Page 71 of Wrong Cabin, Right Time
Her eyes fall on the overstuffed grocery bag, and she laughs. “Of course not.”
We get in the car, and I realize I have her exactly where I want her. It was almost too easy. I reach my hands in my pockets as if I’m fishing for my car keys, but I wrap my fingers around the syringe. All I have to do is pull it out, sink the needle into her thigh, and she’ll be out in seconds.
But as my thumb touches the plastic, Sage comes back to the forefront of my mind. “If you hurt Nicole, I’ll never forgive you.”
Ever since she left, I have been repeating that to myself over and over. The idea of losing her forever has been there, but it’s tangible now. This is the moment that will potentially affect everything between us. Right now there is a chance that things can change. If I go through with this, she’ll be gone for good.
In that instant, an entire lifetime of moments with Sage lingers before me. I’ll never see her smile again. I’ll never get to walk into the kitchen and smell whatever delicious food she’s cooking again. I’ll never get to kiss her and hold her body against mine. I’ll never get to see her basking in the sunshine as I stare at the constellations of freckles on her face. I’ll never get to stare at her eyes, admiring the brown specks there as she squints them and laughs.
The dull ache in my heart is stronger than it’s ever been. I can’t ignore it this time, and I don’t want to. I have to fix this.
“I—I can’t find my keys,” I stammer, pulling my hands out of my pockets. I pretend to search in the bag, looking around everywhere Ican for the keys while Nicole sits in the back seat, confused. “I’m so sorry. I’m going to have to call AAA. I think we’re going to miss lunch.”
“Oh,” Nicole says with disappointment. I look at the bag, and I hand it to her.
“This was for the lunch. Why don’t you take this instead?” She hesitates. I push it closer to encourage her to take more, and she finally does.
“Thank you,” she says as she hops out of the car. In my rearview mirror, I watch her head back toward the store with a spring in her step. She has no idea how close she came to never walking again. And here I thought today would end with a bonfire and a body count. Instead, I’m handing out grocery bags like a demented DoorDash. Five stars for not murdering anyone—progress?
When she’s out of view, I grab my phone and immediately search for Sage on Instagram. I don’t want to waste another moment away from her. I just have to figure out where she is.
She’s posted something new, and I almost want to be angry with her about it. It’s a photo of her on a beach in front of a tall wooden effigy, like something fromThe Wicker Man. The caption is all about the solstice festival coming up tomorrow, with an address to the commune.
Putting her address online is foolish, but especially with everything she’s been through. There’ll be time to reprimand her for that later. I put the car in drive and type the address into my GPS. Ten hours is a long time to drive, but she’s worth every moment of it.
I just hope she can forgive me.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Sage
Preparations for the festival begin at sunrise. The actual festival is set to begin at 10:00 a.m., but there is a lot of work that goes into setting up beforehand. I didn’t even have to set an alarm this morning because my parents were running around the cabins shouting about everything related to the festival before the birds were even singing outside.
As I roll out of bed, I trip over my own tangled charging cable and nearly face-plant into a pile of handmade tie-dye T-shirts I forgot I left on the floor. Classic commune booby trap. My mother’s voice floats in through the window, yelling about “aesthetic harmony”—whatever that means before 6:00 a.m.
Even though I’m not looking forward to the insane amount of preparation ahead, I am looking forward to a busy day. I’m going to have a lot to film. Plus, helping my parents with everything they need before the festival begins is going to put my mind far from Travis Blacksburg. It’ll be a much-needed reprieve.
Not only am I going to be filming the actual festival for my vlog, but I’m also going to have an entire video series about the commune. When I’ve mentioned it to people in the past, they’ve all been very curious about where I grew up, and now is the perfect time to give them that information.
“What’s up, travelers!” I excitedly say into the camera. Filming today, I don’t have any fancy lighting or microphones, just a lavalier on top of my camcorder and the beautiful sunlight shining down. “Today I’m filming in the commune I grew up in. Sunroot has been around for decades, and one of its most exciting features is the annual summer solstice festival.”
I point the camera at my father, who is standing in the center of the commune with a clipboard, frantically flipping through papers as he directs people where to go.
“Say hi, Dad!” I say, waving in front of the camera. He is momentarily distracted from all the work he has to do as he starts talking to the camera and introducing himself. I can’t help but laugh, thinking about all the comments I’m going to get about how funny my dad is.
After a minute, my mom walks up and slaps him on the butt. “There’s no time for funny business right now. Get back to work.” She smiles at the camera and waves. Just as she’s about to strike a pose, someone from the crystal meditation tent sprints over in a panic because the rose quartz has been mixed with the smoky quartz, which apparently “messes with the vibrational frequencies.” Mom sighs, muttering something about how the only frequency she wants is coffee.
I walk around and introduce a lot of the other people in the commune, giving little bits of background about each of them. When the festival finally starts, I stand by the gate and film all the people who were lined up to come in when the gates opened. Some of them wave at the camera and smile excitedly as they’re ushered into the heart of the commune.
The central hub is now decorated with celestial charms that make it look like we worship the sun year-round. An artisan market is set up with just about every person from the commune running some kind of stall to show off their role in the community. Live music is being played from a stage, showcasing a whole lineup of bands from both the commune and the surrounding area. People are gathered around and clapping their hands as they sway their hips to the gentle rock music.
The festival is absolutely bustling. My parents are still running around with their clipboards and helping to direct all the festival workers on what they’re supposed to be doing. Despite the stressed looks on their faces, I know that they live for this. They’ve been high-priority volunteers before, and they love the fast-paced environment.
Unfortunately for me, it’s almost impossible to get a moment with them to interview. Instead, I focus on B-roll shots of the festival itself. I walk around with my camera in hand and film the various artisan booths, some of the performances, and I even go on one of the sunshine hikes through the woods.
I feel like I’m on autopilot for the most part. But even though I’m trying to focus on filming alone, Travis still creeps his way into my mind.
I get caught up wondering if he would like this or if he would hate everything about it. Part of me thinks he’d like it because everything is homemade and organic, things I’m sure he loves because it wouldn’t throw his precious body out of whack. But then again, it’s loud and crowded, and a lot of the people here are just being performative sun children, only here for their Instagram feeds.
