by Alice Moore
“I need to make a power point for all of the fucked up stuff you do, Caroline. But you said it yourself- Kiki has no problem with this James character. That’s enough for me. I know how smart that demon dog is, so I’ll come get you tomorrow. Call me if anything happens.” Just like that my father hung up, and I held my phone to my ear as his words buzzed around my skull. Of all the conversations I had anticipation, that one hadn’t made the list. My dad was trusting my dog when he usually had nothing but irritation for her.
Maybe James being a Marine helped a little… I don’t know.
Setting the phone down, my fingers twitched, and my lip upturned in amusement. A breathless laugh flowed from my throat, and I shook my head at the sheer absurdity of it all.
James
The sensation of Caroline’s gaze against my back tightened my muscles, and I tried hard to ignore her intense attention. Her camera shutter sounded every few seconds, and the click was distracting considering I was wielding a very sharp knife. Butchering a deer wasn’t as easy as people tended to think, and I reached to wipe sweat from my brow with a harsh breath.
Against my skin the sun beat relentlessly, and I managed to skin the dead doe completely before I started to sizzle like bacon. Tossing the pelt to the edge of the patio carelessly, I dunked my blade in a bucket of water to wash off some of the blood.
“Are you going to turn the pelt into anything? Like a rug?” Speaking up from her chair, Caroline’s voice dribbled with curiosity even as I twisted to catch her uncovered eye. She was gorgeous in the cold light of day, and my gaze scanned her form as she sat, reclined and comfortable. Things about her face I couldn’t see inside were now so blaringly obvious, and I rolled my jaw absently before turning to my other knives.
I’d been by myself too long.
“Maybe.” Lies. I didn’t know how to do any of that crazy woodman shit, and Caroline snorted as if she knew my half-assed answer wasn’t truthful. “Your dog was really good out there. How’d you teach her all that shit?”
Changing the subject easily, I grabbed a paring knife as I posed my question. In my peripheral vision, Kiki lounged under her master’s chair, but even from a few yards away I could sense the smugness radiating from them both. For a dog, Kiki was incredibly smart; she knew she did well. I didn’t know what to expect when I brought her with me, but I’d never seen such a well trained animal. She didn’t need to be told which beast to bring down- she knew how much she’d eat, how much Caroline would eat, and judged based on that.
Frankly I was half convinced Kiki was some lab rat dog that’d escaped.
“It wasn’t easy. I had to figure out how to get her from incapacitate to kill shot. I have no problem skinning animals- I do it a lot out here- but I don’t like killing them. Maybe she sensed that. I worked for seven months or so training her before bringing her out with me, and then it all clicked for her or something. Do you do this often, or do you stick to rations and canned soup?” The tease in Caroline’s voice wasn’t to be mistaken, and I cocked my head as I rounded the table the doe was on.
“Pretty often, I guess. It’s fun… and rewarding. I’m a shitty cook, but the details don’t matter, right?” I couldn’t seem to keep my big fucking mouth shut with her, and her laughter was loud when it pierced my skull. Tightening my grip on my knife, I lifted my head to glare at her as she hid behind her camera. “It’s not fucking funny, Caroline.”
“Yes it is, James.” Lowering her camera, Caroline ran her hand through her hair as a goofy smile settled between her puffy cheeks. “You run head first into a gunfight, but you can’t make anything other than mac’n’cheese- I don’t mean to be condescending, but did your parents bother to instill you with life lessons?”
Rolling my eyes, I turned back to the deer to twirl my knife while I contemplated the question. The answer was pretty damn obvious, though.
My parents didn’t give a shit whether we could do anything because we always had people that did it for us.
“Not really. That’s not the point, anyway. I carved the thing- that means you cook. Division of labor, right?” My knife slid easily into the supple flesh of the doe’s hind leg, and I furrowed my brows in concentration. Blood and fluid coated my hands and wrists, and one wrong move meant I’d lose a finger. Pursing my lips together as I carefully popped the leg out of the socket, I held my breath as Caroline’s voice slithered into my ears.
“What? I can’t cook if I can’t stand, James. That’s just idiocy. Even with the braces I’ll be lucky to be upright for 10 seconds.” Bland and annoyed, Caroline’s tone sent my heart into an erratic rhythm for all of the time it took to blink. We were always back and forth; there wasn’t a time that we were in the same space that we weren’t borderline arguing. The honest part of my mind wanted to admit that I liked the banter after so long in a dark abyss. The other parts just wanted her to shut up or to change the subject.
“I have a wheelchair. You’ll be fine. I mean, if you want to eat venison steaks that are completely burned on the outside and raw on the inside…” Letting my response hang, I cracked a smirk at Caroline’s loud gasp-slash-scoff.
“Like Hell! Fine- be that way. But if I’m cooking, you’re doing the dishes.” Groaning roughly, I stopped what I was doing to stare at Caroline’s triumphant, pretty, heart-shaped face. Her light smattering of freckles glowed under the bright sun, and I frowned at the smirk that crinkled her nose.
“Fine.” There’s just no winning with her. Let it go. Besides, I’ll get a great steak out of it… hopefully.
The doe had probably only just lost her spots, and carving her didn’t take much time or effort. Above me, the sun had barely moved a few degrees across the sky before I was hauling Caroline back into the kitchen. Briefly glancing at the back bedroom as I set her on a chair, I clenched my jaw at the very idea of having to go in there.
No matter what I did, I couldn’t get rid of the smell of sweat, afterbirth, and death. I’d thrown out the mattress, doused the floors and walls in bleach- nothing worked. Slowly sauntering towards the door, I hesitated with my hand on the knob and took a deep, stabilizing breath.
Inside the room there was barely anything, but the phantoms that haunted the space attacked me as soon as the door was opened. A wheelchair that had never been used sat folded against the wall directly to my right, and I forcefully kept my eyes from wandering as I reached for it. My heart thudded hard, threatening to smash through my ribs with each pump.
I was beyond the threshold for maybe two seconds, but it was two seconds too long. Closing the door with a harsh bang, I let go of my straining lungs to sigh heavily. Popping open the wheelchair with jerking movements, I tried to ignore that infernal clicking that never seemed to stop. My hope that Caroline would eventually run out of memory on her card seemed to be dashed each time I heard that sound.
“Why do you look like a piece of your soul just died?...” Even solemn, Caroline’s question was riddled with curiosity, and I shot her a nasty glare. Pushing the wheelchair to her, I flexed my hands and rolled my shoulders in an attempt to shirk off the disgusting feeling that clung to my skin. My shirt clung to my abdomen, and I grabbed the fabric tightly to pull it over my head with a grunt.
“Fuck off. Cook the damn steaks. I need a shower.” Short and sharp, my words bit at the air as I stormed past her towards the bathroom. Behind me, Caroline sucked in a breath, but I couldn’t find it in me to care if I’d hurt her feelings.
Shutting myself in the bathroom, I locked the door and shirked off my jeans. Heading for the shower, my legs were stiff, but my thigh didn’t throb angrily like it usually did during stress. Rubbing the spot furiously, I turned on the shower with my free hand to lean against the tempered glass.
“God fucking damn it…” Berating myself silently as water pounding against tiles drowned out my groan, I clenched and released my jaw. Why in the fuck did I have to mention the wheelchair?
Oh, right- because Caroline never backs down. It should’ve been su
ch an admirable quality, but in this moment, it was just another crack of a whip at my soul. Why did that damn dog have to pick me?
Standing under the hard, burning spray of the showerhead, I stared at the bath out of the corner of my eye. This cabin had been a foreclosure, and the people that had it before me had started to remodel. Their starting point had been right here, but they poured so much money into it that they couldn’t finish. The mistake was entirely amateurish and avoidable, but it was me that made this place a lost cause.
Living here, with Frank, for four months, I’d never once used the tub. The faucet knobs had never been turned, and the ceramic had never been splashed with soapy water. It was a space to relax in while the rest of the house was a prison by comparison.
Maybe I could finish it… Maybe Caroline would even help me if I asked. Knowing she was going to leave sooner rather than later didn’t staunch the thought, and I closed my eyes to take a shallow, moist breath. She could take this place, and I’ll just go back home… wherever that is.
Caroline
When James emerged from the shower, he looked better- physically, at least. Sitting next to the stove, I narrowed my pupils to get a clearer look at the swirling darkness that flashed in his eyes. He was silent, sauntering to the kitchen table with tiny droplets of water falling from his ear-length hair and onto broad shoulders. My heart squeezed when he sat stiffly, staring in front of himself with an almost blank expression painted on his face.
“… I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way, Caroline.” James slurred slightly, as if his mind and mouth were moving slower than they should’ve. He refused to look at me as he stretched his legs under the table, and I wheeled myself over to his side before he parted his lips again. “I just- really… really don’t want to talk about that. This house… I-“
“Hey- hey… James. It’s okay. You don’t have to explain or apologize.” My soft coo was accompanied by the pop of oil and juices from the steaks on the stove, but I didn’t tear my gaze from James. Reaching for his hand, I held as much of it as I could and squeezed hard. “I’m not going to begrudge you for your secrets. We don’t even know each other, after all… but- you know, sometimes the best people to talk to are strangers. Strangers are unbiased. Whatever happened, I probably won’t understand it, but I can try to help you through it.”
“I want to change the house. Will you help? With that?” Finally, James glanced at me, and I went a little wide-eyed at the helplessness he displayed. Without thought I nodded dumbly, and he let out a shaky breath before copying me. “You were right- it’s going to drive me fucking insane.”
“You want to remodel because of what happened here?” What the fuck kind of crazy was he thinking of in the shower? In those ten minutes it was as if his hardened exterior had swirled down the drain with the water.
His vulnerability was honestly pretty charming.
“Yeah-“ Bringing me out of my thoughts, James leaned back to release a harsh sigh. He seemed so pleased that I understood what he wanted, the wrinkles thinning around his mouth and nose. “I’ve been through a lot of shit, Caroline… but that- I can’t get over that. It’s fucked up that you came here for my help and now I need yours.”
“It’s not fucked up at all, James. I’d be glad to help you.” I wasn’t blind enough to see that my being here had knocked a few gears off kilter for James. Squeezing my hand, he cracked a ghost of a smile before I pulled away to roll myself back to the stove. Behind me, I could almost hear him putting the pieces of himself back together, and I knew he’d built himself up again when he cleared his throat roughly.
Carefully flipping the steaks, I set down the fork to glance down at my feet. If it wasn’t for James, I wouldn’t have them- or at least one of them. I’d be stuck in a chair like this, never able to do my passion again. Just thinking about it tightened my chest and made it hard to breathe.
“I wasn’t like this a year ago. Frank really fucked with my head…” Mumbling almost to himself, James pulled my attention as he frowned into space. Folding my hands in my lap, I scanned the softened contours of his face before opening my mouth.
“No one is the same as they were even yesterday. Just like no one knows who they’ll be tomorrow.” Jerking slightly, James lolled his head to look at me through narrowed eyes, and I shrugged absently. “A therapist told me that once when I was 15 and dealing with teenager crap. She said that things that happened even a fraction of a second ago weren’t real- they were just memories. It’s up to me to figure out how to deal with those memories and what they make me feel. You can let it control you, or you can accept that the only way it exists is because you let it.”
“Do you really believe that ‘time is an illusion’ bullshit?” Once again, I shrugged, but happiness flooded my chest at the incredulous tone of James’ voice. He sounded almost affronted that I would ever even suggest such a thing, and I knew in that second that his little episode had passed.
“No. Just like I don’t believe that changing is so easy- especially with trauma. I still have times when I get this overwhelming hatred for my mother for abandoning me- for being who she is and not someone better. Just like whatever you experienced isn’t going to just disappear because you want it to.” Exposing myself to James was becoming increasingly easy and thoughtless, and I ran my fingers through my hair as his low grunt reached my ears. “I’m not saying you have to talk to me, but you should resolve some of these issues, James. They’re not going to go away.”
“… I’ll think about it.” That answer was enough for me, and I nodded firmly before turning to the stove. James didn’t have much in his kitchen, but by some miracle I managed to find a package of instant mashed potatoes. Steak and potatoes was a great way to end just a heavy conversation, and I reached over the sizzling meat to check the pot of water on the back burner.
“Imagine what I could do if I could stand and you had proper food in your cabinets…” Officially changing the subject, I smiled into the steam that billowed from the cast iron pan on the front burner. Behind me, James’ chair creaked slightly when he shuffled, and I glanced around for a can of corn sitting on the counter.
“Do you cook a lot?” Fondness struck my heart, and I set the can in my lap to grab a waiting can opener.
“Yeah. I like it. Sheila taught me a lot. She always said that I would die if I ate my dad’s cooking. He lived on Big Man microwaveable meals unless she cooked for him, and when she retired, I just kind of took over. I don’t do her any justice, though.” I could still remember the first time I’d set the kitchen on fire; I was only 6 years old and had tried to use the toaster by myself. Chuckling lightly at the memory, I gazed out over the stove top before James spoke up.
“My mom never cooked. They were pretty wealthy even before Nick started hauling in cash, so we always had someone do that for us. I don’t even remember if it was a guy or a woman… And going into the military didn’t help. All our shit comes in bags- just add water. It doesn’t even have to be hot water. After I got out, I learned to make a few things, but even then, it’s mostly takeout.” There wasn’t the thinnest thread of guilt in James’ voice, and I laughed in earnest. Swiveling my chair around, I grinned at the smirk on his face; he clearly wasn’t proud of not knowing how to cook, but he wasn’t going to admit he was full of shit, either.
“Well, it’s a good thing I’m here. If I had to eat another ration I would wheel my ass right out of this place. You’ve obviously tricked yourself into thinking they have flavor…- And what’s better is that I know how to cook game. My 28 years on this Earth are coming in handy.” The banter was almost playful, and James’ smirk grew wide as he twisted in his seat. His hair was dry and somewhat frizzy, and when he moved his shirt strained against his muscles. The display was almost distracting until I met his eye, and for once there wasn’t darkness there. Instead, the abyss had been replaced with a sparkle.
“I assume your dad taught you how to shoot, right?” Humming affirmative, I leaned against
the cloth that stretched along the back of the wheelchair to clasp my hands in my lap. My corn and can opener were forgotten, and James cocked his head with mischief on his face. “Kiki’s usually the one that goes for the kill shot, though. Do you not like that kind of stuff?”
“Not really. I’m fine skinning and butchering, but actually killing an animal… I just don’t like to. Besides, Kiki got really good at understanding ‘only kill what we’re going to eat’. I’m always afraid I’ll miss and kill something that’s too big for us alone- especially since there’s no refrigerator in my tent.” Smiling at my dog as she laid against the back of the couch, I absently took hold of the objects in my lap to work them. “It’s difficult to remember what I did before I had her. It’s weird when I say it out loud, but she really changed my life in ways I never thought a dog could.”
Caroline
Sitting across from James at the table, I propped my chin in my palm as I waited for him to take his first bite. Anticipation curled in my gut, and I held my breath even as the smell of my meal wafted into my nostrils to tempt me. Through narrowed eyes I watched him saw through what I hoped would be a perfectly cooked venison steak with borderline excitement splattered across his expression.
I wasn’t sure when his last home-cooked meal had been, but that only made hope blossom that he’d like it more.
James had stormed off before he’d cut the flank into steaks, and my gaze flickered down to his plate. I’d done my best, but the counter was basically neck level; there was no way I could butcher a perfect cut. Covering my cheek with my fingers, I couldn’t hide my smile shining with embarrassment as he stabbed his piece with his fork.
Leaning in, I licked my lips when James pushed his fork passed his teeth. My heart stuttered, and he chewed slowly a few times before his gaze met mine. Lifting his free arm, he gave me a thumbs up that seemed to hit me right in the face. Grinning around my fingers, I dropped my hand to heave a big sigh of relief.