I step gingerly over a fallen log, wincing as I put weight on my knee. It’s not too bad though, and the walking stick helps as I put my weight on it. I get over the stump and continue on along the dirt path that sticks close to the Saugatuck river.

The river’s running high today from all the rain these past three weeks. I’ve been stuck inside my father’s house, wallowing in my own fucking self-pity and grief, unable to do much considering the weather and my knee injury. Fortunately, my father’s been away on work, probably busy shoving fake pills down desperate people’s throats like usual, although I don’t bother asking any questions.

It’s nice to have the house to myself. I remember coming downstairs as a kid when my parents were out and pouring a huge bowl of Captain Crunch before watching cartoons all morning. I’d say in my pajamas, my hair messy and greasy, and I’d ignore the phone if it rang. Even if it was nice outside, I didn’t want to go and play. I just wanted to be in my own little world, safe and comfortable and jacked up on sugary cereal.

That house is full of childhood memories, some of them good, most of them fucked up, like the time my dad screamed at my mom so loud that she dropped the frying pan, sending eggs spilling all over the floor. Our dog, Ruffy, starts to lick them up but my dad kicked him in the side, making him yelp in pain.

That’s actually one of the last memories I have of my mom.

I crunch over some leaves, taking my walk slow. My knee doesn’t hurt too badly, just a dull ache, which I assume is a good thing. The ground is a little soft still, but not too bad. I skirt around the muddiest bits and keep my eyes on the trail in front of me. I can’t afford to trip and fall and fuck my knee up even more.

When I got older, and my mom was long dead, I used to come out onto these paths just to escape my dad’s anger. Now I’m using them just to give myself something to do. I need a little purpose. I can’t just sit in front of the TV anymore eating sugar cereal. I’m not a kid, even if I sort of default back to being one whenever I’m back in my father’s house.

There’s this spot not too far away near the waterfall that I used to come to all the time. Back then I wasn’t alone, though. I met Addie a year earlier and we discovered the waterfall on one of our first hikes. We’d go back to that spot all the time and watch the water fall off into space, sunlight making rainbows in the spray if we were lucky, and we’d talk for hours.

I don’t know what’s drawing me back there. I guess it’s just that Addie won’t talk to me, and I don’t know what the fuck to do with myself. I want to get back into hockey, but there’s a voice in the back of my head that keeps telling me it’ll never happen. I know that voice is right but I’m not ready to listen to it, not yet. I might heal or maybe there’s surgery that can help. I can make another KHL team, I’m sure about that. I just need some time to heal.

I come around a bend in the path and it skirts closer to the river. I can hear the falls now, just ahead. It’s like white noise out of nowhere, like a fan in an empty room. I can’t quite see it through the trees and the foliage, but I know it’s there.

At least some things never change. I hate Weston, mostly because of my father, but I can’t deny how beautiful it is. That’s the thing that kept me going back then, that and Addie.

I keep going, knee aching with every step, leaves crunching under foot. I grip my walking stick a little harder as I step around another mud puddle, nearly slipping on a wet rock. I grunt as my bad knee takes some of my weight, but it doesn’t buckle, which is a good sign.

I come around another bend and I can really hear the falls now. The path is slowly angling down, and if. Kept to the path, it would eventually takes me to the river below. Instead, I cut to the right and trek through the underbrush, pushing aside sticker bushes and tree branches.

This should be a familiar path, since I walked it thousands of times back in high school, but it feels new. I recognize the big rock to my right, the sound of the falls getting closer, and the old tree split in half just ahead as the cliff comes near. I slow up and stop, hand on the tree, as the world falls off in front of me and the falls comes roaring into sight.

It’s not a huge waterfall, but it moves fast, the water frothing white at the edge. I stand there gripping my walking stick, my other hand on the split tree, feeling the old, rough bark on my fingertips. I forget all about my father and my aching knee for a second as I watch the water rush over the edge, flying through the air and dropping down to the river below.

I take a deep breath and I smile. This was all fucking worth it.

I stand and watch the falls for a minute before turning to my right. This is the tricky part. I don’t remember it being so steep and terrifying around here all those years ago, but I was a lot younger, a lot more reckless, and a lot less injured. Still I came all the way out here, so I head over to the edge of the cliff and shove my walking stick forward.

Sure enough, the ledge is still there. I shuffle forward a little bit and manage to climb down onto it. The rocks jut outward in a steep step until it reaches the bank of the river, right at the edge of the falls itself. I have a few more steps to climb down, and then I’ll be at the main rock, this big, solid thing that’s practically off the edge of the world.

I get down a couple more ledges and take a step forward. Before I can drop down onto the last rock, I stop dead in my tracks and stare.

She’s not moving at all, her back to me, hunched over slightly and sitting cross legged. Her hair’s longer than I remembered, but still thick and dark. She’s looking out over the falls, staring at it like we used to, her hands splayed out behind her. She has on a dark sweatshirt and khaki shorts.

“Addie,” I call out, but my voice is drowned by the falls. I take a breath and let it out. “Addie!”

She hears the second one. She turns around and it’s like slow motion. There’s an odd smile on her face that falters once she sees me standing there, looking down at her. We lock eyes and it’s like time never passed at all. I’m back in her apartment, her body underneath mine, sweating and groaning together. I’m back in this very spot, talking over the noise of the falls, trying to understand how things got so fucked up.

She shakes her head and scrambles to her feet. “Will?” she yells back. “What are you doing here?”

I sit down on the ledge of the rock and slowly drop down, wincing a little bit. She doesn’t move at all, and we’re about six or seven feet apart.

“Sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“I just… I didn’t expect to see you here.”

I run my hands on the stone. “Haven’t been back here in a while.”

“I come sometimes,” she says, still staring at me. “Nobody else ever does. People probably think it’s too dangerous.”

I grin at her. “It’s definitely too dangerous. But I guess nothing changes with you, huh, Addie?”

She smiles a little bit but it quickly goes away. “I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you.”

I bark out a little laugh. Typical Addie, straight to the point. “Yeah, I was wondering about that.”

“It’s just, I don’t know.” She grabs her arm around her back awkwardly, not meeting my gaze anymore. I want to walk across the rock and hug her, but I resist.

“It’s cool,” I say, playing it off, pretending to be casual. “I’m sure you’ve been busy. How’s Eleanor?”

“She’s good,” Addie says. “But you knew that already. You guys have been talking a lot lately, huh?”

Her little smirk means she’s teasing me, which I think is a good sign.

“Yeah, well, I guess I’ve been calling too much, huh?” I shuffle my feet and lean back against the rock, taking my weight off my aching knee. I cross my arms in front of my chest. “You know I’m not the kind of guy that gives up easy.”

“I know that,” she says, and sighs. “How have you been?”

“Okay.” I glance down at my knee. I have a brace on just below my hiking shorts. “Fucked up my knee.”

“I’m sorry,” she says, and I believe her. “Is that why you’re back?”

I nod. “Can’t play hockey with a fucked-up knee. Not even in Russia, apparently, and they have low standards.”

The joke makes her smile a little bit. It suddenly feels warmer than it was just a minute ago.

“Is your dad still an asshole?”

I laugh at that. “Yep,” I say. “Hasn’t changed one bit.”

“I guess that’s why you’re out here.”

“He’s out of town, actually. You know, ripping people off.”

She grins a little. “His favorite thing to do.”

“That and drowning kittens.”

“With his bare hands, of course.”

“Naturally.”

It feels good to fall back into our regular banter. Her eyes flash at me but the smile fades away again.

“I should go,” she says, moving to my right and stepping toward the rocks.

“You can stay,” I say. “I mean, we can catch up if you want. I’ve got a lot of stories about Russia.”

“Do they all involve vodka?”

“Of course they do.”

She laughs a little and steps up to the rock step. She hoists herself up quickly, faster than I think I can.

“Another time,” she says. “Bye Will.”

I watch as she climbs back up the rocks. She disappears up the edge and back into the woods, and I’m left alone in our spot, my whole body vibrating with the encounter.

She’s just like I remembered. Full figure, fast smile, funny as hell. Beautiful and broken. She has no clue how I felt about her back then, because I never told her.

And I hate myself every day, just a little bit, for being such a fucking pussy.

I sit down at the edge of the rocks, legs straight out in front of me, knee aching, and I pretend like my best friend doesn’t hate my guts.