Seth
Two Years, Three Months, and Sixteen Days Ago
I flip on the lights in the storeroom, look around, and silently curse whoever’s been organizing our kegs, because they’re doing it the same way that my computer’s hard drive stores data: cramming random shit wherever it fits.
But while I can de-frag my computer by clicking something, defragging our storerooms involve a lot more physical labor. Usually, it’s my physical labor, because I’m the one with a specific filing system in mind. Sometimes Daniel helps, but he’s got Rusty to deal with so I let him off the hook.
Love the kid, but last week she asked me if I thought it was fair that Grandpa was dead but lots of criminals are still alive.
Lifting kegs onto high shelves for hours is easier than trying to explore the concept of an inherently chaotic universe with a six-year-old, particularly when I was expecting to discuss her pitch for a My Little Pony spinoff called My Little Wombat.
I push a hand through my hair and start looking. At least the kegs are labeled and color-coded, so I don’t have to actually wade through all of them looking for more Bonfire Stout.
“Seth?” a voice calls, and I duck out of the storeroom to see Caleb, my youngest brother, heading through the warehouse toward me.
“What’s wrong?” I call back, one hand automatically going to check my phone. There’s nothing new.
“Wrong?” he asks. “Nothing! I just wanted to come see if you needed some help.”
“They’re not out of anything else up front?”
“Beth didn’t say she needed anything.”
Caleb walks up to me, his hands in his pockets, his long hair pulled back in a man-bun, and he smiles at me.
I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something weird going on. I’ve known Caleb for twenty-six years now, and the man is up to… something.
“I’m trying to find more stout,” I say, popping back into the room. “If you see a keg, take it to the front. We’re going through it faster than I thought we would.”
“Gotcha,” he says.
Then he looks around, puzzled.
“Is there a system in here?”
I just sigh.
“The system is that we need to have an all-staff meeting in which we hammer home the importance of organization,” I say.
For a long moment, we both just look. Finally, Caleb points.
“Is that it with the yellow tape?” he asks. “I don’t have my glasses on.”
“Sure is,” I tell him, making my way over to the keg. “Weren’t you gonna get contacts?”
“They bother my eyes,” he says. “I think there’s another one right next to it.”
We each grab one, then carry them out, through the warehouse and between the huge silver vats. Today is the brewery’s Fall Fest, and it’s going even better than last year’s.
The front room is jam-packed with people buying beer. The patio — which is at least twice the size of the front room — is hopping. This year a couple of food trucks set up in the overflow parking lot, we rented a pumpkin-shaped bouncy house, and later tonight we’ll be lighting the bonfires.
There’s a part of me that can’t believe all this is really happening, but I also know exactly how much blood, sweat, and tears went into it. I’ve got the spreadsheets.
“Thanks,” I tell Caleb as we put the kegs down. “I’ll hook this one up, then I’ll be out —”
“You don’t think we need more of the… blond?” he says.
“Are we out?”
“Seems like you should be sure. Also, the cider. People have been talking about it a lot, you should probably grab some more of that one too.”
I’m crouching by the empty keg, disconnecting the tap, but I stop what I’m doing and look up at him.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“Nothing,” he says much, much too quickly.
“Caleb,” I say, slowly. “You’re as jumpy as a long-tailed cat —”
“There you are!” says another, female voice, and I turn.
It’s Daniel and his fianceé Charlie, and they’re both coming toward me.
“Hi,” I tell them, more suspicious by the second. “Everything all right?”
“Completely fine,” Charlie says. “But do you remember that time you asked if I could make custom tables for the big room? What size were you thinking?”
I unhook the old keg, move it out of the way, tap the new one and slide it into place without answering. All three of them are just standing there, watching me, while I work.
“What happened?” I finally ask, standing and brushing my hands together.
They look at each other.
“Nothing,” Daniel says.
“Did someone pop the bouncy house and you’re trying to fix it before I see it so you don’t have to listen to me bitch about insurance?” I ask. “Is there some…”
I trail off. I’m so confused that I don’t even have a suspicion about what’s going on. I’m just certain that something is, indeed, going on.
“You’ve lost your marbles,” Daniel declares. “We just came to say hi.”
“So it’s cool if I go outside and make sure the bouncy house is still up to code,” I say, pointing at the door.
“I do think we should talk about the tables —”
Charlie gives up on that as I walk past her, toward the door that leads outside.
“Seth!” Daniel shouts. “It’s so nice in here!”
“Shit,” I hear Caleb say as I step through, the door closing behind me.
It’s fucking beautiful today. This is the reason people move to the Virginia mountains: it’s clear and crisp and cool, the forest behind the brewery mottled orange and red and gold, the mountains unfolding into the distance the same bright hues of autumn.
It smells good. It feels good, and all the better for knowing that autumn never lasts nearly long enough.
That said, nothing seems to be on fire behind the brewery, so I head around the side, an unpleasant twist in the pit of my stomach at what I might find. Really, they should have just left me alone. I’d probably still be in there, double-checking that we had enough of each kind of beer.
As I walk, I can’t find anything wrong. The bouncy house is fine, if bouncy. The tower of hay bales isn’t on fire. Everyone seems to be having a perfectly good time out here, so maybe my brothers were just being —
Then I see the hair.
I know instantly why they didn’t want me out here.
She’s here, standing fifty feet away. Her back is to me but I still see that shock of red curls in my dreams. I’d know it anywhere.
I’m still walking. I don’t think I could stop if I wanted to.
I had no idea she was in town. I haven’t seen her — haven’t heard from her — in two years, not since I called her at midnight after my buddy’s wedding, a little drunk and filled with the kind of loneliness that a stranger with a nice ass can’t fix.
“Seth!”
It’s Caleb again, and now he’s power walking across the patio, barreling toward me.