On the Way to the Cabin

by Amabel Daniels

  But…avoidance doesn’t solve anything.

  She licked her lips, eyeing the bottle, knowing she was taking a coward’s way out.

  “So…I’ll be a coward then.” And she brought the bottle to her lips. It was a simple plan, really. Lena wasn’t a fan of drinking, and as such, she estimated she’d pass out quite quickly. A clean, easy way to avoid having to talk to Aaron about marriages of any kind. Namely his. Only, she couldn’t understand why he’d clammed up when she’d admitted she’d once thought she’d like to get married and then snapped at him when he’d asked what changed.

  Perhaps he realized he was a little bit of a crappy friend to keep that news from her, that he’d found someone and had proposed. Despite her issues of pining for him, he was her friend. Friends didn’t keep engagements and fiancés secret.

  “No, they only keep love a secret.” She groaned after she’d whispered it to herself.

  As the buzz of the sweet wine coursed through her alcohol-intolerant body, her brain fuzzed with self-righteousness.

  He should have told her he’d been seeing someone. Maybe then, she could have eased herself into a gradual disappointment. Not take it like a shock.

  He should have…

  No. I should have told him.

  Right on the heels of the warming buzz came a weighted sadness. A crusade of thoughts against her, doubting her every decision about Aaron.

  She should have told him before she’d even agreed to go to Homecoming with Todd, way back in freshman year.

  And we’re going way back down memory lane now. She rolled her eyes to herself as she took another gulp of wine. Freshman year? Yeah, her regrets went that far back.

  She should have told Aaron that she liked him during their practices at the rink. All through their young adulthood, she’d had a chance.

  Yet, after that accident, when Todd crashed his car and she’d been so injured she’d never be able to skate competitively again…Aaron was different with her. They’d remained friends, of course. He’d come to visit her nearly every day at the hospital while she recovered from countless surgeries and hours of physical therapy. Aaron had always been her friend, before, during, and after that incident.

  But something changed.

  “Something?” She laughed because she refused to cry. “More like everything.”

  Aaron became somehow aloof. Near her, but matured, overnight it seemed. He’d treated her more as a responsibility, as something to be tended to, instead of someone to cherish. Maybe that was the effect of being a victim in a bad accident, a patient with a lot of recovery ahead. Gone was that laidback and carefree relationship they’d had before that Homecoming dance.

  Mom, she’d changed too, mourning the loss of Lena’s future as a professional skater. She’d never said it, and probably never would, but she’d taken Lena’s injuries almost personally, grudging the end of her daughter’s dreams. Dad, too, he’d taken it hard, but he’d wasted no time in promising her other alternatives for a future, namely in taking over the rink. He was the practical one of their family.

  There was no argument that Lena was a different person after that single afternoon. When Todd had crashed the car and injured her, she was no longer the same girl who planned to be an Olympic athlete one day. After that incident, everyone treated her in new ways. With pity at her injuries. Disappointment that she’d have no lofty goals or career opportunities.

  All of sudden, since that day, she’d become something instead of someone. Lena the temporarily handicapped teenager, not the ice skater prodigy. Lena the rehab patient, not the all-As student. For so long she’d struggled to stay true to herself and not let her injuries define her. When everyone around her—other than good old Molly—treated her differently, she was forced to reidentify herself according to her physical shortcomings.

  It hadn’t helped that just she’d just started high school either. Already a tumultuous and trying time, but especially for her. Going to a new school outside their small town, as an adopted black girl in a small community that was predominantly white. All the different looks from strangers she hadn’t gone to grade school with, kids who knew who she was and that she could indeed fit in with them. Those prejudiced glances from new classmates wondering how she belonged in this school with them, in this town with them.

  Swallowing the wine in her mouth, she heard the water from the shower turn off, and she closed her eyes shut tight.

  Apparently, the sleepiness would take a while. Funny. The last time she’d drank she’d been wasted in minutes. Eyeing the bottle before Aaron could come out, she frowned at it.

  Just how cheap is this stuff? She checked the label, informing her there was a hefty amount of alcohol in there.

  No matter.

  She’d just roll over and pretend to doze so she wouldn’t have to look at him. Whatever she could do to block out the pain of knowing she’d never belong with him.

  I never belong, anyway.

  Hot steam warmed her socked feet as Aaron exited the bathroom. She wasn’t sure how good she was at playing possum, but she’d fake it for as long as she could. Even in her buzzed state, she was acutely aware of him in the room. His solid footsteps as he padded on the carpet. The zips of his backpack. Fabric rustling, probably as he pulled a shirt over his head. A pop can tab cracking open a drink.

  Unbidden images of him dressing from a steamy shower attacked her already sour mood.

  “Lena?” he asked.

  Then the whoosh of a cushion. He had to be sitting in one of the chairs at the table. Still, she kept her eyes closed and her breathing as steady as possible.

  “You’re not sleeping.”

  She resisted the urge to groan. Well, she could be. She wasn’t moving, was she? Breathing evenly…

  Okay, maybe not breathing evenly. Whenever she was near him her heart seemed to pump faster.

  “Le-na,” he drawled.

  She wasn’t giving in.

  “Do you still talk to him?” he asked.

  She frowned, forgetting to play possum in her hazy state, and opened one eye. “Who?”

  He frowned at her, like she’d asked a stupid question. “Todd.”

  “Todd?” She opened her other eye and pushed to sit up. Why does he keep bringing him up? He was so long ago.

  “Yeah.”

  Seated now, she yawned. Oh…now I’ll get sleepy. Some help that was a minute ago. “Uh…no.”

  “You don’t?”

  She peered at him as though squinting would sharpen some logic into his reaction.

  “Should I?”

  He scratched at his blond beard and eyed the floor. She glanced down at the worn, low-pile carpet as well for as hard as he concentrated at it. Nothing fascinating about it as far as she could see.

  “I haven’t heard from him since high school graduation.”

  He met her gaze again. “Why not?”

  She pursed her lips and shrugged. “Because I didn’t want to?” Never mind the fact he’d moved away for college. Molly said she’d seen on social media that he’d “officially” come out at his college graduation and was now married to his husband. Expecting twins in the fall. Her best friend was dramatic and nosy like that—just like the gossip-loving Homecoming queen girl she was back then.

  “But…” He rubbed at his short, golden hair, causing a whisking sound to cut through the quiet in the room. She watched, perhaps drunkenly mesmerized, as fine droplets of water flew from his motion. “Well, when did you realize you wanted to marry him?”

  Her jaw dropped. The action didn’t register until she realized her tongue was drying out. Leaning forward, like a turtle poking its head out of a shell, she closed her mouth and swallowed hard. “Huh?”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Are you drunk?”

  “I hope I am.”

  He stood and took the bottle from her. “You are such a lightweight,” he said with a chuckle. When he saw how much she’d had, he shook his head and set the bottle on the bedside table.
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  “So, Todd,” he said, standing in front of her for a moment before pacing back to the chair.

  She nodded at him, likely trying to remind her of their weird conversation. Todd, right. What was he saying about him?

  A moment of clarity hit as she thought back to what Aaron had asked her.

  He thinks I wanted to marry Todd? He was a doofus. She only went to Homecoming with him because he was the first one to ask her. And, maybe because she’d hoped that the fact she was asked to the dance would prove to Aaron that she wasn’t some baby sister kind of girl.

  “I never—” A ridiculous force to laugh took over her words. She let herself crack up at such an outlandish idea. “I never wanted to marry Todd. I never even wanted to date him, really. He was just…there.”

  “But in the car, you said you’d once thought you’d like to get married.”

  She stood and snatched the bottle from the table. After draining a long drink, she wiped at her mouth and strode away from him. “Yeah. I used to have that fairy-tale kind of allusion, wanting to be someone’s Mrs.” Spinning, she teetered a little but still managed to face him.

  “With Todd?” he asked with a scrunched brow of confusion.

  “No.” Another drink of the wine loosened her painful truth. “If I ever saw myself walking down the aisle, it would have been to you.”

  “What?” he whispered, his eyes wide and his body still.

  She grinned, relieved in a slightly crazed way, that she’d finally dropped that bomb. Already she felt lighter, the burden of her secret no longer hers to hold. The truth was out there.

  “You.” She raised the bottle to her lips and swigged the booze again while she pointed a finger at him.

  “Me.”

  Nodding, she watched him frown a little bit.

  “Me?”

  “You.” At his stunned reaction, she was pushed by the impetus of an alcohol-induced liberation. In college, Molly always thought it hilarious how chatty Lena could get when drunk. A gabby drunk.

  “I’ve been in love with you forever.” She emphasized her declaration by raising her arms to the sides like they were wings. Only, that sloshed wine from the bottle so she nestled that precious container back to her chest.

  He said nothing and simply stared. For how long, she didn’t know. She didn’t care either. In his mute state, he was the perfect audience for all the confessions she’d kept under lock and key for too many years.

  She told him everything. How she’d crushed on him when they were pre-teens, and the silly affection grew into something real and serious. How she’d wanted him and wished he’d give her even a teeny hope that he might feel the same. How she’d loved him and likely always would.

  During her rambling, probably incoherent verbal vomit of confessing her feelings for him, she grew clumsier, looser, and tired. He sat unmoving in that chair, watching as she slumped to the bed and cradled a pillow, the nearly empty wine bottle lying on its side on the nightstand but so low that no liquid would even spill out.

  She closed her eyes, grateful for the lull of sleep at last claiming her. Thoughts swarmed into a mess that faded as drowsiness stole her. Sweet, blissful…sleep.

  “Why did you say you wanted to marry me?”

  She snorted a laugh. Hadn’t he been listening for the last hour—hours?

  “I mean, why past tense? You don’t want to marry me anymore?”

  His tone was soft and calm. Maybe he was bewildered by it all, and yet, was still stung by her “rejection.”

  In a slurred mumble, she tried to counter with, “Well, I can’t marry you when you’re engaged to someone else.”

  And as she fell asleep, she almost didn’t hear his reply.

  “I’m not.”

  Chapter Four

  Too-bright whiteness shone from the small slit in the curtains. Aaron dropped the plaid fabric and let Lena have her darkness for at least a few more minutes.

  He’d woken up from a restless sleep that was broken by strange dreams of Lena being driven away by Todd.

  Lena still slept, and he knew her well enough that when this Sleeping Beauty did wake up, it wouldn’t be pretty.

  No, no, no. She’d be gorgeous as ever, even in a sorry hungover state. Lena could never be anything but beautiful to him, whether she was dressed in a formal gown, sporting skating costumes, or in day-old casualwear that she’d passed out drunk in. Aaron saw her inner radiance and true charm, and it never mattered how much she tried to glam up and mask herself in makeup or clothes. He saw her, the real her, that woman who was sometimes too shy and doubtful of her own worth.

  Yet, Lena was a lightweight. Sure, she and Molly drank and partied a little in college, but those fun times were ancient history. Now, Lena didn’t drink often, and last night she’d nearly guzzled an entire bottle of wine by herself.

  He scoffed at the empty container on the table. Lousy, generic wine, at that.

  Which, after what she’d so heartfully and emotionally spilled to him, he could have appreciated a drink of something strong last night, too.

  Here he was, though, the sober one. He sat on the edge of the mattress and prepared to rouse the beast.

  “Lena.”

  A muffled groan whined from her and she rolled her face from the pillows. Eyes still shut tight, of course.

  “Lena,” he repeated gently as he rubbed her shoulder.

  “No.”

  He smiled, despite her crankiness. Any time she’d drink too much, it would be a headache to manage the morning after.

  “I’ve got some water for you. And Tylenol.”

  “No.” She further demonstrated her lack of desire to get up by curling into a fetal position. Hugging the pillow to her belly, she winced and rubbed at her forehead. “Just…no.”

  He couldn’t resist smiling wider but he knew better than to laugh at her petulant tone. He wasn’t laughing at her, per se, but… She has no idea how adorable she is, even like this. Pouty and…precious. Seeing her in pain wasn’t something he wanted to continue, though, so he carried on with his tough love.

  “Come on, Lena. Time to get up.”

  “No.”

  “Please?”

  She shoved an elbow at him, blocking her face more.

  “Check-out is in a half-hour.”

  A moan came from her now.

  He’d waited as long as he could, letting her sleep in. All those morning hours he’d sat there and tried to doze next to her when he couldn’t keep his eyes open long enough to watch her sleep and wonder.

  Like a loop, her words played over and over in his tired mind.

  She liked him—loved him. And she always had. As a teen, a young adult, and still now. He’d need much more than a single night to absorb that news. Such a humongous miracle of good news.

  She loves me. His heart once again raced at the giddiness of her confession.

  “Go away.” She swatted at him.

  Grinning, because knowing she really was his girl—in matters of the heart, at least—made his day that much more worth living.

  “I could let you stay in bed until the minute we need to leave, but I thought you might like a shower.”

  She turned to face him, eyes screwed shut. “My head…”

  He nodded, anticipating her woes. She wasn’t predictable all the time, but he was thankfully knowledgeable about how to doctor her hangovers.

  “A shower will help. As will water.” He brought the capped water bottle to her and tapped her chin with it. “I ran out and got you something to eat, too.”

  Now she cracked one eye open. “Yeah?”

  “Sausage gravy and biscuits.”

  She blinked both eyes, cringing all the while, and rolled over slowly. “My savior. You remembered my hangover food.”

  As she sat up, he stepped away from her to give her space. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you so wasted, but, yeah. Of course I remember.”

  I remember every little detail about you.

  “
You remember much about last night?” She yawned and rubbed at her eyes, the water bottle resting next to her thigh.

  “All of it.”

  She froze, one arm still raised and bent at the elbow. Her fingers remained still, two of them pressed to the side of her cheek. “All of it?”

  He nodded and stuck his hands in his pockets.

  “So you can tell me if I…”

  “Told me you love me.” More nods. Then he added, “And have for a long time, it seems.”

  Instead of cowering away or crumbling in embarrassment, she twisted her lips to one side. “Well, they do say alcohol can liberate the mind…” She stood and faced him soberly. “I’m sorry for…” Huffing a couple of aggravated breaths, she crossed her arms. “I’m sorry for…” She mimed with her hand, gesturing at her mouth like she was throwing something up. “Sorry for dumping all of that on you.”

  He licked his lips. An apology? That wasn’t at all what he expected nor wanted to hear. She had nothing to be sorry about, and he’d be damned if she would try to walk back her words and un-say them now. “It’s okay.”

  Her shrug was a show of indifference and her steps away from him, giving him her back, was a signal of dismissal. “Well, at least I confessed all before you actually are married. Might have been weirder then.”

  As she sluggishly dragged herself to the bathroom, he frowned. Before I’m actually— He rushed to intercept her.

  “I remember all of what you said last night, but did you even hear what I said? Before you passed out?”

  She rubbed at the back of her neck, squinting more since the bathroom light was on. “Uh…nothing?”

  That was almost true. He’d sat there, dumbfounded, as she spewed her rambling and heated proclamation of love, as though she were in a courtroom and was a lawyer pressing one last statement. But he had explained one fact. Granted, he’d spoken just before her soft almost-snores began, it was likely she hadn’t even caught it.

  “I’m not engaged, Lena.”

  She squinted even more and took a step back. “I got the invitation yesterday. To the wedding of A. Hampton and M. Knight.”

  He cocked his head to the side, ensuring she stayed locked to his gaze. “To my cousin’s wedding.”