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Sure, I text back. I'll be at my place. Wear clothes you don't mind getting dirty.
Be there before you know it.
I pocket my phone and put my Nikes on. When I stand up from my bed, I bump again the tiny bedside table. A framed photo of my dad, taken during one of his firehouse's training days, wobbles and falls. I throw myself onto the floor to catch it before I can even feel silly for saving a photo frame that probably cost less than five dollars.
I stand up, carefully replacing the picture in its place of honor on my bedside table. In the photo, my dad is only a little older than I am now. He's young, and strong, and running flat out with a fire hose over his shoulder. His face shows the dedication and concentration that I've long wished I had.
Malik got Dad's perspicacity. I just got his big ass feet.
He died when I was young. But at least I have my memories of him. Malik doesn't remember him at all.
I clear my throat, feeling strangely emotional. Determined to be in a good mood when River comes over, I spend a few minutes cleaning my bathroom and cleaning up this morning's rinsed-out-but-not-washed oatmeal bowl. River's knock comes just as I am drying my hands on a clean dishrag.
Dashing to the door of the trailer, I open it. There is River in his full glory. He's still dressed in dark jeans, and his shiny black motorcycle jacket. It's what I consider to be his regular outfit.
I raise a brow. "I thought I told you to wear your cast offs."
He smirks and his sapphire blue eyes flash. "I'm here. I'm in the dingiest clothes I own."
He points down to the cuff of his dark jeans. Squinting, I can make out a couple of lighter smudges.
"That's dirty to you?" I ask. I give him a funny look. "Never mind. I'm just glad you came."
He steps up into the doorway, more than filling it. I'm only steps away and his nearness is all it takes to make me flush.
Take it down a notch, girl. He's just here to help.
River has a smug little grin on his face when he considers me. "You don't look so bad, either. Those leggings are...." He puts his fingers against his mouth and pulls them away with an audible kissing noise. "Perfect."
"Ha ha ha." I give him an exaggerated, dry laugh. "Let me grab a scarf for my hair and then we'll go check out the leak."
He cocks his head. "Leak, huh?"
"Uh huh." I duck into my bedroom and grab a pretty white scarf, with tiny lavender laurels printed all over it. It takes me just a moment to pull up my hair and tie the scarf over it, tucking the ends in to protect my hair from any musty muck we might come across during this leak-fixing adventure.
When I come back out of the bedroom, I find River studying the large, framed photo that hangs in my kitchen. It's one of my immediate family, taken when I was six years old. I'm holding baby Malik on my lap. Mom is sitting beside me, beaming like a woman who's got the world on a string. And my father is standing behind us all. His grin is too honest for me to look at. He really loves his life and his family.
That's the last portrait we all got together. My dad died not long after that.
"That's a good-looking family, right there." River nods at the picture.
I give him a tight smile. "Thanks."
He reads my curtness as it's meant to be taken. "Should we go?"
"Yep. After you."
I lock my Airstream, and lead River through the little path in the woods. We pass the trailers and keep going to the older section of the resort park. The cabins are back here. They predate the trailers by a couple of decades. Each one is rustic, simple A-frame built of leaning, peeling logs. They’ve certainly seen better days. But they are far down on my personal list of things to spruce up around this place.
As I swing open the door to cabin five, I see that water is actively spilling down one of the walls. I swear up a storm while River jumps back. Water pools on the floor, and when I clear a pathway with the door, it begins to pour outside. It's probably only three inches deep but there are signs of chaos everywhere. An old, wooden chair is overturned near the wall. Closer to where we stand, there is an electrical outlet with a huge sizzle pattern all around it. It looks as if it was connected to the toaster, but someone unplugged it recently. Maybe something to do with Aunt Delta cutting the power.
There are also a hundred tiny sugar packets that were knocked off the kitchen counter somehow. They are now floating and soaking in the pool.
The whole house smells like rotting wood.
I stand in the doorway, trying to take it all in. "What a mess!"
River splashes through the water to the wall. After looking at it for a second, he drags over one of the wooden chairs. He hops on it and removes the ceiling tile directly above him. With a quick, sure motion, he reaches in and fiddles with something in the darkness.
