“Well hello,” Violet says from the bed, where she and Daphne are seated together, a laptop propped up between them.
“Evening, ladies. Maybe you could keep the giggling to a low roar? I need a lot of sleep to look this good all the time.”
Daphne tries to roll her eyes at me, but it doesn’t quite work. She’s too busy admiring me. So I cross to the bed and lean down, dropping a kiss to the top of her silky head. “Good night. Have pleasant dreams.”
“Oh, she will,” Violet says.
“You shut up,” Daphne mutters. “Night, McFly.”
“Night, gorgeous.”
I stride out of there without a backward glance. But as I’m closing the door behind me, I hear Violet’s next comments. “Christ on a cruller, that boy is hot. I’d be jealous if I weren’t so happy for you.”
“Shhh,” Daphne hisses.
I step away, grinning. But there’s no fist pump. No victory dance. I’m still a wreck, who locks his door on the way into the room. The chair mocks me from its place against the wall. But I don’t move it against the door. I stay strong.
Then I pick up my phone to text Lenore. Do you have any time for me tomorrow? I had a weird day.
Her response comes almost immediately, and I feel a little guilty texting her so late. Someday that might be me—the guy getting panicky messages from patients at all hours. Could you make it to my office at 10? I could give you thirty minutes.
Sure. I’ll be there.
Are you okay right now? Need to call me?
I’m okay. I promise. See you tomorrow.
Early in the morning I meet Dylan in the dairy barn. I shovel cow shit at top speed while he does the milking. “Hey, D? I need to go to Burlington at breakfast time. Sorry for the late notice, but I need a couple hours off.”
He pops up from behind a cow. “Yeah, okay. No problem. Is there anything wrong?”
“Nope. Just an appointment I forgot about. You need anything from town? You can text me if you think of something.”
“I’m good,” Dylan says. “You’ll be back for the afternoon? Griff wants to finish the pest traps and do some cleanup from that storm.”
“Yeah—I’ll be back around noon.”
“Hey Rick—cash your checks while you’re in BTV.”
“What?”
“Your paychecks. Stop by the bank when you’re done, and cash them.”
“I don’t really need the money,” I point out.
“Nobody cares,” Dylan says, patting a cow on the rump so that she steps a little closer to the milking machine. “Everybody who works here gets paid. Even if they flake off to Burlington on the hottest day of the summer.”
“I’ll be back for the hottest part of it,” I point out.
“Likely story.” Dylan gives me a careless smile. “You can make it up to me in beer.”
“Now there’s a plan. I’ll pick something up on my way back.”
“I got one more big idea if you want to hear it,” Dylan says.
“Hit me.”
“Let’s fuck off this weekend and go hiking.”
“Where?”
“I was thinking of the Presidentials,” he says. “Ever climb Mount Washington?”
“Yeah, once during high school.” The White Mountains peaks of New Hampshire are some of the best hiking in New England.
“Well, I haven’t,” he says. “If we hike up and take the railway down, it could be a day trip.”
I consider this. “We should probably stay in an AMC hut, right?” That’s what I did in the past. The huts are a really unique experience. They can each house a couple dozen hikers at a time in barracks-style rooms. For a reasonable fee, you get a bed, a blanket, a pillow and a hot dinner and breakfast. You bring your own sheets, and there aren’t any showers. But you can refill your water bottle and wash up in the bathrooms.
“I thought of that,” Dylan admits. “But there wouldn’t be locks on the, uh, bedroom doors. So we don’t have to stay up there. We could get cheap hotel rooms and do two different day hikes.”
Dylan doesn’t really have the money for a hotel room. And it’s just stupid that my strange sleeping habits are preventing me from going on the kind of adventure that I’d enjoyed as a teenager.
“Look, why don’t you see if any of the huts have space?” I ask slowly. “I can deal with a couple of nights of crappy sleep.”
Dylan tilts his head to the side, as if trying to read me. “Are you sure?”