by Aborn, A. L.
“You’re welcome,” I say softly.
“I don’t know what we would have done without you. Seriously. I didn’t think that he would get this sick. If we hadn’t found you here…”
“Let’s wait and see how the medicine works,” I reply.
“I couldn’t sleep. Can I hang here?”
I nod. We talk softly about the weather, about Jake, about his family that I hadn’t seen in years. Eventually, he moves to lay down beside me; it’s weird at first. After a minute, our eyes lock and he moves in slowly to press his lips to mine. His mouth tastes like toothpaste, in a pleasant way. Gradually, our hands find each other in the darkness. His exploration of my body is slow and purposeful; rough hands send thrills through me. Passion grows and our clothes are quickly discarded. We move quietly against each other to hide our lovemaking from my friends downstairs.
If you had asked me this morning how my day would end, this would have been the farthest thought from my mind. I don’t know what this is, except for two lonely people clinging together in the hardest of times. I’m okay with that.
***
Adam is already gone from my bed when I wake. It’s not yet full daylight. I hear low murmurs of conversation echoing up to the loft. My mouth curls into a grin as I pick up my clothes strewn across the floor. Brad and Adam are talking over the kitchen counter when I make my way downstairs. Jake is sleeping on the couch. “Good morning. Where’s Ally?” Feeling a little shy, I don’t look Adam in the face.
“She’s up at the coop,” Brad says.
In the bathroom, I try to freshen myself up. What a change. I didn’t care what I looked like twenty-four hours ago. Searching Ally out at the coop, the sound of her softly singing over the bustle of the hens draws me in. I need to talk to her about Adam.
“What? You and Adam?” she says with a grin.
“Don’t judge me. You have Brad. So, what if I want a little companionship?”
“I’m not judging you! Do whatever you want.”
I stand in the doorway while Ally gathers the last handful of eggs and spreads a little feed. “What happened to Jake’s mom?” I ask finally.
“The last I heard, she was into heroine and her parents were sending her to rehab somewhere.”
“So… she’s out of the picture?”
“I think so.”
“I just don’t want to be sleeping with him if she’s in the next town over.”
“Nope, she’s gone.”
We sit quietly for another minute.
“Isn’t this weird?” she asks me.
“What do you mean?”
“That here we are, living through what could be the end of the world, and you’re worried about cheating?”
“Shut up!” I punch her playfully in the arm. I’m smiling, but still, I wouldn’t want to be taking him from someone else.
We finish in silence and I follow her back down to the house.
Checking on Jake, his fever is about the same. Adam and I feed him more Tylenol and antibiotics. “How long will this take?” He asks me.
“We should see a difference in a day or two.”
It feels a little awkward in the house with the addition of Adam and Jake. We had fallen into a routine but that feels disrupted now. “I’m going across the street,” I tell them.
“What’s across the street?” Adam asks.
Is it bad that my first instinct is to hide the farm from him?
“Why don’t you take Adam with you to show him?” Ally volunteers. She apparently has no qualms about him seeing what we have.
I shrug but agree. “Will Jake be okay?” he asks.
“He should be fine for now. His body needs rest while it fights the infection with the help of the antibiotics. Ally, can you offer him some more water in a little bit?” She smiles in agreement.
Adam and I hop on the snowmobile and I direct him across the road to the farm. He seems surprised by the solar power and the animals. I introduce him to the horses and the smaller animals before giving them the precious little food that we have. That reminds me: someone needs to go pick up that feed we left on the side of the road.
He asks a few questions about the farm and how we came to have it. I only give vague responses, not wanting to tell him how we came by it. I think Adam is picking up on my apprehensive answers. He grows quiet while I finish up with the horses. He moves to touch my lower back in an intimate way before we climb back onto the snowmobile. I don’t shy away from him, but I don’t really encourage it either.
The afternoon is whiled away with cooking and chores. All along, I am trying to mentally tally how many days of food we are losing having Adam and Jake in the house. How long will they stay? And what kind of person am I that I slept with him last night and now I’m worried about feeding him? All I know is that I feel very unsettled. I don’t like this version of myself.
Chores done; Brad decides to go with Adam to get the sled of animal feed. Relief spreads through me that I don’t have to go. While nothing happened while we were outside the safety of the house, it was still nerve-wracking. I have no faith in anyone outside of these four walls; anything could have happened.
They take the four-wheeler and the snowmobile, hoping to disperse the weight between the two ATVs. I am as nervous for Brad as I was for myself. What if the four-wheeler gets stuck? What if the food is gone? What if…
Stop. I can’t go down that road. We need the food for the animals. Period.
Ally and I watch them leave from the front door. In theory, they should be gone for less than two hours, tops. The buried sled is only a few miles away: half hour to get there, half hour to get back, and a few minutes to load up the goods. When the whine of the engines can no longer be heard, we retreat into the house and shut the door. I can tell that she’s nervous too.
I busy myself with Jake. Getting him to drink some water and take some more of the pain reliever takes a big chunk of my time. He cries a bit when he realizes that Adam is gone, but he lets me snuggle him back into sleep. Ally is preparing yet another of her woodstove stews; there aren’t many ways to cook without electricity.
Time marches on. We don’t have a clock, but it feels like they have been gone for a lot longer than two hours. Its growing dark; while the days are getting longer, it still gets dark before six o’clock. Jake wakes up and is becoming restless. I think it’s a good sign. I offer him a bowl of stew and he eats it quietly. Because of his wounded arm, he needs help steadying the bowl. He insists on feeding himself though. There are dark hollows under his eyes, but he still looks better than when he first got here. Some of the tension in my shoulders leaches out; I hadn’t realized how worried I was.
Ally brings over a deck of cards. Jake won’t play but watches us play a simple matching game. The minutes seem to stretch into eternity as we wait for Adam and Brad to return. A growing knot is forming in my belly. A thousand scenarios flash through my mind, but I only tell Ally about the positive ones. “Don’t worry,” I say, “The rope on the sled probably broke again. They’ll be back any minute.”
It’s full dark now. What is happening?
Eventually, we give up trying to find a distraction and just sit wrapped in our own thoughts. Jake is sleeping again.
The sudden sound of a distant engine breaks the silence.
Ally and I rush to the front door. Yes, two engines, coming closer. We watch through the little peep hole in the wood on the front window. Finally, the headlights of the two ATVs swing into the driveway. Opening the door, we step out onto the porch. I can just make out the shapes of feed bags strapped to the back of the four-wheeler and in the sled behind the snowmobile. Adam and Brad dismount and walk to the porch. They look drained.
“What took so long?” Ally asks as she wraps Brad in a tight hug.
“It took a little longer than we thought to load everything up. The rope kept breaking so we had to stop three times to try and disperse the weight.” Brad sounds evasive and I see him catch Adam’s eyes ove
r Ally’s head.
“What else happened?” I ask.
Adam hesitates before answering. “We ran into a couple guys while we were loading up. They thought we had real food, not just animal feed. One was skinny enough; he probably would have eaten the dog food.”
“What happened? Did they follow you?” Ally asks, worry tinging her voice.
Brad shakes his head. He seems confident in his answer.
Ally covers her mouth as his implication sets in.
“We had to. They were desperate. They could have followed us back to the house.”
Ally nods but heads back into the house.
“How’s Jake?” Adam asks.
I give him an update and he seems relieved. The guys head back into the driveway to unload the feed bags and stack them in the crawlspace. We can bring them to the farm tomorrow.
Jake is happy to see Adam. He smiles up at him and answers his dad’s questions. He’s a good boy. Ally serves up her stew to the adults and we eat quietly.
After dinner, Adam and I again dose with Jake with Tylenol and antibiotics. He seems more alert now than he has since I met him; I take this as a huge improvement. Gently, I strip his bandages off to get a look at his arm. It looks better; much of the red has faded and looks more localized to the wound. “It looks like I can close it.” I tell Adam. “It looks like he is getting better.”
Adam nods, looking relieved.
Just like the night before, I ask Brad to clear off the table and to collect a couple pillows and blankets. Gathering up my first aid kit, Adam quirks one eyebrow at the alcohol nips. “I don’t have any medicine that will knock him out. We’ll just give him a little vodka.”
“Are you shitting me?” he exclaims.
“Do you have a better idea?”
He shakes his head.
Ally puts some more water on the stove to boil. Looking to Adam, I say, “Get up on the table and sit with him.”
Adam obliges and climbs up onto the table. With his chest to Jake’s back, he sits him up in front of him and whispers into his ear. “Jake. Sit up, buddy. I need you to drink some of this.” Jake squirms a little bit and moves to turn his face into his arm.
“No, no, little man. Come on, drink this for me.” He doesn’t respond any better to me.
Opening the nip, I dip my finger into the vodka and then put my finger inside Jake’s cheek. His mouth puckers at the taste. Little by little, I swab and drip the vodka into his mouth. I give him less than an ounce. That should be plenty. “Let’s give that a minute to sink in.”
While the alcohol sinks in, Ally boils a little water and helps me arrange the necessary supplies. The suture packets are sterile, but I’m worried about my instruments. They’re real, but I use them to practice on an artificial abdomen made of foam. This will be the first time that I stitch a human being.
When the pot of water on the stove starts to boil, I place my metal instruments inside and close the lid. I place two clean towels on the table and try to think through the process. Grabbing a pair of tongs from the kitchen, I take them into the bathroom and use a liberal amount of our precious remaining soap to wash them thoroughly. Laying the tongs on one of the clean towels, I grab the syringe from the night before and repeat the process to wash out Jake’s wound. I’m pleased with the progress.
Jake is getting sleepy and the vodka has made him a little loopy. Perfect. He struggles weakly against Brad, who is holding his arm firmly as I rinse it. Meekah is laying under the kitchen table, watching my progress around the house as I prepare.
The water has been boiling for close to twenty minutes. Using the tongs to grab my instruments out of the water, I place them on one of the clean towels. Returning to the bathroom, I wash my hands all the way up to my elbows. Arms dripping, I trek back across the house to the table. The second clean towel dries my hands. And now, it’s time.
My methodical approach to preparing was distraction enough. Now that I am faced with actually suturing Jake, while he is awake, I feel a little nauseous. My heartbeat is pounding though me. I don’t want them to see my hands shaking, so I hold onto the towel for another minute.
Stop. No panicking allowed. Get a hold of yourself!
Taking two big, slow breaths, I sit in a chair by the table and pick up my instruments. Once focused on the task, my hands start to relax. Okay. One step at a time.
I do the best I can. Small, interrupted stitches. I want to work as fast as I can for Jake’s sake, but I don’t want to make a mistake. After what feels like hours, but is probably less than twenty minutes, it’s done. It isn’t pretty, but hey, I never claimed to be a plastic surgeon.
Finally closed, I spread some ointment on the wound and place a new bandage. A pent-up breath escapes my chest. It’s done. I did it. I look up to see Adam smiling down at me. A job well done.
We all head to bed soon after. It doesn’t take long for Jake to fall asleep; I hear Adam on the stairs minutes later. My heart flutters at the prospect of him sharing my bed again. He doesn’t say anything as he crawls into the blankets beside me. The warmth of his body against mine is communication enough for me.
With his hands on me, I forget about everything. For a little while, I forget that I miss my family so much that it hurts. I forget that we only have enough food for the next six weeks. I forget the loneliness that I feel when I see Ally and Brad share a look over the dinner table. I am just this feeling.
After, I lay awake while his slow, even breathing tickles the back of my shoulder. For now, I refuse to think of tomorrow, or anything else. For now, I will sleep, and tomorrow will bring what it may.
Chapter Nine
Spring into Summer
The next morning, Jake is sitting up and talking to Adam when I get downstairs. Ally is making everyone breakfast. The dogs, now used to Adam and Jake, are laying near the woodstove, eyeing the kitchen hoping for scraps. It’s weird really; like a family. The thought takes me aback for a moment.
Just then, Brad walks through the door. His face is red from the cold. “Feels like snow,” he says. The last few days have been in the low forties. We’ve all been looking forward to spring. The thought of more snow leaves me with mixed feelings.
Ally serves up scrambled eggs and a slab of venison that she cooked on the woodstove in a cast iron pan. All of us sit around the table, even Jake, to eat. It feels good; all of us smiling and chatting over food. Somehow the picture of the end of the world that I’d always had doesn’t match up to this. Even though it feels good, I watch the big chunks of venison that Adam is swallowing and try not to think that that could be one less bite for someone else, or me. I push my selfish thoughts away. He’s Brad’s family. Just enjoy what is here, now.
“Daddy?” Jake pipes up.
“Yeah, buddy?”
“When are we going home? I miss Grandma.”
Adam looks around at the rest of us, his gaze lingering on me for a moment.
Oh man. Please do not stay here because of me.
“Let’s ask your nurse what she thinks.” He answers.
All eyes on me. Does he want me to answer that they should stay? Leave?
I decide to be honest.
“I’m going to have to look at your arm after breakfast, but I think if you’re feeling well enough, you could go home today.”
“Yay!” Jake exclaims. “Can we Dad? Can we?”
I smile at his enthusiasm. Adam catches my eye over Jake’s head, a slight question in his eye. What does that mean?
“As long as your arm is okay, we’ll ride home in a little bit. If it’s going to snow, we might as well leave before a storm.”
The rest of breakfast is lost to me. I’m too wrapped up in my own thoughts. What does it mean to me if he leaves? Will I miss him? Or do I just want it to go back to being the three of us? I’m not sure. What if this wasn’t the end of the world? Would I want to be with him then? I don’t think so. Well. I don’t know. A part of me knows that I am just looking for companionship and m
issing Jason. But I feel bad, like I’m using him.
Ha! The end of the world is stressful to me because I’m using someone. Wow.
This is my life now. Though not one I had ever envisioned.
After the breakfast dishes are cleared away, Jake sits willingly in the chair for me to look at his arm. The prospect of going home is all that he can focus on. Gingerly, I peel back the dressing. The sutures look good and the wound is barely red at all. I rewrap his arm and give him my stamp of approval.
In what seems like no time at all, they are packed and ready to go. I give Adam instructions for the antibiotics and Tylenol along with a roll of gauze. Ally offers him food, but he refuses anything more. He thanks us profusely for everything and hugs us goodbye. Jake is shy suddenly, but he hugs me as well. Before I know it, they are on the snowmobile and heading down the driveway. The smallest part of me wants to chase after him, beg him to take me with him, but the larger part of me resists. The feeling passes when the sound of the engine fades away.
Turning to Ally and Brad, we look at each other quietly. “Well, that went well,” I say.
***
The next few weeks blur into each other. The snowstorm that hit the night after Adam and Jake left dropped ten inches of snow on us, but the weather turned warm only a few days later. The snow is melting. Spring is almost here.
Not only do we have our normal chores to complete, but we are now preparing for the warm weather as well. Cooking and cleaning take up so much of my life. I fall into bed each evening physically exhausted. Just bucketing water from the well into the house for cooking and cleaning could be a full-time job. The air has been so dry all winter; my lips and nose are constantly chapped. We have started to put a large pot of water on the woodstove each night to try and create a humidifier. Ally has taken to throwing in a handful of spices or pine needles into the water in an attempt to freshen the stale air. With all the windows boarded up, air flow is at a minimum.
Ally and Brad have planted a small garden each year, but we are planning a much larger one this year. They have a collection of vegetable seed packets that they bought last year and never planted. We also found a handful of seeds over at the farm. Now that the snow is almost gone, Brad spends a bit of each afternoon planning the garden space. The ground will need to be turned and fenced. We don’t have much to use for fencing, so we’ve decided to make it out of cut trees. Using some old egg cartons, we start some seedlings behind the glass in the chicken coop. We used a spare bit of chicken wire to protect the seeds from the hungry birds.
