Dying to Live

I died on August the 27th, 2021.  The death was painless, but my family doesn’t know that. My body was never found. I was hiking in the Smoky Mountains of our hometown in Sevierville, TN but never came home. The rescue party found some blood on the rocks along the edge of a cliff, marked by a lonely shoe that used to be mine. Some rocks painted in blood were collected as evidence and tested to match my DNA. It did. There was no doubt that I met my demise along that cliff.

My funeral will be on Tuesday the 31st. It’s going to be awful. I’m so glad I don’t have to attend. My parents will be heartbroken. Mom will be drenched in black clothes as well as tears. Dad will try not to cry but he’ll end up leaking a little whether he wants to or not. My little brother would be the hardest to watch. He’s looked up to me since they brought him home from the hospital. My heart squeezes in an unnatural - painful way every time I think of his little face at my funeral. He’s only 13. We were just starting to do real things together and bond like brothers should. He’ll be lost for a while. I hope he doesn’t find solace with a bimbo like I’m accustomed to doing. I regret being a poor example in this regard. I made a lot of good decisions that I’d be proud to see him mirror, but girlfriends - I hope he learned what NOT to do from watching me.

My most recent girlfriend, Marissa, will be so overwhelmed by grief at my funeral that she’ll require the nearest sleeve of the nearest shoulder belonging to one of my mountain climbing buddies to dab her barely moist face on. I'm sure they’ll be fighting to be the one closest to her in the pew. I knew that relationship wouldn’t last when I met her. Who looks for miniskirts, tight shirts, and pouty lips with the expectation that she’ll turn into the doting wife and mother of your children? My buddies can have her. She was never really mine anyway. I wish I had set my sights higher. Sandra would have been a girl worth pursuing. She was pretty but not in the way that forced men to gawk at her. She was nice to look at and easy to talk to. Everything with Marissa was always surface talk. “Where are we eating tonight? Who’s going to be there? Do you like my hair up or down?”  With Sandra, you could talk about anything. She could even make clever jokes and I loved the way she laughed at mine. 

None of that matters now. Instead of watching my family appreciate me more than they did when I was alive, I’ll be settling into Northern Minnesota and learning how to become Daniel Myers. He’ll live the quiet life along the perimeter of one of Minnesota's 10,000 lakes in a remote town called Bigfork - population 400, higher if you include the sasquatches. Their beady, glowing eyes floating at unreachable heights along the forest’s edge have sent many Bigforkians into fits of inconsolable distress. I’m told you’ll know their coming long before they arrive, especially if you’re downwind. Their unholy stench will slap you so hard in the face that even Chuck Norris would be jealous of the impact. If suddenly singed nose hairs aren’t enough to send you running for your life then their howling definitely will be. 

I doubt I’ll be able to find a ‘Sandra’ up here among 400 people - mostly in their golden years - and don’t forget all the love-seeking yetis of the forest.  The hairy humanoids are probably less maintenance than my self-absorbed Marissa. At least she always smelled good. Joking aside, I should have ample time to find a girl if there’s one to be found. The district attorney, Magnus - we’re on a first-name basis on account of him killing me off - told me it’ll take about a year to build a case strong enough to bring it to a courtroom. There are lots of moving parts to this case. I witnessed a crime that would only hook a few small fish. The district attorney wants to reel in the whole school, especially the fat ones at the top of the food chain. So I’ll be Daniel Myers for at least a year. If the attorney can’t make the case stick and it never goes to trial, then I’m a Bigforkian until I die. 

I’ve been given a lumberjack job. It’s not like it used to be in the Paul Bunyon era. There’s lots of heavy equipment doing the work for you now. My first couple weeks of work will be training on these machines. I think I’ll like it. What’s not to like about heavy machinery? Gas guzzling monsters are so loud that holding a conversation during the workday is unlikely.  If I’m lucky, nodding and the occasional wave will be the extent of my workday gossip. Small towns usually know everything about everybody. Isolating myself won’t be easy. Besides, I know I can’t be alone for more than a couple months. I’ll get too lonely. I love outdoor sports and laughter. Doing those things alone is just sad. Big city life and all its constant activity appeals to me way more than this no man’s land of a place does.

I told Magnus that a small town was a bad idea. It’s hard to blend in. I’ll stick out like a turd in a punchbowl. Everyone will want to know my business. He thinks the remote location makes it perfect. Besides, his grandparents live here. They’ll keep an eye on me. Great! Old people. They love to gossip. I’ll probably be invited over for cookies and milk while Nanna conducts her stealthy investigation of every curiosity she harbors so she can share it with her blue-haired ladies club during Sunday brunch. They’ll have me married off and made into a permanent Bigfork fixture before I even make it to trial. I may never get back home to Sandra. She’ll probably be off the market if I do. I need to focus on what’s happening now and make the best of it. It can’t be that bad. Right?  

My positivity didn’t last long. I complained over the entire flight about going to a backwoods town where most of the citizens are probably inbred and missing teeth. When the plane landed we got into a dirty pickup truck with a busted tail light and I knew all my fears were justified. It wasn’t long before paved roads turned to gravel roads and then to dirt roads.

“Dwayne….I mean Daniel, we’re here. This is your new place,” Magnus said with overstated pride. It couldn’t be more than 500 square feet inside that excuse for a cabin. It’s more like a derelict playhouse than a home. 

“Magnus, look at all the work I’ll have to do just to keep the rain off my head at night! One of the holes looks like a well-fed raccoon cannon-balled through the shingles. He might still be living inside!” 

“Hi there.” said a friendly voice to my right. She came out of nowhere. Her hair pulled into a loose braid with several wayward curls that had escaped and framed her face perfectly. Is she glowing or is the sun setting behind her?

“Hi,” I called back.

“So, I know it doesn’t look like much, but I’ll help you get it back up to code. I brought my tools and some spare shingles in my truck. I wanted to come yesterday and patch the roof for you but I’ve been so busy at the resort. They have me filling in for Molly who’s supposed to do the water ski gig on the weekends. I’m exhausted but I’m ready and willing to help you patch your new home right up.”

She water skis -- for her job? Magnus elbowed me. I guess my face was stuck and I was staring too long. “Um, yeah - yeah, that’d be nice. Thanks for the help. By the way, my name’s Daniel.”

She extended her hand, “I’m Sally. Nice to meet you.” With that, she briskly turned towards the bed of her truck and started rifling through supplies. 

Magnus leaned in like he had confidential details to share and whispered,  “Don’t worry Dan, she’s not inbred like the rest of em’ around here. I should know because I’m her cousin. She turned me down last summer and one of her brothers too.” Magnus started laughing. I felt a little guilty for ranting earlier. 

I pulled my bags out of his truck and threw them on the 10 square feet of porch to my new domain. Sally yelled from her truck, “Hey Mags, are you coming to Grams for dinner tonight? Daniel can come too.” 

“That depends, what’s she making?” 

“Well you can choose between venison burgers or roadkill, but Gram will need you to scout out some roadkill if the burgers don’t appeal to you.” She pulled down the tailgate of her truck and then added her afterthought, “but don’t bring home armadillo again. It upsets Gram to cook her favorite animal for dinner.” She winked at me and laughed. It suddenly dawned on me - Magnus had already told her everything I said about this place before I got here. SO embarrassing. My red face said it all. 

She starts talking again, “Don’t worry Danny boy, we bruise easy but heal fast around here. Throw your bags back in the truck. Your house is down the street and it has electricity, a solid roof, and even indoor plumbing.” 

In the truck, Magnus goads me further as we follow Sally's F-150. “You were actually ready to move into that shed!” He’s enjoying it too much. “You should’ve seen your face!”

“Laugh it up MAGS!” I said.

He sobered slightly, “Hey now, only Sally and Gram can call me Mags. Let’s put that out in the open right now.”

“When did you have time to tell Sally about all the stuff I said on the plane?“

“Did you really think I was using my phone to type out notes to my secretary about the case? As soon as the plane landed I hit the send button. I knew Sally would be in on a practical joke. Speaking of family, you should know that Gram will expect a hug and a kiss and I don’t mean on the cheek. She’s a little bit frisky in her old age. She’s at that point where she doesn’t give a rats what anybody thinks anymore.”

“She sounds lovely.” My tone was flat.

“She is!” he said emphatically. With a hint of sensitivity, he added, “You’ll be fine Dan. Bigfork will treat you so right that after I put the bad guys in jail you won’t want to go back to your old life.” 

Sally’s water skis are hanging out the back of her truck and more curls are escaping her braid as the wind plays with her hair through the open window. The breeze shifted and my eyes followed the dust cloud behind Sally’s truck as it blew to the right and floated up the slope of a low-lying hill. There was no shoulder on this single-lane dirt road. Going forward was the only option.