Dec 25, 2008

        It’s Christmas morning and I’m not feeling the best. I drank too much and didn’t eat enough. Stayed up too late writing here and listening to music. I did dream about him last night but it was really scary and I don’t think I should write it down. I think my subconscious is being negative. I want to be happy today.

        I’m getting ready to call Scott. I realized I don’t have his phone number so I literally had to find the phone book to look up his landline number. I have it here and I’ve committed it to memory now. I’m pretty nervous. What if he’s changed his mind and he doesn’t want to see me after all? What if I call and he just doesn’t answer? I’m going to try now and see what happens.

***

        I just called and he answered! I was a little worried at first because his voice was so…quiet. I thought something was wrong. He told me the landlines here are very degraded and the phone company refuses to fix it. I guess that makes sense because whenever I call my dad on this line I always have to ask him to speak up. I hope the phone company will take care of it because that’s terrible service.

Anyway, he didn’t change his mind and does want to see me! We decided he’ll come over and we’re going to cook lunch and dinner together, so I think it’ll end up being an all day thing. Maybe he can teach me some things about cooking. He’s going to bring food. I’m not sure what he’s bringing yet but my dad likes cooking all kinds of stuff so I’m sure I’ll have all the utensils and pans and everything we need. I’m a little nervous because I don’t know how to do anything and he’ll probably think I’m dumb or lazy. Maybe I am, but I want to help. It sounds so wholesome.

It’s about 9:30 am now and he’s gonna come around 11:30. I have so much to do! I’ll have to drive out to the highway with my cell phone to call my parents so they don’t suspect anything. I know they’ll try to call me today and if I don’t answer they’ll be worried. I do want to talk to them…I’m just not excited about the lying. I guess I’ll just say I’m hanging out in my dorm room watching Christmas movies and missing them. My mom will ask me what I’m going to eat…I don’t think the cafeteria at the dorms is open over the holidays. I’ll have to say I bought something from the grocery store ahead of time.

I’ve been thinking I should find a gift for Scott and wrap it somehow. Try to make it feel like a real holiday. I’ll have to look around the house and see if there’s anything good. I don’t even know what he likes and I feel really dumb. Why am I so infatuated with somebody I barely know? I think today can just be a wholesome day…I won’t do anything weird again. Things can stay innocent and we can just not be lonely together and then we can ignore each other the rest of the time I’m here. Maybe. I don’t know. I never know what I’m gonna do.

I’m trying to decide what I should wear today. I didn’t pack very much except a bunch of sweatpants, sweatshirts, tee-shirts…I wasn’t expecting to see anybody worth dressing up for. I still have some old clothes from high school in my closet. Some of them should fit me. Maybe I can find a sweater and some jeans. I think the sweater vest I always used to wear to school on Mondays is still here. I wore it because Scott always wore sweater vests. At first I told what few friends I had that it was to mock Scott, but then I genuinely liked how it looked and I looked forward to Mondays. Yes, I’ll see if I can find it for old time’s sake…okay. I need to get ready.

***

I just finished up with all my preparations. It’s a little after 11 and I’m sweating a little from scrambling around.

Talking to my parents went well enough. They both kept the conversation short. My dad is having lunch with the family of one of his work friends from the power line company. I’m glad he has someone to spend time with while he’s away. I know most of the guys he works with he’s known for a very long time, so I’m sure he doesn’t get lonely very often. I don’t think he misses me very much but that’s okay I guess. I don’t really miss him either.

My mom answered and she was also at a Christmas gathering with her new boyfriend and his family in Arizona. I think she’s already gotten into the wine. She asked if anyone else was staying back at the dorms with me and I said no one I knew, but that was okay and I was just relaxing and watching movies. She said I should have a gift in the mail. I told her I hadn’t seen anything yet because the mail sorting people are probably taking time off. Hopefully that excuse will put me off the hook until I get back to check the mail. My mom is very good at choosing gifts for me so I’m excited to see what it is if I come back.

I found the navy blue sweater vest I used to wear and a white collared shirt to wear under it. I tried on a bunch of my old jeans but most of them are really tight. I’ve gained a little bit of weight since I went to college. I did find a black knee length skirt and some stockings that I used to wear for band concerts. Luckily the stockings are mostly opaque. I don’t think Scott would be surprised to see the evidence of the self harm on my legs but he doesn’t need to actually see it.

It feels a little weird to dress up like this just to hang out in this old, gross house but I want to look nice. I hope I look okay. I didn’t bring my hair straightener or any makeup, not that I normally wear much makeup because I don’t know how to do it very well. I think the things that are ugly about me are things hair and makeup can’t fix anyway.

I looked around the house for something to give to Scott but I couldn’t find anything that seemed…appropriate. Everything I thought of felt too sentimental or something. I actually found my old crumbling prom corsage from senior year and thought it might be a funny thing to give him, but I realize the absurdity in that. The thing is, I spent more of my time at prom with Scott than my date (Paul. Ugh). Paul got kicked out for sneaking outside to smoke cigarettes and I wasn’t allowed to leave the event with him without my parents picking me up and we couldn’t get ahold of them. While everyone was dancing with their partners Scott sat with me at a table towards the back of the room and we drank punch together as I cried. Not only did Paul leave me all alone but I was coming down from the ecstasy we had taken beforehand and I felt terrible. At that time I was doing lots of drugs and I think Scott knew that. I was going through a lot with my parents fighting all the time and he was always there for me. I think he felt sorry for me.

I think sometimes I exaggerate and romanticize things in my mind. I’m probably way more excited about today than he is. He’s probably just doing this to be polite, because I asked him. How many times must this poor man help me manage my emotions? He’s probably still tired of me after everything that happened when I was in high school.

I need a cigarette. I’m losing all my confidence. He should be here soon so I’m gonna go now.

***

So much has changed again and I’m pretty drunk off the wine Scott brought today. I don’t even know where to start. I didn’t write anything all through the day because we were so busy. It’s currently 2:13 am and I’m writing this in my room with just the lamplight from my desk. I have a headache but I’m very happy and very afraid.

Scott’s asleep in my bed right now. It looks really funny because it's a little twin bed with a comforter that has pink and purple flowers. A grown man shouldn’t ever sleep in such a bed but the sight of him there thrills me in a way I can’t describe without being vulgar, but I have a feeling this writing is going to get quite vulgar. At least I hope so.

He doesn’t have a shirt on but we haven’t had sex…yet, even though I wanted to. I’m so frustrated! Begging a man for sex just to be denied has to be the most pathetic thing a woman can do. He said it was because I’m too drunk, but I’m really not. I guess it’s nice that he doesn’t want to take advantage of me but I’m really not stupid and I know what I want, don’t I? Anyway, there’s nothing to be done for now. I need a cigarette before I write more.

***

I’m the most stupid and unpredictable person I’ve ever met. I think in the back of my head I knew things were gonna go this way but I didn’t think it would happen so fast…I need to process everything that’s happened and I hope I remember how we got here accurately enough. This day has been surreal and it’s very hard for me to sit and write this when all I wanna do is curl up next to this beautiful man and drift off to sleep. But I need to write all this down before I forget how this happened and how I’m feeling about it.

Scott arrived at 11:30 like he said he would. When his truck pulled in I put on my shoes and walked outside to help him carry in the items he said he was bringing. He smiled at me as he got out of the truck and looked me over.

“Well you look nice. I didn’t realize there was a dress code,” he said as he opened the door to the back seat to grab a couple grocery bags full of stuff.

I smiled. “Don’t worry, you’re good. I didn’t have anything else to wear but sweatpants.”

“Sweats would have been fine. You don’t need to try to impress me,” he said as he shut the door and began walking towards the house.

“Do you need help?” I asked as I approached him and tried to take one of the bags.

He shook his head and I held open the door for him to walk inside. “What all did you bring?” I asked.

He set the two bags on the kitchen counter and began pulling things out and describing them as he went. “I brought the backstrap from a doe I shot this year. A pheasant. Some potatoes. Milk. Sour cream. Stuffing. It’s just the box kind, I’m sorry. Some uh, herbs and spices. A couple lemons. And of course a pie and a couple bottles of wine.”

“Wow! You went all out. I don’t get to eat stuff like this very often anymore and I miss it a lot. Did you hunt the pheasant too then?”

He nodded. “I did. So I was thinking we could do the backstrap for lunch and the pheasant for dinner, and the sides could go with both meals. I brined the pheasant overnight last night.”

I was moved that he’d put this sort of thought into our little last minute holiday. I wanted to hug him again but I didn’t want to scare him away this early. “I made coffee if you’d like some,” I said and pointed to the coffee pot that was halfway full because I’d already had a few cups by then.

He started putting things in the fridge. “That sounds great, thanks.”

I opened one of the cupboards next to the fridge and the first coffee cup I grabbed said “Best Dad Ever!” I remember getting it for my dad on a shopping trip to Target in Bemidji with my mom when I was maybe 12. I filled it with coffee and set it on the dining room table.

“Wanna sit with me for a little bit?” I asked.

“Of course,” he said and realized he hadn’t taken off his jacket and, remembering where I hung it last night, he hung it up himself. He was wearing a black sweater and a pair of dark washed bootcut jeans. I think he must have trimmed his beard last night and he didn’t have the black circles under his eyes as heavily.

It struck me how instantly “at home” I felt with this man nearly twice my age who I barely really knew, who had allegations. I wondered if I was being stupid and naive, and wondering about that made me wonder if I was being paranoid, unfairly jumping to conclusions about someone who had shown me nothing but kindness through the years.

“I’m glad you wanted to do this. I hope I didn’t like…intrude on your solitude or anything,” I said and sipped from my own lukewarm cup of coffee.

He looked at his coffee cup and rotated it around to see the entirety of the text before he looked up at me. “Solitude is all I have these days. I’m glad you asked me,” he said and paused as he took a sip from his coffee. “You know, I went hunting this year just for something to do. I’ve never been much of a hunting type of guy, but it was good for me this year. I wondered if I’d get the chance to share any of it with anyone.”

I smiled. “It was really sweet of you to bring a backstrap. That’s the best part! My dad always saves it for special occasions. Do you ever eat the heart?”

He chuckled. “Naw…I’ve tried preparing it before and it didn’t turn out very well so I haven’t tried to since.”

“I thought it would be gross the first time my dad made it for me, but I actually liked it a lot when I stopped thinking about what it actually was,” I said and sipped my coffee until the cup was nearly empty. I’d had so much caffeine that I felt wide awake and cracked out. I set the cup down gingerly as my hands were trembling. I did a quick calculation of how many calories I’d eaten in the past three days and wondered how I hadn’t passed out yet.

“You alright?” Scott asked.

I shook my head. “Yeah, fine. I’m fine.” Sometimes I feel like my words are already past tense and hearing myself talk is like listening to a recording of someone long gone. I tried not to spiral. I told myself I was still there and I could talk more and he would hear it in the present.

“I can start lunch,” he said as he rose and before he walked into the kitchen he quickly patted my shoulder, like a coach pepping up one of his players, and I felt present again. I wondered if he could tell when I was dissociating.

“I wanna help,” I said.

He smiled. “Sure.”

I dug out different pans he asked for and found a cutting board. I showed him the drawer where my dad had a bunch of utensils and we decided I would start boiling the potatoes while he prepared the backstrap. He was relaxed and organized as he described his plan and the timing of each dish.

I couldn’t help but think that in the three years that Paul and I had been together we’d never had domesticity like this. Probably because we were really young, lived in the dorms, and our parents always cooked and did these sorts of things. Was this what it felt like to have a husband? I’d never given a lot of thought to the reality of being married. Paul and I used to talk about it like a distant dream but nothing we would consider until we were both done with college and employed, and for me at least that seemed like a lifetime away. I felt annoyed that I was thinking about Paul when Scott was right there with me.

The potatoes were boiling and the oven was preheating so we sat back down at the dining table. Scott found a little egg timer and was fiddling with it to set the time for the potatoes.

“Who taught you to cook?” I asked.

Scott shrugged. “Both my parents, I guess. They sort of took turns and I’d help out. I don’t think I know that much…I just memorized dishes they made a lot. And there’re basic concepts that don’t really change.”

I nodded. “Makes sense. My dad cooked the most. I think I should have helped more but he has like…his system and I don’t wanna mess it up.”

He set the egg timer down. “You don’t visit very often,” he said.

I sighed. “I don’t really like it up here and he doesn’t ask me to come. I think he understands that it’s not really my thing anymore to be in the middle of nowhere. I don’t have friends up here anymore and I used to do holidays with Paul.”

“Used to?”

My face felt hot. “Yeah…we broke up. I mean, I broke up with him in September. I thought we might get back together…we’ve been kinda on and off for the past year. But I just found out he has a new girlfriend. She’s still in high school. So that’s that I guess.”

“I’m sorry Christine.” He paused, got up, and refilled his mug of coffee. “But in my opinion he wasn’t good for you.”

        I shrugged. “Yeah. You’re probably right. You were right when you told me that my senior year.”

        He put the pan with the backstrap into the oven. “It just seemed like you changed a lot when you started dating him,” he said and sat back down at the dining table. “Since we only have one timer I’m gonna set it for the meat.”

        “I mean…I didn’t change really. A lot was happening for a long time, like with my parents and everything. I just started dealing with it differently…I didn’t know where to find weed or coke or ecstacy before Paul. But if I had I’d have done those things earlier,” I said and laughed, feeling stupid. “I don’t do any of that anymore, by the way.”

        Scott raised his eyebrows. “I’m glad about that. It still amazes me that kids up here could get ahold of drugs like that back then.”

        I snickered and covered my face with my hand. “It wasn’t that hard to drive to Minneapolis on the weekend and come back. We just told my parents we were going to visit his mom in Wayzata, which was mostly true.”

        “If you don’t mind my asking, why’d you break up with him?”

        I smiled. “I don’t mind. I dunno…he just…started to bore me. I met more people and felt like we didn’t have much in common anymore. He doesn’t read anything except his accounting text books, and outside of his homework all he does is play videogames and get fucked up. I felt like the rest of my life would be pretty boring if we stayed together…but then like…I started to miss him, you know? I dunno. It was stupid. I think I should be glad he moved on before I could change my mind.” I paused and grabbed the egg timer and studied it. “But I feel kinda bad like…for the girl. Gianna is her name. She’s only 18. They work at Subway together. He’s the manager there. Isn’t that kinda gross? Like in the corporate world he would get fired for that, right?”

        Scott laughed. “Yeah, usually HR doesn’t allow relationships with managers and subordinates, but I don’t think fast food restaurants have much for HR departments. That doesn’t make it right though.”

        I set down the egg timer and shook my head. “Whatever. He’s stupid and he’s getting fat. He looks like a slob. I’m sure by the time him and Gianna get married he’ll weigh 300 pounds. You know, I go to the gym at least four times a week and kill myself to feel like I’m good enough, and I don’t think he can run a mile.”

        Scott looked at me and was trying not to smile. “It sounds like you dodged a bullet. Someone like that isn’t good enough for you.”

        “I should have listened to you in the first place. When we talked at prom,” I said.

        Scott nodded. “Yeah…I remember that night. I wish I could have done more to make it better.”

        I shrugged. “You made it bearable. I think it was above and beyond your job description to comfort a dumb, sad girl at a stupid dance.”

        He narrowed his eyes and looked at his hands as he tapped his fingers on the table. “Well, it was more than just that dance,” he paused. “Working with students…you can see things are going a certain way outside of school. The behavior changes, attendance issues, grades dropping. There’s something happening that families are secretive and defensive about. You want to fix it but there’s a lot of bureaucracy and legality around everything. I just wish I could have, would have done more. I know you were going through a lot.”

        I rubbed my temples and looked at him. “I think the best you did was what you didn’t do. I was 18 and moved out of here by the time stuff got really bad, anyway. My parents couldn’t help and just…not getting me into legal trouble for stuff and being nice to me was really good. If I’d have gotten a minor behind the wheel that day I drove to school still drunk my life would suck a lot more than it does now. And for like…no reason.”

        He nodded slowly. “Yeah. I thought the same thing. I didn’t want you to lose your license for that. I hope at least that you haven’t driven drunk since then, even if it’s the morning after.”

        I twisted a lock of my hair between my fingers and thought of something related to the allegations and the thought irritated me. I didn’t want to think about it just then so I changed the subject. “Speaking of terrible habits, do we have time for me to step outside and smoke before we have to like…do something?” I asked and gestured to the kitchen where potatoes were boiling and the backstrap was baking.

        He hastily picked up the egg timer and studied it, frowning. “Yeah, yeah I think so. Want me to join you?”

        I got up and walked to the jacket closet. “Of course I want you to join me! If you want to,” I said and handed him his coat.

        We stood together on the little porch and I pulled a Newport Red from its pack. I smiled at Scott mischeviously. “Want one?”

        He chuckled. “No, thank you. You know, I used to smoke for a couple years in college in Bemidji. I liked Parliaments though. Maybe I’ll bum one from you after a glass of wine or two,” he said and winked at me.

        I lit the cigarette and gave him a sidelong smile. “Alright, but it’ll cost you.”

        He smiled with genuine mirth. “Oh yeah? What will it cost me?”

        I took a long drag from the cigarette and watched the smoke dissipate in front of me. “That’s for me to know, and you to find out.”

        “Very mysterious. I can’t wait,” he said as he kicked some snow down the porch steps. “How about I shovel the deck for you?”

        I laughed. “What? I mean…if you want to. Knock yourself out.” I gestured to the shovel next to the door and stepped off the porch to make room for him.

        I watched as he expertly scraped the snow off the little porch. I wondered again if this was what it was like to have a husband. I felt a pang in my chest. Would I ever know? Did I want to know?

        I inhaled the smoke from my cigarette and turned away from him. I saw the white cat emerge from the woods across the road. “Here, kitty kitty!” I exclaimed and knelt with my hand extended even though I had nothing to give it.

        It walked onto the road and paused. Its eyes were a light brown, almost red. It flicked its tail, distrusting.

        “Come here!” I exclaimed and patted my leg. It scampered away into the woods where it quickly blended in with the snow. “It hates people and I don’t blame it,” I said.

        The shovel scraped behind me. “It’s just trying to survive. It doesn’t trust you yet. Don’t be so aggressive next time,” Scott said.

        I turned to Scott and smiled. “But I just wanna pet it now! I’m not gonna be here very long. Maybe I’ll catch it sometime before I go.”

        He chuckled and shook his head. “It’ll shred you to ribbons.”

        “Maybe I wanna be shredded to ribbons,” I said with a petulant bitterness in my voice that I hadn’t intended to be there. I took one last drag from my cigarette and extinguished it in an old planter filled with snow that hadn’t had flowers in it since my mom moved out. I made a mental note that I’d have to remove the butts later so my dad wouldn’t find them.

        He set the shovel back in its place and sighed as though he was disappointed with me. “Don’t say that, Christine. Let’s go in and check on the food.”

        We finished preparing lunch together and I thought it was fun and pleasant to follow his directions to complete these relatively simple, low stakes tasks. When I messed up he was nice about it and showed me the right way, unlike my dad who would get impatient with me and wave me away to do it himself. When we were done we both had delicious plates of venison, mashed potatoes and stuffing and I was starving.

        As Scott began cutting his venison I interrupted. “Shouldn’t we say grace?” I asked seriously, my eyes wide, trying to look offended.

        He looked at me, surprised, and put his fork and knife down. “Um…yeah? Sure.”

        I steepled my fingers in front of my face and closed my eyes, trying not to laugh. “Dear Satan, thank you for giving us this accursed food so we can keep living, and so that I can keep being a terrible person and a disgrace to god. I need sustenance so I can embarrass him everyday, in every way possible, so that he regrets ever creating me. With the utmost disrespect, Amen,” I said, the last sentence spilling out with laughter.

        Scott covered his mouth with his hand, trying to hold back his own laughter. “Jesus Christ, Christine!”

        I covered my face with my hands as I wheezed with laughter. “How dare you…how dare you take his name in vain, you heathen! If you don’t get your shit together you’re gonna go to hell with me!”

        Scott smiled and shook his head. “Good thing I’m not a god fearing man,” he said and paused. “I’d be happy to accompany you to hell, though.”

        “You mean it?” I asked, trying to seem serious again. I dared to clasp his wrist to accentuate the drama.

        He shrugged. “Of course,” he said and quickly grasped my hand before patting it and letting it go.

        I smiled, surprised at how he reciprocated the contact so tactfully, and my face got hot. “Oh, good. I don’t wanna go by myself,” I said lightheartedly before I began cutting into the venison.

        After we finished eating we put the leftovers away, cleaned up, and did dishes together. I finally felt full, like I wasn’t going to faint, and dare I say…happy? I hadn’t enjoyed a man’s company like this since Paul and I first started dating years ago. I felt stupid that I was thinking of Scott in the same ways I’d thought of my ex boyfriend at one time, but that dynamic is what I wanted, right? I needed to just admit that to myself, but the allegations…

        We sat down in the living room on the old 70s style couch together. I sat close to him instead of towards the end to see how he’d react, and he didn’t seem to mind. There was an old TV in front of us and behind us was a window that looked out to the old barn at the side of the house. The glass was frosting up on the inside and I could feel the cold air radiating from it.

        “The TV won’t work,” I said. “My dad doesn’t pay for the satellite when he’s gone for long amounts of time.”

        Scott shrugged. “That’s okay. The quiet is nice,” he said and closed his eyes and leaned back a little.

        “Are you tired?” I asked.

        “No, not really. Just closing my eyes for a minute.”

        It felt natural to me to lay down and I slowly rested the side of my head on his lap. “Is this alright?” I asked.

        “Yeah,” he said.

        My heart beat so intensely that I was afraid he would hear it. I tried to relax and breathe evenly. The hug offered plausible deniability of just being friendly, but this did not. I hoped he was actually okay with it and that I wasn’t making him uncomfortable. I closed my eyes.

        He began sort of petting my hair, as though I were a cat or maybe his daughter. I tried to just relax but I was too excited. This kind of almost innocent contact felt somehow more erotic to me than any way Paul had ever touched me. After a few moments I clasped his hand, brought it to my lips, and gently kissed his fingers. “I’m sorry,” I whispered as I held his now clammy hand to my face. I wanted to guide it all over my body but I didn’t just then.

        “Don’t be sorry. It’s alright,” he said softly, his voice wavering a little.

        “You’re so nice…so good to me. I’m so happy right now,” I said as I rotated his hand, kissing his knuckles, then opening his fingers to kiss his palm. I guided his hand down my face, to my neck, then under the collar of my shirt that had two buttons down.

        He sighed, took his hand, and sat up a little bit. “Come here, Christine,” he said.

        I sat up to face him and leaned in close to his face but he cupped my cheek with his hand. “We should wait,” he said, making eye contact with me. His eyes were so dark brown that the irises nearly blended in with the pupil, and from a distance they looked nearly black. I’d always thought they looked so dangerously beautiful, like twin voids I wanted to vanish into.

        “Why?” I asked, my voice whinier and more childish than I had intended.

        “Because I want you to think about what we’re doing.”

        I sighed. “I have thought about it. I’ve thought about it more than you can imagine. You want to, don’t you?”

        He nodded. “I want you in ways I have no business wanting you. I just…I don’t think we’ll be able to stop if we start.”

        I ran my hand through his hair then touched his lips with my thumb. They seemed less chapped than yesterday. “I won’t wanna stop. I promise,” I said.

        “I just think…then that's all we’ll do, and I’m not ready for that quite yet.”

        I blushed and instantly felt guilty. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be pushy…”

        Abruptly he stood up and I panicked, feeling like I had made a mistake.

“Let’s go outside for a little bit. Wanna go for a drive out East?” He already started making his way to the entryway.

        Breathless, I followed him. “A drive out East?” I asked stupidly. I felt dazed, like the words he’d said couldn’t possibly make sense.

        He took his coat from the closet and put it on before handing me mine. “Here. You can

smoke in my truck. Just roll the window down.”

         I was incredulous, but I put on my coat and checked my pocket for my pack of cigarettes. “Are you like…gonna take me to the woods and kill me or something?” I asked as I slipped my shoes on.

        He chuckled and shook his head. “No. Why would I wanna do that?”

        I had the intrusive thought that even if he’d actually wanted to kill me in the woods I would be okay with it. I sighed. “Alright, then…a drive out East.”

        We got into his truck and I rolled down the window and lit a cigarette. We pulled out onto the narrow driveway that led to a gravel road that went all the way from Lake of the Woods to International Falls. It was a minimum maintenance road mostly used by the DNR and loggers and sometimes it became so narrow that it was impossible to turn around. My dad used to take me for long drives out there while he had a few beers and told me scary stories.

I sighed and looked at Scott longingly. “You’re so handsome. I’ve always thought so,” I said before inhaling a deep lungful of smoke. “Is it okay for me to say stuff like that now?”

        He smiled and placed his hand on my thigh slightly under my skirt. “Yeah,” he said. “It uh…might take me a little bit to get used to though.”

        “You probably don’t remember but I used to wear this very sweater vest I have on now in high school because you always wore one that looked just like it. Kids thought you looked like a dork but I thought it was sexy,” I said.

        “I remember,” he said. He looked like he was about to say more then shook his head a little.

        I took another drag from my cigarette. “I wore it almost every Monday my sophomore and junior year. Some of my friends knew why, that I liked you. They thought that was really weird and made fun of me. ‘Mr. Mattson isn’t even cute!’ they would say.”

        “I wasn’t trying to be cute,” he said and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.

        “Back when I was a good kid I’d come to school early so I could get help with my homework and I’d talk to you about stuff, projects I was working on, before classes would start. You were always so nice to me even though I was a loser and had like, two friends.”

He shifted in his seat, looking a little uncomfortable. “That was my job.”

“I’m not like…trying to make you feel weird. I know you didn’t think of me like that back then,” I said as I puffed on my cigarette.

“I didn’t,” he said a little stiffly.

        I thought for a moment about the allegations and I felt I should change the subject. I made a mental note not to mention high school like that anymore. It was okay to talk about before, in an innocent way, but no longer. Not once we had broken the barrier of decency.

“One time Paul and I got stranded out here,” I said as I watched out the window. I always liked looking into the thick pine trees on either side of the road. “We went for a drive to smoke weed and the road was a little muddy because it was springtime. He went to turn my car around and it got stuck and we couldn’t push it out.”

        “Yeah? So what did you do?” he asked and relaxed a little.  

        “We uh…started walking back towards the house but we were like 14 miles away or so and the sun was gonna go down soon. Neither of our phones worked and we only had one bottle of water with us,” I continued and paused to take a drag from my cigarette. “I was really scared. It started to get dark and we didn’t have a flashlight or anything so after walking for like an hour without seeing my dad or any other cars we went back to the car and locked ourselves in. It was dark then and I was crying. Eventually a DNR truck came by and they gave us a ride home and my dad pulled the car out the next day.”

        Scott squeezed my thigh. “I’m glad you’re alright. I’ve almost gotten stuck out here like that. It's not a good place to end up stranded.”

        We approached a clearing on the right hand side of the road with a little cabin and an old spray painted wooden sign by the driveway that said “Beware: Bear Traps!” I pointed out the window. “My uncle’s hunting cabin,” I said. “Wanna check it out? There’s probably booze in there.”

        Scott slowed the truck down and pulled off near the driveway. “Your uncle Bobby, right? Does he ever come out here anymore?”

        “He had lung cancer and doesn’t visit anymore. He smoked like two packs a day.”

        “Yeah, we can check it out. Why not,” Scott said and parked the truck. “Don’t get out yet though. Those shoes won’t be good through the snow.”

        He walked around the truck to my side and opened the door. He turned his back to me and crouched a little. “I can carry you. Hop on my back,” he said.

        I laughed. “Seriously? Alright…careful old man, I weigh a ton.”

        I put my arms around his shoulders and wrapped my legs around his waist. He shut the truck door and began walking towards the little cabin.

        “Old man, huh? You’re light as a feather. No problem,” he said as he marched us toward the old decrepit structure. “Are there still bear traps out here do you think?” he asked.

        I laughed. “I don’t know! I remember that sign used to scare me but I’ve run all around this yard and never stepped on one.”

        “I don’t think Bobby’s ever had me out here. I always drive by this place and no one’s here,” he said. “Ah, got a little grill and picnic table. That’s nice. Did you guys hang out here much before the cancer?”

        “Yeah,” I said. “With my cousins when I was little. I got the chip in my front tooth here when I was ten. I had a metal whistle necklace and I was jumping around when it hit my tooth.”

        “I always thought that looked cute,” he said, his breathing a bit labored.

        We reached the front step of the little cabin and Scott put me down. I tried the door knob and it opened, to my surprise. “I guess it isn’t locked,” I said and we walked inside. “The last time I was here, Bobby had Paul and I over and we got drunk with him.”

        We walked into a little room with two doors that went into small bedrooms. There was a tiny kitchen, sofa, and table with a couple rusting folding chairs around it. It smelled like stale cigarette smoke and mildew.

        An eerie feeling came over me suddenly, being in this little cabin with Scott in the middle of nowhere during a holiday when everything was shut down. The sense that we were the only two people in this strange world and laws, norms did not and could not apply here. At that moment society was completely ignorant of and indifferent to me. I shuddered.

        “It looks bigger inside than outside,” Scott said as he inspected the room.

        “Yeah. They used to keep a family of four here during hunting season. Can you believe that?” I opened the door to one of the bedrooms. “For my creative writing class I wrote a short story about this place. I was doing coke when I wrote it. I called it ‘The Eating Man.’”

        “Yeah? What was it about?” he asked as he followed me.

        We stood in the little room that I had described in the story. A little twin bed with an old iron bed frame sat there with a ragged tattered quilt messily splayed over it. The way the light from the single large window brightened the room was unsettling to me.

        “It was about a girl who got in a fight with her boyfriend out here. She took a drive to calm herself down and got stuck and she had to stay the night in this cabin. As she was in the bedroom trying to sleep until she could get help the next day she heard a man come inside. He started eating something while she hid in this room and after he left in the morning and the sun came up she came out to see he’d eaten a timberwolf, raw, and there were a bunch of old animal bones sitting around. I got the idea from this story my dad told me about a crazy guy who went missing out here and was never found. I dunno, it was one of the first stories I wrote for that class and it was stupid.”

        “I think that sounds like a really good short story. I’d love to read it.”

        “You’re sweet, but I won’t let you. It’s really bad. The students who read it were really frustrated by my writing, which makes sense since I wrote it when I was high.”

        Scott looked around the room and out the window. “I think Stephen King wrote some of his best books when he was on drugs. Not that I’m encouraging that.”

        I laughed. “I’m definitely no Stephen King. I got a B in that class.”

        We walked back into the main room and after a brief inspection of the general condition of the place began rummaging through the cupboards in the kitchen. I found an old bottle of Bacardi Silver and a couple shot glasses. I carried them to the living room table, sat down on the old couch, and gestured for Scott to join me.

He smiled and made his way over to me as he looked around. “Someone could live here,” he said.

I scoffed. “Yeah, right. There’s no running water, and there’s a disgusting old outhouse outside.”

He sat down next to me and bounced a little on the old sofa that was probably at least fifty years old. “This thing’s seen better days.”

“Let’s do a shot,” I said as I filled the little little glasses with Bacardi. I smelled the bottle. “I think it’s actually rum,” I said and shrugged.

He picked up one of the shot glasses and sniffed it. “Yeah, I think so. You really wanna try it though?”

I picked up the other shot glass. “We should toast to something,” I said and thought for a moment. “It’s Jesus’ birthday today.”

“So…toast to Jesus?” he asked, smiling.

“Yeah. He died so we could sin together,” I said and leaned into him and pressed my lips to his. He kissed me back but was tentative and conservative, no tongue, and his lips were gentle and soft. I was shaking a little, eager to deepen the kiss when he pulled away from me and clinked his shot glass to mine.

“Happy birthday, Jesus,” he said and took the shot, wincing a little.

I followed suit and gagged as the fiery liquid hit my throat and started coughing uncontrollably, my eyes filling with tears. I didn’t usually shoot liquor straight and I wasn’t a fan of rum since I’d had some bad experiences with it in high school.

“You alright?” he asked as he rubbed my back.

I nodded. “That was fucking disgusting,” I croaked. “Bad idea.”

“I didn’t realize I was that bad of a kisser,” he said with a half smile.

I laughed and put my arms around him. “You wanna practice?” I asked and brushed my lips against his. He pulled me onto his lap so I was straddling him and I ran both my hands through his hair and looked down at his face. His lips were slightly ajar and his long eyelashes obscured his eyes. I pressed my lips to his and this time we kissed deeply and I could taste the rum on his tongue. I clasped his hands in mine and guided them to my chest.

He gently pushed me back. “We should stop,” he said, catching his breath.

I pouted. “But why?”

“I don’t think we should do this in Uncle Bobby’s cabin. What if the eating man comes?” he asked with a smile. “Come on, Christine.”

I sighed, exasperated, and got up. I grabbed the Bacardi bottle and took a long drink before coughing violently again.

        He patted my back. “Let’s go. We can have some wine when we get back.”

        I nodded and wiped the tears from my eyes. After we walked out of the cabin he offered to carry me again but I waved him away and walked ahead of him and hopped into the truck, my shoes wet from the snow.

        He got into the driver’s side, started the truck, and we continued down the minimum maintenance road. The further East the road goes the bigger and darker the woods get. “How far are we gonna go?” I asked.

        “I was thinking the fire tower,” he said.

        “Oh,” I said. “Why?”

        He gave me a mischievous look. “You ever been up there?”

        I laughed. “What do you mean? Like climb it?”

        “Yeah,” he said.

        I shook my head. “That sounds scary. Have you done it?”

        He nodded. “I like going up there once in a while. The view is beautiful.”

        “Is it like…safe?” I asked, feeling nervous at the thought of how rickety and old the structure must be. I wasn’t even sure if the DNR people used it anymore. It was one of the structures my dad would casually point out as we drove along this little road but he had never suggested walking to its base, let alone going on it.

        “Yeah, as long as you’re careful,” he said and smiled at me.

        I sighed and felt a little light headed from the rum. “You wanna go up there?”

        “If you want to,” he said.

        I stared in front of me at the road. The pines were closing in around us, thicker and darker the longer we drove. This place, this area I’d been so familiar with all my life suddenly felt otherworldly and foreign. I was struck with the feeling that Scott was very intentionally taking me somewhere people shouldn’t be, far from help and dangerous. But isn’t that what I wanted? Would it be so bad if I fell to my death in the middle of the woods after spending the day with the man I’ve dreamed about since I was a teenager?

        “Yeah, let’s do it,” I said as I scooted close to him and laid my hand on his thigh. I rested my head on his shoulder and he put his arm around me. I had the impulse to tell him I loved him, but that was muscle memory remnants of my relationship with Paul when we had such moments together. Most days I must have told Paul I loved him at least fifteen, twenty times when things were going okay.

        We sat in silence for a while. I felt hypnotized listening to his breathing and watching the road. By the time we pulled off from the road it was after 4 pm. “It’s gonna be dark soon,” I said as we got out of the truck.

        “Don’t worry, we won’t be long,” he said and took my hand as we walked through the snow to the base of the fire tower.

I gazed up at the rickety steps that went up so far I couldn’t really discern the top. “Well at least I’ll get some exercise,” I said. I felt myself sweat even though my jacket wasn’t heavy enough for 20 degree weather and I was wearing a skirt and tights.

“I can go first,” Scott said and took me to the first landing of steps. The wood looked old and gray and the railing untrustworthy. He took the first few steps and made a point to gently stomp his foot on each step. “See? I’ll make sure it’s safe first,” he said as he turned to me and smiled.

I wrung my hands before I proceeded. “But like…I’d rather fall than watch you fall,” I said, genuinely stressed.

“I’m not gonna fall, Christine. I was up here a couple weeks ago. But if you don’t wanna go up it's alright. We can go back.”

“I can do it,” I said and stepped forth to the first step.

He began to ascend and I followed suit. He made sure to show that he was testing each step before continuing and strangely, the further up we went the more I felt at ease, in the sense that I could trust his judgement.

“I’m not like…afraid of heights or anything,” I said as I looked down when we were three or so stories up. Usually this was true, but I felt wound up and the rum was making me nauseous. I made a conscious effort not to look down for the rest of our climb. I focused on the nape of Scott’s neck and it helped to feel like I was pursuing him, and maybe once we got to the top of the tower I could have him as my reward.

When we got to the platform at the summit my legs burned and I was truly sweating. “Wow, I thought I was in shape,” I said as I caught my breath. “I guess I was wrong. I should probably quit smoking.”

Scott didn't seem fazed standing by the railing. “You should quit smoking someday, but for now come here and check out the view.”

I looked down at what seemed like old plywood that made up the platform then shook my head and focused on Scott. I made my way towards him and he put his arm around my waist and pulled me close to him.

I finally got the chance to look at the view he was so intent on. Indeed, it was beautiful beneath the winter sunset. Brass colored light shone on the trees and trees were all I could see from any angle I looked at. “The trees look so small, but they’re like, clumped up, like rotten broccoli,” I said stupidly. “It looks so wild here, like civilization doesn’t even exist.”

“It doesn’t exist,” he said and I felt his hand creep up my back under my shirt and his skin was cold. I squealed a little and he leaned down to kiss me. “Rotten broccoli,” he muttered and laughed.

I met his lips with mine and felt like I was drinking him in the way I drink water when I wake up from a bad hangover. I acutely felt every way our lips touched, every angle our tongues overlapped and I tried to commit all these sensations to memory. I ran my hands through his hair and over his face. I felt one of his hands on my thigh, under my skirt, and it was cold but I liked the sensation.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” I murmured between kisses. “I’m so glad I’m with you.”

“Me too,” he said before pulling away from me. “Okay…let’s look out for a few minutes and then head back?”

“Yeah, that sounds great,” I said. I felt dazed, but happy. I went to lean on the railing but Scott pulled me towards him.

After a few moments of enjoying the view it started getting dark and we began our descent. Scott went first. I felt that going down was more nerve wracking than going up, and I started to sweat again despite Scott’s intermittent reassurances. Going down forces you to look at where you might fall, while going up shows you what you’re climbing towards. I almost lost my footing on one of the steps but Scott caught me.

I was relieved when we were back on the ground. “That was neat,” I mumbled as I wiped tears from my eyes.

“Sorry, Christine. I thought it might be romantic. I didn’t wanna scare you,” he said as we got into the truck.         

I rolled down the window and lit a cigarette, my hands shaking a little. “It was romantic. I like…appreciate being back down here though.”

I curled up close to him as we drove back. Once again I had the impulse to tell him I loved him, but I didn’t. It was getting dark out and I was just relieved the truck was facing the way to go home so we didn’t have to worry about turning around and getting stuck. I felt hungry and cold and a glass of wine or two sounded nice.

When we got back home it was dark and colder than when we’d left. Walking into my house was such a relief. I hung up our jackets and went to lay down on the couch while Scott stayed in the kitchen to prepare the pheasant.

“Would you like some wine?” he asked from the kitchen.

“Yes, please,” I said.

After a few moments he approached me with a Ball jar containing dark red wine as well as a glass of water. “You should drink the water first,” he said. “But the wine is a pinot noir. I thought it might go well with the food but I’m really not an expert on these things.”

I sat up and drank the water eagerly. I hadn’t realized how thirsty I was until he brought it to me. “Thank you,” I said. “Really. You’re so nice.”

He leaned down and kissed my forehead. “Dinner will be ready soon. Try and relax.” He started to walk back to the kitchen.

“Scott,” I said.

He turned back and knelt next to me. “Yeah?”

I put my arms around him and pulled him close to me. “Can I have a kiss?” I asked.

He pressed his lips to mine and kissed me deeply, but only for a few seconds. “My needy girl,” he said. “Just relax. Have some wine.”

I watched him as he walked back to the kitchen and my heart swelled and ached. I felt myself already being pulled into something…but what? What were we doing? Just playing house together for a day? What would happen tonight, tomorrow? A year from now? What about the allegations?

I adjusted the throw pillow behind me and sat up. I held the jar of wine in my hands and smelled it. It smelled sour, bitter, but when I took a sip the flavor was dark and rich, not too sweet. I took another couple sips and I felt the warmth run through me. I heard Scott bustling around in the kitchen and decided I needed to be closer to him, to at least be able to watch him and talk to him. Who knew how much time we would have left together.

I sat down at the dining room table where I could see into the kitchen. Scott had the oven preheating and was preparing the pheasant.

“Oh, hello,” he said and smiled.

“I just needed to oversee your work,” I said. “Make sure you’re like…abiding by the OSHA standards or whatever.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, sure. Of course I am. Nothing but the best for you,” he said and winked at me as he slathered the bird with olive oil and I watched his hands glistening next to the stove light as they caressed the pimply skin. His fingers were long and slender with short clean nails.

“So…what’s her name?” I asked, feeling a little silly from the wine. “How did you meet?”

He laughed, confused. “What? Who?”

I nodded to the bird carcass. “That whore right there.”

He shook his head as he washed his hands. “You’re something else,” he said. He ground some peppercorns onto the pheasant, smiling. “You won’t like the next part.”

I sipped my wine. “Yeah? What sort of degenerate plan do you have for her?”

“You’ll see,” he said. He made eye contact with me and grabbed a lemon, set it on the cutting board, and dramatically cut a slit in it. He continued looking into my eyes as he opened the back of the bird and slowly inserted the lemon.

I put my face in my hands, giggling. “Oh my god, Scott! Ew!”

He laughed heartily. “Don’t worry, Christine. She means nothing to me,” he said as he washed his hands again, shaking his head.

I took another sip of wine and wiped a tear from my eye. “I’m sitting here, jealous of a dead pheasant. What has my life even come to?”

“Well I have good news for you. She’s going into the oven because we’re going to eat her together,” he said as he placed the pan into the oven and set the time on the egg timer.

He walked over to me and caressed the side of my face. “It should be ready in about an hour and I’ll reheat the rest of the potatoes and stuffing. Sound good?”

I pressed my hand to his and kissed his palm. “Sounds perfect. You’re so good, Scott. I’m so glad you’re here.”

“I’m glad too,” he said and took a drink from his own Ball jar of wine. “Any chance I can bum one of those cigarettes from you?”

I nodded. “Of course! But remember, I said it would cost you.”

“Ah…right. What do you want, Christine?”

I rotated the glass of wine. “Do you…will you wanna see me more while I’m here? Like more than just tonight?” I looked up at him.

“Yeah, if that’s what you want,” he said and extended his hand to help me up.

I took his hand and stood up. I pulled him into an embrace and he held me against him. My lips were next to his neck and I could smell the sweat and soap again. “Do you wanna stay the night?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” he said. “Why not.”

I planted a few slow kisses on his neck and ran my hands through his hair. “Alright. I guess you earned a cigarette,” I said with a soft laugh. I kissed his cheek and got our jackets from the closet and we went outside.

It was colder than when we’d come in after the fire tower, but the air was still and the night was quiet. I lit a cigarette and handed it to Scott before lighting my own.

He took a long drag from the cigarette and coughed. “Jesus, it’s been a while,” he said.

I took a puff from mine. “I hope you don’t get hooked again. It’s a nasty habit.”

“I won’t. Don’t worry,” he said.

We stood in silence for a while and I looked up at the stars. “Do you ever like…feel scared out here?” I asked. “Like being so far from town by yourself?”

He shrugged. “I dunno if scared is the word. I have to be aware of things. A few weeks ago I had a bear that kept coming into the yard.”

I took a drag of my cigarette. “What did you do?”

He took another drag from his cigarette and didn’t cough this time. “I uh…took the shotgun out and fired a few times. Not to shoot it, but to scare it off. It took a couple days for it to move on.”

“That’s scary,” I said. “I don’t think I could be out here alone for very long. I think I’d go crazy.”

He laughed dryly. “Yeah. Sometimes I think I might be losing it. When I feel like that it helps to go into town. Get some groceries, go to the coffee shop, the hardware store. It helps to see people.”

I wanted to ask him if anyone in town even liked him anymore. Baudette is such a tiny town and living in it feels like being in a fish bowl. Just based on Facebook posts I’ve seen regarding the allegations, I couldn’t imagine anywhere that Scott would be well received. But maybe people didn’t care as much as they let on. After all, I still liked him.

“I hate this town,” I said. “I’d rather die than ever live here.”

He inhaled his cigarette deeply. “I don’t blame you. Stay in college, graduate, so you don’t have to.”

Something about the way he said that made me sad. “Do you ever think of leaving?” I asked.

He looked down at his feet and shook his head. “I do. It’s just not that easy,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” I said and took another drag from my cigarette.

Just then the white cat emerged from under the porch. “The cat!” I exclaimed and pointed down at it. It looked up at me and paused by the bottom of the steps. “Come here, baby,” I cooed softly and crouched, holding my hand out. It flicked its tail and looked at me as though I was an idiot. I didn’t have any food for it, so why would it come to me? It dashed across the yard to the barn.

Scott puffed his cigarette. “They probably live in that barn,” he said. “I thought there were more but this one is the only one we’ve seen.”

“Maybe they died. What if this one is the last one? That would be so sad,” I said. “I should put some food out for it.”

“Does your dad leave food out for them while he's gone?” Scott asked.

I shrugged. “I dunno. He doesn’t talk about it. He probably just lets them fend for themselves. I think he wants them to eat the mice so they don’t come into the house.”

“I don’t think any number of cats can stop the mice out here. I always need to trap them. We should go inside though. I’m freezing,” Scott said as he shivered and put his cigarette out in the same planter he saw me put mine in earlier. I followed suit and we went back inside.

We sat down at the dining room table and I sipped my wine. “It’s kinda quiet in here. Let me get my iPod and speaker so we can listen to music.” I went upstairs and retrieved my little music setup, such as it was, and set it on the table. “I don’t know if you’ll like any of the music I have on here but it’s all I’ve got,” I said.

Scott smiled as he looked at the egg timer. “I’m curious what people your age are listening to.”

I scrolled through the list of music on my iPod. “I just got this iPod so it’s mostly stuff I’ve been listening to lately. Let’s see here…I’ve got Britney Spears, 10 Years, 3OH!3, From First to Last, Serj Tankian, Seether, Mindless Self Indulgence–”

“Ah, you like MSI? I like them too,” he said and laughed.

I looked at him, incredulous. “MSI? Really?” I shook my head. “If you say so.” I clicked play on a song called “Never Wanted to Dance.” “What’s your favorite song of theirs?” I asked.

He shrugged and took a sip of wine. “I dunno. ‘Pay For It?’”

I smiled. “I’ll play that one next. That’s a good one. What other music do you like?”

He drummed his fingers against the table. “Well, I like From Autumn to Ashes, Nonpoint, Horse the Band, Evergreen Terrace…”

“I’ve heard of Nonpoint. I like the ‘Bullet with A Name song’,” I said. “But I don’t know the other bands. I bet they’re good though. You should burn me a CD of your favorite songs. I thought you would like more…boring music.”  

Scott smiled. “I can burn you a CD, sure. Why do you think I’d have liked boring music?”

I shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe because you seemed so professional.”

He looked at me with a sad half smile. “Well I guess not everyone is what they seem.”

I clasped his hand. “But I like that. I feel like I’ve learned more about you today than all the years I knew you from school.”

“You weren’t supposed to know me then,” he said and looked at our hands.

“I wanted to,” I said.

“I know,” he said.

I took a long drink of wine and took in a breath. “Did you…did I creep you out?”

He chuckled. “No, Christine. It’s alright.”

I took his hand and pressed it to my face and kissed his knuckles. “I hope I’m not creeping you out now,” I said, feeling pathetic.

He sighed and took my chin in his free hand and looked into my eyes. “Look at me, Christine. You’re an adult now. I’m an adult. I’ll tell you if I’m uncomfortable, and I hope you’ll tell me if you are.”

“Yeah, of course I will. But I’m not. But like…why do I still feel weird?” I asked, feeling stupid. I felt weird because of the allegations but I knew I was too much of a coward to bring it up then.

Scott leaned back and crossed his arms. He looked at the floor. “I think I know why, and we should talk about it. I’m just…I don’t know.”

“No, no, it’s okay. We don’t have to get into that. I don’t think–”

He scoffed. “I can feel it between us. I know you wanna know what happened with Roxanne and I don’t blame you for that.”

I looked at him, wide eyed and heart racing, disbelieving that he mentioned her before I did. It was like he’d read my mind. “I mean…I knew Roxanne, probably better than you think I did, and I know she was going through a lot then. I’m sure you were just helping her, like you helped me–”

He put up his hand and shook his head. “Please stop. I can tell you this: I did not hurt her. I would never hurt one of my students–”

“I know!” I exclaimed. “I never thought you would. She was a sad, lonely girl like I was and her parents sucked and I think they abused her! I saw her at the same parties my senior year. I know she was into the same shit I was. She just needed some help and you were there for her, right Scott?” My hands were sweating and I took in deep breaths. “I mean, that’s all it was, right?”

He looked at me for a long time and I appealed to him with my eyes, thinking he would reassure me, but he didn’t say anything. Why? Suddenly I felt intensely miserable.

He sighed as the egg timer sounded. “I gotta take out the pheasant for a few minutes.” He removed the pan, lowered the oven temperature, and set the bird on the counter before he drained his glass of wine.

“But it was just a misunderstanding, the texts her mom found, and you were just trying to help her?” I asked weakly, tears welling in my eyes.

He studied me for a few agonizing seconds and I saw deep grief in his eyes, and given the gravity and complexity of what we were talking about it was hard to know exactly why. He shook his head then and sighed. “Yeah. That’s all it was. I got too close to a tragic situation and I should have approached it differently. I’m sorry, Christine.”

“No, no, I’m sorry,” I said, relieved, and stood and took him in my arms. He stood limply for a few seconds before he put his arms around me. “You’re a good person. You were just trying to help,” I murmured as I buried my face into his sweater and hoped it would absorb my tears.

We stood in silence just holding each other as “Pay For It” played in the background. I thought about the lyrics to that song and a chill came over me. Would it really be so bad if the allegations were true? Roxanne was almost 18 when she died in a car accident last November; she hit a semi when she was driving drunk on her way home from a party, and when her mom went through her phone she found some text messages from Scott.

She posted about the messages on Facebook, but did not post the contents, and said she wanted her daughter to rest in peace but that Scott needed to be held accountable and lose his job. I’m not sure what happened after that but I heard that the school did some sort of investigation and that’s when he resigned.

What I did know is that if something happened between them, I understood it, at least from her perspective. Her family was poor and her parents were way worse than mine, and she didn’t like school the way I did, so things probably felt bleak. At least when I was her age I had who I thought was a nice boyfriend and college to look forward to, and as far as I knew Roxanne was sleeping around with asshole guys from Warroad and barely passing the lowest level classes she could take. Scott was a comforting presence, handsome and caring, unlike most of the boys around there our age.

I told myself I would try to find out more about what happened, but not just then. I was tired of feeling negative, suspicious. My nerves felt raw and all I wanted was to get our good mood back. I planted a small kiss just under Scott’s ear. “Are you alright?” I asked and stepped back from him so I could see his face.

He looked tired and his eyes were red and glossy. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. I’m sorry,” he said and rubbed one of his eyes. “I’ll uh…put the pheasant back in the oven.”

I refilled his wine glass and handed it to him after he closed the oven door. “Here,” I said.

He nodded to me and took a long sip. “Thanks.” He sat down at the table. “It should be ready in 45 minutes or so.”

I walked over to him and began massaging his shoulders. “Please don’t worry. I know you’re a good person.” I hugged him and kissed the side of his face before going back to rubbing his shoulders. “You’ve been working so hard today, slaving away in this kitchen. You deserve to relax for a little bit.” His muscles felt tense and didn’t give much as I kneaded my thumbs into them.

He sighed. “That feels nice. Thank you.”

“If you wanna go to the living room I can go over your back while we wait,” I said, feeling a little nervous. I wanted very badly to move on from the conversation about Roxanne and I thought something physical, relaxing could alleviate the tension.  

“Yeah. Why not,” he said.

I took the throw blanket from the couch and spread it out over the floor. “Wanna take your shirt off and lay down?” I asked.

He smiled, shook his head, and removed his sweater. His skin was pale and nearly hairless except for wispy patches over his chest and belly.  He looked surprisingly dense. Not muscular, really, but his arms and shoulders looked solid and he didn’t have a beer gut or anything like lots of men his age.

I smiled. “You have like…a nice shape,” I said stupidly and outlined his shoulders with my hands.

He laughed as he laid down on his stomach on the floor. “A nice shape, huh?”

I knelt next to him and ran my hand over his skin. “Yeah. You look fit,” I said. “Your skin feels a little dry though. Let me get some lotion.”

I grabbed some moisturizer from my room and straddled him on the floor. I squeezed some cocoa butter lotion into my hands and began applying it to his back. I didn’t really know what I was doing, but I used to give Paul massages and after some of his instructions I felt I could at least make it relaxing.

I put my weight into it as I kneaded his shoulders. “You’re so tense,” I said, feeling immediately stupid. Of course he was.

“I know,” he said. “I should probably stretch more.”

I began working my way down his back, along the muscles next to his spine. “I’m not very strong. I hope this is alright though.”

“This is nice. I like your touch,” he said.

I felt my face getting hot. “That’s good. I like touching you.”

He smiled, his eyes closed. “My needy girl,” he said.

I pushed my thumbs into his muscles. “More like…kneady girl, am I right?”

He laughed. “You’re cute.”

We were quiet for a while and I lost track of time loosening up each muscle I could. By the time I concluded my massage I felt like I got to know each curve and angle of his back, neck, and arms.

I laid down next to him on the floor. “Does that feel better?” I asked.

“Much better. Thank you, Christine.” He rolled onto his side and pulled me close to him.

I ran my hands through his hair and pressed my lips to his. He kissed me deeply and I felt his hand under my shirt, on my skin, and his fingers teased the underwire of my bra. I took in a deep, wavering breath. “Yeah,” I whispered, unsure if he was seeking my permission. He pushed up the bra and cupped my breast. His hand was warm, a little sweaty, and the contact there made me let out a little moan. He rolled my nipple gently between his fingers and I gasped, feeling an intense ache of longing between my legs.

Just then the egg timer sounded. “Shit,” Scott said, breathing heavily. “Time flies when you’re having fun.” He got up and walked to the kitchen, and I noticed the bulge in his jeans and smiled to myself. I heard the oven door open then close before he took his place next to me again. “It’s gotta cool off for a while,” he said and pulled me back into his embrace, kissing me.

I felt around the band of his boxers and slid one of my fingers along the inside. “Can we?” I asked.

He took a deep breath. “Like…now? Are you um…on birth control or anything?”

I pulled away from him and laid on my back, sighing. “No…and I didn’t bring any condoms either. Ugh,” I rolled my eyes, annoyed with myself. “Can’t you just like…be careful?” I asked, looking at him and hoping he understood what I meant. “I don’t have any diseases or anything.”

He looked absently towards the kitchen. “I uh…yeah, I could do that. I just don’t think I’m ready right now.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “I just don’t wanna rush things. We’ve only seen each other for a few hours. We’ve been drinking. I think it would be better to get to know each other more before doing everything…”

I sighed and laid back down. “Am I like…too slutty or something? Is that like…a turn off for you?”

“No, no…you’re not slutty and even if you were I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. I just mean…I don’t wanna hurt you.”

I sighed. “You can’t make things any worse for me, trust me. It’s not like I’m gonna expect anything or want to run off and get married or anything like that.”

He stroked my hair. “I guess I just…I feel very aware that you have some idea of me. I’m scared to ruin it. I feel like I’m gonna disappoint you and…I just want you to think a little more about that before this…escalates. Does that make sense?”

I shook my head, incredulous. “You won’t disappoint me. I can already tell. Just making out with you is enough for me to know that. You can tell me the truth instead of trying to make it sound like you’re doing me some favor.”

He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “I just wanna be completely sober at least the first time…tomorrow morning? If you still want to then?”

I sat up and put my arm around him. “Okay, fine. I guess that makes sense,” I said and smiled.

He kissed my forehead. “Thank you for understanding. I’m sorry I’m so bad at explaining things.”

I shrugged. “Well, we’re in a kind of weird situation neither of us expected. It’s alright. I’m sorry if it seemed like I was pushing you. I didn’t mean to…I just wanted to understand.”

“No, no, I was being really confusing. I can see why you thought I’d want to right now,” he said as he helped straighten out my vest and shirt. He stretched his arms and shoulders. “That massage was great. I really do feel loosened up. That was nice of you.”

I smiled and kissed his cheek. “It was my pleasure, really. Should we um…go to the kitchen and pluck all the meat from that whore’s body?” I asked, laughing.

He chuckled and kissed me. “See? You already made me forget about her.”

We went to the kitchen together and picked all the meat from the pheasant’s bones as we heated up the sides. I realized that a pheasant isn’t very big, and that we were going to end up eating the whole thing between the two of us. We enjoyed dinner, drank more wine, cleaned up and had a couple cigarettes together as we listened to MSI and chatted about miscellaneous things that I can’t remember in detail right now. I don’t think we talked about anything that serious…I don’t think we talked any more about Roxanne or how I’m thinking of ending things. I don’t know how we stayed up so late. We must have taken a couple shots of whiskey too because I can taste it right now.  

I’ve been writing for hours. Sometimes I don’t know where my stamina comes from. The sun is coming out. I’m impatient and Scott said we could this morning so I should probably stop writing. I’m exhausted and I have no idea how I’m gonna make it through the day. I’m gonna go now.