by Lily Craig
"Those kids were mean," said Madelyn. "But I'm excited for school. Aren't you? We get to learn how to write and spell and read big books. That's fun!"
The discomfort in Georgiana's chest swelled up again. Having to come here every day, to face those strangely cruel children who were so quick to judge her, it made her want to hide underneath her bed and never come out again.
"Maybe," she said. Even though Madelyn had saved her from the mean kids, she wasn't sure how much she could say yet. Despite being five years old, Georgiana had already gleaned that there was something different about her. Something that other children spotted from a mile away.
"What's your name?" asked Madelyn. When Georgiana met those chocolate eyes, she felt her stomach wobble in a funny way.
Madelyn wasn't like those kids on the playground. She didn't care who Georgiana was and she was nice to her.
"Georgiana. But only my mom calls me that. I don't like it."
"Do you have a nickname?" asked Madelyn. "My mama is called Radmila but everyone just says Mila. It's her nickname."
"I like Georgie."
"Georgie," said Madelyn. She spoke the name as if she were carefully committing it to memory.
In the moment of silence that followed, Georgiana realized she wanted to know this girl, to be close to her and watch her make these funny expressions and smudge chocolate icing on her face. There was brightness to her, drawing Georgiana closer without her even realizing it.
"I like it too," said Madelyn.
When Georgiana smiled then, the tears of a few minutes ago felt like an entirely different lifetime. Her mother had told her that going to school would be fun, would teach her things and help her make friends. Georgie hadn't believed her.
But now, sitting on the scuffed bench with Madelyn, Georgie realized that her mother had been right about one thing.
She had a friend.
3
Present Day
Georgie brought her bags inside the cabin. Though Madelyn offered to help, Georgie insisted on lugging supplies by herself. Some misplaced sense of pride, perhaps. Madelyn's mind latched onto the possibility that Georgie was trying to be chivalrous and that therefore she saw Madelyn that way.
The way where Georgie wanted to be gallant. As if she might respond positively to Madelyn saying what she'd been aching to say, for months now. Weeks of turning the words over in her head with careful reflection, imaginary conversations where Georgie's reaction ranged from horror to bliss.
For now, Madelyn merely appreciated the sight of Georgie hefting things up the stairs, her muscular thighs flexing with each step. Working in a physical job had been good for Georgie in more ways than one. Madelyn’s body ached with heat watching her.
When Madelyn realized she was staring, she whirled back into the kitchen to start on dinner.
"What are you hungry for?" she shouted to Georgie. Madelyn's cheeks reddened with a blush she hoped would dissipate before Georgie came back downstairs for the next bag.
"What do you got?" came the reply from a bedroom upstairs.
"Tofu for scrambles, quinoa salad, a frozen lasagna, chicken pot pies I can reheat, more beer than I think we can physically consume during a year, let alone this trip. Steaks, some walleye my brother caught in the summer up North, sandwich stuff—"
"Steak!" interrupted Georgie, practically shouting the word with glee. "Say no more. Steak and beer sound like fucking heaven right now."
"Steak it is," said Madelyn. She took the meat out of the fridge, unpacking it from the butcher's paper with reverence. Though she wasn't normally a careful cook, she wanted this meal to knock Georgie's socks off.
Maybe other pieces of clothing too, she thought, and then blushed again. This time Georgie was walking towards the kitchen island and saw the expression. She misinterpreted it as a flustered response to the task of cooking.
"Hey, I can help," said Georgie. Before Madelyn could protest, Georgie came around the island and sidled up to her, gently touching the small of Madelyn's back to get her to move so she could reach for a pot.
"Potatoes good?" asked Georgie while she brandished the pot.
Madelyn's nerve endings tingled at Georgie's touch, a warm glow radiating from where her fingers had been on Madelyn's back. Madelyn's mind couldn't steady itself to respond, so she smiled, blinking vacantly for a second. Then she remembered where she was and nodded.
Her throat was scratchy now, hoarse with the rush of feeling that Georgie had unwittingly conjured.
"Sure," said Madelyn. Georgie rummaged through a cupboard to find the potatoes, taking out a cutting board shortly after. She started chopping the potatoes into rough cubes, moving with decisive strength. It was all Madelyn could do not to stare at those hands, willing them to come back to Madelyn's body and linger awhile.
"So how's life?" she said, clearing her throat. She seasoned the steaks and got out a cast iron pan from the lower part of the island. The snow was coming down too heavily outside for them to use the barbecue, and besides, the thing looked ancient. Who knew if it even had propane inside?
Madelyn was hyperaware of Georgie's presence, acutely embarrassed by the mundane nature of her question. She wanted to ask much deeper things, but the surprise of Georgie's arrival had shocked her into an unexpected state. Words were hard to find, and so was confidence.
Georgie shrugged, her head tilting to the side. She'd taken off the heavy overcoat and dusted snow from her lashes, shoulders, and face, but the beanie she still wore had damp spots where flakes had melted. Its red wool brought out rosy undertones in her cheeks.
"Not too bad. You?"
"It's ok," said Madelyn. She'd known Georgie was a woman of few words for years, and yet she'd never grown accustomed to how that taciturn nature made her feel helpless. You had to be careful to draw Georgie out slowly, to give her space, like a wild animal. The wrong question might elicit a half-hearted shrug, but then no further answers would be found.
"What have you been working on?" asked Madelyn. She put the pan on the stove and began to heat it, adding a pat of butter that would foam with enthusiasm when the temperature was right. Georgie turned and put the potatoes on next to the cast iron pan, and her sleeve brushed against Madelyn.
"Same old industrial stuff," said Georgie. She’d trained as a welder when Madelyn was in undergrad. With the potatoes on the stove, Georgie opened the fridge to help herself to a beer. "You want one too?"
Madelyn was worried what she might say with alcohol in her system, but she nodded eagerly, thankful for the possibility of some social lubrication. In her mind, it had been easier to get back into a rhythm with Georgie.
In her mind, Georgie had never left.
Reality was much more complicated than that.
"Thanks. So do you like Edmonton? Miss Calgary at all?"
What she really wanted to ask was 'Do you miss me at all?' though Madelyn knew it was too forward. Being alone with Georgie again made her wistful and emotional.
Why couldn’t they find the rhythm they once had?
Georgie must have caught the tone of Madelyn's voice shifting from polite inquiries to something deeper, because she looked up from the beer bottle label she was reading. Georgie had always liked knowing details like that, where the beer came from, what they had to say about the brew.
"It's been an adjustment, I'm not going to lie. But it's been a good year, too."
There. Madelyn had gotten multiple sentences out of Georgie at once. Whether it was the whirling snow outside creating a feeling of stronger intimacy, or the subtle influence of sipping the beer, she didn't care. All she wanted was for Georgie to look her in the eye and tell her everything about the past year.
It had been eleven months since Georgie moved to Edmonton, and Madelyn still remembered the morning when she woke and knew her friend no longer lived in the same city as her.
‘I didn’t want you to leave,’ she'd wanted to say. But you couldn’t force people to do things contrary to their need
s. Madelyn still felt sadness every morning when she woke up, knowing her closest confidant lived hours away.
"I'm happy to hear it's been good," Madelyn said. Had she taken too long to respond? She couldn't tell. She and Georgie sipped at their beers, taking larger swigs now.
When the butter reached the right temperature, Madelyn turned to sear the steaks. The sizzling sound was deeply satisfying; she spooned the butter over the meat while she worked, waiting for the oven to pre-heat to the right temperature for the final stage of cooking. Already, a delicious smell wafted throughout the cabin.
"You still liking your job?" asked Georgie.
Madelyn turned to nod and a pop of the searing steak fat splattered onto her bare skin.
"Ouch!" she said, pulling back from the stove. Within an instant, Georgie had gotten off the bar stool and come around the island to Madelyn. She held Madelyn's arm and checked for a burn.
How could they be so close together now and yet not have breached the unspoken barrier between them?
Madelyn's skin tingled more from the gentle touch of Georgie's fingers on her arm than from the burn, but Georgie insisted on getting Band-Aids from her truck’s first aid kit. Madelyn put the pan into the pre-heated oven while she waited. Near the door, Georgie threw on a coat and mittens, stuffed her feet into her boots, and ventured outside.
The gusting wind that met her surprised them both.
"Woah, it's really coming down out there," said Georgie. Her scarf muffled her voice slightly, but Madelyn could still discern the words. They were the same ones she herself had thought when she saw the depths of snow outside, the drifts piling near the cabin in uneven patches depending on the patterns of wind and shelter.
Even though it was dark, the eddies of snow still falling were visible against the light emanating from the cabin.
"Be careful," said Madelyn. She hadn't meant to, but the words slipped out before she could reconsider. If Georgie stumbled, or hit her head, Madelyn would regret not expressing worry. Georgie just nodded and waded into the snow.
The chill ran through the cabin after Georgie closed the door, an invisible tsunami of frigid air. While Madelyn shivered, she sidled up closer to the hot oven, trying to combat the goosebumps that prickled her skin in response to the draft. She heard the crunching of Georgie's footsteps cross the cabin deck and descend the staircase, and then the softer sounds of Georgie making her way to her vehicle.
If it were to snow this hard all night, would the others be able to get there? Madelyn thought she'd seen a seasonal closure sign near the start of the road to the cabin, and if there were enough snow, she wasn't sure the narrow gravel passage would be cleared quickly. If at all.
Though the prospect of being snowed in, adrift, miles from friends, family, and civilization should have been terrifying, Madelyn's chest warmed with an illogical spark of hope. She and Georgie would be together. At least they'd have that, a kind of intimacy.
Georgie’s boots stomping their way back to the front door interrupted Madelyn's selfish hopes. The face that greeted her was dusted with snow and flushed from cold and exertion. Despite herself, Madelyn went over to help brush the flakes off Georgie's shoulders.
"It's ok," said Georgie gruffly.
Madelyn paused. Of course it was. Yet she was moved as if by an invisible force to draw closer to Georgie, to look up at her rosy face. Tiny beads of moisture gathered on Georgie's eyelashes where snowflakes had fallen during her expedition outside.
Dark eyes stared down at Madelyn, Georgie’s stormy irises an enigma as always.
Madelyn cleared her throat and stepped back.
"Sorry," she mumbled.
Had things always been this awkward between them? It didn't seem like Madelyn could do anything right. She slunk back to the kitchen and pretended to check on the steaks, but really, she just needed an excuse to look at something. So she wouldn't stare at Georgie's back while she took off her outerwear.
Madelyn had almost forgotten that Band-Aids were the purpose of Georgie's stint outdoors, and when Georgie tapped on her shoulder she jumped.
"Didn't mean to scare you," said Georgie.
"It's nothing," Madelyn answered. But the racing of her heart said otherwise. It only accelerated when Georgie took her arm, holding up its soft underside to inspect the damage. A small welt of pink skin had appeared, a badge of cooking honor. The steaks did smell delicious.
Georgie's rough hands were cool against Madelyn's arm, slightly chilled from stepping outside even with mittens on. She unpeeled a bandage and put it on the welt, smoothing it down with a deft stroke over the surface of Madelyn's skin.
"Probably not necessary," said Madelyn. "But since you went to all the trouble to go outside, I'll keep it. Do you even use Band-Aids for burns? Or is it like a salve that you need? Ointment?"
Georgie just looked at her, head cocked to the side at a gentle angle, and smiled. Madelyn’s heartbeat pounded faster, reacting mutinously to her friend’s charms.
"Ariel always said a Band-Aid is half about the covering up a wound and half about the ritual."
It surprised Madelyn that Georgie would speak so kindly about her sister, fondness evident in her eyes when she did so. Had they reconciled recently? There was so much to catch up on, and it seemed like there could never be enough time to do it.
"That's nice," she said, instead. The words were inadequate and sounded hollow. "Do you two, uh, talk these days?"
Georgie's laugh buoyed Madelyn's spirits, dispelling at least a few of the nerves skittering around her body. Then Georgie took another swig of her beer and sat on the bar stool across the island from where Madelyn was cooking.
"Yeah, we actually do."
"Wow."
"I know, times have changed."
Madelyn hesitated, glancing at the steaks and then back at Georgie.
"Mind if I ask what precipitated this change?"
Georgie sighed this time, and the wind outside roared dully. "Fuck if I know. She did help me pack up to move to Edmonton. And then she just started calling me to chat once I was there, acting like nothing ever happened between us to make things tense. Maybe in her mind, nothing did? But she's nice again—I mean, still WASP-y as all hell—but asking about how work's going, if I've been seeing anyone, whether I was coming down to Calgary for Christmas."
"Wow," Madelyn said. "So she's just going to pretend she was cool with you and not a bully growing up?"
Silence swelled to fill the room while Georgie deliberated. Her eyes never left the neck of her beer bottle.
"I don't know if this sounds stupid, but I don't really care why she's in my life again. Yes, she hurt me. Yes, she was a difficult person to be related to, but I'm glad she wants to know me better. Even if it's a little late.”
The cooking timer went off and Madelyn ducked down to retrieve the steaks from the oven. The smell rising off the meat was almost unbearably enticing; Madelyn breathed it in deeply while she plated the food. While she finished serving dinner, their conversation resumed.
"I'm really happy to hear that, Georgie."
Their eyes met and Madelyn felt, for a second, like Georgie hadn't ever left Calgary. Like their friendship wasn't a shadow of what it once was. A connection still shone between them, no matter where they happened to rent apartments.
"I am, too." Georgie smiled. "How's your school stuff going?"
"My school stuff?" laughed Madelyn. "You mean grad school?"
"Yeah, sure."
Georgie had so far only nibbled at the potatoes on her plate. While Madelyn thought about how to describe the constant, pressure-filled stress of her days lately, Georgie cut into her steak. With the first bite in her mouth, her eyes widened dramatically.
"Jesus," she whispered. "Your cooking is even better than I remembered."
Madelyn batted her eyelashes in false bashfulness. "Why thank you," she said. But underneath her jokes of domesticity, her stomach leapt with pleasure at Georgie's obvious enjoyment of the food. S
he'd cooked something well enough to surprise Georgie. The feeling of pride that came from that almost emboldened her to talk more emotionally about things.
Almost.
"Grad school..." Madelyn sighed. "I'm not even sure I want to keep going. It pays so little, and the essays and course preparation and all that jazz are just weighing on me. Like it's hard enough to be trying to keep my head above water right now, you know?"
"No," said Georgie. "You have to stay in!"
The intensity of Georgie's rebuttal shocked Madelyn.
"You think so?"
"Of course!" said Georgie, slamming her palm on the island for emphasis. The wood reverberated with her blow. "You're the smartest person I know, Mads, and if you don't stick with it…”
"I'll miss 100% of the shots I never take?" Madelyn said, thinking of the motivational posters that had been plastered in their high school homeroom all those years ago.
"Something like that," said Georgie, smiling.
They ate in happy silence after that, and Madelyn didn't even mind the lapse in conversation. Despite spending the past year apart, despite all of her fears and worries leading up to this trip, Georgie was back.
Madelyn had her friend back.
4
Age 8
"Ten more minutes, everyone! Then out of the lunchroom!" cried Ms. Chamberlain, the Grade 3 teacher assigned to monitor that day's meal. She gave the children a warning for no apparent reason, which made Georgie's sister Ariel scoff.
"Doesn't she know there's a bell that'll tell us that?" said Ariel, tossing her hair over her shoulder in a gesture Georgie thought looked uncannily like their mother. She was only sitting with Ariel because their mother had insisted on them sticking together, ‘just until Ariel felt better.’
Georgie hadn't wanted to tell her mother that Ariel seemed to feel just fine. She chatted her way through lunch, gossipy as ever, and simply didn't eat what was in front of her. But every evening when Georgie told her mother about Ariel's lack of appetite, Caroline’s lips tightened, and she appeared deeply disappointed.
