Fake It

by Mia Ford

  He also didn’t have to help me, but he did.

  Now, he didn’t have to force me to talk about what was bothering me, but apparently, he wasn’t going to let it go until I spoke up.

  This man was so strange, but equally intriguing.

  So, after a long moment of silence, I decided I would tell him and see if it made a difference, “It just seems…strange. I mean, it’s just a shirt, but looking at it makes me angry and sad.” I stared down at the shirt, trying to find the right words to explain my feelings. “Part of me, is angry and never wants to see it again, because it was with me when it happened, but part of me, feels like this isn’t even my shirt.”

  Johnathan nodded, “That’s because it isn’t. Not really. Not anymore.”

  My eyes cautiously, wandered over to meet his gaze, wondering if he was going to springboard his comment into some cruel joke, but to my surprise, he was staring right back with a serious expression.

  Leaning in closer to me, Johnathan folded his hands in front of him and spoke slowly, as though he was contemplating what he as saying, before forming it into words.

  “When people go through traumatic events, especially like what you went through, it changes them. People can say that it doesn’t but they’re full of shit. They either become stronger, or they succumb to it, but either way, they are never the person they were before it happened. So, it makes sense that you don’t feel like yourself. Unfortunately, you might never feel like yourself ever again…At least not the way you felt before last night.”

  “Yeah, but it’s not like this was the first bad thing to ever happen in my life,” I admitted, as a thought crossed my mind about why I had come out here in the first place.

  Johnathan shrugged, “Yeah, but when that other stuff happened, you had other people, other familiar things to hold on to. Now, you have a fucking shirt. That shirt didn’t protect you. It didn’t help you. Hell, you weren’t even wearing it when it happened, so it didn’t even go through the ordeal with you. It did nothing for you, but right now, that is all you have of your old life to hold on to.”

  I contemplated what he said for a moment, internalizing the advice he was giving me, before I turned to him and asked, “So, what do I do?”

  “That’s entirely up to you, Carrie. You can hold onto it, pull strength from who you were through it, or you can burn it,” he shrugged, “Not that I care what you do about it, but I would hold onto it for a little while, if I were you, because these are all the clothes you have left.” He sighed and then asked, as though we hadn’t shared any kind of a moment, “So, are you hungry, by any chance?”

  At first, I was caught off guard by the abrupt change in subject, considering it felt as though we were garnishing something of a connection. He was genuinely trying to help me. His advice was solid, and it gave me the impression that he knew what I was talking about.

  Obviously, he had something screwed up happen to him. I thought but was still impressed by the idea that he was able to put it into words. Most men either wouldn’t do that or were simply incapable of such a feat.

  “Yes, I am pretty hungry, actually,” I eventually replied, once again realizing the sensation as soon as it was suggested to me. Despite the randomness, he did have a point. It was time to eat, so I guessed that was his way of staving off having such a meaningful conversation.

  I was okay with that.

  “Good. I’m glad you have an appetite,” with that, Johnathan turned toward the fire and took the same pot off the stove, pouring the contents into two bowls. “Sorry about the food. I make stuff in bulk and eat it until it’s gone. There’s really no great refrigeration system up here, without electricity.”

  Just like that, my therapy session was over.

  “Don’t worry about it,” I replied, as he handed me one of the bowls, “It tastes good and I’m starving.”

  For a while, we ate in silence. I wanted to speak to him, especially since it seemed like he was far more open to the prospect of having a normal conversation. However, I wasn’t quite sure what to say.

  So, instead of speaking, I focused on him, while trying to avoid being overly creepy or weird.

  Whenever he wasn’t looking, I would study his face and his mannerisms. I could tell right away, that he hadn’t always lived up here. He knew how to live among people. He wasn’t socially awkward.

  Actually, I found that he was fairly confident. Everything he did, he had a reason. I wasn’t sure why I knew this or thought this about him, but I was certain that I was right.

  Through my spying, I also noticed that under the roughness of the man who lived in the mountains, there is something normal and traditionally attractive about him. He wore his mountain man look well but I guessed that underneath all of that hair and tattered clothing, there was a truly astonishingly striking man.

  I thought about the dream and my cheeks reddened, not wanting to admit that the more time I spent with him, the more interested I became in knowing him.

  “You were right, you know,” I finally spoke when, halfway through the meal, the silence was getting overwhelmed by my own, confused thoughts.

  “About what, exactly?” Johnathan peered up from his bowl and locked eyes with me before the corner of his lip twitched up in a grin and his eyes sparkled with humor, “I’m right quite a lot. You’re gonna have to be more specific.”

  I chuckled, more out of shock that he had made a joke, and shook my head, deciding to continue with the conversation I felt we needed to have.

  “You were right about me coming out here all by myself. It was a stupid thing to do and guide or not, you’re right; being up here all alone with a man I didn’t know was really fucking stupid.”

  Johnathan didn’t respond right away, but the look in his eye made me regret bringing it up again.

  “I’m trying to apologize. I’m sorry for the way I reacted,” I answered, “I was just defensive, because I know it was stupid. I knew it was stupid when I was doing it and if I didn’t, my friends certainly told me enough times before I left.”

  “But, you’re stubborn. You wanted to do it, so you were willing to take whatever risk you needed to take?” Johnathan hissed, sounding as though even my apology was upsetting him.

  “Yeah, I guess,” I shrugged, “I just wanted a little adventure. I was bored with school and no one else wanted to go with me. I had to make my own way, or I would never go.”

  “Well, you certainly got the adventure you were after, I guess,” Johnathan retorted, before taking my bowl away and bringing the dishes to the sink.

  I was stunned to silence, completely unsure of exactly what I should say to him. I didn’t want to argue anymore but I was a little insulted.

  So, I simply stopped talking. I could tell by the darkness surrounding the outside of the cabin that it was getting late, so I allowed the exhaustion that plagued me to consume me.

  Hopefully tomorrow would be better.

  Chapter 8

  Johnathan

  After I spoke, I immediately regretted it. However, I was far too stubborn myself to admit that. So, when Carrie simply took my silence as an opportunity to go to sleep, I let her without ever offering up my own apology.

  I wasn’t sure why I had gotten so defensive. I was fine until she mentioned the stupid instance with the man in the woods. Instantly, my anger returned, but I wasn’t angry with Carrie.

  I was furious with the situation. While, I understood that if she had never done what she did, I would have never met her, which for some strange reason, mattered to me. Yet, if she had never gone into the mountains with that man, I would’ve been okay with never meeting her, because she would’ve never had to go through that ordeal.

  Plus, I wouldn’t have to be sitting here, wondering why the hell I felt any of this. I still didn’t know why I cared or if I would continue to care.

  A long time ago, I had become convinced that any human connection was a black hole, through which my life and everything about me would be sucked
through if I ever fell for that temptation again. Yet, this girl, with one bat of her eyes, made me want to take that leap all over again and I couldn’t, for the life of me figure out why.

  Later that night, once Carrie was long asleep, I could no longer deny the feelings I had for Carrie, or the loneliness that I had persuaded myself was necessary. I knew from the moment I met her that I liked Carrie and it seemed that the more I tried to deny my feelings, the more intense they became.

  Now, they had started to manifest in a sense of jealousy that I didn’t want. Of course, I didn’t want to be an asshole to Carrie, but I knew it would be weirder if I showed her how overprotective I was of her.

  I wondered whether it would be better for me to tell her about what else I had found in the woods, or if that was better kept my secret. Since I didn’t think it mattered, I didn’t want to tell her. I had gotten her out of the situation and explaining what I had found would only scare her.

  She’s been through enough… I thought but argued that she was a grown woman and deserved to know the truth. The possible implications of her actions shouldn’t be hidden from her. She needs to know the kind of fucked up evil that is in this world.

  I had no doubt in my mind that the man intended to kill her and leave her body in the mountains, somewhere she would never be discovered. The thought scared the shit out of me, and again, I wondered what the likelihood of him returning to finish the job would be.

  However, I figured since I was going to try to keep her safe until she was back to civilization, it was unlikely that he was going to do anything. If he tried, I would kill him. Simple as that.

  Yet, I knew that I wasn’t going to be around to protect her forever. The overall issue of what the man she had trusted was planning to do to her was still a valid threat. Though I thought it was unlikely that she would make the same mistake again, I couldn’t be sure and therefore, I felt that I needed to do everything I could to keep her from falling for the same type of trick.

  I have to tell her. I can’t protect her from this. She needs to know. I insisted.

  Still, I didn’t want to drive her away, despite the fact that I told myself that would be best. I knew that if I explained all of this to her, it would scare her and there was a possibility that she would think I was trying to prove my point, other than simply protect her.

  Again, part of me couldn’t deny that might be best. She and I weren’t supposed to be together. We were from two different worlds. I had chosen absolute solitude and she had a life outside of these mountains.

  Pushing her away might be the only way that I could protect us both from whatever strange sense of connection we seemed to have.

  I was sure that she felt it too, which annoyed me. I didn’t want to have that affect on anyone, because I didn’t want anyone to have a similar effect on me.

  Being out here all alone with my dog wasn’t the life I wanted, but it was the life I felt was best for my sanity. I knew that I could no longer handle reality. It had fucked me royally and I had no more use for it.

  If you truly have no more use for humans and humanity, then why do you give a damn about what happens to this woman? I wondered, playing devil’s advocate to myself.

  After a moment of contemplation, I countered the idea with the thought that maybe my feelings were so strong because I hadn’t been around people for so long.

  Yet, even as I tried to convince myself of this, I knew it was something different. I knew that I was trying to bullshit myself into believing a lie, though I was willing enough to believe it.

  I knew that something about Carrie was different. I had no idea how I knew that, or if it even made sense to think that way. After all, I wasn’t too naive to believe that wishful thinking was the true source of what I misperceived as intuition.

  Of course, I wanted her to be the answer to my shitty life, but I had given up on finding that answer a long time ago. It bothered me that one instance could completely shake the resolve I thought was ironclad.

  Could it be that I’m not as broken as I thought? I contemplated this but was fairly certain that wasn’t the case. What had happened to me had scarred me for life. My trust was shattered and that took a hell of a lot more than a hot body and a pretty face to piece back together. Don’t kid yourself. I decided, knowing that even if I was able to fool myself enough to be convincing, my re-entry into humanity was going to cost a lot more than I was willing to give.

  Never again.

  It wouldn’t be fair to her…or to anyone. I told myself, though I still felt the urge to continue trying to find some solace in my thoughts.

  Since, regardless of what I decided or the outcome it yielded, this could be considered improvement.

  It also could be considered a relapse. I countered negatively. Going and making the same damn mistake is proof that you’re crazy, not that you’re cured.

  I tried to be a somewhat logical man and despite my present situation, I knew myself well. I knew when I was interested and when I was simply horny.

  While Carrie definitely made me feel a connection to her that was almost painfully alluring, I also yearned to get to know her. I didn’t want a one-night stand, I wanted her.

  Although, I still didn’t quite understand why; primarily because I didn’t know her at all. I had gotten her out of a bad situation, but we had argued in the two, somewhat normal conversations we had. Granted, I was an asshole on purpose in both situations, but that was only so I could shield myself from the truth of it all.

  As I sat, staring deep into the fire as it blazed with unmerciful fury, I contemplated all of this.

  I wanted to come to some explanation and I wanted to do it before I did something I would regret.

  I briefly contemplated that this was some kind of fate, but quickly scoffed at the idea. Fate wasn’t in our favor. I could attest to that. If fate was on our side, people wouldn’t get knocked on their ass so many times before finally settling for something that resembled happiness.

  Still, even though my convictions were strong, with one glance back at Carrie, sleeping soundlessly, with Jake warming her feet at the bottom of the bed, I wondered if there was something that I was supposed to be noticing.

  After all, Jake seems to like her, but he always was something of a lady’s dog.

  As I had told Carrie, he’s a big mush. There’s not a mean bone in that dog’s body, so long as you aren’t out to hurt anyone.

  Of course, I tried to convince myself that Jake was simply trying to comfort Carrie. After all, I was sure he could sense that she was going through something traumatic, even if he didn’t quite understand.

  Yet, if that was it, or if there was something more, a deeper connection there, between the dog and the woman, I couldn’t help but wonder if Jake has the right idea.

  Perhaps, instead of worrying about keeping up the walls that were obviously not working so well for me, I should go with it.

  The last time almost killed me, but it didn’t, so maybe this time wouldn’t either.

  After hours of fending off what I knew, somewhere in the back of my mind was inevitable, I resolved to learning more about this woman. I would try a different approach; one that involved me being less of an asshole and more of the person I was once, a long time ago.

  Considering we were stuck together, at least until Carrie’s ankle healed, I decided it was better to be hospitable than to have her resent me for something I could’ve prevented.

  I finally decided if she was going to hate me, I would rather her hate me for something I did. At least then, I wouldn’t have anything to regret.

  Chapter 9

  Carrie

  When I woke up, I felt disgusting. I wasn’t used to being so gross. Normally, I was an extremely clean person. So, having not taken so much as a whore bath for God knows how long was starting to weigh on me. I felt as though I smelled disgusting and each time I moved, I heard my hair crunching from the dried blood.

  It made me sick and after laying there, in
the darkness, I was sure I wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep if I had to continue living in my own filth.

  So, I carefully eased myself off the bed, careful not to wake anyone. Although, as soon as I moved, I heard Jake groan as his large head poked up to see what was going on.

  “Go back to sleep,” I told the dog, “It’s okay.”

  Yet, when I turned around, I saw a figure towering over me. I was so concerned with the dog, I didn’t even hear anyone coming up behind me.

  My heart dropped as I had a flashback of the tour guide. I screamed and staggered back, but I was caught by large, sturdy hands and brought back up.

  “What the hell? Carrie? What’s wrong?” Johnathan asked, sounding genuinely concerned. He made sure I was stable before releasing my arm.

  “Nothing…I just wanted to go take a shower,” I complained, picking at my hair. “I feel gross.”

  Even though he didn’t make a sound, I could almost sense him rolling his eyes at me.

  “Really?” Johnathan finally retorted, “You couldn’t have wanted to do this last night, or waited until morning?”

  “I’m sorry, I just woke up and,” I shivered from disgust, “I just feel like everything is caked on me and I want to get it off.”

  I must have sounded desperate though, because when he spoke again, his voice was a lot more understanding.

  “Okay…Okay, fine. Just…Sit down, will you?” As he spoke, he guided me back to the bed. “Let me get some light in here and I’ll help you.”