Mountain Of Secrets

Sunlight warms my face as my dad opens the curtains. “Really, dad? ""What time is it?” He laughs to himself; he’s probably thinking of some stupid dad joke like time for you to get a watch! Ha! “I let you sleep in its half past eleven.” Sitting up with an exaggerated sigh, I reply with a simple thanks, I slept like s**t again. Since we moved to this new town last month I’ve been having the same dream every night. Dad chalked it up to stress and said I just need to go make new friends. But he doesn’t realize it's almost impossible to make friends in a small town such as Helvetia. With a population of sixty-two, there’s not many people my age. I’m more than halfway through my senior year of high school with graduation being only two months away and my nineteenth birthday the day after, so why would I even try? Dad leaves the room, letting me have time to get dressed while he makes lunch downstairs. While I’m pulling my jeans up, I notice a decently sized bruise on my back along my ribcage, the blue and purple standing out against my pale skin. I must’ve been thrashing hard in my sleep, somehow managing to injure myself. Shrugging off the thought, I finished getting dressed in a gray tank top paired with a maroon cardigan reaching just below my knees. It's still cold as it is the middle of March. Some yards still have snow in their grass. Skipping every other step, I’m greeted with the delightful smell of bacon grease and cinnamon pancakes. Breakfast for lunch is always a great start. Dad had his attention turned towards the stove softly, singing ‘Ain't no holler back girl.’ “Oh, she lives!” He interrupts himself as I take a seat at the table rolling my eyes, “pass me the goods old man,” he puts on a face of playful shock holding his heart with one hand and a plate of pancakes in the other. “I will have you know I moisturize twice daily!” We both erupt in laughter, dads always had a good sense of humor, even after mom passed away when I was nine, he always kept everyone laughing and happy. He placed two slabs of cinnamon goodness on my plate as I greedily took half the bacon, the edges crisp and middle soft, melting in my mouth. “I would trade my life for endless cinnamon pancakes” I managed to get out between a mouth full of glory. “You’re going to choke beans” he still uses the nickname mom gave me after she found three-year-old me covered in four cans of baked beans, she started hiding the can opener from me. Practically inhaling the rest of what’s on my plate, I help dad clean and tidy up the kitchen. “I got to go into town today are you coming this time?” He raises an eyebrow; the nearest town is an hour away, and it’s no bigger than the one we live in. “Are you going to the market?” I ask contemplating the idea, it might be nice to get out of the house other than going to school. Since it's Saturday, I didn’t have to leave the house and, like every other weekend for the past month I mostly wanted to stay in and binge read books. There’s not really any Wi-Fi out here due to how remote the town is and how dense the forest can be. Dad has warned me multiple times to stay out of the woods. Many people have gotten lost in them and have never been found. The towns' people are either too wise or too scared to go searching, just accepting the person's fate and moving on with their lives. It's harsh, but I guess its just how these people cope with there already being such a small population. “Yeah, I wanted to get more produce and lambs meat for tonight.” I whip my head towards him almost breaking my neck, “What do you mean for tonight?” He laughs as his lips pull into a mischievous grin. “Devin, don’t be mad, but I invited a couple of your classmates and their parents over for dinner.” He puts his hands up in defense as if I’m going to come hurtling through the air at him, I don’t need to ask any questions I know my dad too well and already know he’s just trying to make it easier on me to make friends, but it's doing the opposite, I don’t want to make new friends just to leave this place in a couple of years, he still argued I should have some sort of social life while I’m here and to make the best of the end of my senior year. My father never really got to experience high school. He had to drop out early, needing to tend to the farm after his father left with another woman and his mother got sick from heartbreak. “I’m just going to pretend you’re the one looking for friends and not me, but yes I'll go with you this time just so I don’t keep hurting your fragile feelings.” He’s smiling like he just won the lottery, I’ll let you win this time dad, grabbing our coats he goes over a list of things we need. Peppers, tomatoes, garlic, onion, potatoes, goats’ milk, goats’ cheese, lamb chops and an assortment of local fruits. We don’t talk much, letting the radio fill most of the silence for the next hour down the windy mountain, periodically changing stations as it cuts in and out the radio towers not strong enough to penetrate the dense forest. “Finally,” Dad exhales as the trees thin out, and a small town can be seen unfolding below us a water tower with bold letters spelling out Pickens sticks out like a sore thumb against the old town, like ours their population is also low at a whopping forty-three. It doesn’t take long to finish the last fifteen minutes of the car ride. The streets are bustling with lively people, mostly old, but some look to be around dad's ripe age of thirty-eight. “Meet me back here in an hour, I’m going to go get the lamb meat.” Father yells over his shoulder as he heads in the opposite direction of me, I stick a thumbs up going over the list I quickly wrote in the truck. Grab Onions, peppers, garlic, tomatoes/potatoes, peaches/peach jam, grapes, goat's cheese and milk. Feeling confident, I headed to a group of stands with varying items. Some people have burlap sacks and others' baskets to carry their purchases back to their vehicles and homes. Looking to my right, there’s a vendor with an assortment of apples and baked apple pies. The smell warms my soul. To my left is another vendor with what looks to be strawberries, blueberries, grapes and pears. Aha! Grapes! Maneuvering through the crowd with ease I made it to the stall in a couple of strides, there’s an older woman with long white hair, her skin golden like she’s been working in the sun her whole life a sprinkle of freckles dusts her soft wrinkles defining her friendly smile when I approach. “Well, I don’t think I’ve seen you here before?” Her voice sounds 20 years younger than what she looks, it takes me a second to register that it was her speaking to me. “Oh uhm, yeah me and my dad just moved up the mountain about a month ago.” I reply while examining a cluster of grapes still on a thick vine. The woman doesn’t reply, just staring at me, her smile not quite reaching her eyes anymore. Feeling uneasy, I quickly picked a couple vines of grapes and asked how much. “Twenty will be fine sweetie, and here- “she pulled out a large cloth bag. “You’ll need it.” I took the bag and handed over a twenty-dollar bill, “Thank you.” I don’t wait for another reply and start heading down to the other vendors I can feel her eyes following me until I’m concealed in the crowd of bodies flowing whichever way only caring about the produce and not personal space. It's as if the whole town is here in this small space. I easily found peaches along with peach jam, tomatoes and onions. The peppers were a bit hard only because dad didn’t tell me what color of pepper, so I grabbed an assortment of colors. Potatoes have been almost impossible to find. I had almost given up hope, when finally, at the very end of the line of stalls, there was a wooden wagon stacked with potatoes, a boy who looks to be around my age is lazily tilting his chair on its back two legs, a cowboy hat resting just over his eyes. As I approach the stall, I clear my throat, not wanting to startle him, he tilts his hat back just enough for me to see a golden-brown eye peering out at me. He straightens his chair and stands up. He’s tall and has a well-maintained body. It must be from working on a farm so much. Dad always said farm strength out matches any body builder’s routine. “What can I do for you darlin” his voice is deep but cheery, now that he’s standing up, I can see dark hair peaking out from under his hat, “How much for about ten potatoes?” Pointing over at the pile of brown dirt covered potatoes, you would think he would wash them, but I guess not. “I’ll give you fifteen for thirty.” I count how much money I have left from what dad gave me, if I gave him the thirty, I wouldn’t have enough for the goat’s milk. “Ten for twenty.” He looks at me up and down rubbing his chin like he’s trying to solve some hard math problem. “Twelve for twenty-two,” “Deal.” I hand him a twenty and two one dollar bills and head over to the rickety wagon; how did he even get this thing here? I picked out twelve of the best-looking potatoes, which wasn’t hard. Almost all of them were good sizes and barley damaged like I had assumed they would be. The tall boy comes and leans against the wagon, looking at me suspiciously, “You’re not from around here.” Way to state the obvious. “How’d you know?” I say sarcastically. I don’t dress nor talk the same as the people of West Virginia. My hometown is all the way back in Wisconsin along with my friends, and the last memories I had with mom. Dad said we needed a fresh start, but it was more so for him. He does a good job of hiding it from others, but late at night sometimes I would hear him crying in the kitchen holding mom’s apron. He was heartbroken. She was everything to him and everything to me too. We just dealt with it differently. I was a mess when my dad pulled me out of school to rush to the hospital. Mom had gotten into a bad crash on her way to work that morning. Her breaks gave out, and she got tee boned from both sides of her car when she couldn’t stop at an intersection. Her body had been crushed along with her vital organs. There had only been so much the doctors could do but, in the end, she succumbed to her injuries. My dad blamed himself for a long time, saying he should’ve just changed her breaks and stopped pushing it off every weekend to go out with his work buddies. But no one could have known it would have led to such a painful end. “I’m sure I stick out pretty bad.” He looks me up and down again taking in my old sneakers and skinny jeans with a not so matching thick brown coat the collar boarded with fuzz folded down, my maroon cardigan sticking out the bottom. “Mm yeah I’d say so.” He tosses a piece of grass he was playing with and sticks his hand out, “I’m Kale, Kale Willard.” I look down at his hand, its calloused, dirt lining the underneath of his nails. “Devin.” I shake his hand, but he doesn’t let go just yet. “Devin, what?” his smile is just as warm as his hand, I can feel my cheeks heating up. “Devin Gerdy.” I murmur, “Well Devin Gerdy it’s a pleasure.” I slide my hand out from his picking up my bag of produce just as an older man approaches Kale from behind giving his shoulder a big slap. “Is he bothering you?” The man says in a joking tone and flashes a crooked toothy grin “Bug off Charles.” Kale shrugs his hand off returning the playful tone. The man takes a second to look me over as well. “your Jeans daughter, aren’t you?” Jean is my dad's legal name, but back in Wisconsin, his friends called him by Teddy, which is a shortened version of Theodore. “That is me,” I smile and spread my arms a bit in an awkward ‘hear I am stance’ “I’m Charles!” He leans forward with his hand outstretched; I take it and give him a firm single shake and just as quickly my hand is back at my side. “Devin.” I really hate this. “Alright well I got to get back to doing my thing!” He waves goodbye and goes back the way he came, “I should also probably get going I still have to get a few things,” I switch the bag of produce to my other arm giving my wrist a bit of a break. Kale nods “I’ll see you around Devin.” His smile captures me, and I feel my cheeks begin to heat again. I swiftly turn on my heels and start heading in whatever direction that will take me far from Kale’s potato stand.