Images of playing with Natalie and Louisa when we were carefree kids jumped to the front of my brain. Back then, there was no difference between us, aside from the fact that Natalie had a shiny new bike and Louisa and I had used garage sale bikes. We razzed her for that bike, yes, but in the end we didn’t care. We were just friends riding down to the creek in the summer. That was a high from my childhood.
My dad slaving away in the mines every day so we could escape the life of poverty he lived in. Being ten years old, going down in the mines with him and realizing, holy hell, that is not as glorious a job as it seemed. That was a low.
Being freaking thirteen years old and discovering that girls weren’t the same as boys. Having my first fucking crush on Natalie, the-fast-on-her-bike girl with the long legs and the long hair.
‘Race ya,’ I’d say to her on the way back from the creek.
As long as I live I’d never get that image out of my mind: riding behind Natalie with her long hair flowing like crazy behind her, like a sail. I’d ride behind her just to watch, then pull ahead of her at the last second to win. The strategy drove her crazy.
Now those sweet moments seemed like another person’s dreams. Not even my own. Natalie moved to Florida before she turned thirteen, and promised to write us. That lasted a full six months until she got so into her new life that she was too good to drop us a line.
I finished my drink, sat down, and poured another. Hockey was on tonight. The Flames.
I watched for a few minutes, saw a guy I knew from Michigan State who was drafted play a shift, then changed the channel to some sitcom.
I pulled up my phone and stared at her name.
Natalie.
I thought about sending her a message. But what would I say? I’d already pissed her off so much that she was unlikely to respond.
Why did she irk me so much? What was it about her that I couldn’t stop thinking about our run in today?
Seeing her in the flesh was mind-boggling, for starters. She was flesh and bones when I last saw her when I was thirteen and she was twelve. Now she was a full-grown woman. I saw shades of the girl I used to know, the same little tics and mannerisms, but overall, she was a new person.
A very sexy woman, I might add if I was being fully honest with myself. Seeing her traipse around in those little booty shorts had spiked my pulse, got my blood running warmer than it had in a long time. We didn’t get girls like her around here, all tan and sun-kissed, freckles activated even in the dead of winter. I could see her little nipples imprinting into her tank top today, too.
And all the while, she made my blood boil with her silly innocence. Maybe that’s what it was about her that got under my skin. She seemed shocked when I told her about Louisa and my dad; like she didn’t even know the role the mines had played in their deaths.
Her dad sure did a good job of keeping her protected from the realities of the world. I wished mine had done the same. He tried to; never complained one day about life in the mines.
But he couldn’t hide the sickness he was developing down there once it got too bad. Although in the end, it wasn’t the sickness that did him in.
My phone buzzed as I held it and a message came in from Jared.
Jared: So how is little devil horns, anyway? And what are you up to tonight? Want to go to Midnight Owl?
I tossed the phone aside.
Jared and I knew each other since we were in kindergarten. A drinking buddy, through and through. When Louisa died, he was there and helped me not to go off the rails. When I lost my hockey scholarship and ended up back in Black Mountain, he helped me find a job. Always loyal. Always local.
The antithesis of the people like Natalie. They moved out, generally to larger cities, where it was warmer. They used the money their daddy made exploiting the people here and left us cold in the dust, and didn’t even know that the tap water was contaminated. They didn’t care. They were drinking bottled stuff. They didn’t know what it was like to grow up in a household where ten extra dollars a month for bottled water meant you had ten less to spend on food.
Still, I didn’t much feel like getting together with Jared tonight. He and Bob thought Natalie was the devil. And we both had valid reasons for hating her father. But after today, I didn’t know how I felt about putting that hate on her, too.
My phone buzzed with a text from another friend, Cherry. I didn’t even open it.
Times like these I wished phones weren’t invented, that I could just be all alone and fade into the depths and sit with my bleak thoughts.
Another text came in, from a hockey scout who had been trying to track me down. I checked that one.
Jeremy: Hello Shane! How are you these days? You still working out? I’d love to see you if you’re still in shape. Was looking at some of the footage from last year. You can’t teach that slapshot. An absolute killer.
I sighed and mindlessly clicked onto my contacts, thumbing in alphabetical order to Natalie’s name.
I stopped short of hers, though, and my heart thumped as I stared at Louisa’s. It had been six years since she passed, but it felt like yesterday. I still thought about her every day. I clicked onto her name and pulled up the last text she ever sent me.
Louisa: Help me, brother
That one always gutted me. I didn’t even know why I looked at it, it was such a sadistic thing to do. I got my hockey stick and went outside to my backyard rink. I wound up and took a few slap shots, launching them at the little goal I had set up.
When that didn’t seem to make me feel better, I got the ax and split some wood for the fire, then came in and built a scorcher.
I stared at the flames and they seemed to be the only things that felt soothing all night.
While I watched the fire, my phone buzzed again on my couch.
It was from Natalie, so I swiped it to see what she sent me.
My blood curdled when I saw what she’d sent me.
It was her. Had she taken the picture tonight?
In one hand, she held a glass of red wine, and in the other, the camera.
The cleavage of her pert little tits was prominent through the red lace bra she wore. The bottom she wore was equally lacey, and sexy as hell.
There was no denying it: I was getting turned on staring at the picture of her. The more I tried to pry my eyes away from the photo, the more I seemed to stay glued to it. My heart fluttered with raw heat.
I squinted at the photo for a minute, contemplating a response when a text came in from her
Natalie: Oh, my bad. Wrong number.
I grinned. It wasn’t lost on me that the photo was cut off at the chin, at almost the exact same spot I had sent her my selfie last night.
So this was how she wanted to play it? Let’s do it.
Shane: Yeah, you must have meant to send this to your boyfriend.
Natalie: Definitely.
Shane: Lucky me, I guess. I’ll now be mass texting this to my friends list.
Natalie: Is that what you do? It’s a little pathetic, isn’t it?
Shane: Not as pathetic as playing the exact same prank on a guy that he played on you. I expected more from you.
Natalie: I thought it was pretty funny, personally. Go ahead, send it to your friends. It’ll be good for you all to visualize a real woman instead of all the porn you’ve been watching.
Shane: Wow. Feisty tonight!
Natalie: Probably has something to do with the heat.
Shane: Shouldn’t you be used to the heat?
Natalie: Why were you such a dick to me today? Seriously.