When you break down the sentence…
When you break down the sentence, “You, me, a cabin in the mountains and a bed,” into the equivalent of prime factors, you imagine yourself with a guy on a fluffy white carpet in front of the fireplace, in a wooden cabin with a loft, on the slope of a snowy mountain.
In reality, Jan’s cabin is a modern passive house with a flat roof and large windows, surrounded by trees on all sides.
As soon as we step inside, I stop, dumbfounded. Jan’s mountain home is an identical copy of his apartment in the city. The same tiles, identical furniture, room layout, kitchen equipment, and even the same kind of dim lighting.
“I think I should make an extra wing armchair for you.” I unpack the groceries together with Jan. “Only… Where can I find another one just like it?”
He looks at me, squinting.
“It’s sarcasm, I think.”
“Not at all. It’s absolutely normal for people to furnish their out-of-town home and make it a spitting image of their primary residence.”
“I am not fond of change. I like everything to be in the same place. This kind of decor suits me.”
“You are… how to put it? Very peculiar.”
“Thanks.” Jan takes out plastic boxes with different-color lids from the cabinet and sets one next to the other on the countertop.
I’m about to tell him it wasn’t a compliment, but again I’m stopped in my tracks. I watch in disbelief as Jan counts out the slices of yellow cheese and distributes them equally into the containers. Only now do I notice that each lid is labeled with the day of the week.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“I am organizing our supplies for the next three days.”
“But the store is only two miles or so away. If we run out of something, we can simply go to the store.”
“I would prefer to know ahead of time when we will run out of food.”
“Does this mean I can’t eat more than four slices of cold cuts a day?”
“Not at all. Whenever you run out of stock for the day, replenish it from the next day’s box and label it with the current number of slices.”
My jaw drops. At first, I think Jan is making fun of me, but when he goes back to separating more slices, it dawns on me that he is dead serious.
I watch him as he carefully arranges the food in containers, then sets them evenly in the refrigerator. In doing so, he is so focused and sweetly abnormal that he melts my heart.
“Jan, what if I ate all our supplies now?” I pull myself up and sit on the countertop.
“Why would you do that since we are going to have lunch in an hour?” He glances at his watch. “Correction, dinner.”
“I’m hungry right now. What would you do if I ate the three days’ worth of food today?”
“I would prepare stomach drops, heartburn pills and a bowl for you.”
“Ha ha ha. And you said you couldn’t make a joke.”
“Because I can’t. But I’m glad I managed to amuse you.” He throws the vegetables into the sink, pulls up his sleeves, turns on the water and starts scrubbing the carrots with a brush, so hard that I feel sorry for the poor things.
At least with Jan, I won’t catch Escherichia coli , that’s for sure.
“OK, I’ll start on the dough.” I jump off the countertop. “Where do you keep the mixer?”
“The first cabinet to the right of the oven, second shelf from the top.”
“Row three, seat four,” I add in the same tone of voice.
“What?” He lifts his gaze, confused.
He looks sweet. I smile and it occurs to me that I really have lost it. Jan is a freak like no other, and something tells me that I’ll find this out more than once in the coming days. But instead of running like hell, I feel like staying with him and getting to know more of his quirks.
“Nothing, Jan. Another joke, but not very funny.” I walk up to him and put my hand on his shoulder. He shudders, but this time more lightly than last time. “Can I kiss you?” I look into his eyes.
He frowns.
“Now?”
“Yes.”
“I’m busy, and you were hungry.”
“And I still am. It will just be a quick kiss.” I take his face in my hands and kiss him on the lips.
Jan is standing still, holding the brush and carrot in his hands, looking questioningly into my eyes as if he doesn’t understand why I’m actually kissing him when we were supposed to be preparing food.
“Enough.” I tear myself away from his lips. “We’ll save the rest for an evening by the fireplace on the fluffy white carpet.”
“I don’t have a fireplace or a carpet.”
I smile, shaking my head.
“I know, Jan.” I slap him on the buttocks. “Keep scrubbing, and I’ll go about getting the dough ready.”
*
Gosh, I’m totally stuffed. I stretch out in the chair and unbutton my pants.
“The chicken with vegetables was great.” I take a sip of wine. “Seemingly simple ingredients, but perfectly cooked. You really know how to cook.”
“This dish was actually fried and stewed, but yes, I can cook. When are we going to try your pie?” Jan reaches for the glass, not taking his eyes off me.
“It is still warm. Maybe I’ll put it outside. It will cool down faster.” And in the process, I’ll grab a quick smoke. As they say, no smoker ever forgets to smoke after a meal.
I get up from the table, hang my bag over my shoulder and reach for the pie.
“Why do you need a purse?” he asks.
Umm
Er…
“I have my cell phone in it. I want to call my friends. You know, wish them a Merry Christmas,” I lie brazenly because we exchanged Christmas wishes on Christmas Eve in the morning.
But all in all, it’s a pretty good idea to ring someone.
I don’t yet feel ready to reveal to Nina and Artie that my boss, whom I supposedly hate, fucked me in every possible way in less than two days and made me feel so good that I decided to spend Christmas with him in the mountains and fall in love.
However, I’m always happy to talk to Toska.
She won’t make fun of me. She’ll listen and ask how I’m feeling about everything, and then she’ll wish me luck and assure me that if something goes wrong, I should call her, and she’ll try to help as best she can.
It’s good to have a friend who is a psychologist.
I put on my jacket and boots, go out in front of the house, put the pie against the wall, take out my phone and walk towards the trees.
While waiting for the call, I make sure Jan isn’t watching me, and as soon as I step into the darkened side of the lot, I take out a cigarette and light it up. Gosh, I love smoking in the cold air.
“Hi, sunshine; I was just thinking about you. How are you doing?” Toska greets me in a cheerful voice. In the background, I can hear the gurgle of her baby.
“Lots of things are happening. But first, let me know if you’re okay.”
“Perfect. We’re stuffed. We gained new pairs of socks, clothes, and teethers, about to take a bath, and then we’ll watch a Christmas movie. Maybe you feel like dropping in? We’ll watch it together.”
I’m guessing she’s asking out of politeness because she thinks I’m sitting alone at home in front of a screen, stuffing myself with chips.
But here comes a little surprise.
“Not now. I already have plans for the evening.”
“Well, well, well. Plans. Sounds interesting.”
“And it will be. I will only tell you that I’m in the mountains with my lover.
And I’m also about to eat a delicious apple pie with my lover.
Then I’ll drink wine, also with my lover.
Then I’ll have heavenly sex, with my lover, of course.
And then maybe I’ll actually watch a Christmas movie. Yes, you guessed right: with my lover.”
Toska laughs.
“Wonderful. So, who is the lover and why am I only finding out about him now?”
“And here’s a surprise. My lover is my boss, and you’re finding out about him now because he only became my lover yesterday.”
“Wait, wait, that boss of yours?”
“Yes.”
“The one you can’t stand because he’s a stiff-necked boor and makes you stay after hours at work?”
“The same one. And he is not at all as horrible as I thought. Although he is certainly very peculiar.”
“Wait a sec.” I hear her moving around, then she turns to Radoslaw and says, “Will you give him a bath today? I have an important call.”
“I will, but you make popcorn for the movie.”
“Okay,” Toska agrees.
“And put on that nightgown you got from me for Christmas,” Radek adds.
“I was going to do it anyway,” she answers, giggling.
A crackle in the receiver, quick footsteps, the sound of the door closing, and finally, Toska speaks into the phone:
“Okay, a moment of peace. Tell everything and don’t skip details.”
So, I tell her everything, although not in as much detail as I remembered.
If I were to describe every detail to her, our conversation would start to resemble phone sex.
I mention the crazy evening at the office and in the elevator; I tell her about Jan giving me a watch worth quite a bit of money, which I didn’t accept.
I talk about my mother’s stay in the hospital and how my family treated me.
Then I go on to the night spent at Jan’s house, his habits, peculiarities, perfectionism, problems with being empathetic and total lack of a sense of humor.
I tell her about the furniture he bought from me and how he made sure I got the funds to start a business.
And the more I tell her about him, the more I feel like going back to him already and spending more hours with him.
Man, I’ve got it real bad. How is it possible that I left his house about twenty minutes ago and I already miss his voice?
I want him to make me laugh again (unknowingly).
I want to get to know him better and, at the same time, show him that not always having everything under control is good and gives happiness.
I want him to change his schedule for me, to open up to what is surprising.
And, of course, I dream of having sex with him again.
Amazingly, I’ve never had such a craving for a guy and I’ve never fucked anyone with such frequency.