The generator would run for about ten hours or so on a tank of gas, so before bed I’d come and refill it for her, and then again in the morning, if necessary. I wouldn’t need to bother her or come inside for that, so I could still keep my distance.
“Thank you,” she said.
I nodded and gave her a wave. Then trudged home and repeated the whole thing for my own heat and lights.
I’d done my duty. She’d be warm and I now knew that she hadn’t keeled over from the head injury. Hopefully, I’d relax and get Gwenevere Thomas out of my fucking head.
Wishful thinking. I still tossed and turned all night long, my dreams a jumbled mix of my Alex and the new mystery girl, both taunting me.
My eyes sprung open and I jerked awake, then checked the power. Still nada.
So, I got my clothes on and refueled both generators, then flipped on the television set when I got back in the house. After about twenty minutes into a show I wasn’t really watching, my stomach rumbled, and honestly, I couldn’t recall the last time I’d eaten a decent meal. Maybe my new neighbor was hungry too?
From what I saw in that kitchen, Nutter Butters, Pop Tarts, beef jerky and Doritos did not seem like sustainable nutrition, unless she was a hardcore stoner. But I didn’t see any pipes or joints in her bag. The poor woman probably stopped at Hal’s mini-mart and picked up whatever she could to sustain herself, which was slim pickings. She had to be starving.
I decided to cook a little something since my generator was powerful enough to keep my essential home systems running. I reached into my pantry and grabbed my family cookbook, blowing the dust off. Mom used to make this stupid-good sausage casserole, and I was pretty sure I could handle that.
I pulled out some onions and peppers from the fridge and thawed the sausage in my microwave while I cracked open and beat the eggs. Not too much later, I had the thing assembled and in my oven.
While breakfast baked, I went and grabbed the clippers, trimming my unruly beard so I no longer looked like a frightening yeti, then showered. She was already skittish, the least I could do was clean up bit to show I wasn’t that scary. After running some pomade through my hair to tame my wild curls, I splashed on a bit of cologne. Ignored the dark circles under my eyes, only sleep would heal those. But my reflection looked better than it had in a very long time. Progress.
I turned to head to my bedroom and Archie was blocking the bathroom doorway. He looked up at me and cocked his head to the side.
“What?” I signed to him, as if he’d actually respond. He was wicked smart when it came to ASL and could almost understand everything I’d say to him. “I’m just showering.” The muscles in his brow went up, judging me as if to say oh really? “I’m not trying to get laid,” I added. “I’m just gonna take her some food. That’s all. It’s the neighborly thing to do.”
Good grief. I was justifying my nonexistent sex life to a goddamn dog. Rolling my eyes, I weaved past him and went to my dresser. As I put on a fresh pair of boxer-briefs, clean jeans, and a grey Henley, Archie watched my every move. And frankly, it was pissing me off. “Out,” I commanded.
The muscles in his body rose and fell, but he turned tail, sulking out of my room.
Lastly, I threw on a pair of wool socks and went to the kitchen to check on the food. It looked done. Grabbing some oven mitts, I pulled it out of the oven. While it cooled, I slipped on my boots. Archie was curled up on my armchair by then, giving me a side-eye, but I avoided eye contact with him as I laced up.
I’m not betraying your Mamma, I almost wanted to say to him, but in my heart, part of me still felt like I was. I rested my elbows on my knees and stared at the ground, blinking back the tears. My sister's words rattled through my brain: I know you’re hurting, but at some point, you need to live. Get out. Make friends. Meet people.
The new stranger occupying my rental cabin was just that…a stranger. Nothing was going to go anywhere between the two of us. She’d stay for a few days, I’d help her out as much as I could, then she’d be on her way. But for the first time in a long time I felt a desire for human connection, and that was something I couldn’t ignore. No matter how hard I tried.
I’d lived three lonely years grieving and pissed off at the universe. Frankly, it was exhausting. Maybe, just maybe, I could put myself out there, make a friend, and take a step toward living again.
It was time to give myself a little hope.
Thirty minutes later, I was trudging through the snow, carrying a casserole in my oven-mitt covered hands.
And, honestly, I felt like a goddamn fool. The only way I’d feel even more ridiculous was if I was donning an apron.
Stepping up onto the porch, I kicked the snow off my boots, balanced the casserole in one hand, took off one oven mitt, then knocked on the door. I hoped it wasn’t too early for her and that she got a better night’s rest than I did.
After a few minutes, the door opened. She was still wearing that oversized sweatshirt that stopped just below her, eh hem, and a pair of slouchy, wool socks. Hair now fully dried, it hung over her shoulders in long, chestnut waves.
Dear lord, have mercy.
Her lips tightened, as if to say, what the hell are you doing here? and I felt like an idiot.
This was a stupid idea. I shouldn’t have made food. I couldn’t even begin to imagine how creepy this all looked.
But right as I pinched my fingers together and signed the word eat—which even typically toddlers could understand—her amber eyes darted to my hand and her face lit up with a grin. She nodded fervently and opened the door wider, waving me inside.
Walking into the tiny kitchen, I sat the casserole on the stove burner and turned to her. We both stood there, just staring at each other in awkwardness.
Now what?
Oh, my phone. I yanked it out of my pocket and clicked on the notepad. I’d already typed a message back at my place in case it was needed, saying, I didn’t mean to intrude, but I was worried that you may be hungry. I passed it to her.
She read it, looked back up to me, and smiled again. “Very hungry.”
I read the words that came out of her mouth as she passed me back the phone. A lot of times with lip reading, people would shout or talk slower or over enunciate. What they didn’t get is that made it so much harder to understand what they were saying. But not Gwenevere. She just spoke to me naturally, and I appreciated that.
“Thank you,” she added.
I nodded, basically saying no problem.
We stood there for another awkward minute as she looked down, tugging on the hem of her sweatshirt.
Well, that was that. I did my duty and fed her. It was time for me to go. I cleared my throat and patted my thighs. With one final wave I turned to leave, but she tugged on my shoulder.
I caught the very end of what she was saying, which was join me. I shook my head making a nah motion, hoping it conveyed the message that I didn’t want to intrude. I really didn’t want her to get the wrong idea here. I wasn’t trying to get in her pants.
“I can’t eat all of this. I insist,” she said, grabbing my hand, bobbing her head to the small table.
Her touch sent shivers up the back of my neck. I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded. Pulling off my beanie, I shoved it in my pocket and ruffled my hair. As I stripped off my jacket and hung it on the back of the chair, Gwenevere began rifling through the cabinets looking for the plates. The teeny little thing couldn’t have been more than five two, and as she stood on her tiptoes the back of her sweatshirt rose, revealing a hint of the two globes of her ass underneath.