Sabbatical

Chapter Eleven

With the South Skunk River running through it, Colfax might boast more of an odor, or evidence of the white-streaked creatures at all, Meredith thought. The name had likely been a misinterpretation, though, a man named Jim had told her at Heather's barbeque. The Sauk and Meskwaki had called it Shecaqua, which indeed meant 'skunk,' but an interpreter for the groups later suggested it was actually Checaqua, meaning anything of strong smell or malodorous, like onions. "Makes sense," Jim said between puffs on his pipe. "The headwaters about a hundred miles north of here were surrounded with onions." It came back to her in bits and pieces, but Meredith knew Jim had given her an extensive, if complete, history of the area by the end of the evening. Something about mineral water and coal mining.

She had only planned to jog a few miles, just to clear her head of the tequila; but the runner's high was real that morning, and soon she found herself on Walnut Street, four miles from Bonnie and Bill's. Along the way she passed small bungalows, yards with rusty tractors, farm houses with more chipped paint than not. The main strip appeared only two or three blocks long, and the usual suspects lined the street, seemingly frozen in time: a drug store, a senior citizens center, churches, and a diner. There were also several building supply shops and even a tack shop. Meredith guessed there might be horses around, but she had yet to see any except for the two in Bonnie's barn.

Colfax's population topped out around two thousand people; it was hard to imagine thousands—was it actually thousands?—of tourists had once descended upon the city each year. She thought she remembered Jim talking about the Colfax Hotel, or maybe it was the Hotel Colfax. It was a youth home, or a church property now, something like that. But at one point it had been a mega-spa of sorts, boasting a mineral water purported to have healing powers, the Saratoga of the West. Meredith slowed her pace to a walk, catching her breath as she studied her phone's map. The old hotel was another mile further in the opposite direction of her camper—too far for today. She would see if Bonnie wanted to drive out there with her later. An idea was forming; Meredith recognized the signs—the spike of energy, the all-consuming buzz of thoughts—and she was excited to get her plans to paper when she returned to her camper.  An incoming call interrupted her and took over the screen—Quinn again. True to her word, she was keeping an eye on things.

"Hey."

"You didn't call me back yesterday, not even a text. And then I see you're at a block party in Iowa with none other than Derek Salinga. You better be boarding a flight back to JFK."

"Quinn, how did you—"

"Instagram, Meredith. How are you still so in the dark about social media? Did you even see you were tagged in a photo?"

Meredith's stomach turned and she began to pace in circles on the same strip of sidewalk. Heather's voice echoed in Meredith's hazy memory: "Everyone say CHEESE!" She barely checked that damn app anyway, only posting really when she was with Quinn who had a prolific following, for what purpose Meredith had yet to discern.

"Oh God. This is so juvenile. Bonnie's friend Heather had a neighborhood get together, a barbeque, really—"

"And you invited Derek and then Heather took a picture. I get how that part works, Meredith. But I don't understand why Derek was there in the first place? You're playing with fire."

"Listen, it's not what you think. I knew there was a chance Derek could be in town, yes. But I only reached out once I had a reason to. Maybe he had some influence in my decision to come to Colfax initially, but Quinn, I swear, being here, having some space to think on my own . . . it's been really transformative.

"Oh, ok. And did you also become Elizabeth Gilbert and get a book deal during this transformation? Unless that's the case Meredith, it doesn't fucking matter. Also . . .Colfax. Why does that name sound so . . . maybe it's familiar? Or maybe it reminds me of glasses with thick brown frames?"