3. CHAPTER 3
I flop down onto the huge L shaped sofa that takes up half the living area, completely exhausted. Totally fucked—mentally. Definitely not physically. I could still punch this place down if I didn’t need it so much.
Sucking down a lungful of tar-filled smoke, I hold it in until my head starts to swim, then let it slowly billow out my nose.
I only ever smoke here, now; since I quit for Shawn. Because she worried too much about me getting cancer and would just die if she lost me too soon. What a strange irony.
The sun is almost set as a strong gust of wind howls through the cabin's open windows from the kitchen and loft then straight out above my head. It’s fucking cold in here, and it won’t be long before the temperature is hovering around freezing, but I need to air the place out.
Thankful that I had the presence of mind the last time I was here to take the linens home with me to wash, I stare up at my loft and the clean, fluffy, eighties red, white and black doona cover that everyone seemed to have.
It’s not much, but it's cozy. Built into the A shaped rafters, the slanted roof is covered with buck hides, and besides a small chest of drawers and battery lantern, the only other thing up there, is an old 90s TV with a pile of DVDs and VHS tapes of the adult kind.
With another gust of wind, I push myself back upright and head through the open door to the porch that spans the front of the cabin. The entire thing is enclosed with wire mesh, and there are two built-in benches that run either side of the front door.
Lifting up the left side bench, I open a large aluminum tub and take out one carrot and one potato from their sacks before closing it again and returning the bench to its correct position.
In the kitchen I take out a chopping board and knife while contemplating whether or not it's too soon to use one of the steaks I brought with me.
Deciding against it, I head for the walk-in dry storage pantry.
It's mostly rice and beans which I need to eat as much of as I can stomach before I start losing my mind to the point where the only thing that can bring me back is red meat.
I dump a can of three bean mix and a sack of rice on the kitchen bench, then reality kicks in and I'm straight back out the front door because I can't use the stove without firewood.
I toss the cigarette butt into the tin can on the front steps then grab one of the beers from under the right bench and head straight for what was the original cabin.
The definition of an eyesore, it stands—barely—in the back corner of the property.
It still houses an old cot and ancient stove that came with it when I bought the place, but I only use it for storage because it's not good for anything else.
Taking the axe down from the wall, I close the rickety door and make my way to the tree stump at the back of the main cabin.
I crack my beer and take a drink as I stare into the woods.
I love how dense the trees are, and how, from this angle, you can't see the driveway so it feels like I'm the only person who's ever been here.
After taking another drink, I put my beer on the back windowsill and push aside the tarp curtain hanging beneath the wooden awning that juts off the cabin’s backwall.
Filled with log rounds I chopped last time I was out here, I start throwing them towards the stump, but stop when a group of quails run past. I pause, expecting a fox to follow, then grip my axe tighter in case it's a coyote on their tails instead.
My eyes scan the trees, yet the next minute provides nothing, so I pace around the tree stump in the hopes of finding a hawk circling. But again, there's nothing there.
Something doesn't feel right. The quails were running like they were being chased, but as I stand still and close my eyes, the only thing I can hear is the rustling of the trees as the wind blows through their branches.
I take a tentative look over my shoulder then place a log round on the stump. I don't want to be out here right now, but the wood won't fit in the stove when it's this size and I don't feel like going without heat for the night. So I grip the axe in both hands, raise it above my head, and—
The porch door opens then slams back into its latch.
I round the cabin quicker than I make most of my poor decisions.
“Get the fuck out!” I yell with the axe ready to swing.
I hear a terrified gasp and a thud before I storm the porch.
“Please don’t hurt me,” a small voice begs from where they fell—one arm held up and covering their face, like they think it's enough to protect them.
“Then get the fuck off my property!”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d be here.”
“You didn’t think—who the hell?” I push their hand away. “Jintae?”
“H–hi,” his voice trembles and I toss the axe on the ground.
“What in the ever loving fuck are you doing here?”
“I’m sorry,” he says again. “I didn't have anywhere to go.”
“Shut the fuck up.” I pull him to his feet, shove his duffle bag against his chest, and force him back down the stairs. “Now get going back the way you came.”
“I can’t,” he cries, spinning around and stepping towards me. “I already told you, I have nowhere else to go.”
I step even closer so I’m towering over him. “How the fuck do you even know about this place?”
“You talk a lot when you’re drunk.”
“Excuse me?”
“You talk. A lot. When. You’re drunk,” he sasses me like I’m the idiot.
“Don’t talk to me like that, you little prick.”
“It doesn’t matter how I say it. The truth remains the same.”
“I should beat your ass.”
“Do it. See if I care. It’ll be better than what my parents will do.”
Turning to walk away, I tell him, "I’m calling Tek,” but he tries to snatch the phone from my hand. “Get the fuck off me," I scowl and push him away.
Scrambling back to his feet, Jintae lunges at me again but I send his ass back to the ground.
Before trying for a third time, he tosses his backpack aside, and I hold my arm out straight to stop him from getting anywhere near me. Holding him at bay, I pick up his bag, and with a little shove, he stumbles back as I walk to the cabin.
“Give that back!”
“No,” I tell him, unzipping it. “I’m curious to see what exactly you thought would get you through the winter.”
“The winter?”
With a chuckle, I lower my chin and shake my head. “That is exactly why you shouldn’t have come here.”
“I would have been fine. I know where you hide the key, and no one would think to look for me—”
“You’d have been snowed in within a week.”
“I could have handled it.”
Backing him up again, I laugh right in his naive little face. “With what? Eight packets of Shin Ramen?”
“I…I…”
“Didn’t think it through?”
“I had no other choice.”
“You had literally every other choice.”
“God. Why are you always such a dick?”
“You’re the one on my property, you dumb fuck.”
“And you have no idea—"
“Why you’re here? You got that part right.”
He snarls at me. "You have no idea how lucky you are. I’d kill to have parents that leave me the hell alone.”
I sling the backpack over my shoulder so I can fist his sweatshirt with both hands, lifting him off the ground. “The fuck did you just say to me?”
“I wish my parents didn’t care.”
“If you were looking for mercy, you’re going the wrong way about it.”
“You’ve never shown me any mercy a day in my life.”
“When did you ever deserve it?”
“I was a kid. All I ever wanted was for you and Wootek to like me.”
“What teenager would think a baby is cool?”
“This has nothing to do with me, does it?”
“Just fuck off.” I throw him back but he saves his footing.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Then you’ll freeze,” I tell him with a wave towards the blackening sky. “You’ve got half an hour until it’s pitch black out here. So I’d start running back to the main road if I were you.”
“I’ll sleep on the porch.”
“Haha. No you won’t. You have exactly two minutes before I call your brother so he can whip your ass for whatever the fuck this is all about.”
“No!” He sprints towards me but I slam the screen door and hold it close with my foot. “Give me that!”
“Fat chance, little man.”
“I don’t give a shit about the bag, just give me my book.”
I grip the strap tighter. “I don’t think I will.”
“Give me my book, you bastard!” Jintae screams, pushing with all his strength against the door.
Then he stops suddenly, like someone flicked his off switch, and calmly steps away.
With a smug grin, I revel in his retreat until he bends down and picks up the axe.
He raises it above his shoulder and creeps towards the door. “Give me my book.”
“If that so much as touches one part of this cabin, I will end you.”
“How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t care!” Jintae cries at the top of his lungs and sinks the axe head into the bottom step.
I fling the door open— “You little fuck!”—and kick him in the chest before he can pry the axe back out.
I watch his small body skid through the grass and dirt like he weighs nothing.
For several seconds he breathes heavily, just lying where he stopped. Then, with a tenacity I’ve never seen before in anyone, he stands, brushes the front of his sweatshirt, and tells me again, "I’m not leaving.”
“What the hell did you do?”
“Will you let me stay if I tell you?”
“Oh, shut up.” I lean down, pull out the axe, and take my phone back out of my pocket. “You've got one minute to get out of here on your own.”
Without breaking eye contact, Jintae marches to the bottom step and looks up. The jet black wavy hair that curtains his forehead falls away, and his bare, pale face just stares at me. Completely silent. Like a puppy, but with strong eyes.
He’s so fucking tiny, waist height from where he’s standing, but right now he could care less. Because even in the darkness, his face is shining, like he’s stronger than I’ll ever be.
His eyes shut, and when they open again, a single tear catches the moonlight as it runs down his cheek. “My time’s up… What are you gonna do with me?”