The Rockmore House

37 | Breathe

Pete slept as we traveled the hilly roads through forests of snow-laden evergreens and along frozen beaches lined with crumpled, jagged sheets of ice tinted cool blue and aqua. The scenery we passed was gorgeous and otherworldly, but the view inside was pretty nice, too. Pete and I were sitting opposite each other in the middle row of Eric's Highlander, Emily was in the passenger seat next to Eric and Kaitlin was stretched out across the third row bench seat. Everyone was quiet and while I watched Pete sleep as the rugged beauty of the Upper Peninsula passed by, I felt more at peace than I had in a while.

Pete woke up when we reached the Mackinac Bridge, the five mile-long suspension bridge connecting the upper and lower peninsulas of Michigan. His eyes popped when he looked ahead at the bridge stretching out in front of us over the expanse of water.

"I'd heard they were building this, but I-" Pete caught himself and stopped abruptly. He looked out the window at the water far below us and whispered, "Wow."

Kaitlin gave me a questioning look. I wobbled my head to indicate that Pete was feeling a bit loopy. On my phone, I searched for the year the bridge was built. It was completed in 1957. There were so many things I'd have to catch him up on, it was mind-boggling.

When we reached the other side of the bridge, we drove by one of many billboards for medical marijuana we'd see along the way.

"I'll be darned," Pete muttered as he read it. Then he closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

At a rest area along the highway, I paced the sidewalk to stretch my legs while I waited for Pete.

"Well, that was something else," he said when he came out of the building.

"That's an interesting reaction to the rest stop bathroom."

"The faucet turned on all by itself like magic. And the soap and the hand towel machine."

"Oh yeah, I guess that would be cool."

He sniffed the air and glanced around. "I'll be back in a flash."

"In a flash" was an exaggeration. Pete hobbled slowly through the open area where people took their dogs for breaks and then wove in between semi-trucks in the parking lot.

A few minutes later, he returned with a cigarette between his lips.

"You started smoking again?"

"Only sometimes. It calms me down when I need it." He tapped his toe on the sidewalk erratically as he inhaled and took in the scene around us. It looked like he needed something, but a cigarette probably wasn't it.

"You think that's a good idea right after being treated for smoke inhalation?"

"Hair of the dog?"

"What?"

"Like a beer to cure a hangover," he explained.

"Mmm, I don't think so."

When he didn't put it out I said, "Do you have a death wish? Stop!"

He dropped the cigarette onto the slushy sidewalk and squashed it with his shoe.

Eric strode over to us with his eyes fixed warily on Pete. "I found somewhere for you to stay."

"That's good news. Where?"

"There happens to be a vacancy at the Navarro-Anderson Bed and Breakfast."

Pete looked at me curiously.

"No," I said. "No way."

"Yes," Eric said with a smarmy grin.

"It's his house," I said to Pete.

"I mean, what were you thinking, Ness?" Eric asked.

"There's Jason's old room at my dad's."

"You think your dad would be cool with that?" He rolled his eyes and spoke to Pete, "You'd have your own bedroom and bathroom. Food taken care of, whatever you need. It wouldn't be the first time my parents took someone in who needed a place to stay for a while."

"Alright," Pete agreed. "Thank you."

"I'll let them know you're in." As Eric texted his parents, he observed with disgust, "Smells like cigarettes."

"Sorry," Pete apologized.

"You're wearing my clothes."

"Yeah, thanks for letting me borrow these. I guess mine weren't up to snuff anymore."

Eric directed his gaze back to his phone. "Don't smoke in my clothes. Or in my car. Or in my house." He dropped his phone into his pocket and studied Pete with a scowl. "It's not the nineteen fifties anymore, man."

~~~~~~

It was late at night when we arrived back in Palmer. Eric dropped Kaitlin and Emily off at home first, and I insisted on going with him to make sure Pete got settled in okay. Dr. Navarro greeted us in her fuzzy robe with a welcoming smile and the promise of frozen pizza. The house smelled like pine sap from the Christmas tree and warm buttered bread.

"It'll be a few more minutes on the pizza," she said as the three of us walked into the kitchen. To Pete she said, "How about you bring your things in and Eric can show you your room."

"This is it," Pete said. "I don't have anything. These clothes aren't even mine." He looked down at the Palmer Football logo on his chest and said, "I never did make the football team."

"I have to ask," Dr. Navarro began hesitantly, "did they give you any pain medication at the hospital?"

"They did while I was there."

"Did you get a prescription?"

"No."

"Oh! I'm surprised they didn't give you anything."

"Well, I didn't check out," Pete explained guiltily. "Officially. I sort of left."

"Oh boy," Dr. Navarro sighed and studied Pete with a look of motherly concern. "Well, anyway the house rule is no narcotics. I'll get you some ibuprofen."

Before Pete went up to his room, Eric left us alone for a minute. All day I couldn't stop staring at him, like I expected him to disappear in front of my eyes at any moment. But he was still there, he had a bed at the Rockmore House and I was entrusting the Navarro-Andersons with his care. At least until I got out of school the next day. None of it seemed real.

"I can't believe I have to go to school tomorrow," I said. "I mean, you're here. I can't do such a normal thing when this is so not normal."

"I'm here, so you'd better get used to it," Pete said with a wide grin. "This just might be normal now."

But I still wasn't convinced that he wasn't an apparition. "Can I, uh, hug you or something?"

"Or something?" He raised one questioning eyebrow and pressed his lips together in a flat smirk like he was holding back a laugh. I'd missed that face. I missed the way he looked at me, like I was adorably perplexing.

"I mean, like a handshake would be fine. To make sure I'm not imagining you."

"I'll take a hug," he said.

I hesitantly scooped my arms loosely under his  to avoid squeezing his broken ribs and rested my cheek against his shoulder. He was warm and solid and I could feel the steady beating of his heart. He was one-hundred percent real.

Underneath Eric's beachy scent that clung to his sweatshirt, Pete still smelled like a burning building, but also like himself, that essence of a person that couldn't be replicated. He buried his face in my hair and probably detected the same things.

"We need to shower," I said, as I stepped back. "Separately," I clarified as my face flamed. "Not together. We smell like fire and stress sweat."

"Speak for yourself," Pete said. He sniffed his shoulder. "I smell great." He barked a laugh that turned into a cough.

We said our goodnights and I looked forward to the next day and some kind of new normal.