Chapter Seven
Jason-Present
Skinny Love-Birdy
“I have a problem,” Mara announces when she walks into the kitchen this morning.
She’s wearing jeans and one of my flannel shirts with a couple buttons undone at the top.
Her hair is tied up in a messy bun and it looks like it hasn’t been brushed in a couple days.
A far cry from the sleek ponytails she used to wear.
It’s been a week since she crash landed into our lives. We butt heads about as much as we get along, but that’s probably because I like provoking her. She’s so easy to rile up and looks kind of like a child when she does. She’s stormed out of a room several times in the last week.
But she’s also read aloud to me every night since that first one.
Sometimes for an hour, sometimes for three.
We’re almost done with this book. I hope she reads the next one I have picked out, this might be a one time thing.
But I like listening to her read, her disagreeable personality aside, her voice is very soothing, gentle and feminine but not too high pitched.
She sounds like a woman rather than a teenage girl.
Most of the girls I’ve slept with always wear a little girl mask.
They act helpless and raise the pitch of their voice, bat their eyelashes.
Who wants to fuck a little girl? I’d rather have a woman.
At her vague announcement, I turn to her waiting for an explanation. A sip of my coffee fills the time in between her speech.
“I’m due to start my period tomorrow.” Oh shit. I didn’t think of that. She barely has enough clothes as it is. The last thing we need is her going through them with period blood every day.
“There’s a solution but I don’t know if it’s possible.
” Color me intrigued. “I have a menstrual cup in my car. I don’t know if there’s a way to get there, but I can use that the entire time I’m here.
No need for tampons or pads.” Well, that’s pretty convenient.
Though I’m sure the tampon companies are pissed about losing monthly profits to something that can be reused.
I nod my head in answer. I set into motion hoping she’ll get the message and start shoving my legs through the snow pants by the door before stuffing my wool covered feet into boots.
She follows my lead and starts bundling up as well.
She was only wearing a winter coat when I found her, no snow pants.
Thankfully, she can kind of fit into Dylan’s.
He may be nearly as tall as me, but his waist is narrower and they are only a smidge too big for Mara.
Better than nothing in this weather, though.
I take a couple granola bars and toss one to Mara to put something in her belly before we set off on our mission.
After Bessie has been prepared, I boost Mara onto the chestnut budyonny horse before climbing on behind her.
We ride bareback for the sake of warmth.
A saddle would just be a cold piece of leather between us.
Bareback, we can share heat better. Which is also why I chose to ride behind Mara and hold the reins, since she’s smaller and not as heavily bundled, I try to envelop her in my warmth a little more.
Last thing I need is her complaining about being cold the whole ride.
Her back pressed to my front feels like two Russian nesting dolls sliding into place. Her shoulder fit between mine. Her head sits at my chin in this position so I can see the path ahead. She smells like the winter air, crisp and refreshing.
We left a note for Dylan on the table since he was still asleep. He was planning to work in the shop most of the day, anyway.
Bessie has to walk kind of slow through the snowy terrain since it’s three feet high.
My feet almost touch the snow at this level.
But I don’t hear the crunch of ice since the snow is still so fresh, making it a little easier on the poor girl.
Bessie is eight years old. She’s not old but she’s not young either.
She’s a lot more docile and spoiled than she used to be.
But this is why we keep her around. Never know when we need her.
Last winter I shot a buck from my balcony and missed his heart by a couple inches. It was enough to kill him eventually but not before he wandered a couple miles. Bessie and I tracked his blood through the snow to make sure his death was not wasted. His meat kept us fed the rest of that winter.
The sound of those steady hooves is the only sound in the woods now.
A gentle and familiar sound that comforts me.
She’s a faithful companion willing to travel through any condition for the ones she loves.
It seems like Mara is becoming one of those people as well.
She’s taken to feeding the animals almost every day just for a chance to spend time around them.
I want to make a joke about how she gets along so well with them because she is an animal, but that’s too easy.
I’m honestly surprised Mara isn’t talking my ear off yet.
She and Dylan jabber like little girls any time they’re in a room together.
I thought the silence would kill her overactive mind and the need to fill it would overtake her.
But nothing. Her head only swivels on her neck to observe the passing scenery that looks like something out of a Christmas card as we saunter through the woods.
Every puff of breath she exhales into frozen air hovers for a second in front of us before it dissipates.
She breathes steadily, even inhales and exhales.
It comforts me. I like the repetition of it and consistency.
I focus on that instead of the sound of Bessie walking because she isn’t even in her steps.
When she has to step around a rock under the snow or a thicker patch where her pace slows.
The variability makes my blood pulse faster through my veins.
But Mara’s breathing is in perfect time.
In. One, two, three, four. Out. One, two, three, four. Over and over again.
“It’s so beautiful here,” she breaks the blissful silence twenty minutes into our journey. “It’s like time stopped altogether. Kind of refreshing, actually. Maybe this time away will be good for me.”
I’m used to silence, I’m used to the space between conversations that either carries a weight of tension or an air of peace.
This time, Mara’s silence is like an elephant in the living room, it takes up so much space you can’t ignore it.
But I don’t ask what’s wrong. Knowing her, she’ll probably tell me herself in time.
“I’m sure you’re wondering why I have a menstrual cup in my car.
” I wasn’t, but I’m not about to tell her that.
“I always keep an extra in my purse. My periods are so irregular that I have to be prepared for whenever Mother Nature strikes. I’m just glad she didn’t make an early appearance this month. ” That sounds like hell.
We cross the elevated bridge spanning the distance between ledges of the ravine.
Beneath us, the river has a solid layer of ice encasing the surface, but I know water still runs beneath the thick ice that’s taken over.
If you don’t know what you’re looking at, it might be easy to miss since the snowfall has created a bed of flakes below.
The only disruption in the pristine white landscape is the underside of evergreen bows that peek out.
Occasionally, I see various animal tracks through the snow, but most of them are hibernating for the winter or staying under cover.
It takes us forty-five minutes to reach her vehicle on horseback at that pace through the winter wonderland.
The only way we found the car was because I remembered exactly where she crashed, about fifty feet past the bridge.
It’s been consumed and devoured by the season.
Luckily, I thought ahead and brought a small shovel tucked into the loop on my pants to get to the car.
It’s been a week of consistent downfall, the car is sufficiently buried which will take time to uncover, but it’s not impossible.
It took us another goddamn fifteen minutes to clear the way to open the door and then pry it open with brute force, but we got in.
For safe measure, Mara took the entire purse in case she needed anything else out of it.
Apparently, she also had a tube of mascara and a lip balm in there.
She was a little too excited to retrieve them, I’ll never understand women and makeup.
Both were frozen, but she said they should thaw and work well once back to room temperature.
She hasn’t worn makeup the entire week since she didn’t have any until now.
But I prefer her bare-faced instead of the dark makeup she did in high school.
It always looked like she was trying to be someone she wasn’t.
It seemed like it was a lot of effort for everyone else’s benefit, not her own.
She never seemed like the glamorous makeup type.
People think that because I don’t speak I don’t pay attention.
But it’s the opposite, I see everything and everyone.
I saw the parts of her she subdued for the sake of her boyfriend and the people she ran with.
I saw that she loved volleyball and physical activity, she always had a serious face of dedication in weights class that told me she loved it.
I saw her reading in the library during her free period on occasion, immersed in her book.
But she read romances, not the thrillers and classics I read.
We’re about half way back to the lodge when I decide to take a detour and show her one of the reasons I always loved this place.
At home, when I was a kid, our house didn’t leave much room to escape my father.
But the cabin my grandpa left us had plenty of open space I could explore. Including the lake.