Like a warring
enemy though, an antithetical thought popped into his head just as his mind was
made up: Ian filling up Bryson’s space in Julie’s bed. After all these years
that image was seared in Bryson’s memory and he couldn’t erase it. He was
almost to Colburn Park and anger and hate sprouted where forgiveness had stood
merely a moment ago. He would not forgive Ian and he would not help Ian no
matter what it was. If it weren’t for Ian he would probably be in a better
place right now, he would probably be leading a better life with a better job
and with Julie by his side. Whether any of that would have come true or not
might have been a matter of conjecture, but all Bryson knew was that Ian had
robbed him of any opportunity of finding out if something could have come from
their plans and this was the first time he could really punish him for it.
Bryson parked
outside the park and turned the engine of his car off. He wish he had brought a
beer with him to chug back before having to meet Ian for the first time in
years but the shock kept him from thinking things through properly. He heaved a
sigh and rubbed at his face, his sense of nervousness displaying through his
inability to stop fidgeting.
Finally he slowly
opened the car door and stepped out. Quietly he shut the car door while looking
for any sign of onlookers. He was quite sure the park was dead and empty, but
Ian’s secrecy and paranoia was catching. Bryson made his way up to the pavilion
but didn’t see Ian anywhere. Not knowing where Ian was contacting him from
Bryson figured he could give him a few minutes to show up. Bryson found a
picnic table under the pavilion, stepped up onto the bench and took a seat on
the table top to wait.
To pass the time,
Bryson pulled out his smartphone and started playing Angry Birds. Just as he
was getting into the game a call came in from an unlisted number. Normally
Bryson would just hit ignore, but since Ian hadn’t shown up and had already
proved to be adept at finding him online that he should probably answer it in
case the call was Ian.
“Hello?” Bryson
answered the call.
“Are you alone? Is
there anyone else around?” a voice answered on the other end.
“Ian?”
“Yeah, is there
anyone else around? I just need to know that you weren’t followed or anything.”
“I looked around
when I got here and I didn’t see anyone.”
“Okay, you
probably wouldn’t know what to look for anyway.”
Bryson thought to
himself, What would I need to be looking
for? But he didn’t say it out loud. “Where are you?”
“There’s a trail
behind the pavilion…”
“Yeah, I know,”
Bryson said getting a little irritated with the cloak and dagger routine.
“Follow it a
little ways into the more wooded areas, try not to freak out; I’ll find you
when you approach my position.”
Before Bryson
could answer Ian hung up the phone. Things were really getting weird, and
Bryson was half tempted to walk away, but morbid curiosity won out over his
other instincts. This was no longer about his past with Bryson, he was more
curious about what Ian had going on that was leading to such secrecy. He looked
around one more time and walked to the trail behind the pavilion.
He walked quietly
and slowly, not because he thought anyone was following or watching, but
because the stillness of the night seemed to demand it. It had been a while
since he had walked this path. Mike lived close to Colburn and when Bryson had
first moved to Green Bay he would walk this trail to help keep himself in shape
after his discharge from the military. It especially helped in the wake of his
boot camp injury. As he got further and further away from boot though he
exercised less and less and all but forgot about his walks in Colburn Park.
Now it all seemed
foreign to him. He recalled those walks listening to his iPod and watching
local middle school kids play bocce ball, but this seemed to be the bizzaro
version of that world. Too quiet, too night, and there was too much Ian
standing behind him tapping on his shoulder.
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