CHAPTER 2
If dating Mason taught me one thing, it was that people who admired sunsets were super annoying. They thought every glimmer of the sky deserved applause, like nothing beautiful ever took place on terrestrial earth. Both of the boys were like that, but Hudson even more so. The three of us were alike in a lot of ways, but those two never got over their love for sunsets.
The river struck me as a more beautiful and awe-inspiring sight. Consistent, strong, and dangerous. Unlike the sun, an object we could never aspire to, the river was right there. A physical place, shared by generations and people groups, one that we had the privilege of seeing daily. So many people walked by without acknowledging the simplistic and incredible. But then again, you could say the same about Little Rush. If the river was the forgotten treasure of the town, maybe we were the forgotten river of the country.
My relationship with Little Rush was confusing. I loved the town. I admired so many streets and views and places. The memories I had were irreplaceable. The drunken conversations at Mason’s cabin. The time I convinced Hudson to try a cigarette. All the trouble I achieved in school, even without those two, and the anxiety leading up to each August. But that summer, right before our senior year, brought so many questions for us. After high school, what then? To stay or to go? Build a life here or pack up everything, catch the first train to anywhere?
The trains didn’t run anymore. They hadn’t in decades. But it would’ve been cool, and it made for a nice thought.
It’s not like I had some fantastical idea of the town. I grew up in poverty. My parents were divorced, and I almost never saw my younger brother. I got a job at fifteen and walked to it each day for the first year. But even I couldn’t ignore the intrinsic beauty found in this forgotten corner of the world. The feeling of a magnet, somewhere under these streets, and each day it pulled just a little harder. Something here wanted me to stay, wanted desperately. There were days I resisted and other times when I didn’t.
I find it amusing that for everybody in Little Rush, part of your personality is how you relate to the town itself. As if it’s that friend with a bit of a reputation, and what you think of them defines you, too. I guess when put that way, Little Rush is magnetic after all. It’s gorgeous, witty, layered, and nuanced. None of which I think about on a daily basis.
No, on a typical day at my dad’s apartment, I wake up and glance outside first thing in the morning. Peering through my window, an alleyway, and down two intersections, I can just barely make out the Ohio River. Fog billowing from its surface and covering downtown like a blanket.
A magnet. Just have to give in.
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