Page 130 of Faking Forever
He switched the phone off and put it in a protective plastic bag. The phone was useless out here and he would be unreachable soon. The campsite was far enough removed from civilization for telephone signals to not be a factor.
He would finally been able to hear himself think. All the noise and tension and uncertainty would bleed away, until hopefully all that was left was stillness and peace of mind.
By Saturday evening, he found the clarity he needed and he began to recognize that leaving as he’d done was a damned fool thing to do.
He was always so ready to blame Kenna for everything, then he went and did something so fucking colossally stupid and selfish. Even with that half-arsed message he’d sent her, she must feel completely abandoned.
Jesus.
Once that certainty crept in, the peace fled and panic began to set in.
He left first thing the following morning.
Because it had rained overnight, everything was slippery and the hike out was more perilous than usual, which meantthat he had to be extra cautious. It added a couple of hours to the walk.
God, she was going to be pissed at him. And he deserved it. He would prostrate himself in abject apology and then they’d talk and he’d share with her what had become so blindingly clear to him up on that mountain.
When he finally reached his car, his phone picked up the closet cell tower signal and began to ping incessantly.
It was raining, so he stowed his gear, removed his slicker and got into the car before he dug out his phone to check his messages.
Tina
Jesus, Smith, what did you do?
What?
That message, sent on Friday night, wasn’t quite what he’d expected to find.
There were more from his sister, all of them irate and accusatory. He ignored those for now, looking for Kenna’s name.
Harris
Had to tell Tina where you are, she’s losing her shit a little. Can’t say I blame her. Just leaving like this is bad form, Smith.
Right.
Kenna’s name was fourth on the list of recently sent texts. He’d expected her name to be at the top. But if she was angry with him, he could understand her giving him the silent treatment.
The last message she’d sent had been on Friday night.
Kenny
Going to MJ’s with Charity and Miles. Live band tonight. Should be good. 7 pm.
She’d kept her end of the deal. Diligently sent him her schedule. There were no updates today and Smith frowned, disquiet skittering down his spine.
Why had she continued sending messages after he’d told her that he would be camping?
His thumbs frantically scrolled back to his last message to her.
Headed back up the mountain for a few days. Need to think. Talk soon.
His blood ran ice cold as panic flared.
It hadn’t fucking sent. Why hadn’t it sent?
The coordinates he’d sent to Smith had gone through. But…
