Cabin In The Woods

by Kristine Robinson

  “Did you watch any jazz bands in Charleston, Daisy?”

  “What’s that got to do with you?” I snapped, shoved the office door open and stormed out with my armful of files.

  When I was finally alone in my apartment that night, I ate forkful after forkful of my bland ready-made meal as I looked through the photos Cale had posted online. I clicked to accept her friend request and wandered if that was the last time I would ever see her. She surely had many flings with girls and probably guys too.

  I wiped away a stream of tears that rolled down my cheeks. I didn’t think it could be possible, but I then felt worse than I had before the trip.

  ***

  It was two weeks since my trip to South Carolina, but it felt like two months. Or longer. This was the first time I would be seeing my parents since then and I had made an important decision which I was going to tell them at lunch. They were bound to freak out. I had been vacillating between two paths, but I had finally made up my mind. I couldn’t go on pandering to everyone else’s needs for the rest of my life.

  “It’s been such a long time!” mother said, as she embraced me.

  “Yes, you must be up for promotion by now,” dad joked.

  I giggled nervously and bit my bottom lip. I hoped the southern food would bolster my courage. When my order of chicken and waffles arrived, I shifted my plate to the left and then the right.

  “There’s something I want to tell you guys,” I braved and quickly looked down.

  “Oh yes, we have news too,” my mother jumped in.

  “Oh okay, what’s your news?” I asked.

  I embraced the temporary reprieve from making my announcement, looked up at them and smiled.

  “Yes, it’s your dad,” she began.

  I nodded. She usually spoke for him.

  “He’s had some news from the doctor.”

  “Ah-huh.”

  “It’s his blood pressure.”

  I frowned. He had had some difficulties with that before.

  “He has to go back on medication,” she continued.

  My mother was wringing her hands and hadn’t touched her food yet.

  “I’m sorry, dad!” I said looking at him. “That’s not great news.”

  My mother looked at him and sighed. He opened his mouth to say something, but she interrupted.

  “You are not allowed to leave me, Pat!” she admonished. “It’s too soon!”

  I glared at her. “That’s a bit melodramatic, mother!”

  She brought her hand down heavily on the table top and made the wine glasses wobble.

  “Don’t get mad at me, dear,” she said, “I’ve done my best to keep both of you healthy.”

  I shook my head. “No one’s blaming you!”

  “Oh really?” she said, her voice raised slightly.

  She narrowed her eyes and cut vigorously into her pork chop.

  “Dad –” I began and looked over at him.

  “Leave it, Daisy,” he said, “Let’s just enjoy our food.”

  “Hmm,” my mother mumbled.

  Well, this certainly wasn't the time to bring up my news. And thankfully it looked as though they had forgotten about it.

  “Dad’s going to live another thirty years still!” I declared. “Just watch!”

  They were both silent. An hour later I was back at my office and picked up the file lying on top of my keyboard. A sticky note was attached to the front. It was from one of the partners.

  “Good job, Miss Daisy. Keep it up!”

  He had given me the nickname when I asked for extra time on an assignment in my first week. It was only an internal memo but I had wanted it to be perfect. The name had stuck ever since, luckily only with the partners.

  I sighed. I was good at my job. Very good. Was it wrong to think of giving it all up after all those years of study and sacrifice? Was it just a selfish notion? I opened the file and looked at the minor changes he’d made in red ink.

  Chapter 6

  I narrowed my eyes and craned my neck forward. Was I imaging things? I stepped into the road and crossed over to the other sidewalk. I strode as casually as I could towards the café table downstairs from my apartment. Sitting casually under the shade of an umbrella, drinking a beer, was Cale.

  “Wha- what are you doing here?” were the first words to tumble out of my mouth.

  “Well,” she responded and smiled, “Nice to see you too!”

  I laughed nervously. “I’m sorry!” I said. “I’m just so surprised to see you!”

  I put my hands out awkwardly, bent down and went in to give her a hug. She stood up, put her arms around me and then took a step backward.

  “Okay, I know you’re weirded out to see me,” she said. “Relax!”

  She giggled. “Sit down, have a drink!” she continued.

  I sat down. My mind was buzzing. What was she doing here? Was there anyone around that I knew? Could people tell she was a lesbian? I ordered a cup of coffee and remembered to breathe.

  “We’ve got a gig here tonight and I thought I’d try to track you down and surprise you!"

  Then her green eyes melted through my fears and drew the real me to the fore.

  “It’s so good to see you!” I said suddenly, as my heart pounded through my tingling body.

  “Yeah, you haven’t replied to my messages in weeks,” she replied. “I wondered if you were okay.”

  “I am now!” I said.

  The café, the afternoon heat, the passersby, the face brick wall of my apartment complex, all faded away.

  “We’re leaving again tomorrow, but I was hoping you’d come to the show tonight.”

  “Of course,” I replied instantly.

  She put her hand on top of mine.

  “Good!” she said, “so do I get to see this fancy pad of yours or what?” she asked pointing behind her.

  I led her up the two flights of stairs to my apartment. That night the stairs were a lot harder to climb after the deluge of free drinks we received at her gig. I didn’t go on the stage that time. It was professional set. I barely recognized Cale when I arrived at the venue south of the city. I couldn’t keep my eyes off her. She had her hair combed neatly in a side path and pinned back. A tight, red strapless dress hugged her slim figure and reached down to just above her knees.

  The audience applauded as loudly and vigorously as their conservatism would allow during their two part set. At the end, I joined the band in the upstairs cigar lounge. A gentleman in an Antonio Ciongoli suit bought a round of drinks for the whole band and company. And then another and another. It was hard to say no when no one else did. I felt part of the crew and almost like I was back in Charleston again.

  At my apartment, I reached up to steady myself on the stair railing. The last few stairs. Then finally my door. We stumbled inside and flopped down on my bed. My living room and bedroom were one and the same. Apartments weren’t cheap in West Midtown.

  Cale undid the buttons of my white fitted shirt, leaned down and kissed the top of my breasts, busting out the top of my bra. The feeling of her lips on the sensitive skin made me squirm. She brought her face up to mine. I savored her sensual kiss and sought her tongue with mine. She sat up and whipped her dress off over her head and threw it on the floor. All she had on now was a pair of panties with a white lace trim and little white skulls on a black background.

  Her firm, teardrop breasts stared at me. And I stared at them. Cale laughed.

  “You can touch them,” she joked.

  I brought my hands up slowly and explored their fullness. They were perkier than mine and beautiful.

  “You’re so beautiful!” I exclaimed.

  She wriggled down lower on the bed, slipped my skirt off over my feet and then my pink panties with little black frills on the sides disappeared too. Her kiss fell on my even more receptive skin and my pelvis arched up towards the delight. Her tongue flicked over my usually hidden little mound, which was peeking out proudly by then. She circled around, ru
bbed hard to and fro and then went down to the entrance where she added to the moisture as she penetrated and pleased me with her dexterous tongue.

  I squealed as she replaced her tongue with a finger and brought her lips back up to the swollen node. She pushed inside me and rubbed over a spot which made my body quiver. I frowned.

  “Wha-”

  “You didn’t know about that spot?” she asked, taking a breath.

  “N - No!” I stammered between ever deepening breaths.

  She smiled and dived back in. My body twitched again as her fingers rubbed over the same spot. Every time it became harder to control the mounting wave of pleasure building inside me. She was taking me to breaking point very quickly. It took me much longer.

  “Oh, that’s good!” I exclaimed.

  Her tongue twirled and fingers pounded just right.

  “Oh God. Yes!” I cried.

  She looked up at me, framed by the V-shape of my legs and smiled. Though I was far from sober at that point, I would never forget the mischief in her eyes.

  She increased her pace and my breathing followed suit. I gripped the pale lavender sheets in my hands as my pelvic muscles began to contract acutely. My back arched off the bed as the pulsing pleasure reached its peak. I couldn’t hold it back any longer. My body tensed up in anticipation.

  “Argh!” I cried out as my body trembled and toes curled tightly.

  The intense satisfaction pounded through my body and rang out in waves.

  “Oh my God!” I declared as my heaving breath slowly ebbed.

  She jumped back on the bed, looked down at me and giggled. How could I live without this in my life? This green-eyed demoness and the transcendental power of the music we both loved.

  Well, that was it, I realized in the weeks that passed - I couldn’t live without it. So I didn’t. Every second weekend my car pointed in the direction of Charleston, South Carolina and sped happily towards my destiny.

  Chapter 7

  I took an Uber home from work, even though it was only a ten minute walk. I couldn’t wait to flop down on my sofa after my thirteen hour day. I reached my front door, put the key in the lock and then stopped. I looked down. Had someone left that there by mistake? Had it fallen out of someone’s grocery bag? I picked it up. Why would someone leave a pineapple outside my door? I put it back down and left it.

  The following day was Sunday and my parents promised they would take me out for lunch, instead of the traditional meal at their house. I was looking forward to a different setting. When I heard them honk I ran downstairs. As I approached their car, I noticed someone walking towards me. I drew my breath in sharply as I recognized the figure. What was she going here? My parents would see her. Oh God!

  Cale waved and walked towards me from the left. I glanced at her briefly and then back at my parent’s car. Had they seen her? Then my dad got out to open the door for me. Oh God! I hurried faster towards the car, but Cale was getting closer.

  “Daisy!” she called.

  I pretended I hadn’t heard her, but saw my dad glance Cale’s way. I dived into the back seat.

  “But – who-?” my dad began, getting into the passenger seat.

  “Let’s go mom!”

  Thankfully my mother put her foot flat. I wanted to look back at Cale as badly as Orpheus in the underworld, but couldn’t bear to. What had I done? I suddenly exhaled and drew in a long, slow breath.

  As soon as I was home again I tried to call her. Again and again and again. No reply. Her phone was off. I tried to message her. No response. And to make matters worse, my father had asked me who she was when we entered the restaurant. “Oh nobody,” I’d replied. What a Judas.

  I had to go back to Charleston and find her. As soon as the weekend arrived I hopped onto the I-20. As I drove I thought back to my cruelty the previous weekend. I wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t forgive me. But I had to see her again. I had to. The pineapple popped into my head suddenly as I glanced in the rearview mirror. Wait. You idiot! That was her. She must have put it there as a silly way to say she was in town. Oh God! Why hadn’t I figured it out? I bashed the steering wheel with the palms of my hands. Please let her be there. Please!

  ***

  I could barely restrain myself from running the last block as I approached the bar on the beach. She had to be here. She had to!

  I swooped inside. Not on the stage. No familiar faces. Not at the bar. I sighed and headed outside. Maybe she was upstairs. I forced myself to take one step at a time. From the second last step, I scanned the deck from left to right. No sugar skull tattoo. No green eyes. No dimpled smile.

  Where could she be?

  I drove to her boarding house and wrapped on the front door. No one answered. I knocked again, louder. Eventually, the door creaked open a crack and a bleary-eyed guy told me he didn’t think she was in. He hadn’t seen her for a few days. How would I find her? Where could she be? I hurried over to the shack where the beach party had been, but there were no lights on there and no bonfires.

  I walked back down the deck and sank onto the sand. The eerie glow of the moon shimmered above the horizon and grew until it popped free of the water. I didn’t know anywhere else to look for her. The moon didn’t seem to know either and granted no solace to my rivers of tears. The next day my car drove slowly back to my empty, farcical life.

  Every week I tried to call her, message her, email her. Nothing. Not even the busyness of work could keep my thoughts from straying to her. Eventually, my parents noticed something was wrong. They insisted on taking me out for dinner. I barely managed to change out of my work clothes and hurried out to meet them. We drove east for twenty minutes.

  “Where are we going?” I asked my mother.

  “Somewhere new!” she replied.

  I looked up at the sign as we pulled up outside. It was a jazz restaurant.

  “We know you like music and thought this would be a treat, hun!” my father said as he closed the car door behind me.

  I smiled weakly, trying to cover the real emotions bustling beneath the surface.

  “Open mic night,” the board outside said in curly chalk lettering.

  “Oh dear,” mother said reading the sign, “I hope they’re not all useless!”

  I couldn’t help laughing and laced my arm through hers. At least I still had my good ‘ol parents.

  I studied the menu and opted for the shrimp and grits. Wouldn’t be the same without the fresh Charleston sea air, I thought and sighed quietly. I looked up at the stage as the musicians started playing. There was an African American man playing the double bass next to the piano.

  I took a large sip of my wine.

  “I’m surprised to see you drinking, missy,” my mother said as I put the glass down on the table.

  Many things had changed that she didn’t know about. As the musicians settled into another song, I relaxed my tense shoulders and allowed the jazz lilt to carry me off. They were good. I wondered if they’d jammed together before. I took a deep breath and wished I was on stage singing. It was open mic night, I joked with myself. Yeah right.

  I tucked into my seafood, but it didn’t impress me. Something was missing. I dipped my fork into the grits and stirred it around on the plate. The soothing sounds of the jazz stopped for a minute and I felt completely hollow again in the brief silence. Only the music could reanimate me. The music and Cale. My life was otherwise a bland cycle of monotony. I blinked away the moisture coming to my eyes as I stared down at my plate. Then a familiar voice came over the mic. I shook my head and continued to stare at my grits. I must have been imagining it. Then I looked up.

  And there she was at the front of the stage, Cale.

  “This next song is about following your dreams. Don’t let anyone or anything stand in your way to happiness!”

  She put the mic back in the stand and went over to the double bass. I stared. As the familiar tune began on the piano, I sighed. I wish I knew how it would feel to be free. And the singer was j
ust as good as Nina Simone.

  Fate was forcing my hand. There would be no better time.

  “Mom, dad, there’s something I have to tell you,” I began.

  By the end of the song and my disclosure, the crowd stood up and applauded. There were even some whistles. But no one at my table stood up. They were both silent. Very silent. I knew they wouldn’t understand. I was just waiting for the yelling to begin.

  “Are you serious, Daisy?” my mother replied after a long interlude.