Chapter Text
Beer swirled around the mug, ice clinking against the glass, light shifting in it like an amber kaleidoscope. Shane watched it listlessly, having fallen into a comfortable buzz. He was numbed, hardly aware of the rhythmic swirling of his wrist, nearly forgetting the cold weight that sat in the bottom of his lungs. Music and chatter echoed around him dully as he slouched against the counter. The only thing he bothered to process was the beer swirling blearily in front of him.
The sharp sound of the front door creaking open didn’t do anything to pull his attention away. His mind churned like one of those cement trucks. Slow, laborious, his thoughts smattering gravel inside his skull. Another shitty day living the shitty Joja way. Seeing the daily news over Morris’s shoulder as he used the company computer to surf the web on break… that made the daily drudgery that much more unbearable.
Someone plopped onto the barstool next to him, but Shane didn’t think to look up until a voice cut into his sluggish thoughts and a shadow fell across his drink.
“Hey, neighbor. You must be new here.”
Shane sputtered, finally squinting at whoever it was invading his miserable solitude. It was some guy he’d never seen before. Black hair in a mess of loose curls that looked to have been matted down by wearing a hat all day, warm brown skin that had seen several hours of sun, a plain green t-shirt over his lean frame. With grease-stained Wranglers and worn boots, he certainly looked the part of some country hick, but he wasn’t any hick Shane had ever seen.
“New?” Shane scoffed. “I’ve lived here for the better part of two years. Who the hell‘re you?”
The newcomer raised his thick eyebrows in surprise and for a brief moment, Shane almost felt a sting of guilt. But he wasn’t sure what this guy was on, coming and thinking Shane was the stranger here.
“Apologies, friend. Let me try this again,” the newcomer said, sliding off his filthy gloves and extending a hand. “My name’s Reed. I’m the new owner of Winding River Farm.”
Shane nodded awkwardly, squinting at the extended hand. If the gloves were that grimy, he didn’t want to be touching the hand that just came outta them.
The new farmer raised a brow expectantly, maintaining a level stare. Usually people awkwardly looked away and rescinded the gesture, but this guy’s networking was not to be interrupted. He moved his hand closer and cleared his throat. “Um, this is your cue.”
Shane put no effort into hiding his annoyance as he reluctantly shook the hand and withdrew to his drink again. Phew, the interaction was over and he could return to more important things.
Oh. Well, he couldn’t be so lucky.
The new guy stuck around like tar. “This is the part where you introduce yourself too. It’s, ah, kind of a thing.”
Finally, Shane turned on his stool to fully face the asshat. “Okay, when did I say that I wanted to talk to you? I don’t know you.”
Reed pressed his lips together and blinked in mild annoyance. “That’s… That’s because you haven’t talked to me yet. It kinda takes the one thing to result in the other.”
With a grumble, Shane turned back to his mug. It did sound kinda stupid when he said it like that. “Fine. What do you want?”
“Just to get to know my new neighbor,” Reed said, returning to his whole congenial schtick. “My grandfather owned the farm just up the road from Marnie’s. You’re her nephew, yeah?”
“Hm, don’t need to introduce myself if you already seem to know me.”
Reed ignored that and Shane couldn’t tell if he was being gracious or if he was sick of the backtalk. “My grandpa… Perhaps you knew him before he passed?”
Shane shrugged minutely, unable to decide if he should offer condolences or if he should care about some dude’s grandad. “Can’t say I did.”
Reed gave a nod and for a second, his sociable mood escaped his face. “Understandable. With his health failin’, we had to move him into a home a couple years ago. You must’ve just missed him.”
“Guess so.” There was a lull where Shane tried to suppress an uncomfortable wriggling in his stomach. It was a mix of awkwardness and the mention of death that seemed to slither its way into Shane’s thoughts that day. He was starting to feel a little warm and couldn’t wait for Reed to leave.
“I’m his only grandchild, visited the old man pretty often as a kid, so I learned how to manage the farm well enough. I got to know a lot of folks in town, too. ‘S why I thought you were new.” Reed chuckled good-naturedly, reaching out to rap Shane’s arm with his knuckles. “I suppose I must’ve seemed like I was off my rocker earlier!”
Shane huffed a dour, half-hearted laugh. “Yup.”
Finally and to Shane’s great relief, Reed stood. “Welp, I just wanted to stop by and say hello to everybody in town, so I better get talkin’ to everyone else.” He shoved his gloves in his back pocket, an almost playful smile on his face. “You never did introduce yourself. Your name’s…”
He heaved a heavy sigh and finally looked up to meet the newcomer’s eyes. “Shane.”
Reed grinned, clapping him on the shoulder. “Good to meet ya, Shane! Now we’re strangers no more,” he said, wiggling his fingers like it was some embarrassingly cheesy magic trick. “See ya around!”
Finally, some damn peace. Shane was beyond relieved that the uncomfortable interaction was over. He watched Reed saunter through the saloon, similarly clasping people’s hands and greeting them with bright smiles as he left. True to his word, it seemed that some people knew him, their faces lighting up with recognition when he came to their table. He didn’t spend too long, only taking a seat again at Leah and Elliot’s table, presumably to give them the same introduction he gave to Shane. There was something about the guy’s demeanor, something ingratiating that Shane didn’t like. The new farmer seemed very concerned about getting on everyone’s good side right away. It didn’t take too long to put two and two together. New kid just inherited a farm and he needed everyone to like him so that he could ask for favors from people to get the thing off the ground. Yep. Slimy. After giving the mayor a firm handshake, Reed stepped out the door and headed in the direction of his newly inherited farm, nesting a baseball cap over his curls. Shane watched through the window and noticed that the charming smile dropped into something blank and unreadable before he dipped around the corner. Something was seriously wrong with that dude.
“That wasn’t very impressive.” Marnie now occupied the seat next to Shane, once again interrupting his night. She moodily sipped at her wine and he could already tell that she was in about as bad a mood as he was.
“I know,” he said, nodding toward the window where Reed had disappeared into the night. “I don’t like that new guy. I can smell a phony from a mile away.”
“No!” Marnie said, giving him a small smack upside the head. “I’m talkin’ about you !”
“Come on, what’d I do?” he griped, reaching up to smooth his hair back down.
Marnie huffed, rolling her eyes and taking another sip. “Maybe you don’t like talking to strangers, but I’ve known Reed since his teens and I’ve known his grandfather all my life! So here we are, having a happy reunion and I send him over to meet my nephew and that’s how you treat him? Talk about a nice, hostile welcome to the valley.”
“Well he came up to me with his stupid cowboy getup and was all like ‘howdy, you look new, pardner!’ I wasn’t about to take his shit!”
“That’s when you ask ‘oh, what do you mean?’ And then you listen to the explanation and then nod and smile and introduce yourself like a normal person! The poor kid’s grandfather just died two weeks ago and he made a big change, moving here from Zuzu!” Marnie said, gesturing wildly with her near-empty glass.
Shane bit back a retort about how Reed didn’t seem too bothered by his grandad’s passing, with his fake friendly country boy act and all. Some hotshot big city kid with a sob story moving into a small town? That sounded like some cheesy 80s movie that would piss him off.
“Okay, so what’s his deal, then?” Shane asked.
“You could’ve figured that out if you just chatted with him.”
“Sheesh, I got it, okay?”
Satisfied at the admission, Marnie took a smug drink. “He visited his grandpa for a few weeks every year, usually during spring break or in the summer.” Marnie stared into the bar as if trying to view episodes of the past. “He was always quiet, but friendly enough. I reckon he started visiting back when he was middle school aged. I never got to know him much, but he was a nice kid. Helpful whenever he and his grandpa came by to make a purchase.”
“So what, is he already best friends with everyone here or something? They’re all kissing his ass plenty,” Shane said, internally disgusted with the easy way Reed spoke to everyone, the way everyone worshiped him like he owned the place.
“ That was the basic friendliness you typically see when you run into someone familiar. All that alcohol’s warping your brain, ruining your social skills or something.” She took another opportunity to bonk him on the head alongside that cutting remark. “Would it kill you to act polite for a few minutes?”
Shane took a long drink, intentionally making Marnie wait for his response to show his irritation. “‘S what I do at Joja for forty-five hours a week. It wears on me.”
“I’m talking about genuine politeness, not customer service politeness,” Marnie said with yet another exasperated eye roll. “Besides, you don’t think I’ve had my fair share of plastering on a fake smile while selling goods to idiots?”
Shane snorted, cracking the first weak grin he’d had all day. “The thing is that you can tell ‘em off and live to sell to someone else another day. I call someone an idiot and I get written up and get one of Morris’s unbearable lectures about how I could get myself fired and how I’m putting my upward mobility in jeopardy.”
“The ones that make you want to pour Joja Cola into your ears so that the sorbitol could dissolve your eardrums?”
“Yup, those’re the ones.”
“Not your fault for telling people the truth,” Marnie said with a small shrug and a glint in her eye. “Their mothers go their whole lives making them feel like they’re special only for them to try and fit the heifer they bought off of me into a damn minivan.”
“Hey now,” Shane chuckled, “don’t insult ‘em too much. If it weren’t for idiots shopping at Joja, I’d be out of a job.”
“That’s fair enough.” Marnie flashed one of those wry smiles that most people wouldn’t expect from a lady like her. “To the idiots,” she said, raising her glass, “that make the world go ‘round.”
“Cheers.” They clinked their glasses and downed the last of their drinks. Shane slid his empty mug across the counter, waving Gus over. “One more and I’ll call it a night.”
Marnie’s lips immediately twisted into a frown again, the look of disappointment never leaving for long. “How many have you already had?”
Shane shrugged defensively, shrinking into his hoodie a little bit as a fresh beer came his way. “I dunno. Two, three maybe?”
“Try four,” Gus said from across the bar, tapping the cash register without bothering to look up from his work, ever diligent about tracking Shane’s tab.
“Ugh, Shane, have a few glasses of water between them or something,” she scolded. “You have to work tomorrow! Now you’re gonna wake up with a nasty hangover and feel even worse than you normally do.”
Shane sipped off the foam, wishing that Marnie could take her gaze off him. Maybe she didn’t realize how judgy her eyes were when she had that expression, hand on her hip and all. “It was just a particularly garbage day, alright?”
She leafed some cash out of her wallet and pushed it across the counter where Gus happily plucked it up and closed her tab. “You say that every day,” Marnie grumbled. “Why’s today any different?”
The weight that he had almost forgotten about darkened in his chest again. He took in a shallow breath. “You see the news?”
“Morris was browsing the web on the company computer again?” Marnie asked as she stood up and set the strap of her purse over her shoulder. “He shouldn’t yell at his employees for doing the same thing then, the hypocrite.”
Shane shook his head, returning his gaze deep into his mug. “No, that’s not it.” The foam was mostly gone, just a little slicked up the side, leaving the light to meander its way through ice cubes and beer again. “Pileup on the northbound freeway out of Zuzu.”
Marnie stiffened, her grip tightening on her purse.
Shane took another drink. “Three dead, two in critical condition, eight more injured.”
He didn’t need to look up to know that her gaze had softened as she stepped closer and put a hand over his shoulder. “I’m gonna pick up Jas from Jodi’s. Come home soon.” She turned to leave.
Shane raised his glass in a silent toast.
***
The jovial music and warm lighting grew fainter as Reed made his way back to the farm. Soon enough, the only sound was from his boots crunching through the gravel and the whispers of the night breeze, not quite having forgotten the chill of winter. It was a little nerve-wracking to greet all those people, but it felt even worse as he was retreating to his new farm that felt like an island separated from town by vast oceans.
Fresh spring grass clustered around the fence that he knew so well, the one that he sat on as a kid to eat apples and watch for birds. Every feature was familiar yet he felt out of practice, like it had all changed somehow even though it was identical to how he remembered it. Guess that would happen, since he hadn’t been here since high school. There were a few new faces in town and a few faces that had grown up a lot since he had last visited. Then again, he changed a lot in that time, too.
Reed stood before the door of his newly inherited cabin. His hand hesitated on the cold handle. Abuelo wouldn’t be on the other side. Just old furniture covered in a coat of neglect. Tears pricked in his eyes and every moment, he promised himself that he was going to open that door. He waited a long time. It was unnerving to experience all this emotion over someone he didn’t miss.
Finally, Reed wrestled the door open, the damn thing squeaking all the way. In the years that it hadn’t been opened, the wood frame must have warped around it. Furnishings loomed like ghosts, illuminated by pale blue moonlight. It was the first time he’d been inside since he arrived that morning. As he walked in, he was struck by how the heavy thudding of his boots across the floorboards sounded so similar to the slow, methodical way his grandfather used to walk. He left prints in the thick dust.
He flicked a light switch a couple times in a row and found to his great displeasure that the power wasn’t on yet, so he started up a fire. Trying the sink in the bathroom yielded the same disappointing result. He’d have to figure out paying the bills. Looking inside each kitchen cabinet and drawer, he found a small assortment of tarnished cutlery and wobbly pans. Finally, he walked to his new bedroom, his flickering shadow falling across the bed. It no longer had its usual flannel quilt across it, instead being draped in white sheets as if it was respectfully covering the dead. He stepped back toward the front room and closed the door, feeling like he was disturbing something.
His heart was too jittery for sleep anyway. Instead, Reed decided that he could better calm his nerves by taking a rag and all-purpose cleaner to make the place feel livable. To try and erase the smell of sawdust and woodsmoke that so reminded him of his grandfather. With the front room as good as it was gonna get with the dim light and the burning aches setting into his muscles, Reed decided that it was too late for a farmer to be staying up. The bedroom was a job to tackle the next day. Kicking off his boots, Reed settled into the dusty couch that he used to spend sweaty summer nights on. Even back when he was short enough to fit, he still hated the thing. Hopefully it didn't have some sort of infestation.
Streaks of pain spiderwebbed across Reed’s chest and dryness burned his eyes. His ears tuned in to every creak of the old cabin, every gust of wind that rustled the branches outside, every sound that stood out from the hum of the chirping frogs. Anything sudden in that big empty cabin would startle him as he laid taut as a rubber band on that scratchy couch. It was all going to be better tomorrow, or so he kept telling himself. It would be a new day. The sun would rise again, his parsnips would stand a little taller, and he could start finding his place in the community.
At least, he reminded himself yet again, the people here were as nice as he remembered. As for the newer people, everyone seemed nice enough, ‘cept Marnie’s grumpy-lookin’ nephew. Yep, Reed noticed all the signs that screamed “piss off.” Maybe the dude was just having a crappy day.
“You ‘n’ me both, pal,” Reed whispered to the ceiling. He tried to settle into the crusty couch as best he could, but he knew it was going to be a long night alone in that house.