“Oh,” Cliff chuckles. “It’s been leaning like that since we first found this place. I had a few friends in high school, and one of them knew about it. I don’t know how he found it, but we used to come here after we got our licenses. It kind of became a hangout spot for our friend group. Sometimes there would be twenty or thirty of us that would come here.”
“And get up to all kinds of trouble, no doubt.”
“No. Actually, we didn’t. We just—I don’t know. Hung out. We never drank here or did normal stupid high school shit. I wasn’t ever really into that. It was just a cool place to think. I still come here all the time. Always have, and it’s been almost a decade and a half now.”
“Wow,” I say sarcastically to cover up the pinching in my chest at the sentimental tones in Cliff’s voice. It’s deep and husky in a way I haven’t heard before, and it sends chills up my spine. “You’re ancient.”
“Thanks,” Cliff responds dryly. I’m angled forward, looking at the barn, but I see his smile out of the corner of my eye. Since it’s cueing up the spine chills again, I reach for the door handle and pretty much launch myself out of the car.
He follows suit, and suddenly, we’re nearly walking side by side down the gentle slope of the ditch, which is surprisingly dry given the lushness of the land. There was grass growing wildly up the other side, to the edge of the barbed wire fence. I think I can see the exact spot where teenager Cliff and all his friends used to squeeze through. Sure enough, he points out the lift in the top strand and the sag in the middle one out to me.
“We can squeeze through right there. I’ll hold the wire up for you and make sure the barbs don’t catch on your clothes.”
“Uh, thanks. I think.” I stare at the barn instead of Cliff. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”
“I’ve never been shot at.”
“It won’t crumble down around us?”
“Even if it did, I don’t think it would actually hurt. It’s probably held together with two boards, one nail, and a prayer.”
“Thanks. That doesn’t exactly make me feel better.”
“I’ve been coming here for fourteen years, and it’s always been okay. I’m sure it’s good for one more time, at least.”
“You’re lucky I’m doing my ‘don’t simply exist, live,’ bucket list that everyone always talks about.”
Cliff grins as he walks over to the worn-in parts of the fence and lifts the top strand. “After you, my lady.”
“Never call me that again.” I roll my eyes and edge closer to the fence. The gap is about two feet tall. I’ll have to flatten myself down to get through it. “I have no idea how I’m supposed to get through that without tearing myself open, let alone my clothes.”
I’m not wearing anything fancy. Since I knew we were going to a barn outside the city, I opted for black jeans, a tank top, and a retro cardigan. I wore one of my warmer wool jackets and a more practical pair of boots that just look vintage.
“You can get through. Don’t worry. I’ll put my hand on your head to guide you and then on your back. I’ll lift up the wire and step down on the other at the same time. That hole will get way bigger in a second.” Cliff demonstrates. He’s wearing big clumpy-looking black man boots, and they make quick work of the lower strand while those hands I like so much pull at the top strand. The hole does indeed get bigger.
I summon my courage, bend down, and angle my way through. Cliff’s hand grazes my hair, which nearly makes me stumble and fumble and fall straight into the fence, but I manage to make it through, and I even right myself before I faceplant straight into the stubbly dead grass on the other side.
“Very good.” Cliff laughs. I’m not sure why he does, and my face heats up. I can’t imagine I looked very graceful going through there.
He keeps his foot on the lower strand and angles himself through easily before I can even ask him if he wants me to help. Now that we’re both through, we stand there again, studying the barn. It’s not cold enough for me to see our breath, but I still shiver despite my warm jacket and leather gloves.
“Don’t worry. There’s stuff inside. I can make us a fire.”
“A fire?” I gasp. “Are you for real? That thing looks like a giant heap of kindling. One spark and the whole thing could turn into a fiery blaze. We’d get sued for burning down someone’s private property. Everyone wants barn wood now for crafts and stuff. I bet that thing is worth a fortune.”
Cliff sighs. He doesn’t follow up with anything, so I turn to study him. He has a funny look on his face—a little pinched. Constipated, Janice would call it. There are probably at least ten different looks that she’d describe as such. I think it’s her favorite descriptor.
“What?” I get a funny feeling in my belly that might also be described under that descriptor. “What’s wrong?”
“I didn’t want to tell you.” Cliff’s hands flex at his sides. “Uh, I bought this land a few years ago. I haven’t done anything with it. I just liked the place. It took me forever to figure out who actually owned it. It was a little old man, and he was in his late nineties. None of his kids or grandkids were interested in this parcel, and he thought I was crazy for
