Chapter 20 #2
"I don't know. Most people..." She trailed off, staring into the fire. "Most people want something."
"I don't want anything, Grace. You need a place to park. I have a driveway. It's not complicated."
She didn't respond, but some of the tension went out of her shoulders.
We sat in silence for a while. The fire popped and hissed. The owl that had taken up residence behind my cabin called from somewhere in the trees.
"The cabin looks great, by the way," she said finally. "You've done a lot of work, I can tell."
"Thanks. Still a long way to go, but it's getting there."
"How long are you planning to stay? Like, is this a summer place or...?"
"Year-round. This is home now."
She turned to look at me, surprise clear on her face. "Really? I thought you were just like, a vacation person. Rich guy from the city with a weekend cabin."
"Nope. Cashed in my 401k and bought this place outright. I'm putting down roots."
"Damn." She considered this. "That's actually kind of badass. Starting over like that."
"Or stupid. Depending on how you look at it."
"No, I get it. I'm just twenty-four but kinda doing the same thing. Sometimes you gotta just... drop everything and start fresh."
Something flickered across her face. Pain, maybe. Or regret.
"True." I held up my pipe. "You mind if I smoke?"
"Go for it."
I relit and drew on my pipe, puffing fragrant smoke, letting the silence stretch.
"Can I ask how you ended up living in your car?" I said.
Grace went still. Her eyes moved over my face, evaluating, measuring.
"You don't have to answer," I added. "I'm not trying to pry."
She was quiet for a long moment. The fire crackled. Then she seemed to make a decision.
"I'm running from my ex." Her voice was flat. Matter-of-fact. "His name's Zack. We were together for three years. Things got bad toward the end. Really bad."
"Bad how?"
"The usual shit. Controlling. Jealous. Then he started hitting me.
" She said it without emotion, like she was reading from a script.
"Last time he put me in the hospital. Cracked two ribs and gave me a concussion.
When I got out, I filed for a restraining order and packed everything I could fit in my car. "
"Goddamn, Grace. That's awful."
"For real. The restraining order doesn't mean anything, though. It's just a piece of paper. If he finds me..." She shrugged. "He said he'd kill me. And I believe him."
"Did you go to the police? I mean, beyond the restraining order?"
"Yeah. They took a report. Said they'd 'keep an eye on the situation.'" She made air quotes, her voice bitter. "You know what that means. It means nothing until he actually does something. And by then it might be too late."
"So you came here."
"Far from Seattle as I could get. Small town. Off the grid. Figured it was my best shot at disappearing." She pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. "I've been here about four months now. No sign of him. But I still look over my shoulder every damn day."
I thought about what to say. There was nothing adequate.
"Do you have anyone who can help? Friends you can stay with?"
She laughed, but there was no humor in it.
"I burned through all my friends already. Crashed on couches for weeks at a time. Everyone was supportive at first, but..." She shook her head. "You can only impose on people for so long before they start resenting you. I could feel it. So I stopped asking."
"What about family?"
The change in her was immediate. Her face went blank, her eyes distant. She stared into the fire like she was looking at something a thousand miles away.
I could see the pain etched into every line of her face. Whatever had happened with her family, it went deep.
"My family doesn't want to see me." Her voice was barely audible. "I burned those bridges a long time ago."
I waited, but she didn't elaborate.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't mean to--"
"It's fine." She shook herself, and when she looked at me again, she was cheerful once more, deflecting. "Anyway, enough of my sob story. Your pipe smells really nice, by the way. What kind of tobacco is that?"
I accepted the subject change. "Cherry flavored. Pretty cheap stuff, honestly. I feel a little pretentious smoking it. Like I should be wearing a tweed jacket and lecturing about Hemingway."
She grinned. "Dude, you should totally lean into it. Get one of those super long pipes, like three feet long. And a big pointy hat."
"A pointy hat?"
"Yeah, like a wizard. Full Gandalf vibes." She spread her hands wide. "You shall not pass! Except to buy more bagels!"
I laughed, the sound surprising me. "I don't think I can pull off the wizard look."
"You totally could, though. You've got the whole mysterious hermit in the woods thing going on. Just add a staff and some cryptic prophecies, and you're set."
"I'll take it under advisement."
She settled back in her chair, still smiling. The tension had drained out of her. For a moment she looked much younger than twenty-four.
We sat together by the fire as the night deepened around us. The flames burned low. The stars wheeled overhead. Somewhere in the distance, a coyote howled.
I didn't say anything else. Neither did she. It felt nice to just sit there and watch the flames.