by Alice Moore
Standing under the hard, burning spray of the showerhead, I stared at the bath out of the corner of my eye. This cabin had been a foreclosure, and the people that had it before me had started to remodel. Their starting point had been right here, but they poured so much money into it that they couldn’t finish. The mistake was entirely amateurish and avoidable, but it was me that made this place a lost cause.
Living here, with Frank, for four months, I’d never once used the tub. The faucet knobs had never been turned, and the ceramic had never been splashed with soapy water. It was a space to relax in while the rest of the house was a prison by comparison.
Maybe I could finish it… Maybe Caroline would even help me if I asked. Knowing she was going to leave sooner rather than later didn’t staunch the thought, and I closed my eyes to take a shallow, moist breath. She could take this place, and I’ll just go back home… wherever that is.
Caroline
When James emerged from the shower, he looked better- physically, at least. Sitting next to the stove, I narrowed my pupils to get a clearer look at the swirling darkness that flashed in his eyes. He was silent, sauntering to the kitchen table with tiny droplets of water falling from his ear-length hair and onto broad shoulders. My heart squeezed when he sat stiffly, staring in front of himself with an almost blank expression painted on his face.
“… I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way, Caroline.” James slurred slightly, as if his mind and mouth were moving slower than they should’ve. He refused to look at me as he stretched his legs under the table, and I wheeled myself over to his side before he parted his lips again. “I just- really… really don’t want to talk about that. This house… I-“
“Hey- hey… James. It’s okay. You don’t have to explain or apologize.” My soft coo was accompanied by the pop of oil and juices from the steaks on the stove, but I didn’t tear my gaze from James. Reaching for his hand, I held as much of it as I could and squeezed hard. “I’m not going to begrudge you for your secrets. We don’t even know each other, after all… but- you know, sometimes the best people to talk to are strangers. Strangers are unbiased. Whatever happened, I probably won’t understand it, but I can try to help you through it.”
“I want to change the house. Will you help? With that?” Finally, James glanced at me, and I went a little wide eyed at the helplessness he displayed. Without thought I nodded dumbly, and he let out a shaky breath before copying me. “You were right- it’s going to drive me fucking insane.”
“You want to remodel because of what happened here?” What the fuck kind of crazy was he thinking of in the shower? In those ten minutes it was as if his hardened exterior had swirled down the drain with the water.
His vulnerability was honestly pretty charming.
“Yeah-“ Bringing me out of my thoughts, James leaned back to release a harsh sigh. He seemed so pleased that I understood what he wanted, the wrinkles thinning around his mouth and nose. “I’ve been through a lot of shit, Caroline… but that- I can’t get over that. It’s fucked up that you came here for my help and now I need yours.”
“It’s not fucked up at all, James. I’d be glad to help you.” I wasn’t blind enough to see that my being here had knocked a few gears off kilter for James. Squeezing my hand, he cracked a ghost of a smile before I pulled away to roll myself back to the stove. Behind me, I could almost hear him putting the pieces of himself back together, and I knew he’d built himself up again when he cleared his throat roughly.
Carefully flipping the steaks, I set down the fork to glance down at my feet. If it wasn’t for James, I wouldn’t have them- or at least one of them. I’d be stuck in a chair like this, never able to do my passion again. Just thinking about it tightened my chest and made it hard to breathe.
“I wasn’t like this a year ago. Frank really fucked with my head…” Mumbling almost to himself, James pulled my attention as he frowned into space. Folding my hands in my lap, I scanned the softened contours of his face before opening my mouth.
“No one is the same as they were even yesterday. Just like no one knows who they’ll be tomorrow.” Jerking slightly, James lolled his head to look at me through narrowed eyes, and I shrugged absently. “A therapist told me that once when I was 15 and dealing with teenager crap. She said that things that happened even a fraction of a second ago weren’t real- they were just memories. It’s up to me to figure out how to deal with those memories and what they make me feel. You can let it control you, or you can accept that the only way it exists is because you let it.”
“Do you really believe that ‘time is an illusion’ bullshit?” Once again, I shrugged, but happiness flooded my chest at the incredulous tone in James’ voice. He sounded almost affronted that I would ever even suggest such a thing, and I knew in that second that his little episode had passed.
“No. Just like I don’t believe that changing is so easy- especially with trauma. I still have times when I get this overwhelming hatred for my mother for abandoning me- for being who she is and not someone better. Just like whatever you experienced isn’t going to just disappear because you want it to.” Exposing myself to James was becoming increasingly easy and thoughtless, and I ran my fingers through my hair as his low grunt reached my ears. “I’m not saying you have to talk to me, but you should resolve some of these issues, James. They’re not going to go away.”
“… I’ll think about it.” That answer was enough for me, and I nodded firmly before turning to the stove. James didn’t have much in his kitchen, but by some miracle I managed to find a package of instant mashed potatoes. Steak and potatoes was a great way to end just a heavy conversation, and I reached over the sizzling meat to check the pot of water on the back burner.
“Imagine what I could do if I could stand and you had proper food in your cabinets…” Officially changing the subject, I smiled into the steam that billowed from the cast iron pan on the front burner. Behind me, James’ chair creaked slightly when he shuffled, and I glanced around for a can of corn sitting on the counter.
“Do you cook a lot?” Fondness struck my heart, and I set the can in my lap to grab a waiting can opener.
“Yeah. I like it. Sheila taught me a lot. She always said that I would die if I ate my dad’s cooking. He lived on Big Man microwaveable meals unless she cooked for him, and when she retired, I just kind of took over. I don’t do her any justice, though.” I could still remember the first time I’d set the kitchen on fire; I was only 6 years old and had tried to use the toaster by myself. Chuckling lightly at the memory, I gazed out over the stove top before James spoke up.
“My mom never cooked. They were pretty wealthy even before Nick started hauling in cash, so we always had someone do that for us. I don’t even remember if it was a guy or a woman… And going into the military didn’t help. All our shit comes in bags- just add water. It doesn’t even have to be hot water. After I got out, I learned to make a few things, but even then, it’s mostly take out.” There wasn’t the thinnest thread of guilt in James’ voice, and I laughed in earnest. Swiveling my chair around, I grinned at the smirk on his face; he clearly wasn’t proud of not knowing how to cook, but he wasn’t going to admit he was full of shit, either.
“Well, it’s a good thing I’m here. If I had to eat another ration I would wheel my ass right out of this place. You’ve obviously tricked yourself into thinking they have flavor…- And what’s better is that I know how to cook game. My 28 years on this Earth are coming in handy.” The banter was almost playful, and James’ smirk grew wide as he twisted in his seat. His hair was dry and somewhat frizzy, and when he moved his shirt strained against his muscles. The display was almost distracting until I met his eye, and for once there wasn’t darkness there. Instead, the abyss had been replaced with a sparkle.
“I assume your dad taught you how to shoot, right?” Humming affirmative, I leaned against the cloth that stretched along the back of the wheelchair to clasp my hands in my lap. My corn and can opener were forgotten, and
James cocked his head with mischief on his face. “Kiki’s usually the one that goes for the kill shot, though. Do you not like that kind of stuff?”
“Not really. I’m fine skinning and butchering, but actually killing an animal… I just don’t like to. Besides, Kiki got really good at understanding ‘only kill what we’re going to eat’. I’m always afraid I’ll miss and kill something that’s too big for us alone- especially since there’s no refrigerator in my tent.” Smiling at my dog as she laid against the back of the couch, I absently took hold of the objects in my lap to work them. “It’s difficult to remember what I did before I had her. It’s weird when I say it out loud, but she really changed my life in ways I never thought a dog could.”
Caroline
Sitting across from James at the table, I propped my chin in my palm as I waited for him to take his first bite. Anticipation curled in my gut, and I held my breath even as the smell of my meal wafted into my nostrils to tempt me. Through narrowed eyes I watched him saw through what I hoped would be a perfectly cooked venison steak with borderline excitement splattered across his expression.
I wasn’t sure when his last home cooked meal had been, but that only made hope blossom that he’d like it more.
James had stormed off before he’d cut the flank into steaks, and my gaze flickered down to his plate. I’d done my best, but the counter was basically neck level; there was no way I could butcher a perfect cut. Covering my cheek with my fingers, I couldn’t hide my smile shining with embarrassment as he stabbed his piece with his fork.
Leaning in, I licked my lips when James pushed his fork passed his teeth. My heart stuttered, and he chewed slowly a few times before his gaze met mine. Lifting his free arm, he gave me a thumbs up that seemed to hit me right in the face. Grinning around my fingers, I dropped my hand to heave a big sigh of relief.
“I’m so glad. The only person I usually cook for is my dad, and he automatically likes anything I make ‘cause I’m his daughter.” Rushing my words, I grabbed my fork and knife to turn my attention to my plate. The mashed potatoes didn’t look as bad as I thought they would, and I poked around them for a moment to bask in my accomplishment.
“It’s good. You did a good job, Caroline.” A fiery blush spread up my neck and across my face, and I furrowed my brows as I shoveled mashed potato into my mouth. The bite had a lot more flavor than I expected; James only had salt and pepper to season anything with. Humming softly in agreement, I peeked out from under my eyelashes to find him watching me closely. “… What else can you make? Can you make jerky?”
“U- uh… yeah. I know how… Maybe you can butcher the rest of the deer and I’ll make some when I go home? We have a huge dehumidifier- courtesy of Sheila.” Blinking at my own suggestion, I frowned slightly as my voice hung between us. “Or- or I can make the trip back her when my ankle heals up. You want to remodel, but I won’t be much help in a wheelchair. That way I can just bring you it…”
Cutting into my steak roughly, I pursed my lips together to stop the word vomit that spewed from my mouth. Talking of leaving- thinking of leaving- was so incredibly awkward, and I tightened my grip on my fork to spear my piece.
The truth was that once I left, there was a very good chance we’d never see each other again. I had no doubt that James recognized that possibility, too, by the way his pleased expression slowly morphed into a scowl.
“You can’t just make it here? All you need is salt, right?” Chewing my extremely tender piece, I pondered the questions while the dark lilt in James’ voice tickled my ears. My success with this steak fell to the wayside, and I ducked my head in a noncommittal nod before swallowing.
“Yeah, I could. You’d need a smoke room or something, though- somewhere to dry the meat out thoroughly.” James’ cabin didn’t have any out buildings; he wasn’t equipped to make one, either. There wasn’t anywhere in the house to dry the meat unless he wanted to use the back bedroom, and I blinked to recall the tortured expression he wore just attempting to open the door.
“… What about a smoke pit? Would that work? I’ve got a pallet of bricks that the people before me just left out on the back porch.” Nodding around my mouthful, I tossed the idea around a bit before repeating the action more firmly. Across the table, James smirked, and he turned to his plate to eat in silence.
My mind was in turmoil; it was so easy to forget that James was a complete stranger. Sure- he was a Marine, and Kiki liked him, but I didn’t know him in the way I constantly found myself thinking I did. There was just something about him that seemed so easy to confide in even if he didn’t do the same. Glancing out the window at the bright, summer sun, I sucked my inner cheek between my teeth to hold back a sigh.
Tomorrow I’m going to go home and leave this paradise behind. The thought was honestly depressing.
James finished eating before I did, and he dumped his dishes in the sink before getting a beer from the refrigerator. A water bottle landed in front of me, and I smiled in appreciation before reaching for it. Quenching my dry mouth, I watched from the corner of my eye as he leaned on the counter to neck his dark green bottle. The silence surrounding our meal was peaceful, but it took only a few seconds for him to break it when he swiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Can I give Kiki the leg? She hasn’t eaten since yesterday.” Nodding automatically, I scooped up my last bit of corn as James grabbed the leg on the counter. The entire kitchen would probably have to be disinfected, but that was a job a few minutes in the future. Crouching down, he gestured to Kiki under the table before holding out the leg. There was still a generous amount of meat on the bone, and I shuffled in my chair to watch my dog crawl out from her spot.
“Do you want to let her outside to eat that?” My question seemed to surprise him, and James furrowed his brows as I licked my lips. “You’d have to mop up after her…”
“Yeah… okay. I’ll do the rest of the doe, too.” Goosebumps rose on my chest and arms at that, and I nodded before gathering up my plate and utensils. Rolling myself to the sink, I rinsed my burden to follow James and Kiki to the back door. The air was heavy even in the shade of his patio, and he set the leg down on the concrete slab with a grunt.
Today was so mosey; yesterday could’ve been attributed to the drugs I’d had, but this series of moments were all my own. My camera sat on the chair I’d been in before lunch, and I took it gently while James made his way back to his makeshift butcher block. He had everything he needed to live out here, even if most of it was rudimentary. Holding my camera to my eye, I locked on his form to snap a photo of him next to the dead, skinned animal. We’d only been inside for half an hour or so, and there wasn’t a single fly buzzing around the carcass.
“This is nice… I can see why you like it out here. It’s peaceful.” Speaking before I could stop myself, I sucked in a breath at how stupid I sounded. James had never given any indication he liked living here; he just couldn’t bring himself to leave for whatever reason. Peering at his face through the lens while he bent over the doe, I pursed my lips together tightly at the thick crease between his brows.
“I guess. I mean- I have money… a lot of money. Yet, I’m still here. I could’ve left after all of that shit I went through, but I didn’t.” James was so physically imposing that seeing him in any other environment was almost impossible. Smiling slightly, I turned my camera to Kiki as she tackled her leg. She gnawed at the meat, not even trying to bite off chunks.
Lazy dog.
“I’m glad you didn’t. Otherwise I’d be screwed.”
“Your ex-fiancé…” Lowering my camera at the topic, I glanced at James as he raked a knife through the front of the doe’s rib cage. I almost regretted telling him about Jason, but it seemed like the right thing to say at the time. “He never tried to get back with you? Do you know what happened to him?”
“Nope, and no. I’ve seen him a few times in public or on the street, but I never approached him, and he never took a second look at me.” Even ne
arly a decade later, I wondered how I could be so stupid. Of course, I wanted children; my dad wanted to be a granddad.
But I didn’t want them at 21 years old or with a man I had essentially settled on. There were so many little details I had left out that had cultivated into what would’ve been a shit storm if Jason and I really went through with our marriage. I probably would’ve gotten cold feet and called it off. It would’ve been the right thing to do, but I’d probably be in a lot of shit if everything had already been paid for.
“I haven’t been in a lot of relationships. Being with a Marine isn’t exactly the best life for most women. Plus, Nick’s incredibly rich, so I tried to steer clear of all that shit because I never knew if they liked me or him. But he and Hannah are having their first kid in a couple months. Every time I think about it, I’m so glad it’s him and not me. I couldn’t see it then, but she’s so sunny and happy- it would’ve driven me up a wall.”
“What do you look for in a woman?” I couldn’t help it; I was a terrible person for even asking that question, but I wanted to know. Besides, he brought it up. It’s his fault. In the ensuing silence I wondered what kind of man I wanted. Just like James, I hadn’t dated much after breaking off my engagement. Photography took up a lot of my time and energy, and then I adopted Kiki. Men seemed unnecessary after that because I had everything I wanted.
I was successful, accomplished, and companioned. There was always the option of toys to fill in the rest.
“It sounds stupid, but I want someone that I can talk to that doesn’t pity me. I hate pity. I’ve been through some shit, but I did it because I wanted to do it at the time. A lot of people, especially women, act like my leg and my buddies are some sensitive subject they shouldn’t ask about.” Resting my camera in my lap, I narrowed my eyes on James as he heaved a sigh, his lip quirked in a slight, depreciating smirk. “Woman don’t like my leg. They think I’m an invalid. I don’t limp or anything, but sometimes it hurts… especially when I get stressed.”
