Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 109540 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109540 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Even as I considered how much this place had negatively impacted my life, I still found myself wishing I had my sketchpad. I could have drawn the place from memory and gotten every little detail correct, but if I couldn’t feel when I was in this place, then what was the point? A photographic memory probably seemed like an artist’s dream to the average person, but ask anyone who put pencil or paintbrush to canvas and they’d tell you the same as me.
It stole more than it gave.
I checked the clock again. Even if I began walking, I’d never make it to the sanctuary on time. I needed Cam to give me a ride, either directly there or to my house so I could get my car. I couldn’t even call to say I would be late because my phone had died a quick death when I’d failed to take it out of my pocket before wading into the frigid water in Walter’s basement the second time around.
I forced myself to get out of the car and began walking toward the house. The driveway had been plowed, and a quick glance to my right showed an older-model pickup truck with a newer-looking plow attached to it. I didn’t see any other cars besides Cam’s SUV. I hadn’t heard if he lived alone or not, but the idea of him having a boyfriend waiting for him to come home each night made something in my gut stir in an almost painful manner.
I waited for Reverend Page’s voice to cut in with the Leviticus scripture he’d always made me repeat over and over when I’d admitted to wanting a boyfriend instead of a girlfriend, but surprisingly, his voice was conspicuously silent.
I wondered what that meant… maybe God had finally given up on me? Maybe Cam had been my final test to prove I could overcome the devil if I just tried hard enough and I’d failed miserably?
Why didn’t that bother me more? Why wasn’t I afraid of God abandoning me so much as I was terrified my mother would discover I’d failed at being the dutiful, God-fearing son she’d always wanted me to be?
My mind began to spin as different scenarios began running through my head, so I pushed them all away and focused on the task at hand. I saw that the front door had been left open a crack, so I didn’t knock. I already knew the layout of the house but was startled to see it looking so much brighter and cleaner than the last time I’d been here. Of course, there’d been no power back then and the place had been full of dusty, cobweb-covered décor from the fifties. But now it looked almost… homey. There wasn’t a huge amount of furniture in each room and moving boxes took up practically every corner. A couple of walls had fresh paint on them while others still had the same ancient-looking flowery wallpaper the original owners of the house had probably put up.
I nearly leapt out of my skin when I heard footsteps coming from what I knew was the kitchen.
“Jesus, Ford, grow the fuck up,” I admonished myself, then remembered I wasn’t supposed to be taking the Lord’s name in vain. My ears burned as if my mom had just smacked them with her wooden spoon or whatever else she happened to be holding in her hand at the time.
I found Cam standing at the kitchen counter. There was a loaf of bread and other ingredients next to the stove where he was heating something up in a skillet. Unlike the rest of the kitchen, the appliances were new and modern. It looked like some of the cabinets that had been loose when I’d last been here had been completely torn down. That strange feeling I’d felt when I’d first walked into the house overcame me again.
“Coffee’s in the pot,” Cam said, pulling me from the little hypnotic state I’d been lulled into as I’d studied the new lines and angles of the kitchen that now looked smaller than when I’d last been there.
“What?” I asked. I looked up to see him watching me over his mug of coffee.
“You okay?” he asked as he narrowed his eyes at me.
“What? Yeah, sorry. I just…” I looked around again. “It just looks so different. I wasn’t expecting that, I guess.”
“You’ve been here before?” Cam asked. He got a mug for me out of the cabinet above his head and placed it next to the coffee pot.
“Look, Sheriff…”
“You can call me Cam, Ford. No one’s around to overhear you.”
His bitterness was as pain-inducing as his anger. More so, even, because it was like I was disappointing him on an entirely new level.
“I can’t stay here,” I blurted.
“I’m sure God will be okay with you staying at the f—”