Page 48 of Ring Rust

“I have a feeling Jasper doesn’t care who does the work as long as the park gets fixed up.”

The top of Ryan’s head poked out from under the bench. “You’ve known Jasper as long as I have. Does that sound like Jasper to you?”

“I think Jasper is struggling as much as you are right now.”

Ryan grumbled and reached up to tighten some bolts on the table. The damp air made the handle of the wrench slip against his skin, and he dropped it on his eye.

“Ow, fuck!” he yelled.

“What happened?”

“I dropped the fucking wrench on my face. I’m gonna get a black eye.”

“It’s just a wrench. You won’t get a black eye.” Beni bent down to look at Ryan’s face and winced. “Oh, shit. Yeah, you might get a black eye.”

“Fuck this stupid park,” Ryan said, rolling out from under the table. “Fuck this park, and fuck Jasper, fuck Logan, and fuckmefor being stupid enough to think this was a good idea.”

Beni took the wrench from his hand and rubbed his shoulder. “It’s really nice of you. This place is important to both JasperandStevie. If it helps, you can pretend you’re doing it just for her.”

The picnic benches Ryan built were near the restaurant, so he ignored Beni’s stupid, unhelpful comment and took off, hoping to find some ice. The restaurant was closed for the season, same as the rest of the park, but maybe the kitchen still had running water.

“Ryan?” she called, following him.

He ignored her again and hauled himself through the large open ordering window on the side of the restaurant—the same one he was supposed to replace sometime in the next few weeks. Too irritated to bother hunting down the key to the front door, he dragged himself awkwardly across the counter on his stomach before dropping onto the kitchen floor, glad that at least the people Jasper hired did a good job cleaning.

The skin below his eye was throbbing and hot. He reached up to touch it and regretted it immediately, hissing at the sharppain that shot through the entire side of his face. It dragged up endless memories of his early career when Jasper was at all his shows, acting as the promo’s volunteer medic. What he’d give to be dealing with a black eye at the hands of someone else instead of his own clumsiness. At least in the ring, there was some purpose to it. Here at Jasper’s park, he was just patching over sloppy work and hurting himself in the process, something that felt a little too close to what the rest of his life was shaping up to be.

“Ryan, can you please stop ignoring me?”

“I’m not trying to ignore you. I’m trying to find some ice.”

“There’s not going to be any ice in there.”

Ryan opened the lid to the ice machine and grumbled when he saw the pristine—but empty—bucket. He slid down the wall and sat with his legs stretched out.

“Come out here and I’ll go find a first aid kit. Maybe they have one of those freeze packs in there.” Beni leaned in through the window and winced again when she saw his face. It was the second wince in about ten minutes, which made Ryan worry. “Oh, buddy. Come on, let’s go deal with that.”

Ryan pushed himself upright with a grunt. He didn’t want to be there anymore. The kitchen was too clean and quiet without Jasper around.

His chest tightened unexpectedly with memories from years ago, like when Jasper showed Ryan the underbelly of the park for the very first time, greasy kitchen included. Jasper had been embarrassed at the state of it—the sticky floors, busted freezer seal, and ancient fryer. Ryan hadn’t cared either way and promptly forgot about it, too focused on the way Jasper lit up when he talked about what he knew the parkcouldbe, with a little time and elbow grease.

He wished for a little more grease or dirt somewhere now, just to feel closer to that moment in time. Back then, Jasperwould’ve dragged Ryan into a chair and held the ice pack to his eye while apologizing for the dust. Now, it was Ryan alone in a sterile kitchen with only his sister to care.

A crash outside made them both jump. A loud curse followed immediately after.

“Is that Logan?” Beni asked, taking off towards the source of the sound. “Logan?”

Ryan sighed and crawled out the window. “Jesus Christ.”

“I’m okay!” Logan called. “I’m fine, I just spilled… uh, a lot of paint. Alotof paint.”

Any thoughts Ryan had of giving up on the park repairs vanished when he walked just twenty feet down the path behind the restaurant and found Logan next to a tipped wagon he’d been using to haul paint. His legs and shoes were splattered with a rainbow of colors as he stood in a puddle of the same, now seeping into the ground.

“I’m sorry. I thought this would be easier, but I hit a tree root.”

Ryan nodded, inhaling deeply so he didn’t completely lose it. “Okay.”

“I guess I could cut the roots to make the ground smoother, huh?” Logan said, chuckling to himself.