I’m trying to reconcile with my intestines. This morning’s olive branch was bland crackers and warm water, but so far my guts still aren’t speaking to me. I don’t feel horrible (not physically, at least); just “off.” Hopefully I’ll sweat away the filth in my body -- delicious filth, make no mistake, but I have no delusions.

Maybe it isn’t about the food; maybe my intestines are disappointed in me for other reasons. If that’s the case, fellas, I’m right there with you.

I suspect that today’s mileage will come in fits and starts, but the hike must go on no matter how I feel. And I feel… a lot right now.

So… last night. My victories, my defeats, my abject failure. Here goes.

Brent was waiting right where he promised. He’d just gotten off work (his “I’m driving past the carnival and--” routine was pure fiction) and, therefore, was alone.

I got in and shut the door. “Someone mentioned a fair,” I said coyly.

He ignored the joke, instead saying, “Oh man, I’m so sorry for your loss.”

I stared back at him, wide-eyed. I think anyone’s first concern in that situation is their family. But that didn’t make sense. In fact, it didn’t make sense that he could know about something happening to ANYone in my life. Yes, I’d instructed my people back home to only call in the event of an emergency, but a “loss” WOULD certainly qualify. I hadn’t heard a peep.

So it needed to be someone we had in common. Cal? Sean? Or...

“Oh my god!” I gasped, covering my mouth, “is she--”

“What?” he cut me off. “No, no, I’m being facetious. Jesus, nobody died.”

Hands, please don’t strangle Brent just yet. I still need the ride.

“Your SMELL,” he went on, shaking his head. “It smells like YOU’VE died. Can we please get the cremation over with so I can breath through my nose again?”

“Oh,” I said, relaxing. Never before has an accusation against my hygiene been so relieving.

Great foot to start the night on, right?

Still, he did have a point – albeit an abysmally-delivered one. 21 miles of dirt-dancing in the heat, and I reeked. I didn’t know what he expected me to do about it, though, unless he was being serious. Fine, incinerate me, but you’re paying for the urn, Brent.

“All right,” he said, glancing at the dash, “we have a little time. We’ll stop by my place so you can become reacquainted with soap.” He paused, thinking. “Actually, I have this really nice body wash Laurel got me for Christmas. It smells kind of like tangerines, but if tangerines were actually just oranges who really wanted to be tangerines, you know?”

I nodded dumbly.

He grinned, “It’s one of those gifts you buy for someone but you’re actually buying it for yourself. Laurel uses it more than I do. She loves the smell. Brooke, too.”

He snapped those last two words like a jockey spurring his mount. He was grinning as he began to drive.

“Yes, sir,” he said with carefully-weighted absent-mindedness, “the gals sure do love that smell.”

As was verified earlier, I can be slow on the uptake. Brent, however, is about as subtle as a hurricane. I got it.

No, Brent didn’t care about the repulsive smell of my stale sweat. But friends don’t let friends self-sabotage.

“Yes,” I agreed, “I’ll bet they do.”

~~~

As the body wash anecdote suggests, Laurel is Brent’s girlfriend. I met her at the apartment. She’s nice; definitely a good fit for him. She’s more straight-laced than Brent -- more practical, I think -- but the woman does sardonica like a pro. She’s one of those people who doesn’t joke too often, but when she does, she catches you so unprepared that you crumple with laughter.

I showered and the body wash DID smell pretty good. Impostor oranges? Yes, definitely. When I emerged from the bathroom, Brent made a show of sniffing the air around me, considering its aroma, and giving it (and me) a thumbs-up.

“All right,” I said, let’s do this.

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

“Just a few more minutes,” Brent said, directing me toward a chair. “Brase is almost here.”

Puzzled, I glanced from Brent to Laurel. Judging by their expressions, they expected me to know what he was talking about. I did not.

So, “Uh… what is a ‘Brase?’”

Brent laughed; Laurel sighed. Couple’s dynamic established.

“He didn’t tell you?” Laurel asked, fixing Brent with a derisive glare. “Brase is the third sibling, Their parents LOVE alliteration, apparently.”

“Ok…” I said slowly, beginning to understand, “but…”

“But why ‘Brase?’” Brent offered. “Why not ‘Brian’ or ‘Bradly?’ Why make up a whole new, weird name that no one has ever heard of?”

I nodded. I didn’t want to be disrespectful, but… he said it, not me. “Yes,” I acknowledged. “All those things.”

Brent shrugged. “Dad insists he knew a guy by that name in college. Any time he’s ever been pressed on it, though, he can’t remember the guy’s last name, what he looked like, or really any other detail about this mysterious classmate. At this point, mom pretty much admits that they just made it up. Brase is ok with it, though. And, to tell you the truth, it fits him. You’ll understand when you meet him.”

“Which should be in only,” Laurel pressed a button on her phone and grimaced, “fifteen minutes ago.”

Brent smiled wanly and explained, simply, “Brase.”

Laurel nodded as if the name, alone, was justification for its bearer’s tardiness. I’ve come to learn that it kind of is.

Brase is an interesting gentleman and something of a kindred spirit. He dropped out of college in his Sophomore year to, coincidentally, go hiking. He chose a more traditional route, challenging the Appalachian Trail.

His parents weren’t keen on this development. I’m not sure if he was explicitly kicked-out or mutual understanding between he and his folks, but when he returned from the trail, he promptly moved in with Brent and Laurel.

He’s currently bopping from job to job. Though Brase is definitely a free spirit, that doesn’t equate with laziness. He has the opposite problem : too many things interest him. He gets really excited about a new endeavor, be it a job or hobby, gives it his all for a little while, and then moves onto something else. The problem is, he doesn’t abandon his previous vocation or interest. Instead, he wedges new pursuits into an already overflowing portfolio. That’s fine with hobbies, but it doesn’t jibe with most employment. No matter what he’s focused on, Brase likes to have a hundred different things going on in the background, a multi-tasker’s multi-tasker.

With his parents being more on the traditional side (“School, job, family, death,” he later described to me), Brase’s lifestyle has never sat well with them. Of the three children, he is the most frequently at odds with their parents. Dropping out of college to “Go for a walk,” was the final in a series of deep fractures in their relationship. “They’re starting to come around,” Brent said, but his expression lacked the confidence of his words.

Eventually Brase returned to the apartment. As he stepped inside, he boasted, “Right on time!” as his version of an apology. I found it endearing. Laurel’s groan suggested that she did not. “He ALWAYS says that when he’s late,” she explained quietly. “Like he’s on a sitcom and it’s his big-applause catch-phrase.”

He’d been “working” (which Brent explained could have meant anything – he’s ALWAYS ‘working’), and lit up the moment he saw me. Next thing I knew, I was being bear-hugged by a fuzzy mountain of a human being.

“That’s an em-Brase,” Brent said as he put on his shoes. “Get used to it.” He and Laurel received their share in due time.

During the car ride to pick up Brooke, Brase bubbled with excitement He asked me all about myself. “It’s so awesome that you’re making your OWN TRAIL,” he swooned, “your own literal path through this world!”

“Yeah,” I said. “I guess that is technically true.”

Brase is warm, INCANDESCENT, and impossible not to immediately like. It didn’t take long for me to hit it off with the previous night’s group. But with Brase, we were old friends reuniting, not a couple of strangers meeting for the first time.

Even if being bear-hugged by strangers or prompted for my life’s story seconds after “Hello, my name is…” isn’t typically my way, with Brase, this was a worthwhile exception.

As we neared the family home, Brase’s flurry of questions slowed and eventually stopped. He hugged Brooke when she got in but didn’t speak again until we were several blocks away.

As she unwound from her brother, Brooke’s nostrils began twitching. She faced me, eyes narrowed. “Glad you could make it…” she said tentatively, “but...you smell an awful lot like Brent. Were you guys… spooning?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Laurel nod sadly. Oh, come on!

~~~

Kittaning isn’t all that different from Butler, at least to my eyes – a little too big to feel like a “small town”, and too small to claim city status.

“It’s a ‘Plaza Town,’” Brent put it as we drove. “You want anything in Kitanning, you’re finding it in a plaza.” He wasn’t kidding. The library, DMV, and even the police station were all connected to one of its many plazas.

He and the others pointed out a handful of landmarks, most universal, but a few personal. “I had to pick Brooke up right… over… there.” Brent leaned against the steering wheel, pointing to the parking lot of a grocery store. “Thankfully the cops left her off easy or she’d STILL be serving hard time.”

“That isn’t even close to what happened!” Brooke protested.

Brent glanced back at her, batting his lashes. “No? By all means, tell us the whole story.”

She scowled at him before quietly assuring me, “A complete misunderstanding.” Then, adopting a mischievous smile, “Unlike Brent’s misadventure at the video game store.”

“Hey, hey,” Brent complained. He looked to Laurel. She inclined her chin and crossed her arms, expectant. “Wait a minute, now.”

“Sure,” Laurel told him. “Take your time. ‘Tell us the whole story.’” To the backseat she added, “New to me; thank you, Brooke.”

The feuding siblings exchanged a very feuding sibling glare through the mirror. Brase, meanwhile, pointed out the window at a small produce stand near the front of the lot. “They have EXCELLENT zucchini,” he declared cheerily.

I just smiled, closed my eyes, and enjoyed the ride.