Chapter 4 #2
“Though, I dare say I’m not prepared for guests.
I made a point of emptying my fridge this week in anticipation of being away.
” I looked out the window at the rapidly worsening conditions, but I really felt like I had no choice.
I had no idea how long we’d be snowed in, we’d have to make one quick stop on the way home.
“I think it’s safe enough for us to stop at the supermarket before heading to the cabin.
Oh! And …” Excitedly, I pulled off my other glove and pulled up an app on my phone.
“There,” I declared as I hit the enter button.
“That’s the heat sorted.” He looked at me quizzically.
“Remote control for the thermostat at the cabin. I had everything powered down for the trip. I’ve never gotten to use the remote to turn on the heat before.
This is tech I worked on, by the way.” Did I sound too pathetic?
Never having left my cabin under circumstances that would require use of that remote and then talking about how I was the geek who helped create the thing in the first place?
He simply nodded in understanding but still looked at me curiously.
I turned my head away, afraid I’d been staring too long at his really lovely features, that blond hair all windblown after our run to the SUV, his bright golden-brown eyes that seemed to sparkle and pop, his slim, angular face, with its elegant nose and high cheekbones.
Could a man be both handsome and pretty at the same time?
My thoughts wandered as I put the car in reverse.
“That’s really cool,” he said, and I could feel him looking at me. It felt intense. He asked a random question next—or at least, I thought it was random. I wasn’t always great with social cues. Maybe he was just making conversation.
“I thought my dad said you were born here?”
“Not here, no. In Kansas.” He chuckled at me. I snuck another look at him, and he looked as cute when he laughed as he sounded doing it.
“But you have an accent? A British accent, I mean. Not whatever a Kansas accent would be.” He tilted his head in the most adorable way, an inquisitive puppy whose attention was all on me.
I had found it challenging since talking with Martin to picture his son, my thoughts vacillating between images of a generic toddler and the Martin I’d known in college, but Austin was clearly neither of those things.
He was young, for sure, but he was an adult who was comfortable in his skin and so much a mix of his parents that I could only see him as his own person though his coloring and features favored his mother.
He was anything but a photocopy of his father.
He was still Martin’s son, though, so I wondered if it was appropriate for me to think of him as handsome, or pretty, or stunning.
Probably not. Had I also thought cute? One glance away from the snowy windshield to his face answered that question for me. He was adorably cute.
“Ah, yes. I’ve been told by more than one person since I’ve been back in the States that they can hear an accent. I can’t, at all, and I can assure you no one in London ever mistook me for a local!”
I adjusted my glasses, then began to drive, putting my arm on Austin’s seat to turn around before I reversed the vehicle. My hand brushed his shoulder, and I cleared my throat before mumbling an “excuse me.” Austin focused on his phone as if nothing had happened.
“The grocery store is just up ahead.” I informed him and he nodded without looking up.
From the corner of my eye as I drove, I could see Austin flash his cell phone toward me for a second before pulling it back to his face. “This looks really bad. We should probably plan for a few days, just to be safe.”
We were silent for the quick ride to the market, so I racked my brain for something to say.
It seemed odd to talk about his parents, and I certainly wasn’t one to talk about myself.
I settled on asking Austin how he liked Hampstead University, and he was talking about his recent final exams when we fought the wind and snow to enter the building.
It was strange to be in the market with someone else.
Even in the early days of my time with David, we were never one of those couples who did household chores together.
We always managed to frustrate each other when we did.
Perhaps that was one of the many signs that our relationship wasn’t as solid as I pretended it was.
We walked with purpose, Austin and I, racing to beat the pending storm. The few reusable bags that I had in the car served me just fine when I was shopping for myself, but I didn’t think they’d be enough for the two of us if we were really to be trapped for days.
“Seriously,” he repeated, “I think we need to plan for, like, a couple of days. Oh, and what if the power goes out?”
“Well, I have a generator and a wood fireplace. And there’s a grill outside we can cook on. It’s partially covered, so hopefully we can get to it to use.” I nodded, convincing myself as much as I was convincing him. “We’ll be fine.”
“Has the power ever gone out on you in one of these storms before?”
“No, we’ve certainly had a few storms already, haven’t we? But I’ve managed to keep the lights on so far!”
“Yeah, we haven’t had a storm as bad as this in a while. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it snows all the time, but this thing’s a monster.”
“I swear, it snows here at least once a week!” I agreed.
“I know! I love it. Don’t you love it?”
“I suppose I do. I don’t think I really thought about it when I bought the place.”
“I can see that since you don’t ski! My parents were really surprised when I chose Hampstead,” he shared as we walked the aisles at a brisk pace, “but I love the campus, and I love this weather. Never tire of it. Sure, I love being at the beach in the summer, but I don’t need to be there all the time.
I swear my dad’s half dolphin. I think he feels claustrophobic just coming up here to visit. ”
We were walking along as he told me about deciding to major in premed. As we walked and I listened to him talk, we would stop occasionally and agree on items to toss in the cart.
“I cook a little, now that I’m out of the dorm, so at least I can help. It’s not like we’ll have much else to do. Especially if the power goes out.”
“Okay, what’s your go-to meal? Let’s be sure to get the ingredients.”
Austin took off, the shopping cart rattling in front of him, and I followed behind.
“I hate to break it to you, but frozen meals don’t count as cooking,” I yelled after him as we found ourselves toward the back of the store, in front of a line of refrigerated cabinets.
Austin eyed me before perusing the shelves until he found what he was looking for.
“Ravioli! My favorite. We’ll get some tomatoes and ground beef. Do you eat meat?”
I nodded.
“Then that’s one meal down!”
We bounced around the shop, a truly illogical way to shop, sharing favorite recipes and chasing down the ingredients. We ended up with a cart full of food. I’d been so proud of myself for emptying the damn refrigerator, and our cart looked like we were feeding an army.
We passed the liquor aisle as we were heading to check out, and Austin stood under the fluorescent lights of a neon sign that was advertising a local beer.
He looked boyish, but I think that had as much to do with the playful look in his eyes as his age.
The beer sign brought an otherworldly shimmer to his light hair, bringing out red highlights.
His eyes danced, and under the glow of the advertising around us I could see the flecks of yellow that mixed with the brown to make his eyes something more than my own dull, average brown.
I was perusing the limited selection of wine as I asked, “Are you twenty-one?” He’d headed toward a stack of beer cases piled high on the floor in the corner.
“As of last summer.” He raised his voice as we wandered further from each other. ”Which, as a British person, you might not realize is drinking age here in the US of A.”
“I was born in Kansas!” I shouted back, not caring that the one other shopper in this area was staring at us.
We were laughing as he joined me.
“I’m a wine drinker myself but grab whatever you’d like. I finished my last bottle of …” I looked around for my favorite bottle of wine, surprised to find it, and placed one in the cart. Austin watched me but hesitated.
“Beer? Wine? What’s your poison? Grab whatever.”
“Yeah, yes. Okay.” He added a case of IPA from a local brewer, and I nodded approvingly.
“And white, I think. For the fish?”
“Agreed.”
At the register, Austin took it all in and reached in his pocket for his phone. “I can help pay,” he said as he tapped on the screen.
I deduced that he must be looking for his payment app on his phone, so I put my hand over his and lowered his arm and the phone. “Don’t be silly. I’m meant to stay with your family for a week, eating your parents’ food. This is the least I can do.”
As if holding his hand was the most natural thing in the world, I hadn’t realized that we were still connected until he pulled his away, making a show of looking at his phone screen. The loss of his touch was palpable.
“Thank you,” he replied simply.
Our turn had arrived, and he led our little train through the narrow lane of the register. We began setting groceries on the conveyor belt, including bags of chips and nuts.
“Don’t thank me. You’re going to be the one doing the cooking.” I had said it matter-of-factly. Austin hesitated for a moment before laughing.
“Looks like you boys are ready to be snowed in,” our cashier interrupted. “That, or throw a frat party. Leave the case where it is, and I’ll come around and scan it.”
Austin held out his hand, palm up in front of the cashier. “I got you,” he said, and she smiled, handing over the scanner gun.
I paid and we left, the cashier imploring us to “be safe.” As the door opened for us, an announcement came over the store’s intercom, announcing that the supermarket would be closing in an hour due to the Inclement weather. We could hear our cashier letting out a little whoop.
Austin turned around and waved. “You be careful getting home too!”
The snow and wind had picked up while we were inside, so we ran back to the vehicle. Austin had the cart, and I fished out my keys, starting the car and opening the back hatch.
Our luggage was there, so I worked to shove it as far back as I could as Austin came around the other side and lined up grocery bags in the space I created.
“I’ll put the case in the back seat,” I yelled over the wind. I turned, and a blast of wind hit my face and glasses.
“Fuck,” I muttered as I removed them and tried to find a piece of clothing to wipe them off on.
Only I was bundled up in a wool coat, scarf, and leather gloves.
I thought about unbuttoning my coat to get to my sweater, which was only a slightly better option, but before I could, Austin was in front of me, his puffy coat unzipped.
“Here,” he said as he pulled up his sweatshirt and yanked a soft-looking T-shirt out of his sweatpants.
I stared at his hand and the sliver of skin he’d exposed, my thoughts a jumble of cold weather, acts of kindness, and bare stomachs.
I had been spending so much time alone, even back when I was married, that I was unused to anyone doing small favors for me.
I must have stared too long, thinking how remarkably kind his act was, so he repeated himself.
“Here,” he said again, only the wind would have taken it so he kind of shouted it directly in my face. Then he took the glasses in one hand and pulled the T-shirt up higher with the other, his belly button peeking out as he attempted to wipe them off.
He looked at my glasses as if he were about to put them on himself and shrugged.
“Not great.” He leaned in so that he was talking directly in my ear, our cheeks so close they brushed together for a second.
If I’d had my wits about me, I’d have jumped back, but I was still fixated on the flat, smooth stomach that Austin was covering back up.
His breath was hot, the wind cold as he continued.
“You go get settled in the car and get these cleaned off for real. It’s going to be enough of a challenge driving home in this without you wondering if it’s snow or a smudge you’re looking at.
I’ll finish up out here, and we’ll get on our way.
” He didn’t give me the chance to argue, he merely turned, put the last bag in the trunk, then took off with the cart to the passenger side of the car to load the beer.
I took to the driver’s seat and found my glasses case in the center console as I adjusted the heat and turned both my heated seat and Austin’s on.
The back passenger side door slammed, and I watched as Austin ran back to the entrance of the building, returning the cart and carefully lining it, and a few other stray carts, back into the neat row they were designed to be stored in.
I tuned my satellite radio to a station that provided regional weather, and they confirmed what I was seeing with my eyes. Heavy snow, punishing winds, and brutal temperatures.
Austin reemerged from the front of the store, his head down, hands shoved in his pockets. He looked up briefly, right, then left, then at me, before sprinting for the car.
He was a flurry of cold and motion as he clambered quickly and elegantly into my vehicle.
“Shit, man, I’m sorry. Your fancy car is going to be a mess with all the snow we’re tracking in.”
“So long as you don’t mind it when we’re driving to Jersey, I certainly don’t mind. It can always be cleaned.”
“If we drive to Jersey. At this rate we might be snowed in forever.” I put the car in drive as Austin unzipped his coat and sat up, his behind lifting from the seat. He had a hand under his sweatshirt again, and he asked, “You good with the glasses, or do you need my T-shirt again?”
Keeping my eyes on the Hampstead University logo on his chest and not looking any lower, I assured him I was fine and that my cabin was only about fifteen minutes from the supermarket.
It took us over an hour to get home.