Chapter 9 #4
As she cleared her plate in the kitchen, she thought of Robert.
He wasn’t the one. She should have been giddy with joy, working on her wedding plans, thinking about Robert and their life together.
She wasn’t. She was thinking about Michael.
Whether the man for her was Michael or not, she would have to break it off with Robert.
It wasn’t fair to him. She would have to break off their engagement.
A lump grew in her throat and she could feel the tears come up as she scurried to her cabin.
She certainly didn’t want anyone to see her like this, least of all Michael.
If he caught her like this, she would probably tell him everything; scare the hell out of him.
She was sure he didn’t feel as strongly about her as she did about him; he had told her so.
He was just a guy going about his life and here she was, just throwing herself in there.
She thought she should definitely back off.
What is wrong with me? I’m thirty-five years old. I should have life figured out by now.
She lay there for a good hour, eating potato chips, staring at the beams on the open ceiling.
Normally she would be thinking about how many spiders could be hiding up there, but at that moment all she could think of was the mess that was her life.
What would she do next? How would she tell Robert?
Would she share her feelings with Michael, or just walk away? Could she even walk away from him?
The knock at the door startled her. She got up to answer and was greeted with a concerned look on Michael’s face. “Are you ok?” he asked.
“I’m sorry. That was kind of rude. I’m fine.”
“It wasn’t rude. I was just a little worried,” he said, relieved.
“I’m really fine.”
“Oh, I get it. You were just trying to get out of cleaning duty,” he joked.
“Exactly.” She laughed. He had a way of making her forget everything.
“We’re having a fire. Are you in the mood for some S’mores?”
“What a stupid question. Of course,” she joked.
And just like that, she was on cloud nine again.
Angela observed Michael teaching Eric the art of building a proper fire, explaining the tent-like structure of scraps of wood he had made, open to let in the oxygen break him and the careful placement of newsprint and logs.
Despite his best efforts, the fire wasn’t taking very well and this quite amused Angela who sat there smiling.
“Shut up,” Michael told her. “I’d like to see you try this.”
“I’m just anxious for my S’mores, that’s all.”
“Yes boys, what’s taking so long? Maybe us ladies should take care of it,” Dot added fuel to the fire, sort of speak.
Despite the wait, Angela enjoyed the sight of Michael’s defined back in his tight black sweater as he pushed the logs around trying to get the fire to take.
He clearly hadn’t shaved or combed his hair in a few days; his stubble was quite thick, and his hair quite messy.
She loved this version of him even more than the regular clean cut Michael.
After much effort, a nice, semi impressive fire warmed their toes.
They sat around, roasting marshmallows and pressing them between graham wafers and chunks of chocolate.
When she bit into hers, Angela was in heaven.
If there was a perfect moment; this was it; warmed by the fire, sitting next to Michael and enjoying a down to earth delicacy.
With her resolution to break it off with Robert, she didn’t feel quite as guilty about the emotions she was having, and she gave herself permission to have them. The sun was setting and she hadn’t quite been bothered by the bugs yet.
Yes, a perfect moment.
They talked and sang silly songs. Angela had had two beers which was a lot for her. She felt uninhibited enough to actually sing; even if she was really awful.
“That is worse than the screeching of cat claws on a window,” Dot didn’t hesitate to comment.
“It was not very bad.” Michelle tried to be on her side.
“It was pretty bad.” Michael wasn’t helping.
“I know; I’m awful,” Angela said, laughing. “Do you have another one?” she asked Eric who was playing his acoustic guitar and held the song binder. She didn’t care; she was happier then she had been in a long time. She should have realized it a long time ago. Robert wasn’t for her.
“The torture goes on,” Michael joked as she started her personal rendition of The Gambler.
Dot made her way to bed first, followed by Eric and Michelle.
Angela and Michael found themselves alone, staring at the fire.
Michael had talked all night; he had had a million things to say, but suddenly he found himself speechless.
In the glow of the fire’s light, Angela looked amazing; her long hair flowing over her shoulder.
Even in her thick fleece sweater, she looked sexy.
He noticed she had been scratching the back of her neck.
“Are the mosquitoes bugging you?” he asked her; the first words spoken in five minutes.
“A little...” she said.
The fire was dying. Michael was debating adding another log. He knew that they shouldn’t be sitting like that; alone. He wasn’t sure where it could lead. He loved the idea of where it could lead, but it knew it wasn’t right.
“It’s going well, isn’t it? With the kids?” she offered.
“It is,” he said, happy with the day’s events.
“You should see them a lot this summer. It would bring you guys closer. Maybe they could stay with you for a while.”
“I’m not sure if my ex-wife would go for that.”
“Well, make her. You have as much right to those kids as she does. She’s the one who decided to move.”
“I know but...”
“You feel guilty about it, don’t you? Don’t…” she insisted. “And obviously, the language issue is not a problem.”
He had never really thought it would be possible; spending time with his kids, but she suddenly made him see things in a new light.
“Maybe you’re right. Maybe I should talk to her.”
“Not maybe. You should definitely talk to her.”
He thought about it for a while they sat in silence, under the dark sky, getting eaten by the bugs.
“We should probably go in,” he said reluctantly, waiting for her reply.
She hesitated. “You’re right. We probably should.”
As he drowned the fire and they tidied the area, he wished they could have stayed up all night talking, but he knew it was for the best.
Angela walked into her cabin halfhearted, shooting a last glance at Michael; they looked at each other for a few seconds before she entered the cabin.
In the cold and darkness of night, the cabin had a different feel; and eerie feel, and a mustier smell.
She reached for the lamp on the night table beside the bed.
She felt cold; she knew the heavy flannel nightgown she had brought would come in handy.
She rummaged through her drawer to find it, making a mess of her clothes.
She quickly took off her fleece sweater and clothes and got into her cozy nightgown.
She folded her clothes neatly, and as she was putting them away, she saw it scurrying from behind the dresser; a large unsightly furry creature the diameter of a small glass bottom, black with a plump round middle and eight creepy legs.
She screamed. As the spider felt Angela’s presence, it froze on the wall.
Angela held her breath. She knew this was a stand-off.
She would not take her eyes off it because she knew that if she would, it would scurry away, probably under the bed, and there was no way she could sleep knowing that thing was in her cabin. No way.
She was at a loss; there was nothing near by she could think of using to kill it, nor did she know if she was even capable of that. Her heart was pounding.
“Michael!” she screamed. She knew he was just in the next cabin and that he would hear her.
“Michael!” she screamed much louder. She heard footsteps.
Michael entered her cabin, initially concerned. When he saw her standing there frozen, and saw what she was looking at, he started to laugh.
“You think this is funny? Look at the size of that thing!”
“Yep... that’s a dock spider,” he said as he sat on the bed. “...a nice one.”
“Well, isn’t it supposed to be on the dock?” Angela wasn’t impressed.
“Sometimes they make their way over here.”
“Sometimes they make their way over here. How reassuring,” she said, sarcastic.
“It’s just a spider Angela. There’s no concern.”
“Well, kill it,” she ordered. It’s the least he could do for making her sleep in this bug infested cabin.
He threw his leg up and killed it with his foot. Just like that. “There.” He grabbed a tissue from the box on the dresser and wiped the remains.
Her heartbeat slowing, Angela felt suddenly foolish, standing there, the damsel in distress in her flowery granny flannel nightgown. She wished she had worn something a little sexier.
“Well...thanks,” she said, self conscious. How silly she must have looked.
“No problem,” he said, scanning her from head to toe, smiling. “Good choice. You’ll be nice and warm in that.”
“Um...thanks. It’s a little granny-ish, I know,” she said, touching the frills on her collar.
“Well, you are one sexy granny,” he teased her as he made his way to the door. “I better go now because I don’t know if I can resist you in that sexy nightgown,” he joked as he stepped out.
Michael quickly made his way to his cabin.
He had pretended to be teasing, but he was dead serious.
Even in that frumpy night gown, she was driving him wild.
How he would love to get his hands under there.
She kept drawing him to her, and he honestly didn’t think she was doing it on purpose.
She was almost as innocent as could be. It wasn’t her fault she was a beautiful woman, and that he was insanely attracted to her.
She had done nothing wrong. Neither had he; with the exception of a little flirting.