by Jessica Park
As we drive out of Ellsworth with the shopping done, I realize that I’m a little nervous about what state the house is going to be in. Last week, I’d ordered sheets, towels, pots and pans, general kitchen supplies, and all that boring but essential stuff, and had them shipped to the house. The caretaker was kind enough to make sure everything arrived. As for actual furnishings, they came with the house, and I just hope that nothing is moth-infested and gross.
“If I don’t get a coffee soon, there is a good chance that I’ll die.”
“They had coffee brewed at the market,” James points out.
“Not that shit! Real coffee.” I am battling a hangover. Or I may still be tipsy.
Sabin reaches back and pats my knee. “A coffee you will have.”
“A strong one, right?”
“The strongest. I got you a bag of Colombian roast at the store, and Chris found a French press at the other place. According to the map, we’ll be at the house in twenty-five minutes. Chris? You’re in charge of coffee distribution when we get there.”
“Absolutely.”
“I think we’re going to have to make a second trip back to Ellsworth later today or tomorrow,” I say, feeling my nerves go on even higher alert. There is so much to do. “The house is probably a dump after all this time.”
“Hey, B., relax. We’re here to help.” I have missed how Sabin takes care of me. “You have nothing to worry about. It’s a big deal to go to this house. We get that. For real. And we’re honored that you let us crash the party. We’ll make as many car trips back and forth as you want until you have everything that you need for the house.”
“Of course we will,” Chris adds. “Anything you guys need.”
I feel better. It is a big deal to see the house again. “James? You all right?”
“I am. I want to be here. And we’ve got backup now.” He high-fives Sabin. I like how these two have buddied up.
I agree. We have the best backup possible.
I bounce my foot nonstop as we get closer, and Jonah pants out the window while I stroke his fur obsessively. Ellsworth’s chain stores have disappeared, and greenery takes over as we climb a hill. As Sabin relays directions to James, I am surprised to feel a smile overtake me. From the road that leads to the house—our house—I catch glimpses of the dark blue ocean through the trees. We are close. I don’t know if I’m remembering or if I just feel it. James takes us down a hill, closer to the water, then takes a sharp right, and we go down a long driveway that lands us by a substantial lawn. I look to the right at our house.
It’s beat up. It needs a serious paint job. White chips are practically flaking off in the wind. The lawn has been mowed, but the overgrowth around the back of the house is going to be a big project. The deck off the front needs major work.
To me, however, the house is spectacularly beautiful.
I let Jonah out and follow as he leads the way. I am in a daze, and it’s not from the leftover alcohol that is surely still running through my system.
I remember. I run ahead a bit. Leafy tree branches hang over the land in front of the house, but I know that to the left is a wooden staircase that leads to another grassy area, and past that is the rocky bit of shore that is ours. Chris catches up to me.
“You okay?”
I nod. The concern in his voice is unnecessary. “I remember this, Chris. I haven’t until now. The days before and after the fire? I told you I don’t remember them. All this? The house? It was blank. We’d been up here just a few days before … But I’m starting to remember this house at least. Wait. The living room. It has cathedral ceilings and a fireplace with a stone hearth. Tons of big windows. And there is a staircase there to the second floor.” My memories are spilling out. “Next to it is the dining room with sliding glass doors to a porch. The kitchen is huge. I mean, huge. Like maybe this place used to be a … a bed and breakfast or something. My mother said … She said something about having friends up to visit when we were here. How we could have as many people as we wanted with all the room. Upstairs is a long hallway lined with bedrooms. I don’t know how many. I can’t remember that. And down by the water? A long skinny dock that leads to a square platform dock. It had a small boat tied to it. A kayak … ” I shake my head. “No, no, a canoe, maybe. I’m not sure.”
“That’s all right.” Chris is smiling at me, and he gestures to the house. “Well, go find out.”
I call for Jonah and he immediately returns to me, his tail thumping against my legs. I hear the others behind us, and then James is next to me. “Holy shit, Blythe,” he says. He is as stunned as I am. “The house is so big.” He takes my hand. “I didn’t remember it being this big.”
“Me neither.”
“Go inside,” Eric prods. “Check it all out.”
I turn to James, and he gives me a look that tells me he agrees with what I’m about to say.
“We’re all going in together.”
Sabin’s hand is on my shoulder. “Don’t you think you two should do this alone?”
“No. This is for all of us.”
***
It takes that entire first month for me to feel like the house is in acceptable shape. The furnishings that came with it are outdated, but they fit the feel of a summer vacation home. I can’t imagine this old house filled with a bunch of sleek modern shit from Crate and Barrel. It is supposed to have the mismatched chairs and a lumpy sofa. The dining room has a long wooden farmer’s table with exactly enough room for all of us to sit comfortably on the benches, worn soft over time. I’m grateful I thought ahead to order so much online, because the kitchen is filled with essentials and we have all-new sheets and towels.
There are six modestly sized bedrooms upstairs. Eric and Zach are in one room, and the rest of us in our own rooms. Although I suspect that Estelle and James are sharing on occasion. I’m pretending that their overt flirtation is nothing more than innocent fun, but the floor in the upstairs hallway creaks loudly, and I hear doors open and close at odd hours. The rooms all have sturdy-enough platform beds, and I’ve replaced a few of the more saggy mattresses with thicker versions made of memory foam. So far I have not actually heard beds squeaking, and I am grateful. We salvaged a number of old quilts, although it took a few rounds through the washing machine for me to feel as though they were hygienic enough to sleep under. General dusting, vacuuming, scouring, and polishing have made a world of difference. The house feels warm and alive. James has started ripping up linoleum on one of the bathrooms and tiling it himself, and I’m very impressed with what he knows how to do.
While James and Estelle may be room hopping, Chris and I have stayed in separate rooms. We are affectionate, regularly touching each other in passing, even snuggling on the couch by the fire at the end of the day. We started a routine where he reads aloud to me from old paperbacks at night, and there is something incredibly intimate about it. Yet we haven’t even kissed. We are coupled up, that is clear, but we haven’t acted on it. Chris hasn’t actually tried to get things going, but that’s because I haven’t let him. I know how he moves, how he sounds, how he breathes when he’s about to move in. I haven’t let it happen because … well, because he was supposed to get married less than a month ago. Because I’m scared. But I let him hold me in his arms, I let him stroke my hair, and I let him watch me. And he watches me all the time. I love the feel of his eyes on me, the way he takes me in and the way the hint of a smile crosses his face when he knows that I’ve caught him.
Of course, I watch him, too. He, and James, and Sabin have been painting the outside of the house, and watching Chris shirtless on the ladder while he works on my house is undeniably hot. I’m glad he doesn’t hide his scar from anyone. James did give me a questioning look, but I just shook my head. Sometimes I take a break from what I’m doing and sit on the lawn under the guise of supervising. I used to yell out, “You missed a spot!” every few minutes just to piss them off, but after all three of them tackled me with dripping paintbrushes las
t week, I stopped. I’m still washing paint from my hair.
I notice one thing in particular about the painting process: how Chris subtly discourages Sabin from working on a ladder. He frequently redirects Sabin to the lower windows, to the porch, and to the siding that he can reach from the ground. He has the same unspoken concern that I do. Sabin is drinking too much. We all drink, yes, and I’m no exception, but Sabin is consistently drinking during the day. I know that he’s just staying around the house, and we’ve got a fun party atmosphere going on, but his drinking has a different edge to it. He’s been in a great mood, though, so it’s not like it’s causing trouble. Yet.
It’s an unusually warm Saturday almost four weeks from the day we arrived when I take my first swim alone. We usually go down to the ocean as a group, but for some reason, after my early evening run on this particular day, I want time alone.
The water is absolutely frigid when I jump in, and I’ll be lucky to finish more than just a few laps, but the shock of the cold and subsequent rush of adrenaline is amazing. I’m a competent swimmer, and I stay fairly close to the shore, but when I look up, I notice that Chris is watching me. He never gets in the water, and I wish I knew why. But he always wears his suit anyway and keeps one eye on me at all times. I get the feeling he’s standing guard over me, making sure that I am safe.
It’s around seven I’m guessing, and the light is beautiful, with the sun just thinking about descending for the night. I keep swimming, and every time I lift my head from the water to breathe, I see Chris’s figure on the shore. I would know him from any distance. I swim the crawl in long, slow strokes.
I would know him from any distance. I’m confused as to why this phrase recurs to me obsessively as I finish my quick laps. I’m convinced that I’m missing something in this thought, but I don’t know what.
I lift myself onto the end of the dock, emerging from the water chilled to the core but energized all the same. I take my towel and wrap it around me, taking in the scene on the lawn ahead of me. Sabin is fiddling with perfecting the outdoor lights as Jonah sits poised by his side. Estelle and Zach are having some sort of wild dance-off on top of the picnic table; James pulls himself away from staring entranced at my former roommate to throw another log into the fire pit. Zach and James spent an afternoon last week making it, and now we have a great spot to hang out after dark. Chris is standing on the rocky shore, a few yards from the start of the long dock. I start the walk over the weathered wood.
“Good night for a fire,” I say. The music blaring from the outdoor speakers and the group’s noise make me have to raise my voice.
Chris doesn’t answer me, although he follows me with his eyes as I approach him.
“Chris?”
He is staring intensely at me. “Yeah.”
“You all right?”
“Yes, I’m fine. It’s just that you look cold.”
“I am. I’m going to take a hot shower.” I gesture behind me. The outdoor shower is probably my favorite thing here. Before this summer, I’d never showered outside, but there’s nothing like it. It took three rounds of scrubbing the wood walls with bleach and then going over them with a coat of sealer to make the shower feel truly clean, but now the roomy enclosure is heaven.
I start to walk ahead, but then turn back. “Hey, Chris? I need to ask you something.”
“Anything.”
“Are you worried about Sabin at all?”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s … he’s been drinking a lot.”
“Yeah.” Chris sighs. “I know.”
“So are you concerned?”
He shrugs. “I think he’s just a little lonely. You know, for female companionship. He loves it here, obviously, but it’s not the college scene that he’s used to. He wants to go out tonight and pick up a tourist.”
“Okay. If that’s all you think it is.”
He takes a step into me. “Don’t frown. I don’t like to see you unhappy.” He touches my face for a second.
Without warning, the energy and the sexual tension between us erupt and eclipse the background noise.
“I missed you,” he says. “I don’t know how to tell you how much.”
It’s not just what he says, but the way he looks. I take his hand and walk him to the shower. He steps in behind me and shuts the door. Immediately, his hands touch the top of mine, and the back of his fingers glide up my arms, making me shiver.
“Still cold?” he whispers.
I turn around and shake my head. We lift his sweatshirt over his head so that he is in his swimsuit, too. I put my hand on his chest and push him to the bench that runs against one side of the shower. “Sit,” I tell him.
The music and laughter from the others fill the air, and we both smile when Sabin yells, “What do you mean we’re out of graham crackers? How are we supposed to make s’mores?”
I turn on the faucet and stand under the hot water while Chris watches me. Moving slowly, I take my time, wanting him to be sure. There is no way we can take this step and not have it mean something. Plus, I don’t mind teasing him because fair is fair. I’ve spent the past month enduring his running around the property in shorts and nothing else. He’s even more toned and strong now than he was in college. All the hikes that we’ve done on Cadillac Mountain combined with the laboring on the house have cut more lines into his body. Just because I haven’t thrown myself at him doesn’t mean that I haven’t noticed. I rest my foot next to him and cover my leg with shaving cream. I shave more slowly than necessary, and Chris doesn’t look away for even a fraction of a second. When he slides his palm up my leg, I let him get as far as midthigh before I remove his hand and step back under the water. “You’re killing me,” he says.
“Good.” I wash my hair, arching my back and lifting my ass in his direction. When I inch a soapy hand under the top of my suit, he practically growls.
Chris reaches for me. “Come here, beautiful. I can’t keep my hands off you any longer.” I allow him to pull me in, and I straddle him, sitting up so that I can look at the person who I have ached over for all these months. Getting to feel his body underneath me again is electrifying. I run my fingers through his hair, and he does the same as I let my head fall back. He caresses my back and arms, moving to my waist, up the front of my suit and over my breasts. I move my hips slightly against him, feeling him get hard, while my fingers graze over his chest. For a while, we do nothing but touch each other like this, gently and slowly, starting to explore each other again.
“Chris?”
“Yeah, baby?” He places a finger on my face and traces it over my jaw, down my neck, distracting me from what I want to ask.
“You really haven’t … since us? With anyone else? With her?”
He smiles softly. “No.”
“Why? From what I’ve heard, you used to”—I smile flirtatiously—“get around enough.” I touch my fingers teasingly to his lips, and he sucks on them. The shock that tears through me at the feel of his mouth makes me inhale sharply. “You seem to like sex enough.”
“I certainly do like sex enough. And … yeah, I guess that I used to be more like Sabin, but I was glad to have an excuse not to.” He brings his mouth close to mine. “Because after you? After you it was different.”
“So,” I whisper, “it’s been a long time.”
“You’re really going to drive this point home, aren’t you?” He tickles my waist and I squirm.
“Yes. I like that you haven’t been with anyone else. I think it’s weird, and I’m massively surprised, but I like it.” He doesn’t say anything, so I answer his unasked question. “I haven’t either.”
Chris pulls me in. “Oh God, I was hoping you’d say that. I’ve missed the hell out of you. The thought of you with someone else … It’s been excruciating. I know that’s not fair because of … well, for so many reasons. But to think someone else might have his hands on you, touching you, turning you on. Fuck, it drove me crazy.”
And then he kisses me. I hadn’t forgotten how it feels to kiss him, but I am still thrown into a whirlwind of lust and love when his tongue enters my mouth. Within seconds I am grinding against him. The kissing—God, the kissing alone—could make me come.
We don’t stop for air until the change in music reminds me that we are really not alone here.
“We should stop.” I close my eyes as his hand slips under my bathing suit and covers my breast. “Chris, everyone is here.” But now I’m starting to grind into him.
“I know that.” Chris moves his hand between my legs, and I clamp down on his shoulders, already desperate. “But you don’t think you’re getting out of this shower until I make you come, do you?”
I groan as he gets under my suit and presses his thumb against me. With the way he works his touch so perfectly in response to my body, it’s no wonder I could never want anyone but him giving me this. The pressure he uses is precise, and in only seconds I am intensely heated. It has been way too long since I’ve had this kind of physical release, and I know I don’t have the ability or the desire to delay this. My orgasm swells fast, overwhelmingly fast, and I start to pant in his ear as I rock against his hand, his hard cock underneath me enhancing my longing for him.
“Shhhh. Quiet, love,” he reminds me, and I do what I can to control my noise. Chris moves continually against my clit, and when he feels my body at its height, his own breathing changes. “That’s what I want. Yes, come for me, Blythe,” he whispers. “Fuck, yeah. Come …”
The wave of pleasure crashes into me, and I can’t win against the sound that erupts from deep within me. Chris covers my mouth with his and drinks in the near scream that I release. The way he cradles me while I come is incomparable. He’s sweet and protective. I can still entrust my body to him. Whether the same goes for my heart is a question that will have to be answered with time.