9. 9
Elias’s clothes were a bit big, but the pajama pants he let me borrow had a drawstring waistband, and I was able to at least keep them up.
I left the bathroom to find the lights low and wood in the woodstove, warming the main area of the cabin. Elias was on the couch again, this time under a blanket, watching a movie on the large, but not as large as the one in his house, television.
“Hey,” he said as he saw me, lifting the blanket up to let me join him. “It’s pretty chilly tonight, so I fired up the woodstove.”
“I appreciate it,” I breathed. I sat next to him, snuggling into his side for warmth.
“There’s slim pickings here, but there was lasagna in the freezer, so we’ve got an hour before it’s ready. You can sleep until then,” he offered. “I’ll wake you up.”
I shrugged. “I’ll consider it.” Elias took a drink, ice clinking around in his cup. “Give me some of that,” I said, taking the cup from his hands.
Assuming it was a whiskey and diet coke, I took a drink that was inappropriately large, and choked on the taste in my mouth, swallowing hard. It was just whiskey.
“Actions have consequences,” he said, wagging a finger at me.
Watching the television but not really paying attention, I felt uneasy.
Danger, then safety, then danger again, it was a pattern that my body had difficulty adjusting to.
The world was a haze, and I felt so distant from my body.
Sure, I could feel Elias, warm beneath me, but the arm draped over his stomach didn’t feel like my own.
His fingers combed through my hair, detangling the wet mop. While I appreciated the gesture, I needed to step away for a moment. I sat up, his hand moving away, and he looked at me, waiting for me to speak.
“Can I, um, smoke or something? I need a minute to myself,” I explained.
He nodded. “Check the pockets on the duffle bag. There’s a small patio out back.” He didn’t shift from his spot on the couch, finally allowing me to move around without extending a hand to assist.
I left through the back door, wandering barefoot around Elias’s property. His backyard was a hill, and a pond sat at the bottom, a little dock leading out to it. My eyes scanned the land, looking for any other sign of life, and I relaxed as I confirmed that we were surrounded by trees.
I walked down the hill, looking up to see the stars. So much had changed, but they remained the same. I’d changed, that was certain, but how would I be different?
My feet pattered along the dock, bare footsteps echoing softly against the water underneath. I took a drag from my cigarette, ashing into the water, and a few fish came to the surface to taste what had fallen. I stood there for a while, teasing the fish, wishing I was one of them.
I regretted saying that Elias should have let me die, wishing I had never put that energy out into the universe.
I was grateful to be alive. I knew that I wanted to live, but emotionally, I was all over the place.
In truth, it probably would be far easier to be dead, to be at peace.
My world was too complicated. I was jobless, homeless, and running for my life from some unseen force who knew far more about my work at Baker and Pryor than I did.
How long could I keep up with this, hiding out, drinking whiskey and eating leftovers with Elias? I had nothing of my own now, just a pair of bloody shoes that smelled like human waste.
The borrowed clothes were so obvious on my body. They didn’t smell like my laundry detergent, and there was no hint of my perfume. They hung incorrectly on my frame, drowning me in the strange fabric. Nothing was right, and I didn’t even have fucking underwear.
I’d have to ask if we could rob a drug store.
I accidentally took a hit of the cigarette filter, hot and sour in my mouth, not realizing how long I’d been standing there.
I kept the butt, respecting Elias’s property, and walked back up the hill to the cabin, feeling a little fresher.
I set it right outside the door, not wanting to stink up the trash can inside.
Elias was no longer in the living room, but I heard the water running in the bathroom, so I walked to the living room alone. The movie he was watching had ended, and the DVD title screen was playing a repetitive song.
A media console sat underneath the mounted television, so I parked myself on the floor in front of it and began to look through the titles.
He had a solid mix of DVDs and BluRays, likely having been collected over many years.
In general, he had an interesting mix of both old and new technology, always having what he needed for the situation.
For his Tahoe, he kept a large stack of CD’s in the center console, but had a smart phone to connect to his Land Rover.
He probably had a plethora of streaming services and digital options at home, but in his internet-free cabin, he kept his media on disks.
The majority of his movies were comedies or action films, but he had a copy of The Notebook next to Seven. For someone so put together, his movies were not organized in a recognizable pattern.
I wondered if his life had ever been easy. For the past few months it didn’t seem so bad, and I wished I knew how often he could come here and enjoy himself without so many threats looming overhead.
I couldn’t help but think of how many women he’d brought here for fun, when he had time to be happy.
It didn’t matter, but I was jealous of anyone who was able to enjoy his company when they weren’t under this much pressure.
How I’d enjoyed his company, just a few days prior. Everything felt different.
We’d almost had sex the night before, and we’d just kissed again an hour ago.
The boundaries at Baker and Pryor had been so clear: I giggled and blushed when he said something slightly suggestive and that was it.
We flirted and went on with our day. My hands were literally in his pants the night prior, and he still turned me down, but then he couldn’t keep his hands off me when I was on the phone with my father.
Oh, and we were fugitives.
I was so fucking confused.
No tears came, I didn’t have the energy.
The oven timer went off, spooking me, and Elias walked out, my shoes in hand.
He shut off the timer as he walked through the kitchen, but kept walking, stopping next to the front door.
He perched my shoes on a weird device I’d never seen before, before flipping a switch and turning it on.
I heard a small fan begin to run, and put together that it was a boot dryer.
“I thought that you might appreciate clean shoes.”
I smiled. “You were right, thank you.”
“What are you doing over there?” He asked, pulling the lasagna from the oven.
“Just inspecting your collection.” Thinking, feeling, reflecting. Pondering what the fuck I was doing here.
“Anything catch your eye?”
“I saw that you have The Notebook. It doesn’t really match the rest of the collection,” I said, standing up.
“It’s a nice movie. I thought it deserved a place on my shelf,” he said, unashamed.
“Oh, I assumed it belonged to the owner of my pants,” I teased.
He frowned. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Cassie. You’re far too pretty.”
“So it is hers,” I insisted.
“No,” he said, drawing out the word. “It’s not. You’re being so. . . weird right now. What’s up?”
I couldn’t stop the words coming out of my mouth. I just needed to know and I wasn’t sure why. “Did you ever bring her here?”
“I did, yes. Once. Years ago,” he clarified, emphasizing that it had been a long time. He looked at me, scrutinizing my face. He responded to my question carefully, unable to lie, but not willing to provide more information than answers to what I asked directly.
I sighed. “I don’t care that you’ve been with other people.
You’re thirty, I’d be more concerned if you hadn’t.
I think I’m just jealous that these other people got to know you when the world wasn’t ending.
She probably came over after work and brought you takeout.
You watched sitcoms before bed and woke up to go back to work, not to run away and blow the heads off of people infected with some mystery virus. ”
Elias took a deep breath, thinking about what he was going to say.
“My relationships don’t last because I have to lie to the women I date.
I can’t tell them what I do for work, and when I’m gone for a few weeks, we fight because I can’t tell them that I was in Cambodia, killing creatures that they don’t know exist. So I just don’t anymore. It’s not worth it.”
He stood in the kitchen, knife in hand, interrupted from his task.
He was just trying to make sure we had a meal today, and I couldn’t let him do something nice for me without bringing up a painful conversation.
Anxiety and shame bubbled up in my gut, and they opened the lid on Elias’s own thoughts.
“The girl I brought here, whose pants you have, Julia, worked in a department store. I met her at a bar and we hit it off. We dated for like, eight months. I left for a few weeks for work, and she was pissed at me, so I brought her here to make it up to her. I was cooking dinner, standing here like I am now, and I just couldn’t take it anymore.
I broke it off. Right here, in the middle of nowhere, and let her try to figure out how to get home.
She had to walk to the end of the drive and wait for her sister to find her and take her home.
She reached out to me a few times after that and I ignored every single one of her calls. ”