Chapter 16 Kit
Kit
Life at the cabin was pure bliss—not that “cabin” was the right word for it. The gorgeous structure was two elegant stories of dark wood and glass, with a wrap-around balcony on the second floor. I would have called it a chalet, or something fancier like that.
The interior was just as beautiful, with high ceilings, an open floor plan, comfortable furniture, and huge windows to let in lots of sunlight and to take in the tranquil view.
There wasn’t another house in sight, just a thick forest sloping down into a lush valley, and a stream that stepped down in a series of mini waterfalls, right behind the wide deck.
We came here straight from Baltimore, two days after Christmas. Our original plan had been to visit New York City first, but Devon had asked me if that could wait. I was all for doing whatever made him feel safe—and he definitely felt like that here.
We’d been at the cabin almost a month, and it had been a little slice of heaven.
He’d been working on writing songs, while I’d been putting together a one-man drag show.
This involved planning the music, practicing the choreography and lip syncs, and designing several different outfits.
I had no idea if I’d ever get the chance to perform it in its entirety, but each song could also be performed individually.
I figured that was probably what I’d end up doing with it.
Even better was the time Devon and I spent totally wrapped up in each other.
We existed in a world with just the two of us, aside from a short visit every other week from the cabin’s caretaker and his daughter, who brought us groceries.
Other than that, our time together was totally uninterrupted, and it was glorious.
It created a kind of intimacy I’d never known existed.
Not just in terms of sex—although we made love in every room of that cabin and out on the deck, on repeat.
It was also intimacy in the form of reading together in front of the fire, and talking late into the night, and cooking our meals together.
It was intimacy built on love and trust, and on a willingness to tell each other everything, knowing we were going to be accepted no matter what.
The only dark cloud in our lovely little world was the countdown to Devon’s thirtieth birthday. For the most part, he seemed optimistic. While he still believed in the curse, he was starting to think he might have dodged it somehow.
He wasn’t ready to talk about the future though, or to make any plans past his birthday. Maybe he felt he’d be tempting fate or something.
Instead of pushing, I adopted his live-in-the-moment philosophy. It made me realize how much time I used to spend thinking, planning, and worrying about the future. There was a lot to be said for focusing on the here and now.
Not that I didn’t try to imagine what our lives would look like, or think about what we’d do, once we finally left the cabin. But that was a conversation that could wait until after February first, which was getting close.
It was already the end of January. His birthday was the day after tomorrow.
When I asked Devon how he felt about that over a late lunch, he considered the question before saying, “I’m trying to think positive, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous.
I feel like I’m holding my breath and waiting for the other shoe to drop, you know?
I almost wish I could sleep for the next two days, then wake up on my birthday and have that weight lifted once and for all. ”
A little while later, as we were clearing away the dishes, I said, “You barely ate.” He’d skipped breakfast, too.
“My stomach is in knots. I guess it’s my body’s response to all this stress.”
I made him a cup of tea, and we got comfortable in front of the fireplace with a warm blanket and a couple of books from the cabin’s mini library. Maybe an hour later, Devon told me, “It’s snowing.”
I glanced up from the pages of my pulpy noir thriller and smiled. We’d seen a handful of light flurries since we’d been here, but they’d all melted as soon as they hit the ground. This one already looked more substantial. “You might finally get to build your snowman,” he said.
“If this one doesn’t stick, I’m going to throw a bunch of ice cubes in the blender and build myself a mini snowman out of crushed ice.” That made him smile.
The snow kept coming down, though. We curled up together and watched as the world outside our windows became blanketed in a pristine layer of white.
After a while, I checked the weather on my phone and said, “We’re getting the outer edge of a storm that’s moving down from Canada. They’d originally predicted it was going to miss us, but it looks like it shifted in our direction.”
“The good news is, we have plenty of food and no place we have to be. And even if the power gets knocked out, we have a ton of firewood to keep us warm, so I think we’ll be fine.”
I wasn’t worried about it. We hadn’t gone anywhere all month anyway, aside from daily walks along the creek. It wasn’t like getting snowed in would make much of a difference.
As the snow started coming down even harder and the wind picked up, Maximo, the cabin’s caretaker, called to check on us.
When we assured him we were fine and had everything we needed, he said, “That’s good, because at this rate the private road leading to the cabin is going to be undrivable.
Don’t worry, though. As soon as it stops coming down, I’ll send my cousin and his snowplow to clear a path for you. ”
Devon thanked him, and after he ended the call, he said, “I think I’m going to lie down for a while.”
“Is your stomach still bothering you?” When he nodded, I asked, “Want me to make you some more tea?”
“No, thanks. I just want to rest.” I watched with concern as he shuffled off to the bedroom.
He was asleep the first two times I checked on him. The third time, he was awake, pale, and slightly sweaty.
I sat down on the edge of the bed and asked, “How do you feel?”
“I think I have food poisoning. My other thought was the stomach flu, but we haven’t been anywhere, so I don’t know where I’d get it.”
“I feel fine though, and we’ve eaten all the same things.”
“Not quite. Remember when I ate that imported tin of fish last night? You thought it looked gross, so you didn’t have any.”
“Oh, right. I forgot about that. But if it was food poisoning, wouldn’t it have shown up sooner?”
He shrugged. “It depends on the pathogen. I have no idea what might contaminate tinned smelt, or whatever that was.”
“You know, eating that seemed like a bad idea right from the start.”
“I ate much weirder stuff on my travels,” he said, “and I was always fine.”
“What are we going to do if you need to go to the hospital?”
“We won’t. All we have to do is wait it out, and it’ll run its course.” As he said that, he rolled onto his side and curled into a ball.
He got sicker overnight. We both barely slept. By the next morning, I was really concerned. He was shaking with a fever and chills, in pain, and nauseous, so I said, “We need to get you to a doctor.”
“Maybe you’re right.” He had to be feeling awful if he actually agreed with me.
It had been snowing all night, and it was still coming down. I pulled my phone from my pocket and told him, “I’m going to call Maximo and ask him to send the snowplow.” Devon nodded and winced as he curled in on himself.
I poked at the screen and said, “I don’t have cell service. I’m going to try your phone.” It didn’t have service, either. “I guess the storm knocked out a relay tower or something.”
“It’s not the curse, right? Tell me it’s not the curse. It’s the day before my birthday. I’m not supposed to live to see thirty.”
A cold shiver of dread ran down my spine, and an irrational little part of me thought, my god, what if it’s actually real? But I said, “It’s definitely not the curse.” I pressed my hand to his hot forehead. “I need to take your temperature. Is there a thermometer somewhere?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’ll go look.”
I searched all four bathrooms. When I finally found a first aid kit, it didn’t have a thermometer.
I ran to the kitchen and made him an ice pack wrapped in a towel, and when I returned with it I asked, “Can you lie on your back, so I can put this on your forehead?”
“It hurts to move.”
“Where does it hurt? Can you show me?” He winced as he forced himself to roll over, and then he pointed to his belly button.
He immediately curled back into a fetal position, and I said, “I don’t think it’s food poisoning, not if it hurts to move.
Maybe it’s a kidney stone, or your gallbladder?
Those are totally random guesses. I don’t know anything about this stuff, and without my phone I can’t look it up. ”
“I don’t know, either.”
“What should I do?”
“There’s nothing either of us can do,” he whispered, as he pressed his eyes shut. “We’re trapped here by the snow.”
“I could try walking to a neighbor’s house. Maybe they can help.”
“There won’t be anyone for miles. These vacation homes are mostly used in the summer, not the winter.”
“I can’t just sit here and do nothing!”
“It could still be food poisoning,” he whispered. “And you aren’t doing nothing. You’re here with me, so I don’t have to go through this alone.”
I climbed onto the bed as gingerly as I could and fought back tears as I curled myself against his back. I’d never felt more helpless.
I kept hoping he’d turn a corner, but he only got worse as the day wore on. The pain in his abdomen got so intense that it hurt him to breathe. I kept checking our phones, but there was still no service. Why the hell didn’t this cabin have a landline, or a thermometer?
He felt blazing hot to the touch, so I kept changing out the icepacks on his forehead. His gray T-shirt was soaked with sweat. It got harder and harder for him to move without being totally overwhelmed with pain.
Eventually, I said, “Show me again where the pain is.”