Annoying Brunette Girl starts, but I hold up a hand without looking at her.
"Whatever banal statement you're gonna make, hold it until after I'm done eating.  I've got a wicked craving for a tuna melt, and I don't want you scumbags messing up my meal.  So we can argue if you want; it just has to wait until after I eat."
"Sorry, that's not gonna work for me," she says, all smarmy and sarcastic, as though it was the wittiest thing she's ever come up with.  And five'll get you ten that it is.
"Well, I'm sorry, but I really couldn't even pretend to care any less," I say with a shrug.  I hear a chair scrape the floor as it's pushed back and part of me really hopes it's some dude playing hero, just so I get to punch somebody.  Sadly, it's just the girl standing up and walking over to me.
"Look, city slicker, you can't just come in here and start causing trouble," she says.  I laugh, first into the menu, and then I look at her and laugh in her face.
"I hear ya, but look, country blumpkin, I didn't cause any trouble; you did.  You have no patience and your ignorance causes your mouth to work even when there's no reason for it to.  I do apologize that you had to wait at that traffic light for an extra twelve seconds, but it's time to wear big girl pants and get over it.  Now, seriously, can any other moronic crap wait until after I'm done eating?  I'm comin' down and now I'm getting cranky," I say, turning back to the menu.
"This isn't over.  Eat your meal, and enjoy it, because it's gonna be the last one you have in here," she says, trying to sound all tough.  I snort again and shake my head.
"I suppose I should get the deluxe then, just so I get the fries, too."
"I guess so," she says sarcastically, as though it somehow invalidates what I had to say.  I don't even care enough to humor her anymore.  I just sit there and look at the menu, having gotten tired of the whole ‘talking to stupid bitches' thing.  She stands there for another few seconds, and then apparently realizes she's not going to be getting any further reaction from me and walks back to her table, leaving me in relative peace.  A heavyset older woman in a pink apron and name tag that says "Audrey" on it comes over and takes the order for my tuna melt.  After she puts the order in, she comes back over and gives me a giant glass of water, then stands there and looks at me pityingly.
"Um..." I start, because what the hell is she doing just looking at me?  Maybe it's the weed talking, but it shades me out, hardcore.
"Don't you worry about Maggie, hon.  Got no manners, that girl.  Has to do with that womanizing father o' hers.  He ain't hardly around, what with all the ‘relations' he has, so she was brought up by the dang idiot box," she says, her accent making it kind of hard to follow her.
"Idiot box?" I ask.
"The T.V., sweetie.  Takes a good mind, turns it into mush.  A huge pile of mush filled with garbage."
"You don't watch T.V. at all....Audrey?" I ask, looking at her nametag to get her name, even though I already saw it when she took my order.  She shakes her head.
"Naw, not really.  I watch my stories, but that's different, you see?  That Maggie, she's always been watchin' the programs with all the partyin' and the kids drinkin' and doin' weed.  That's what brung her up wrong."
"I hear ya," I say as the cook comes out of the kitchen and places my sandwich on the counter.  He gives me a quick once-over and it's a look that all but screams ‘we don't like your kind here'.  What the Hell is wrong with this stupid town?  Audrey tsks and slaps him lightly on the arm.
"Fred, you get back in the kitchen," she says, then shakes her head.  "Always trying to scare the new folks."
"You have a very hostile town here, Audrey," I say, taking a bite of my sandwich (which turns out to be delicious, by the way).  She turns back around and looks at me and I get the feeling I'm gonna get some good old-fashioned sass.  And if you don't already know it, short of old black women, nobody gives good sass like an old waitress in a greasy spoon.
"Mister, we have a pretty small town here.  Everyone knows everyone else and most folks around here don't like seeing new faces.  New faces bring new troubles, if you get what I'm sayin'," she says.  Hmm....not quite as sassy as I thought it was gonna be.
"I get it, Audrey, but I'm not here to bring any new troubles," I say.  Audrey chuckles and somehow, it offends me, almost like she thinks she's smarter than me.
"Honey, I've seen my share of people comin' and goin' here and let me tell you, none of ‘em thinks they're bringing any new troubles.  And every single time, they do bring new troubles.  And life in this quaint town is never the same.  People here dislike change, mister.  And I don't blame ‘em."
         "I understand, Audrey.  And allow me to honestly say thank you, because you're the first person in this town to speak to me civilly.  I guess it's all the T.V. not-watchin', huh?"
         "Could be, mister.  Could be."
         "My name's Calvin, but most people call me Cal."
         "Then I'll call you Calvin, that way you know it's not most people talkin' to you," she says with a smile.  I laugh and finish my sandwich.
         "Sounds good, Audrey."
         "Can I get you anything else, cutie?" she asks.  I shake my head as I chug the water and then wipe my mouth with a napkin.
         "No, I'm good, Audrey.  Just the check."
         "Okay, sweetie.  You can just leave the money and the check on the counter when you leave.  And don't worry about Li'l Maggie; you can come back whenever you want," she says, smiling.  I smile back as I pull my keys from my pocket.
         "Thanks, Audrey.  I'll see you soon."
         She waves and I start to walk out, then change direction and head over to Maggie's (Annoying Brunette Girl) table.  She looks up, as do all of her friends, and the tension is so thick it's almost stifling.
         "You just made a big mistake, city boy," she says.
         "I think not, my dear.  You see, I know that you guys only treat me with such animosity because you don't know me, you don't know my intentions, you don't know anything about me.  I'm changing that.  We got off on the wrong foot and even though it was your fault, I'm willing to let bygones be bygones.  So I'll just say my name's Cal, and I hope that future meetings will be more pleasant than our first," I say, and walk away.  I'm just walking up to the car when the door to the restaurant opens behind me.  I turn to see who it is and it's another girl.  Not Annoying Brunette Girl, but another cute girl who was sitting with her.
         "Hold on a sec, city slicker.  Don't want any trouble," she says, holding up her hands as a sign of peace.
         "As long as that's true, you won't get any.  What's up?"
         "I had to meet you for myself.  Maggie's kind of a bitch, so it's hard for anything good to come out of interacting with her unless you've known her for a while.  Even after you buried the hatchet and tried to be civil, she was talking shit about you after you left.  I don't roll like that.  I'm Becca.  Becca Sloane."
         "Hey, Rebecca.  Nice to meet..."
         "It's just Becca."
         "Really?"
         "Yeah," she says, shrugging.  "Lazy parents; what can ya do."
         I laugh with her and it's nice to meet someone close to my age who isn't apparently psycho.
         "Yeah, I hear ya.  I kinda wish my dad was a lazy parent, that way he wouldn't harp at me every time I took too deep a breath."
         "What about your mom?  She doesn't keep him in check?" she asks.  I feel my face redden a bit and I look at my shoes, which are suddenly very interesting.
         "My mom's, um...she's not around anymore."
         "Oh, what happened?" she asks.  I shake my head.
         "Too soon, Becca.  It's nothing personal, but I have no idea who you are or what you're about.  You understand, don't you?" I say.  Becca considers for a minute, then nods.
         "I think I do.  Especially after the welcome you've gotten, I can't blame you for not wanting to open up."
         "Well, I appreciate your understanding, and I hate to seem like I'm blowing you off, but I have to get back to the house to unpack."
         "Oh.  You have a lot left?" she asks.  I chuckle.
         "Yeah.  I haven't even started, so it seems like I have my work cut out for me," I say.  Becca laughs and gives an exaggerated look of exasperation.
         "Sounds like.  Well, if you need any help, just let me know."
         "How'm I supposed to let you know?  Unless you want to give me your number..." I say, and then I realize how sleazy that sounds.  "Eesh."
She smiles, though.
         "Too soon, Cal.  Nothing personal, but I have no idea who you are or what you're about.  You understand, don't you?" she asks, her smile beaming at me.  I smile back, a little embarrassed.
         "I think I do, but you're the one who told me to let you know."
         "I just said I wasn't going to give you my number.  I can't help it if you find it another way," she says as she walks away, still smiling at me.  I watch the restaurant door close behind her and shake my head, in awe of what's happened.  This town's fuckin' awesome.