I assure him I am fine and we can stay as long as he would like. He forces another smile as he fishes his hand around the cupboard. Jake pulls down a bottle of vodka, kisses me on the forehead before pulling two shot glasses out of another cupboard. Jake apparently knows his way around this kitchen and knows where things are stashed.
Jennifer was standing in the shadows of the kitchen when she witnessed Jake’s kiss. Jake didn’t know she had returned from attending to the girls.
“Everyone is put down; whether or not they stay down is another story. The baby has about an hour before his next feeding and I see the guys are entertaining themselves,” Jennifer says, leaning her backside against the granite countertop.
I’m hoping Jennifer wants to show me another craft she has finished. I would rather swap recipes or cleaning tips with her. Curiosity is bubbling in her eyes.
“You’ll have to excuse me. I’m a little edgy after having this baby and I’m uncertain of what awaits Doug,” Jennifer explains.
She has a tremendous need of adult conversation. Jennifer wants to confide in me. I don’t have the nerve to cut her off or change the subject. I can’t expect her to read my mind about not wanting to talk about anything personal.
“Everything hinges on Jake right now and what he ultimately decides.” Jennifer leans into me, “I can tell there’s a lot going on between you and Jake just by the way you look at each other. Jake is on cloud nine because of you. If you could get him to make a final decision on his status with the Marines, my life would be so much easier,” she pleads with me.
I furiously shake my head. “I can’t do that.”
Tears well in my eyes. Jennifer just met me. How could she ask that? She must not understand how complicated things are with Jake.
“I don’t think it’s that simple,” I say, but Jennifer does not like my answer.
I swallow hard, trying not to cry. I understand her pain, but I cannot place that kind of pressure on Jake. He’s come too far and I don’t want to see him regress.
“Doug says the same thing. How can no one get Jake to make up his mind? He used to be so much tougher about things, everything.” Jennifer throws her hands up in the air.
I don’t think it is my place to explain that Jake looks at himself as broken in an indescribable way and he’s trying really hard to fix everything himself before going back. Do I tell her that Jake wants to go back? That he feels a need to go back and he’s not quite finished as a Marine? Would Jennifer disclose my identity to the authorities just to get Jake into trouble and out of the picture? I don’t know this woman well enough, but I can’t imagine her doing something malicious to her husband’s best friend.
Jennifer tilts her head toward the ceiling and tightly crosses her arms. “I just need to know. That’s all. I just need to know.” She inhales.
“If Jake makes a career out of the Marines, Doug is done. If he chooses one more deployment, then Doug will go out as a medic. It’s like they’re some kind of package deal. I don’t know how it works with the two of them together; it just does.”
Doug walks in and rubs her back. He heard every word she spoke as she was looking at the ceiling. I notice his other hand wraps the vodka bottle. It is now halfway gone. Jake left the kitchen with an unbroken seal. Jake places the shot glasses in the sink while Doug returns the bottle.
“Dinner was perfect as always, Jennifer. Kiss the girls goodnight for me. I think it’s time we head out,” Jake says as he waves to Jennifer, walking to the front door.
I turn to Jennifer. “Thank you for inviting us to your beautiful home. It was so nice to meet you and spend the evening with your darling family.”
I extend both arms to give her a hug and whisper in her ear, “Everything will be okay.”
I give her an empty promise in hopes of consoling her, since she befriended me and took care of my basic needs while at the cabin.
Jake stumbles to put on his boots. Jake never stumbles. He staggers as he walks along the walkway to the truck. He unlocks and relocks the truck door. Jake never over presses the remote repeatedly as I would absent-mindedly do. Jake unlocks it one more time, opens the passenger side door, and extends a hand to help me in. When I step closer toward Jake, I smell the excessive alcohol on his breath. I force a kiss on him behind the privacy of the truck’s door.
“I taste wine, vodka, and a splash of whiskey. You’re not driving,” I announce in the darkness of the driveway.
“You don’t know what those even taste like.” Jake tries to blow me off.
“I had some pretty fun years while in college. Yes, I do know what those taste like and I definitely know you’re not driving,” I state with no room for arguments.
“Well, you couldn’t even detect the beers I started off the night with.”
Jake has a smirk on his face that I want to smack right off him.
I reach for the truck keys in his hands, but his surprisingly quick reflexes place them out of my reach. Doug stands by the passenger side mirror. He takes the keys out of Jake’s hand and tosses them to me. Doug helps Jake into the passenger side. Jake completely surrendered to Doug’s piercing eyes yet he tried to battle me. That doesn’t settle well with me, but I’m not going to press the issue.
I adjust the driver’s seat and rear view mirrors.
“You’re too small to drive this big of a truck,” Jake states.
I want to smack him again because there is a bigger problem I don’t want to divulge right now. I wish the over-sized truck was the only issue I was about to face.
Doug notices I have not turned on the ignition and makes the connection of why I have not yet pulled away from his driveway. Doug slowly walks toward the driver’s side with his hands in his pockets. I roll down the window.
“You don’t know how to get back to the cabin, do you?” Doug asks.
I shake my head back and forth, ashamed I have allowed myself to be in a vulnerable state.
“I haven’t been this far. I didn’t pay close attention while we were driving here to know my way back. I didn’t think Jake was going to drink this much.”
I feel extremely helpless as I sit in an unfamiliar driveway, with no sense of direction, in a foreign country with a drunk Marine that I cannot physically handle if something goes wrong.
If I am pulled over by the police, it would not end well for me and it would be a complete disaster for Jake. I’m furious Jake would leave me in this kind of predicament. Doug senses my frustrations and motions me to step out of the truck. He takes my spot in the driver’s seat and punches an address into the dashboard GPS.
Doug hops out of the truck. “I put in an address that will take you pretty close to the cabin. Jake holds his liquor well. I drank most of the vodka, not Jake. He’ll be helpful if you slap him when you need him.”
My eyes widen at the thought of Jake’s reaction if I hit him in any way.
“I’m just messing with you, Liz. You’ll be fine getting back,” Doug says, chuckling.
I must be an absolute wreck if I can’t laugh with him.
“I would drive you back myself, but I really need to let Jennifer get some sleep and keep an eye on the girls in case they get out of bed. Plus, I’m in no condition to be behind the wheel of any vehicle. This is my fault. The more we talked, the more he drank. I shouldn’t have talked about what I did with him. It was too much.”
I know what he means when he says he talked too much with Jake, his past and his future. Jake is fine with the present.
I climb back into the driver’s side and tremble as I turn over the ignition. I wave to Doug as I put the truck into reverse.
I follow the GPS precisely. I come to a fork in the road, one that will take us southbound to the States or west to the cabin. I look over at Jake. I have a prime opportunity laid out before me to drive southbound to the States tonight.
I reflectively look over at Jake, who could be at a dive bar on the brink of assaulting someone if he had not been with friends tonight.
Someone who truly cares is driving him home. Now is not the optimal time to drive nonstop for the next eighteen hours south on the interstate. It’s especially not the finest time to cross the border without identification. Tonight, I need to continue on course and get Jake back to the cabin.
The GPS directs us much further than I anticipated. Jake is able to show me which way to turn once the device can longer be used as my guide.
“I hate feeling like I’m to blame, like I did all this,” Jake mumbles, looking out the dark window. “As if I can just suddenly turn it all off.”
Jake is not murmuring about his excessive alcohol consumption; he’s speaking about the ghosts of his past deployments.
“Just toughen up, Jake. It’s not that big of a deal,” Jake stutters and slurs his words as he rambles. “I did make Doug come up from California with me one summer so I could shake off Jennifer. I didn't think he would fall for her, marry her, and get caught up in her uncle's family medical practice. If I had known I would have been connected to Jennifer for so many years, I never would have brought Doug up here in the first place.”
I don’t like seeing Jake this way. I’m not going to tell him to take it easy on Jennifer or anything else on our drive. It makes me feel uneasy, not knowing how things may turn out tonight. In his drunken state, will he turn on me? I have no idea how he behaves when he is intoxicated. Will he get violent? Knock me around?
When we reach the main gate to the property, I keep the metal bars propped open with a nearby fallen branch to keep it from swinging back and scratching the truck as I pull through. The last thing I want is damage to the truck as I am driving it. I lock the gate and power on the fence. Jake is worthless, but I am quite pleased I can independently come and go from the property.
I don’t pull the truck into the garage when we arrive at the cabin. I leave the truck parked at the base of the stairs. I turn off the ignition and toss the keys at Jake, not caring if he catches them or if they hit him in the face. I slam the truck door once I climb out.
Jake staggers close behind. “Liz, are you mad at me?”
I pick up a decorative pillow and trounce him with it. The seam from the pillow ruptures on impact of hitting his chest. Feathers fly everywhere in the main living area. The gust of wind from the doorway blows the feathers all around the room. Jake laughs as he shuts the door. His intoxicated laughter does not lighten my mood, but it infuriates me.
“I’m not mad at you, Jake; I’m mad at myself,” I say through clenched teeth as I throw the emptied pillow covering to the floor.
I stomp up the stairs to the loft bedroom, slam the bedroom door, and lock it behind me. I hear the heavy tread of Jake’s boots run after me, skipping stairs along the way. I was right about the lock; it can’t keep out Jake if he wants to come in. It took one single budge to bust through the door. I am just as terrified of Jake now as I was on the first rainstorm, wrapped in chains. I cannot see his expression in the dark. The uncertainty of his disposition is unnerving.
With every step Jake takes toward me, I take a step back. I inch myself away from him.
“Don’t be mad,” he says softly, not the three words he typically says to me, “I’m so sorry.”
I stand motionless, not knowing what will happen next.
“Don’t be mad at yourself and don’t be mad at me.”
Jake takes steps toward me. I stand still instead of backing away.
“We don’t have time to waste being mad,” he adds.
Jake tenderly wraps his arms around my shoulders. I wrap my arms around his waist. We fall onto the bed, still holding onto each other. Jake kicks off his boots and I kick off my shoes. I help him take off his shirt and jeans, then throw my clothes on the floor next to his. I pull the quilt down to help Jake under the covers and I crawl in and lie next to him.
“I’m sorry I hit you with that pillow downstairs,” I say into the dark of the room.
He laughs, rolls on top of me, and kisses my neck excessively.
“You can hit me with any foo-foo pillows Jennifer has decorated this cabin with. In fact, I insist. I hope they all explode!” I giggle as he tickles my tummy with his lips.
Jake smothers my belly with kisses then looks into my eyes. “I want to have a massive pillow fight with you,” he adds. “I want feathers flying everywhere.”
We both laugh as Jake collapses into my arms. I secretly hope he doesn’t drink again. I am afraid alcohol may invoke his night terrors to return.
“Let’s go fishing tomorrow,” Jake mumbles as he falls asleep with his arms wrapped around me.
Chapter 34: Liz
I waited for a night terror to appear instead of falling right to sleep with Jake. Nothing happened. They are consistently inconsistent. As I walk down the stairs, the feathers are missing from the pillow I hit Jake with the night before. On the couch is a pile of decorative pillows gathered in a heaping mound.
There is a note lying on top of the stack that reads, “These are next.” I laugh as I imagine having a huge pillow fight with Jake.
I shut the cabin door as I carry a basket full of sandwiches, fruit, nuts, and drinks in my hand. I zip my lightweight hoodie as I walk along the dirt path to the lake. I turn and stand in my tracks as I hear the hum of Jake's truck rolling toward me.
"Liz, where are you going?" Jake asks, leaning out the driver’s side window.
I look at him, puzzled. Does he not remember telling me about wanting to go fishing today? He was half-asleep and drunk when he mentioned it last night.
"Maybe I’m mistaken, but I think fishing with you," I say.
"I thought so. But where are you going right now?" Jake has a grin on his face.
"Fishing at the lake, with you?” I say, feeling like a complete idiot.
Jake laughs as he steps down from the truck. He takes the basket from my hand and sets it in the back of the truck.
"I meant to say, ‘let’s go fishing down by the river.’ I didn't mean just at the lake.”
Jake leads me by the hand to the passenger side to help me in.
Zeke whimpers as Jake demands he goes back to the porch.
"You can't come with us, Zeke. You are not ready.”
Zeke’s not ready or Jake does not want him to join us? I think it’s the latter of the two.
Jake climbs into the driver's side. "There's a river about thirty miles away where I like to fish. Sometimes, I just wear my waders, but since you are here, I thought we'd get a raft and float down the river. I used to do it all the time with my grandpap."
I pull my seat belt across my chest. “I'm game for anything. I don't know anything about fishing, so I'll go wherever you want to go. I just assumed since you had a fishing boat, we would be going out on the lake."
"I think you'll like this," Jake says as he reaches over and pats my knee. "Okay, even if you don’t, I like it," he admits. "I hope you will, too.”
We drive an hour through windy roads and finally zigzag into a parking lot.
When I climb out of the truck, Jake asks, "Have you ever been rafting before?"
"Just whitewater rafting down the Snake River, but I had a guide steering the raft the entire time."
He kisses my forehead. "Perfect. Now I'm not so worried. Wait here while I snag us a raft from the rental shop."
I stay by the truck as Jake jogs over to the rental shack, thumbing through hundred-dollar bills in his hand. It surprises me that Jake wouldn't have his own raft and haul it in the back of his truck. It also strikes me he is rummaging through hundred dollar bills while most people only carry ten- or twenty-dollar bills.
Jake returns, carrying a large eight-person inflatable raft above his head. It must be lighter than it looks. He places the raft on the ground, next to the bed of his truck. I step into the truck bed to hand off his fishing gear while he loads the raft the way he wants it all to fit. Jake helps me climb out of the truck before he opens the driver's side door to lock it manually.
"Jake, what happened to y
our keys?”
"I left them at the rental shack. They will shuttle my truck to a parking lot twelve miles downriver where we exit and deposit this raft."
"That makes sense."
Jake picks up the pointed bow of the raft. He could haul the entire raft loaded with all of his gear by himself, but I grab hold of the backside, trying to make myself useful. I think Jake likes this quaint partnership between the two of us.
Jake leads the way with the raft to a declining cement ramp to launch the raft. As we near the water, Jake suggests I toss my socks and shoes into the raft so they do not get wet, since they are not waterproof as his are. Jake gently sets the raft into the water as I trail on the backside.
When my feet touch the water, I bite the inside if my cheeks to fight off the sting of the freezing cold water. As Jake leads the raft further into the water, the more I have to step into the freezing cold water myself. I roll my knee length shorts to my upper thighs to avoid getting them wet. My efforts are pointless as the water ripples to my waist and soaks my shorts. The water is excruciatingly frigid. It’s not a river in which I want to swim or capsize the raft as we go downstream.
Jake notices my predicament. He suggests I hop into the raft as he pushes it further into the water. My legs feel like blocks of ice as I sit in the raft, teeth chattering all the while.
When Jake gets into the raft, he uses an oar to guide it down the river. People litter the banks of the river around the launch area. The experienced rafters channel their way down the passage, others garbed in orange life preservers strangling their necks waiting for a guide to assist them through the mild rapids. The river moves swiftly at first and then quickly calms to the pace of a lazy river since the water is high. My teeth continue to chatter uncontrollably and goose pimples pop up over every inch of my exposed skin.
"Liz, you've got to take those shorts off so they can dry or you will be miserable all day."
"Jake, we are not at your lake. There are men on the riverbanks with fishing poles in their hands. There are families with teenagers and little children enjoying the great outdoors. I'm not going to take off my shorts, not here, not in front of everyone," I scoff.
Hasty Resolution Page 20