Darkheart

The Present: Rock & Roll

"Holy shit, is that Jeremiah Jones?" The voice paused, drew near. The figure that owned it loomed. "It is you! I'll be damned. Where the hell you been?"

It was the first stop he'd made in Port Killdeer--literally the first stop!--and now everyone would already know. The town was a hive mind; a spotting by one was a spotting by all, and the nature of such places dictated that the group's grapevine gossip trumped an individual's privacy.

Turning with some reservation to face his assailant, Jeremiah attempted a smile. "Hey, Dustin. I've been in Chicago."

"Well it's about time you came back to visit! You on your way to your mom's?"

Jeremiah bit his cheek in attempt not to say something he might regret. "Yeah. Just filling up the tank. It's been a long day."

His hint went unnoticed. Dustin started down some tunnel to the past, something about "that one time in fourth grade" when Jeremiah had slipped on some ice and cut open his knee, needed stitches, all the other kids freaking out over the blood and the teacher trying to put duct tape over it--he wondered how "the old hag" was doing now, anyway, whether she were dead or alive . . . oh, it didn't matter. Jeremiah just wanted to get out of there. He'd worn a hat to cover his unmistakable hair, hoped it'd be enough, but no disguise sufficed here, especially in warding off a local know-everybody like Dustin.

"Ok, I--I guess I'd better get going," Jeremiah said too amicably for the man to take him seriously.

Dustin had followed him to the register, jabbered on while Jeremiah had checked out, and stepped through the glass door into the sunshine with him. "So, how long are you here for, anyway?"

Why did his question sound as if he were asking about a prison sentence? Jeremiah sighed audibly, tilted his head toward his car. "I've got someone waiting for me, so, yeah."

"Oh, okay . . ." Dustin followed the line of sight Jeremiah had indicated and did a double-take when he caught sight of the man's passenger. With a grin that would cause anyone nearby discomfort, Dustin added, "I get it. Came back with a girlfriend, did you?"

"Look, it's nothing like--"

"It's fine, it's fine. No need to explain." Dustin leaned toward Jeremiah with no regard for boundaries. "I'm just surprised. We all used to think you batted for the other team, you understand?"

We all? Who was we all?

"But damn, she looks fine! I'd want to rock and roll with that, too. Don't you do anything disrespectful in your mama's house, now, you hear?" The man laughed at his boldness.

Jeremiah turned away in disgust. Dustin was a year older than he and was one of those people who thrived in his setting. The man had always managed to be everyone's friend without actually being liked very much. He was big and bluff and bearded, too confident with the jokes and too familiar with his hugs and shoulder slaps, and he'd been predictably purchasing a six-pack. Jeremiah marveled at the fact that his years away suddenly felt as if they hadn't even happened, and as he and Kai drove through town, the visuals confirmed that nothing appeared to have changed in Port Killdeer at all.

The weather was lovely, cool enough for a light sweater but warm enough to sit outside comfortably in the sunshine. Jeremiah had no idea where to go, now that he was back, and driving through town brought up all manner of emotion in him. If going anywhere public meant encountering more Dustins, he was pretty sure he couldn't subject himself to the misery. But the anxiety he'd built up around the idea of going home, of seeing his mother, was equally intimidating. By the time Kai picked up on the fact that he was wandering, that he had no real destination in mind, Jeremiah had already gone over the main streets twice, moved as slowly as a stalker through a few neighborhoods, and driven the lake road--the one that offered tourists a glimpse of Lake Huron without forcing them to park and walk--back and forth.