Snowbound

by Kim Golden

  "Where's your car?" I ask him. Jake stands a few feet away. He wipes melting snow from his face and then shoves his bare hands in his pockets.

  "It's stuck…couple of miles from here. I skidded into a ditch."

  "Didn't you have snow tires on?"

  "I didn't know it would be snowing here." Evan tromps through the snow and comes closer. His camel-colored cashmere coat is mottled with mud and what looks like motor oil. His leather loafers are soaking wet. In the morning, when he surveys the damage, he'll be furious they're ruined. "Can't we go inside? I'm fucking freezing."

  He keeps his eyes on me. Jake doesn't exist for Evan. He probably hasn't even registered that Jake is even with me. It isn't until Jake clears his throat and asks me if I need him to bring in more wood that Evan pays attention.

  "Are you still married?" I ask him, ignoring his antics to prove that he is cold.

  "You know I am."

  "Then you ought to be at home with your wife. Not with me."

  "I told you we had unfinished business. Private business." He throws a look at Jake. "Maybe you should send your handyman home."

  "He's not my handyman, he's my friend." I turn to Jake. "I've got enough firewood for the night. Do you want to come in for coffee?"

  Jake shakes his head. "You've got enough on your plate. I'll see you in the morning." Then he lumbers off, disappearing into the guest house without even looking back. Inside me, something sinks and disintegrates. I wish Evan had never come, but now he's here and I can't just leave him in the cold. So, I lead him into the house, thinking how I can get his car out of the ditch and get him back on the road before Jake changes his mind about me. About us. Because, something is happening between us. I don't really know what it is, but I don't want Evan to taint it. I want him to go home.

  Inside, I find some of my granddad's old clothes for Evan to change into. I tell him he can take a warm bath if he wants. He nods and says he's hungry too. So I tell him I'll warm up some of Ruth's beef stew. I show him where the bathroom is and hand him a towel. He tries to pull me into the bathroom with him, but I resist.

  "No, Evan…just take your bath. I'll call the garage and see if someone can tow your car into town."

  Then I make my escape. I jog down the steps and retreat to the kitchen. At first, I just stand in front of the wall-mounted phone, muttering to myself "I wish he'd never come…" and "Jake must think I am a slut…" and "God…why now?" Then I remind myself to call the garage. I find the local phonebook in the cupboard beneath the phone and call Jaworski's Auto Repair. It's too late for anyone to be there, though. Besides, there's a storm. I leave a message, though. Billy Jaworski is part of the local team that plows the roads, so maybe he can tow the car while he's plowing. I give him my grandmother's phone number and ask him to call me when he's got time. I even promise to bake my grandmother's pumpkin pie for him if he can tow Evan's car out of the ditch by tomorrow morning. Grandma Ruth always sweetened every deal with food, maybe it will work this time too.

  Once I hang up, I peer out the window. Jake is outside again. He's heading towards the house. I rush to the front door and open it, before he's even on the porch. He looks determined as hell. I stand there shivering with my arms crossed over my chest. He says my name and I lower my arms. I want him to kiss me. And when he grabs me and presses his lips to mine, I melt. And everything feels so right. This is what I want. He is who I want.

  When we part, my body is burning hot. I want him to kiss me again. I want to feel his jealous passion pressing against me. I pull him inside and close the door.

  "I hate that he's here," he says in a lowered voice. "I don't want him anywhere near you. I know I shouldn't say this."

  "I want you to say it."

  "What's going on with us?" he asks again. "We barely know one another."

  "It doesn't matter. I want you." I confess eagerly. "I think I have since I first set eyes on you."

  "If this storm hadn't blown in—"

  "We could have sent him away…"

  "I don't want him here."

  "Me neither." Jake cradles my face in his hands and kisses me again, this time slower and with less urgency, but it still sends ripples of longing through me, starting in my fingertips and spreading through me like brushfire. "We could…"

  "He can sleep in the guest house. I could stay here with you tonight…if you wanted that."

  I nod. I step back and pull him into the living room. We kiss again and smile. A bubble of giddiness inflates inside me. Screw my list of conditions…I want Jake. And he wants me… And when he's taken off his coat and hung it on the coat rack, he comes up behind me and wraps his arms around me and kisses my neck. I lean into him and wish I'd met him first. I wish he'd been the one sitting beside me at Thanksgiving, the one when I met Evan. I wish I'd met this man who wouldn't have played so many mind games with me. Go slow, I tell myself. Take it slowly…this is all new for you…but when have I ever listened to my own advice?

  Evan looks ridiculous in my grandfather's clothing. He is too slender. His legs are too short for the overalls and he's had to cuff them. The flannel shirt drowns him. He looks like a boy playing dress-up. I offer him coffee and try not to giggle.

  "I heard voices when I was in the tub," he says gruffly. "Have we got company?"

  I set his mug on the kitchen table. "Jake came over."

  "What did he want?" Evan tries to take my hand, but I snatch it away. "Why are you being like this? I know I should have warned you, but you had to know Melissa was going to want babies soon."

  "You lied to me, Evan," I remind him. "You ought to be happy I am even giving you any hospitality at all."

  "Come on, it's not like we both didn't get what we want."

  "I didn't get what I wanted," I say, "…or what you promised me."

  "Was I supposed to leave her when she said she was pregnant?"

  "You could have told me she was pregnant."

  "I did."

  "No, you announced it without even warning me," I retort. "You promised me you were finally leaving her and then you announced to the world that the two of you were starting a family."

  "I can't leave her when she's going to have my baby."

  "You were never planning on leaving her."

  Evan doesn't deny my accusation. He shrugs and says, "Does it matter? You've already got a new friend." He says "friend" like it's a dirty word. "Found yourself a white boy to cozy up to. Can't say I'm surprised, considering we're in white bread country."

  "You're such an ass, Evan."

  "So, you don't deny it? You haven't even been up here two weeks and you're already with him."

  "Maybe I am. He's more of a man than you ever were."

  Evan laughs and shakes his head. "Yeah, well, if he was keeping you satisfied you wouldn't still be mad at me."

  "What kind of logic is that? Of course I'm still angry! You betrayed my trust. You knew she was pregnant that night you came to me and said it was all going to be over by Thanksgiving. Admit it!"

  Evan smirks at me. "You've got it all figured out."

  "Well, it doesn't matter anyway. You're not sleeping here tonight."

  "Where the hell am I supposed to go? I don't have a car and it's freezing out."

  "Jake's sleeping here. You're sleeping over at his place."

  Just then, Jake comes back. He calls out my name and I tell him we're in the kitchen. When he stands in the kitchen doorway, he smiles at me and there is something in his smile that makes me feel like butterflies are taking flight inside me. "Everything okay?" he asks.

  "Everything's perfect," I assure him. "I just told Evan where he'll be sleeping."

  Evan snorts. "Yeah, you've got it all figured out."

  "You'll be comfortable there," Jake says sheepishly. He leans against the doorsill. His green eyes sparkle.

  I want to go over to Jake and kiss him, but everything is so new. Somehow, I know that any public displays of affection in front of Evan will not be viewed in the ri
ght light. Jake will think I am doing it to make Evan jealous. Evan will assume I am doing it to get a rise out of him. He may even be vain enough to think it is for his benefit. I take a sip of my coffee and remind myself to relax. I've warmed up some stew for Evan. I tell him to sit down and eat, as soon as he's done Jake'll show him where everything is in the guest house. Jake smiles at me. "I'll go start a fire in the living room."

  Once Jake is out of sight, Evan says in a low voice, "You think you're going to make me jealous with a white man, you've got another thing coming."

  "This has nothing to do with you, Evan."

  "I know you, Mia. You're the one who said she wasn't interested in crossing the color line, you said there was nothing a white man could do for you that a black man couldn't do better."

  Hearing my own boast, one I said as recently as a few months ago, come out of Evan's mouth shames me. I said it at Jane and Brian's Fourth of July barbecue when Melissa stupidly asked me why I was still single and still holding on to the idea of the perfect black man. She'd just read a book on the plight of the middle-class black woman and her struggle to find companionship in an America where too many black men were incarcerated or unwilling to commit. I didn't want relationship advice from my lover's wife, especially advice that was so judgmental. I'd already overheard her saying to Jenny and Priya that women like me—single, educated women—were deluding themselves with the dream of finding tall, dark and handsome. "They may as well settle for tall, white, and got a good job." And she'd said it in such a haughty tone that I knew she thought I wasn't good enough to be with anyone.

  "I've said a lot of things without thinking first." I watch Evan shovel the food in his mouth. He eats without tasting the love and care that Ruth put into the stew. Of course he doesn't taste it. He only cares about himself. "And when I said that, it was more about self-preservation than actually believing in any of it."

  "Sounds like a justification."

  "Shut up and eat." The sooner he is done, the sooner we can send him to the guest house.

  I leave him in the kitchen and head for the living room. Jake is adding more kindling to the fire. The chill in the air is already beginning to dissipate. Outside, the wind whooshes through the tree branches and sends gusts of snow across the yard and the road. I want to curl into Jake and hold him close. I want to kiss him and feel his mouth open under my lips. I want him to undress me and taste my skin. Just imagining it triggers little bursts of arousal in me. Jake sets the fireguard in place and comes over to the window. He touches my sleeve. "Is he nearly done?"

  I nod. "I can't believe he even came."

  When I first arrived, there was a part of me that wanted Evan to come and prove that he really did love me. Two weeks ago, all I wanted was for him to assure me that we could continue being together despite Melissa and the baby. But that isn't true either. I already knew, on Thanksgiving, that I could never go back to him. He'd broken my heart and betrayed me so easily. He didn't even have the decency to warn me. I was so awful. I will have to tell Jake the entire story…even if he doesn't want to hear it, one day he is going to need to know why I ended up with Evan in the first place.

  "Did you really say that? That a black man could always do better what a white man does?"

  "Yeah, but it was more a stupid knee-jerk reaction to his wife than anything else."

  "It doesn't matter." Jake leans in and kisses me tenderly. "I can at least try to prove I'm worthy."

  "I think we're violating rule number 3."

  "Which one was that?"

  "Involving one another in personal problems."

  "Well, we've already violated rules 1 and 2. What does it matter if we break a few more?"

  I want to say more, but then Evan clomps into the living room and says, "I'm ready."

  I find one of my grandfather's old work shirts in the cupboard under the stairs. It smells dusty, but there is still a trace of the woodsy aftershave my grandfather used clinging to the flannel. I hand the shirt to Evan and say, "That should keep you warm enough to cross the yard."

  "Did you find out if anyone can tow my car?"

  "I left a message at the garage. They'll let us know tomorrow if they managed. They've got to plow the roads first."

  Then Jake leads the way across the yard, through the ever-deepening snow, and I ask myself what I ever saw in Evan in the first place?

  In the kitchen, I clear away the dishes and mugs and put them in the dishwasher, one of the few modern conveniences my grandmother could abide by. She hated washing dishes by hand. And when she and granddad were forced to renovate the kitchen, after a pipe burst and they discovered wood rot, the first thing she purchased was a dishwasher. All I can say, is that I am glad she saw the light. I spent too many evenings washing dishes in this kitchen when I was a kid. All of the houses and apartments I'd lived in with my mother had dishwashers and microwave ovens. My grandmother resisted microwaves until my granddad first became ill and warming up his dinner in the oven kept her from his bedside too long. I bought it for her when I came to visit. She was still suspicious about it, said God didn't mean for us to have warm food in 60 seconds. But she liked popping popcorn in it. And if warming up Granddad's soup only took 90 seconds, that was better than the five or ten minutes it usually took.

  I open the cupboard above the stove and pull out my iPhone. I have three new messages from Jane. I tap in a new message for her: Evan showed up.

  It doesn't take long to get her reply: Make him leave!

  Can't. There's a snowstorm and his car is in a ditch. Making him sleep in the guest house.

  Where's your tenant sleeping?

  Here with me…

  Progress?!?! I'm calling you now!

  Nonono…he'll be back any minute. Will call you tomorrow.

  Expecting details.

  I promise.

  Then I shut down my phone and stick it back in the cupboard. The land line rings just as I catch sight of Jake trudging through the snow back to me. When I answer, Billy Jaworski greets me with, "Found your friend's fancy car. We got it here at the shop now."

  "Thanks, Billy. I'll bring a pie by this weekend."

  "You betcha. You can tell your friend he's lucky. No damage, not even to the axles. He's going to need chains or some winter tires to get back to Pennsylvania though."

  Billy goes on to tell me he'll put some old winter tires on the car and bring it over as soon as the storm passes.

  "It should have passed by tomorrow morning, right?"

  "It's a pretty big storm front. You never know."

  I hang up and turn off the kitchen light. In the living room, Jake has set two storm lanterns on the coffee table. A rolled-up sleeping bag leans against the sofa.

  "Are you planning on camping tonight?"

  "I don't think we should rush into anything," he says. He scratches his jaw, then sits down on the squishy sofa. "Maybe we are rushing, maybe we should just take it slow."

  "A few minutes ago you were telling me you wanted to spend the night with me."

  "I am going to spend the night with you…we're just not going to sleep in the same bed."

  "There are guest rooms in this house, Jake. This isn't the god-damned African bush. You can sleep in one of the guest rooms." I try to sound okay with his decision, but the iciness of my voice betrays me. What kind of game is this now? He won't even look me in the eye.

  "It's probably better if I sleep down here."

  The fire crackles. I almost wish he hadn't lit it now. The romantic moment he set is being wasted.

  I give up then. I'm too tired to get into a fight with him. Maybe I should fight. Maybe this is a test, but I am so tired of being tested. "Okay," I finally say. "Suit yourself. There's an extra pillow in the under-stairs cupboard. You might even find an extra quilt there too."

  "Mia…"

  "I'm going to bed." I cut him off. "I'll see you in the morning."

  And then I climb the steps. I don't look back at him. I just keep climbing un
til I reach the second floor, then I hold tight to my resolve and retreat to the bedroom and close the door behind me. If my grandmother were here, she'd send me back downstairs and force me to confront Jake. She'd say I deserved something better than "I think we should take it slow". Every woman knows that it's the single man's cop-out. It's what they say when they get cold feet. So, what gave Jake cold feet, besides the god-damned snow? I'm already in my pajamas when it hits me—Evan. And it makes me wish I could march across the yard and beat the crap out of him. But I stand stock still in front of the bed and summon all the willpower I have. I may want to be intimate with Jake, but I am not going to force him into it. I'm not desperate. I think I'm falling in love. But that's a whole 'nother kettle of fish. And I'll just have to climb into bed with my Kindle and the latest Dorothy Koomson novel. Alone.

  8 Inclement Weather: Jake

  Rule #4 There will be no unnecessary physical contact. I'm not into you. You're not into me.

  Setting up my sleeping bag and some supplies for the night—a 900-page horror novel I picked up at Heathrow, but haven't even started reading, a squashed pack of cigarettes I know I won't smoke, and a bagel I found in my fridge—doesn't take long. Above me, the floorboards creak. I imagine Mia getting undressed and changing into her pajamas…does she even wear them? No, it's too drafty in this house to sleep nude, but it's sexy as hell imagining her climbing into the sheets with nothing on.

  Then, I think about her asshole ex in my house. He'll be sleeping comfortably in my bed, while I am on the floor. I must be an idiot. I could climb those stairs now and tell her I made a mistake, but maybe she already regrets what's happening between us.

  She's right though. I didn't have this doubt when I was taking Evan over to the guest house. He planted the seed of doubt in my brain. And the crafty bastard was swift about it, making little asides as I showed him where he could sleep. It was the first one that really shook me. "You don't need to give me the grand tour. It's not like this is the first time I've been here."

  I brushed off that first comment and said, "The sheets on the bed are clean." Then I went to the linen closet and pulled out a bath towel for him. I tossed it on the bed. "And there's your towel."