The Accident Curse

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The next morning, I woke up to the sound of Dad cursing in the kitchen.

I flew from my bed, worried he’d fallen and hurt himself further.

Instead, he was standing in front of the cupboard, a tin of ground coffee on the floor. He bent at the waist, but the small confines of the kitchen didn’t give him enough room to spread out his leg straight to reach the tin.

“Dad,” I said in relief. I walked forward and picked up the coffee. “You okay?”

“I could have gotten it,” he answered.

“I’m sure you could have but I want my coffee today, not three weeks from now.”

He smirked a bit. “Smart ass.”

Dad went to the coffee pot and began making the brew.

“Want me to fry some eggs?” I asked.

“If you want.”

I pulled all the needed ingredients from the fridge and got to work on breakfast.

“You’ve got work to do this morning?” Dad asked as I sprinkled salt and pepper atop the egg yolks.

“Yeah. I’m going to check out your internet and see if I need to run to Oakland to buy a new router.” Oakland was the closest town with anything resembling an electronic store.

“New router?” Dad said with a laugh. “I don’t think I have a router at all.”

I grinned. “I brought mine from home. But I’m not sure if it’ll work with your computer.”

“Clever boy. You want toast?”

“Sure.”

I put the eggs onto plates and sat down at the island, then grabbed the toast from the toaster. Dad poured us each a cup of black coffee and put the butter on the counter.

“Looks good,” I mused. “Been awhile since I made breakfast like this. It’s easier to hit up a Starbucks.”

“Lazy.”

“Time is money.”

Dad shook his head. “We don’t need to hustle around so much.”

“Not here,” I agreed.

“Not anywhere.”

“You’ve spent time with me in Phoenix. You know how it is there. If you don’t move fast, or move out of the way, you get run over.”

“It’s kinda sad.”

“Maybe, but it’s the way it is.” I took a sip of my coffee then changed the subject. “What about you? What will you do today?”

“I’m moving my sorry ass into the recliner and I’m not getting up until I gotta piss.”

I barked a laugh. “Sounds like a plan.”

After I washed the dishes—no dishwasher in this house—I went to the spare room. It was a hodgepodge of functionality. A desk with the computer on it. An ironing board set up under the window. Boxes in the closet full of my old toys and comic books. A dresser beside the door with picture frames. A murphy bed hidden out of sight in the corner. I couldn’t remember the last time we’d used it.

I held my breath as I flipped on the computer. A few years ago, I’d sent Dad a gift card to buy a new computer for his birthday. I hoped he’d gotten a good model that wouldn’t be too out of date now.

The internet was another concern. Not too many carriers provided service way out here in the boondocks. We’d had dial up all through high school. Some of my friends in town were able to get broadband. I’d been so envious. But now, Dad had service through a satellite dish, which also gave him access to more than the public television channels.

I fired up the internet and checked the speed. It would do. Nowhere near what I was used to, but I could make it work.

I spent the next few hours setting up all my equipment, including installing the router—giving me wireless access to use my laptop, and better reception on my cellphone. I hadn’t been able to get a signal since we pulled off the 219. The trees interrupted the transmission with cell towers.

By then, it was lunch time. I went out to check on Dad and found him napping in the recliner. Rest was probably the best thing for him right now, so I left him to it and settled for a refill on my coffee.

With nothing else to do, I got to work. Film editing had been a passion for me since Mom bought me a camera when I was nine. I played around with stop motion at first, inspired by the style used in Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. The camera was the last present Mom gave me. She passed away two months later. I still had the camera at home.

Even after Mom’s death, Dad continued to encourage me with my photography and filmmaking. He’d also been clear about his desire for me to attend school in Pittsburgh instead of trying for the Film Studies program at Arizona State. Pittsburgh may have been a viable option, but I had wanted to get farther.

Being close to Accident was bound to keep the curse alive. There was no way—

Damn it! The internet, as predicted, kicked me off as I downloaded a large video file. I rebooted the network connection and began the process again.

Not ten minutes later, it did the same thing. I tried again. This time, I stayed connected for a whole fifteen minutes before it shut off. Rather than have a screaming meltdown from frustration, I decided I’d get out of the house.

Dad was watching TV again. He glanced at me when I appeared in the doorway to the living room.

“I’m going to go out to the market for some things. Anything I need to pick up for dinner?”

“You can get a gallon of milk. Whole. Not the skimmed stuff. And a couple pounds of apples.”

“What about for dinner? I’ll make us something tonight.”

“Nah, I got everything we’ll need. The freezer in the basement is fully stocked.”

“All right. You mind if I take your truck?”

He wheezed a laugh. “What else are you going to drive? Just don’t crash her.”

“I only ever did that once, Pop, and I barely dented the fender. Are you ever gonna forgive me?”

“Never,” he answered with a smile.

“I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Okay. Drive safe.”

It felt like old times as I grabbed his keys off the hook beside the back door. Maybe I should look up a couple of friends from high school and see what they were up to. Dad kept in regular contact with most of their parents, but I hardly paid attention when he turned the subject to old classmates. He was naturally nosey, but my apathy came through pretty clearly. Still, it might be interesting to catch up with one or two of them. I wondered if the bar in Accident was open.

The closest store—besides the gas station—was the market in Grantsville, about twenty minutes northeast. It was perfect for little things, and closer than the grocery stores in Oakland.

I fired up Dad’s Tundra and backed out of the driveway. The steep slope was perilous in the winter, but perfectly manageable in the summer. I headed down the road back to the 219.

I was amazed at how well I remembered the landscape. The few houses I spotted were familiar. Each bend or bump in the road was expected. Ten years gone and I still knew this place.

Was that a good thing, showing off my brain’s ability to retain information, or a bad thing, that this place hadn’t evolved at all in the past decade? Were they behind the times with everything else too? If I came out, would they glare and scowl and curse?

Doesn’t matter what they’d do, cause I won’t come out. I’ll only be here a month or two. No reason to talk to anyone about myself.

Friday’s Fruit Market was right off the freeway at the far end of Grantsville. This town was a booming metropolis compared to Accident. Most of my friends from high school lived out this way. With only two high schools in the whole county, the boundaries were spread far and wide.

I exited the freeway, which put me back on 219, go figure, and headed toward the market. The parking lot was relatively full and I had to park the Tundra toward the far end of the blacktop because it was so big. I’d gotten out of the habit of being comfortable behind the wheel of larger vehicles. Looked like I’d get reacquainted over the next few weeks.

Inside the market, I grabbed a tiny basket and went to the milk and apples first. They were the only things I needed. The rest would be impulse buying, whatever I felt I might want. I got a hand full of individually wrapped caramels from their extensive candy section. A bag of Utz dill chips went next—a brand we didn’t have out in Arizona. I didn’t realize I’d missed the taste until I saw the cute smiling girl logo.

Too bad this place didn’t sell beer or else I would had grabbed a six pack. As it was, I settled for a case of root beer instead. Maybe Dad had some ice cream and we could make floats.

Oh God, this is so pathetic. Floats? I wasn’t sixteen anymore, and yet being home made me feel I was. If I was in Phoenix, I’d see a concert with friends, or we’d all hit up a restaurant in Scottsdale, or see a movie at the Film Bar. Here, I was reduced to wanting ice cream floats.

There were few other options. I’d missed the fairs in July and August. The seasonal changing of trees was another two months away. No snow at the Wisp for skiing.

Sinking to a new low, I set my items for purchase up on the checkout counter.

“Marty Smith?”

I spun in surprise and glanced at the good-looking guy behind me. No recognition, but he was covered in a thick layer of mud. At least, I hoped it was mud.

“Uh….” I replied.

He grinned. “I’m Colten Williams. I was a year behind you at school.”

My surprise increased. I examined the guy, trying to spy any similarities to the kid from school. Well, besides the mud. Then I saw it, the gleam in his eyes as he continued to smile.

“Colten,” I said with a nod. I stuck out my hand to him.

He shook it, his lips widening more. “What are you doing back here? I thought you were gone for good.”

“Dad broke his leg and needed an extra hand around the house. I’m here for a few weeks.”

“I’d heard. Didn’t realize it was bad enough for him to need help.”

“Yeah, well, he’s not too keen on admitting it himself.”

The cashier interrupted us. “That’ll be $12.72.”

I handed over a twenty-dollar bill and got my change.

“Well, nice seeing you,” I told Colten.

“Hold up. I’ll walk you out.”

I raised an eyebrow at the request, but waited at the door for him to pay for his groceries. He hefted his paper bag into his hands and we walked out together.

“How have you been?” he asked as we made our way toward my dad’s truck.

“Not too bad. Not super happy now, with Dad laid up, but no complaints overall. What about you?”

I studied him off the corner of my eye, trying to meld the image of him in the here and now to what I remembered from high school. We’d had math together my senior year—he was advanced—but since it had been first period, he often showed up late, and covered in mud. He’d been tall then, muscular from all the farm work; his physique remained the same. But then he’d been awkward and quiet, now he’d sought me out and expressed an interest in conversing.

“Busy as always,” he answered. “We got an additional twelve sheep this summer, so it’s a lot more work.”

“We?”

He chuckled. “Me and my parents. Now, before you start accusing me of still living at home, I do have my own place. It’s easier to stay with them during the week.”

“Makes sense. You still raising prize cows?”

His eyes light up. “You remembered?”

I laughed. “How could I not? How many times did you show up to school with pictures of your current favorites?”

A pleased pink touched his cheeks, and he raised a hand to push back his brown hair. “Never realized anyone paid attention when I talked about them.”

“The one I remember is Lizzie. Right? She took first in the State Fair?”

“It was Lassie,” he corrected me gently with a grin. “But yeah. She was champion for three years.”

We got to the Tundra and I pressed the clicker to unlock the door. I set my bag of groceries in the passenger seat, then turned my full attention to Colten.

“I better get going. Don’t want Dad alone for long.”

“Sure, I gotta get back to the farm too.”

I turned to get into the truck.

“But,” he said suddenly. “What if I give you my number and we can get together sometime? I’d like to hear how things are. Your dad said you wound up in Arizona.”

I looked at him in surprise again. Catch up? Why on earth would he want to? We’d never been friends in the first place. But, he was quite gorgeous.

“Sounds good.”

I pulled out my cellphone and he rattled off his number. I saved it.

“Give me a call when you get a free evening. I’ve never got anything goin’ on.”

“Sure, Colten. See ya.”

He waved and I got into the truck.