Chapter 55: Lie Down

The morning Alana dropped me off, my reunion with Lara was delicious. We shared a long and happy hug. I’d made every effort while with Alana to do exactly one thing: be with my dear friend. But on returning, I let all that stored-up love for Lara emerge again, and I didn’t want to let go of her.

Of course, we eventually had to peel apart. She was due at the shelter soon, so after greeting my moms and Frej, we resumed our morning walks that she’d kept up in my absence. As usual, we didn’t speak except to say goodbye at the crossroads, knowing that we’d have our evening swim to catch up on the latest happenings. That didn’t mean we couldn’t share smiles, though.

After she split off to go to the shelter, I took a road that Joe had not yet walked along. I scanned the neighborhood, soon spotting a good target in the form of a house with a pile of dead limbs and other detritus stacked haphazardly against its side. The choice was made even more appealing by the sight of a handsome woman in her forties, presumably the resident, toiling in her garden. An easy ask: no doorbells, shotguns, or rabid dogs...

After chatting her up about her freshly planted flower row – a topic I actually knew something about since working at Clara’s house – I checked if she needed the scrap pile cut up and bagged for disposal.

“Oh, I’m hoping my kid will take care of it,” she said. “He’s promised for months, ever since the limbs came down in a storm. Missed the eaves by this much, I tell you,” she added, holding her fingers an inch apart.

“That was lucky! I’m happy to take care of it, if you’re tired of waiting. Kids these days, not doing their chores,” I joked.

She sized me up, reaffirming to both herself and me the fact that I was also a kid. Then she shook her head. “At this point, it’s going to turn into a lesson for him. But thank you for the offer.”

“Of course. Have a good day then!”

She looked up at me again. “Are you that guy that’s been going around town helping folks out?”

I shrugged. “I heard there were a bunch of guys doing that this summer,” I said, suppressing a grin.

“Is that so...” she replied, her voice full of doubt. “What kind of work can you do?”

“Um ... I’m still figuring that out. Basic stuff, for sure. Cutting, organizing, cleaning, stuff like that. Yard work. Clearing out piles that kids haven’t gotten around to taking care of.”

She seemed on the verge of rolling her eyes, but she kept it to just a grin.

“Anything more,” I finished, “I’d have to look at it.”

“What about painting?”

“Oh, I’ve done some, yeah. I painted a dance studio in town last year. But I’m no expert.”

“How about that nightmare?” She thumbed her porch, which sported an intricate railing that had seen better days.

I wandered over. The ancient white paint was highly chipped and flaking off.

“You want it stripped down and painted?” I asked.

“I’ve been meaning to get it done for some time now.”

I examined the rails for a bit. “Yeah, I could do this. Do you have the paint already?”

“No.”

“Well, it’ll take me a while to strip all that old stuff off, but if you get some paint, brushes and all that, I can get it done. Probably in ... a couple of days? Maybe three.”

“That would work. How much would you charge?”

“I work for donations.”

“How much, though?”

“Whatever you feel like.”

She eyed me. “So you are that guy ... My friend told me about you. You helped her out with restacking some firewood. And just so you know, she later felt bad that she didn’t pay you.”

I laughed. “Like I said, it was probably someone else.”

The woman wasn’t fooled, but she was kind enough not to press.

“You’ll do a good job, right?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

“I’ll do my best. And if it’s not good enough, I’ll pay to get it fixed up by someone better than me. Guaranteed.”

She pursed her lips. “No, no, that wouldn’t be fair to you ... Hmm ... I know, how about you start with the section there behind the bushes? If that hidden part goes well, you can do the rest.”

I grinned. “Now that sounds like a good plan!”

“Good. What’s your name?”

“Dwayne,” I replied. “And you must be Mrs. Hammond?”

Her surprised frown softened when she glanced at her labeled mailbox. “Yes, I am. Hazel Hammond.”

“Hazel Hammond ... That’s a nice sounding name!” I remarked.

“Well, thank you! I always found it so old-fashioned, though. It was popular fifty years before I was born, and the only Hazels I ever knew back then were all old grandparents. But I suppose that ‘kids these days’ wouldn’t know that kind of thing.”

I grinned at her. “No, they wouldn’t. And that’s why it’s a nice sounding name to a kid like me!”

She laughed, almost girlishly. “Fair enough. So, do you know what type of paint I should buy?”

“No. But I’m sure the hardware store will know, if you tell them what it’s for. Outdoor stuff, obviously, and a primer, since this looks like it’s down to bare wood,” I said, rubbing part of the railing.

“Okay. When can you start?”

I hummed. “In about ... twenty seconds?”

“Really?”

“No time like the present.”

“Why twenty seconds though?” she asked.

“So that we could have this little discussion we just had.”

She laughed heartily for a good bit. “You know what, you can go ahead and paint the whole railing. You don’t strike me as an idiot.”

If only you knew, Hazel Hammond ... Fooled you!

“I appreciate the vote of confidence. I’ll make it good, one way or the other. Where are your tools?”

It wasn’t long before I’d spread out an old sheet and was scraping paint with a spatula. It would work for now, but I asked her to pick up a smaller one as well. She soon drove off to get the supplies.

It was satisfying work, watching the flat metal dissociate the flakes from the smooth wood beneath. I thought back to my first random job with that couple that I’d met on the way home from Clara’s on that amazing day, loading those boards that also were full of peeling paint. Now I had the chance to make something nice of the same type of situation, rather than throw it all out at the dump. Cycles...

I’d finished most of the widest segment by the time Hazel returned. She handed me a couple of smaller scrapers. I immediately put them to good use on the sections of filigree where the larger blade hadn’t fit.

“The wood underneath is sound,” I said, rapping my knuckle against one vertical post, enjoying the percussive effect of it.

“Oh, good. You never know when wood rot will creep up on you.”

“No worries about that so far.”

“I’ll leave the paint in the garage until you’re ready for it.”

“Sounds good. If you flip it upside-down it will speed up the mixing.”

She pursed her lips at me. “Will do, Dwayne. Will it bother you if I keep gardening?” she asked.

“Not at all!”

It felt a bit like Christmas, watching the metal implements slowly unwrap the original wood from its dead covering. Since Hazel wasn’t in a hurry, neither was I, so I carefully worked each post and rail in its entirety, steadily marching down the line.

We made occasional small talk. I found it easy to make her laugh, which made the work even more enjoyable, particularly because I sensed that Hazel Hammond wasn’t quite the picture of gardening happiness that one might think at first glance. Mostly we worked in silence, and in those moments when I’d study her face and watch her movements, she was somewhere else, with someone else. Her fingers patted the dirt around the flowers, but it seemed to me as if she were tucking in a bed sheet. Maybe the laughter was necessary for her, then, to stay whatever course she was on. Then again, I wonder what Hazel sees in my work...

I was extra careful to keep my own drop cloth spread so that the bits of paint wouldn’t travel into her rich earthy beds. In the end, the scraping took less time than I expected, since the paint was hardly holding to the grain anymore. Only the occasional spot had needed slightly more effort. Eventually I pulled the sheet corners together for the final time and took the bundle to her trash container by the side of the house, dumping the last pile of old flakes away. With a broom I secured from the garage, I swept up the porch, gathering the few remnants that had flown outside of the collection boundaries.

When I returned from putting away the tools, Hazel was inspecting the work with decided admiration. Admittedly, the grayed wood appeared quite stately, in its own way, and I’d made sure that not a single speck of the old coat remained.

“This looks really good already,” she decided.

“It came off pretty easily.”

“Can I offer you some water? Lemonade? Soda?”

“Lemonade sounds great.”

“Please, come inside then.”

I followed her into the house, a cozy little place. In the kitchen, she pulled out two tall glasses for us and filled them with ice and pale liquid from a fridge pitcher, giving each one a spritz of fresh lemon juice before dunking the wedge into my glass.

“Thanks,” I said, taking a sip. It was tangy and hit the spot.

“Welcome.”

For lack of anything else to do, I glanced around her kitchen and my eyes got caught up on the photos she had on her fridge. I stepped close and examined one particular shot of three young kids sitting along a curb, lit by ruddy evening light. They had the classic appearance of having been out in the long daylight hours of mountain summer, playing hard and getting dirty. The girl, who seemed about ten, was in the middle and had her two arms wrapped around the boys, who looked to be a few years to either side of her in age.

“Are these your kids?” I asked, unable to help myself upon seeing the warm and nostalgic photo.

“Yes, they are.” Hazel came beside me and pointed. “Joseph, my oldest ... Jennifer, and Jonathan.”

I chuckled. “You must like the letter J.”

“Yes, but the names ran in the family,” she explained with a chuckle. “It’s Joseph Junior, and so forth.”

“Nice. I have a picture just like this, of me and my sister ... Really captures that summer feeling. They look happy.”

Hazel nodded. “Those were happier times. Joseph ... He was recently wounded in the Middle East.”

I felt a pang of pain. “Oh no, I’m sorry to hear that! Is he okay?”

“Not ... really. He lost one of his legs.”

I gasped, feeling like an idiot for pointing at photos that were none of my business. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Hammond. I can’t even imagine!”

She gestured vaguely at the fridge. “He’s still at the Stratton VA hospital.”

“Is that down in New York City?”

“No, Albany. But it still feels like he’s half a world away.”

I sighed, saying nothing because my mind was whirring again, seeing things that had been hidden but now revealed in Hazel’s kitchen. Tucking sheets in the garden... Funny how the masks could come off in the most unexpected of situations, if you just knew how to look. And thankfully I didn’t call myself Joe today...

Hazel moved to her sink and messed with some dishes there. “Will you start painting today?”

“Oh, um ... I was thinking of getting the primer done, yeah. And then the actual paint tomorrow.”

“That sounds good. Feel free to take breaks as you need them. Help yourself to lemonade, as well, if you don’t see me around. I’ll leave the door open.”

I nodded. “Thank you, Mrs. Hammond.” I started for the front door, and then turned. “I’m really sad to hear that, about Joe. I hope he comes out of it as best he can.”

“Thank you. We all do.”

“So ... How was camping on the cliff?” Lara sang as we walked up to our pool that evening.

I smiled slyly. “It was really fun.”

“Obviously ... You were there long enough! But I knew it would be a good time. I really am kicking myself for not going with you!”

“Me too ... I missed you a ton.”

“I know,” she said, taking my hand.

“It was super laid back. I mean, that cliff overlook is insanely beautiful. I guess I don’t have much to say much about it right now. Still mulling things over.”

“Maybe you need to be stoned to talk about it?” she teased.

“Actually, that’s probably exactly it!” I said. “And I think I’m still feeling the dazed leftovers of that even now!”

“Well, I missed you a lot too, but I actually did have a great time here. The computer thing I’m doing at the shelter is as good as getting high, for me.”

I gave her an appreciative look. “Really?”

“Yeah ... And no dazed leftovers the next day! What I’m doing is kind of basic, with these posters, you know. But after seeing what Gwen’s guy made for our album, and now seeing how it actually is done, I’m really digging it.”

“Tell me you made a version of our album cover with dogs on it instead,” I joked.

Lara’s eyes widened. “Oh my god, that would be so funny!”

“You can use my guitars for them to pose with. But you’ll have to wait until Shannon is back to get the tree background picture from her. I don’t have a copy.”

She continued laughing. “I’m totally going to do that.”

We soon slipped into the pool and sighed at the comfort of it.

“So I started painting a porch for this lady.”

“Wow, that’s a bigger job than usual for Mr. Nameless!”

“Yeah ... It’s actually the biggest challenge I’ve had this summer.”

Lara eyed me. “Why, is it some giant rotting thing?”

“No, it’s a nice porch, and not too big.”

“Why is it hard then?”

I looked at her for a bit, swirling the warm water. “The woman’s son.”

“Is he giving you a hard time?”

I shrugged. “Nah. He’s going through hell. I’m just glad to be doing this job for her, though.”

Lara nodded. “Cool. But I guess the ‘fucking around town’ thing is going to slow down now.”

“Why?”

“Don’t you start Clara’s floor soon?”

“Shit, you’re right. What day is it today?”

“Saturday.”

“Yeah, Monday we start. Damn ... Time’s flying.”

“Spending half the month with Alana will do that to you!”

I sniffed. “Whatever. It was like, two days! Or three?”

“Four, bro ... You really do need to smoke less. Still wish I’d gone with you, though. And I keep thinking I want to go camping too, but then I’m like, why? I have everything I want right here!”

“True...” I looked around, an idea blossoming. “You know, we could set the tent up here.”

“Where?”

I gestured to an area on the bank. “Over there would work.”

“Really? Fine, but I call the uphill side! That way I’ll end up on top of you in the morning, and not the other way around!”

I sent a look her way. “No, we can level it. Carve out a flat spot.”

“Or we could set it up in the side yard where it’s already pretty flat.”

“Or we could sleep in our beds like normal people. I don’t know. It was just an idea.”

“Moms are going to think we’re abandoning them. I mean we basically live in the cabin now, and if we move up here...”

I pursed my lips. “In a way, we are abandoning them. We have been, for sixteen years.”

“Wow ... Deep thoughts, by Matt the Splat.”

I rolled my eyes. “I should never have told you that story.”

“But you did!” she teased. “And I’m never going to forget it!”

“You know what? Fuck it, enough talking. I’m going to get a shovel. You want one, to help?”

“What, you’ve had enough of me? Are we digging my grave now?”

“That’s ... morbid, Lara ... But yeah, maybe we are!”

“Sure, I’ll help!” she chirped happily.

We spent the waning hours of the afternoon moving dirt and stones around. It was tough work, given the rockiness of the area we selected and the size of flat space we needed. The tent footprint was a bit bigger than I remembered after all.

At one point during our labor, Lara came to a stop near me. “One of these days someone’s going to hike by here and be like, ‘What the fuck kind of crazy... ‘“ Lara remarked.

I looked her over, standing there stark naked save for her sneakers. Sweat and dirt covered her body, and her raven hair was rather unkempt from the effort of digging and hauling.

“Now that I look at you,” I said, “I’m even thinking that!”

Lara shoulder-checked me, before moving on with the boulder she held. “Like you look any better. Are you ever going to cut your hair or shave again?”

“I know, I know ... It is looking a bit dumb,” I admitted. “When I used Hazel’s bathroom today, I was a bit surprised that she even hired me on.”

“Hazel?” Lara asked.

“The porch lady.”

“You’re on a first name basis with her, huh? How old is she?”

I shrugged. “Like our moms’ age.”

“Maybe she’s into that rough and ready look.”

I sniggered. “‘Into’? I’m painting her porch, not dating her.”

“‘Oh Hazel... ? Can you help me with this pole?’” Lara whined with dramatically lewd emphasis.

“Shut up! That’s the lamest thing I’ve heard, since—Well, whatever. And I didn’t realize you stopped by Alice’s for a movie on the way home. Is that where you picked up that line?”

Lara sniggered.

“And no, she’s not into me,” I continued. “I just like her name. And I don’t call her Hazel, besides.”

“Is she married?”

“I don’t know.”

“Wearing a ring? Pictures of dudes in the house?”

“Lara, for fuck’s sake. You’re asking Mr. Blind! For all I know she had three husbands sitting in the living room drinking beer, watching a game, and I walked right by them all.”

She was far too amused now.

“Yeah, laugh it up,” I added, shoving the spade into the dirt again and containing my own laugh.

It was dusk by the time we had the tent set up. After spending some time to get clean in the pool, we dried off and crawled inside.

“Not sure if I feel like setting up the sleeping bags tonight, but this is not bad!” Lara exclaimed happily.

“We’ll need to level the ground a bit more tomorrow, since it’s still a little bumpy. But then we can have a place up here to hang out and sleep.”

She nodded appreciatively. “This is really cool.” She glanced out at the pool. “Too bad the stream wasn’t bigger, or we could even be fishing for our own meals.”

I laughed. “Sadly not, unless you think a couple of fried tadpoles will be enough for you.”

Lara made a face at me.

“Anyway,” I added, “Moms will want to see us every now and then.” I climbed out of the tent and stretched. “Speaking of, I guess we should see what’s up with dinner.”

Lara emerged and wrapped her arms around me from behind, hugging me tightly.

“Uh, what are you doing?” I asked.

“Hugging you?”

“We don’t hug when we’re naked,” I reminded her. “That’s like the oldest rule we have.”

“I don’t give a fuck about rules anymore. I want to hug you, and damn it if I’m going to put on clothes just for that!”

“All right,” I replied, laughing.

“Although ... I guess we do need to get dressed for dinner anyway,” she remembered.

“Mm hmm...”

“So I could have waited a minute...”

“Yep.”

“But you know what?”

“What?”

“I still don’t give a fuck!”

She held tight a bit longer, pressing the side of her head to my back in contentment. She hummed a little song while I caressed her hands and stared out into the dark woods of our glen. The sounds of the night started surrounding us.

A most beautiful place...

“Come on,” I finally urged. “I’m starved.”

I spent the following day at Hazel’s house. The painting was quite easy in the end, since I was in no rush and I made sure to be careful about keeping things clean. It was almost a trancelike state that I settled into, working my way around the porch. I finished in late afternoon, taking only a short break to eat the sandwich I’d brought. Hazel had offered me lunch, but I didn’t want to impose on her. She had plenty to think about already, besides trying to feed the help.

I was cleaning up when she emerged from the house.

“Finished already?” she chimed.

“I think so. Please check it out and see if anything needs touching up.”

I went to the garage to rinse out brushes while she inspected. When I returned, Hazel’s eyes were flashing. She came close to me and put a hand on my arm, giving it a very affectionate rub.

“Well, you’ve certainly exceeded expectations,” she gushed. “It looks really nice!”

“Glad to hear that.”

“Can I get you a lemonade?”

“Sure, I’ll have one before I go. Where do you want the sheets? They still have some wet paint drips on them.”

“Just fold them and set them on the garage shelf above the paint cans.”

When I’d finished with that task, I walked down the driveway and appraised the house from the sidewalk. The work had certainly freshened up the elevation and made her recently planted flowers pop out even more.

“Looks good, huh?” she called out to me.

I gave her a thumbs up as I returned to the porch. She handed me a glass and gestured to the chairs. I sat in one and she settled into the other with a Rolling Rock in hand. An envelope lay on the armrest of her seat.

“Are you good with building things out of wood?” she asked.

I finished my long slug of the icy liquid. “Not that I know of. But what do you need?”

“I’m hoping that Joseph will be coming soon to stay here for a little time. That’s why I’ve been trying to get the place looking nice. I want to make a ramp for the front steps, so we can wheel him up and down a little easier. Something sturdy but not too heavy, that I can move into the garage if I need to.”

“I’d love to help you, but I wouldn’t know how to build that. Sorry.”

She nodded. “I just thought I’d ask.”

We sat in silence for a time and I finished my lemonade.

“Just leave your glass there on the table,” she indicated. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Okay, thanks. I am helping someone replace a floor starting the day after tomorrow, so I’ll have more building experience in a few weeks ... But I know that doesn’t help you now.”

Hazel smiled at me. “I appreciate the thought. I’ll call around, though, don’t worry. You’ve been a huge help with the painting. Here, this is for you, for your time and effort. I hope it’s enough. Oh, and there’s an extra twenty in there from my friend who you helped with the firewood. When I told her you were painting my porch, she insisted on making things right.”

“I’m sure it’s enough,” I said, taking the envelope from her hand. “Thank you.”

The flap wasn’t sealed, and I could easily see that there was a decent amount of cash within. More than enough... I held the payment awkwardly, my mind whirring again. Hey, I’m old enough to donate blood now... ! The forgotten thought was rather random, but I made a note to look into it. Eventually... Then I held the envelope back out to Hazel.

She eyed it, and then me. “What’s wrong?”

“I want to give it back to you.”

She chuckled, waving me away. “Don’t be ridiculous, Dwayne. You earned that.”

“I know, but I want to help. With Joseph.”

She sighed. “You already have. And I can afford a ramp, don’t worry!”

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean it in that way, honestly. I want to donate it. For him, or for the VA, or whatever you’d call it. I don’t know the term, exactly, sorry.”

“No, that’s your money.” She pushed my hand away with finality.

With finality ... I chuckled, because I wasn’t done, though.

“Look,” I said quietly. “One of two things is going to happen. Either you can take this back and donate it to the right place, or you can let me try to donate it. It’s happening one way or another. But I don’t have a car and wouldn’t know where the best place would be, like you would. Hmm ... Maybe the right way to look at it is: will you please help me donate this?”

Hazel stared off at the road, twirling her beer in her fingers. She then set the green glass bottle between her thighs and pushed her face into her hands. I slumped down, feeling bad as I watched her shoulders twitch a few times.

“I’m really sorry—” I started.

“No, no ... It’s not you,” she murmured. “It’s just been a hard year, and ... Well, you got to me. I don’t know who you are, or why you’d want to do this, but you got to me.”

“Will you help me donate this then?” I pressed gently.

She sighed and pulled away from her palms, wiping her cheeks and shrugging helplessly. “It sounds like you won’t take no for an answer.”

“I can figure it out myself, if it’s too much for you to deal with. I didn’t mean to cause you trouble ... I just thought—I’m sorry, maybe I should go. Thanks for letting me paint the porch, and take care.”

I rose and started toward the steps, but she grabbed my arm gently as I passed her. “Are you sure about this?”

“I am.”

She took a steadying breath. “There’s a veteran’s group that you could donate to.”

“Would you be able to get this to them?”

“I can send them a check.” She looked up at me, her hazel eyes still moist.

I held out the envelope, and this time she took it ... With finality.

“I’m going to go home and get some dinner,” I said quietly. “Thank you, Hazel Hammond. And good luck with Joseph.”

I pulled my hand out of her gentle grip and gave her a little smile. She still seemed to be out of it, but she managed a nod.

“Thank you,” she called out.

I raised a hand and waved as I backed down the stairs. Then I turned and walked home. Immediately I was filled with excitement.

It’s time to make our bed!

The final leveling of the tent plot didn’t take long in the light of evening. We added some drainage moats and settled an old tarp onto the area to give some extra moisture protection. Once the tent was up again, we collected our sleeping bags, pillows, and some additional comforts from the house.

“Our moms are so cool,” I said, as we walked back up the rise.

“Yeah, I know right? ‘Hey, we’re going to start sleeping in the woods like wild animals... ‘ and they’re like, ‘Great, knock yourselves out!’”

“Now I’m even thinking of bringing my chest of drawers up here!” I joked.

She guffawed. “No shit, I thought of that too!”

Lara crawled into the tent and set about unrolling the bags.

“Make it cozy,” I said.

“For sure. Damn, I’m ready to go to sleep now!”

“Um ... It’s like eight or something. When’s the last time you went to bed at eight?”

“Probably when I was five. And I feel like I’m that old right now!”

I laughed at her childlike enthusiasm. “Just don’t pee the bed, all right?”

“Damn it, Matt the Splat, stop it with that!”

“Fine. As soon as you quit it with that name!”

“Never!”

I looked around for a bit, eyeing the trees. With a little work, we could probably get another tarp suspended above the tent for more protection from the rain. I made another mental note to stop by the hardware store for some long rope.

At dinner, we were like two impatient kids. By the time Melissa served out some watermelon for dessert, our folks were probably very glad that we were moving into the woods, what with all the joking around and going on about ridiculous possibilities for our camp.

At last, after having said goodnight to our folks and Frej, we made our way up through the trees.

“What I’m wondering is why we never did this before,” Lara remarked.

I shrugged. “It probably won’t be as fun when we have real lives again. Homework and getting ready for school and all that crap.”

“I’m willing to give it a shot. Hey, at least we can stay up here on weekends, right?”

“I’m game. Eventually it’ll get too cold, though.”

“I don’t know. With enough blankets, it could be really awesome to be in the tent with snow all around.”

“Let’s take it one day at a time,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“Do you think they’d let us move into the cabin at least?”

I shrugged. “We pretty much have moved there.”

“Well, I mean like for real, though. Move our clothes and desks up there, empty our rooms so they can become the new guest rooms, down in the house.”

“I’d feel bad about moving out like that,” I said.

Lara narrowed her eyes at me. “So you’re saying you want to wait until next week to move all your stuff, to soften the blow?”

I sniggered. “Yeah, pretty much! But like I said, one day at a time. If this tent thing works out, we won’t need to think about that for a while.”

“I think it’s going to work out.”

“You might get tired of me being right there.”

“Nah,” she dismissed. “Now that you actually bathe every day...”

“Screw you, sis!” I sang.

We stripped down and rinsed off in the pool. Lara wasn’t interested in lingering in the water, so we were soon dried off and lying in our sleeping bags. The interior glowed with warm light from an electric lantern, and I had to admit that Lara had set the space up very cozily. Layers of padding and comforters supported and surrounded the bags, and honestly it was at least as nice as our usual beds. Whatever those are these days...