by Roxie Noir
By late that afternoon we’re back to doing nothing. It doesn’t take us very long to get prepared, and everything is packed, sitting around the house in crates. We could be out of here and on the road in ten minutes, maybe even five.
It’s my fourth day in a row off, and I’m starting to get antsy. One day off is great. Two is fun, three starts to get boring, but by now I’m about ready to climb the walls.
Plus, no Clementine. I’m trying to be patient, but it doesn’t come naturally. She can’t keep me on the hook like this forever.
If she doesn’t want me, that sucks, but I’ll live. But she’s gotta fucking tell me that.
I try to read a book for a while, some murder mystery that I found on a bookshelf downstairs, but I can’t concentrate for more than a page or two at a time, so I wander back into the kitchen to the sound of a girl laughing.
It’s not Clementine, but it’s Mandy, her roommate, plus another girl I don’t recognize. They’re sitting at the kitchen table with Silas, playing some board game. Mandy sits up straighter when I walk in.
“Hey, Hunter,” she says, tucking one foot underneath her. “How’s it going?”
I give her a quick glance as I open the cabinet to get a water glass.
“Well, Utah’s on fire, so I’ve still got a job,” I say, mostly kidding. “How are you?”
She laughs, a nice, bubbly sound. Mandy’s no knockout, but she’s cute, and she seems nice.
“Oh, you know,” she says, shrugging, her hands clasped on the table. “The usual. Kids go back to school next week, so this week we’re flooded with everyone who suddenly remembered to get their vacation activities done before that.”
She told me Saturday that she works at the Visitor Center for the Big Sky National Forest, though she’s not a ranger like Clementine is, just an employee. I want to ask her whether Clementine is back yet, but I don’t.
I walk to the table, and I’m about to say something else, but then I look down at the game they’re playing and realize I recognize it.
“You guys are playing Candyland?” I ask.
The girls both laugh. The one who isn’t Mandy takes a long drink from a bottle of beer, blushing.
“We already played Chutes and Ladders, so it was this or Monopoly,” Mandy admits. “This is my other roommate Lucy, by the way.”
Lucy and I shake hands. She’s cute too, even though she’s not bubbly like Mandy. Silas is already making subtle faces at me, trying to get my attention, like we’re gonna split the girls up right now and each take one.
I’m beyond uninterested.
“Wanna play?” Lucy asks, her voice quiet and dry. “If you can pull cards off a deck, you’ll be great at it.”
I look at it. The box says it’s for kids three years old and up, and technically, that does include me. Plus, I have no idea what the fuck else I’m gonna do besides mope around, not get laid, and see if Clementine calls.
God, I feel like an idiot, just waiting.
“Sure,” I say. “How?”
Mandy moves all the cardboard pieces back to the beginning.
“Hey!” says Silas. “I was winning.”
“I believe in you,” Lucy says to him, sounding slightly sarcastic, leaning on one hand. “I bet you can do it again.”
“It’s just luck,” Silas says. “I can believe in myself until the cows come home and it won’t help.”
Lucy just laughs, pats his arm, and puts another piece on the board.
“Okay, here are the rules,” Mandy says. “You draw a card, then you move to the next space of that color. The end. You don’t even have to know how to read.”
I nod, looking at the board seriously.
“Ready to get your asses kicked?” I ask.
The girls both laugh. Silas and I smile.
11
Clementine
I’ve got a pen between my fingers, and I tap it against the desk in my cubicle over and over again, staring at the gray wall without seeing it. I should be thinking about work, because God knows there’s enough to do, but I’m thinking of what I’m gonna say to Hunter when I go over there tonight.
Okay, let’s do it doesn’t quite seem to capture the gravity of the situation, and neither does I considered this and I think having sex would be fine and not too damaging, or this can’t go worse than last time, so let’s get it on!
I think I might be bad at this, and I’m still wondering what the hell I do when Jennifer’s head appears around the cubicle, and she smiles a dangerous smile at me.
“You’re making me crazy,” she says through her teeth.
I stop tapping.
“Sorry,” I say.
“How’s that budget going?” she asks, glancing at my computer screen.
I haven’t used it in so long that the monitor went to sleep.
“It’s going great?” I say, jiggling the mouse and praying that a spreadsheet pops up on the screen, not something else. Jennifer glances at it.
It’s the spreadsheet. It’s half-done, but at least it’s not something else.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I’ll get it done in time, I just...”
My ex-boyfriend showed up again, my parents are getting divorced, and I just found out that my mom cheated on my dad and it feels a little like my whole world is inside a kaleidoscope, rearranging itself as some asshole kid turns it around.
“I’ve had a lot on my plate the last few days,” I say, finding a more professional phrase.
Jennifer just nods.
“I know,” she says. “Clementine, let me know if you’re feeling overloaded, okay? I can have someone else do some of the grunt work.”
“Thanks,” I say. “I’ll be fine.”
It’s nearly September, and for some reason, a lot of federal and state grant applications are due September first. That means we’re rushing to put together proposals and budgets, dreaming up ways that renovating the picnic pavilion at the Alpine Lakes campground promotes diversity among the youth who visit the park.
I quit staring at the wall, and for the next ninety minutes, I stare at a spreadsheet. By the end of the day I’ve managed to make a graph, even if my mind keeps wandering to very different pursuits.
The cubicles are buried in the center of the administrative building, in a mostly-windowless room, so when I walk past a window to the bathroom, I’m surprised to see that it’s raining hard. I stop and watch for a moment, and the sky blinks white with lightning, followed a few seconds later by thunder.
I’m glad it’s not my week outside, backpacking and repairing trails. As much as I like nature, being indoors sure is nice sometimes.
When I get back to my desk, Jennifer is looking at my chair.
“Oh, there you are,” she says.
“I went to the bathroom,” I say, like I need to explain where I was or something. She just waves a hand.
“I was actually wondering whether you’d mind driving some stuff over to the firefighters in the dorm,” she says. “Mike’s worried that the power’s gonna go out, and we took all the emergency supplies out when we renovated, and they got here before we put them back. It’s just flashlights, lanterns, that kind of stuff.”
Mike’s the Head Ranger here, Jennifer’s boss.
I almost say sure, I was going over there anyway, but then I realize I don’t really want to have a conversation about why I’m going over there, because it’s not like that’s simple.
“Sure, no problem,” is what I say.
“Thanks,” Jennifer says. “He’ll help you carry the stuff out.”
By the time I get to the firefighters’ dorm, next to my house, the storm is going full force. I can’t drive much more than twenty-five miles an hour, rain sheeting over the windshield, lightning flashing through the sky every couple of seconds.
I like storms, but this is a big one. Mike’s right — there’s no way the power isn’t going to go out when the wind blows a dead tree over onto the power lines or something. I don’t envy the guys who
get to fix that.
I park the SUV, pull the hood of my raincoat over my head, then take a deep breath.
Flashlights first, then talk to Hunter, I think. My stomach flips over inside me, but I grit my teeth, grab the keys, open the door, and then run like hell to the dorm.
No one answers the front door, but the rain is so loud on the tin roof of the front porch that they probably can’t hear it. I just push it open and go inside.
The front door opens onto the living room, where a couple guys watching TV look up at me in surprise. Hunter’s not one of them.
“Hey,” says Daniel, one of the guys I played baggo with on Saturday.
“I knocked, but the rain’s too loud,” I say. “I brought your emergency supplies. Flashlights and candles and stuff.”
“You need help bringing it in?” another guy, this one a little older, asks. He stands from the couch, and so do all the rest.
Shit. I’m pretty sure I met him briefly when I was here before, and I’m also pretty sure I don’t remember his name.
“There’s only a couple of boxes,” I say. “I just need one or two people to help.”
There’s four of them, and they’re all already putting on shoes and raincoats while I stand there. One of them, the older guy, winks at me.
“We need something to do,” he says. “Even if it’s just carrying some heavy things in the rain.”
I laugh, because even if I don’t need that much help, I’m not gonna turn down a bunch of burly firemen who want to lift heavy things for me.
“Thanks,” I say.
I just stand on the dry-ish porch, unlock the SUV with the remote key fob, let the guys grab the heavy plastic bins, and lock it again when the doors are closed.
“Just take these on through to the other common area,” the older guy says. “We’ll dry ‘em off and go through them there.”
We file back inside, the guys carrying the big plastic bins. I push the hood of my raincoat back and unzip it, turning to the guy whose name I’ve forgotten.
“Thanks for the help,” I say. “Is Hunter around?”
“Last I saw, Casden was playing board games in the kitchen,” he says. “You’re welcome to check.”
I hang my wet jacket up next to the door, take off my shoes, and walk through the house. I’m hyper-aware of every movement I make, and hyper-aware that my hair is up in an ugly ponytail and rain-frizzed, that I’m wearing work pants, a cardigan, and polka-dot socks. It’s not the most enticing outfit, but what am I gonna do, go put on a sundress before I say hello to Hunter?
As I come up on the kitchen door, I hear a girl shriek, then a giggle. It sounds like Mandy, and suddenly, I remember the way she laughed at his jokes on Saturday, the way she touched Hunter’s arm, and something inside me freezes.
Calm down, I tell myself. She’s allowed to laugh.
Then I walk through the doorway and stop.
Opposite me, Hunter is standing in front of an open closet, his back to me, and Mandy is on his shoulders, holding a board game in one hand. She laughs again.
“I got it, I got it, you can put me down,” she says.
“That’s easier said than done,” Hunter says, a smile in his voice.
I’m frozen in the doorway, just looking at them. He’s got his hands on her thighs, holding her steady as she wobbles a little, riding his shoulders.
I told you, a nasty voice in the back of my head whispers. And you thought people changed.
“Hey,” says Silas, sitting at the table. “You’re just in time to play Clue with us.”
“Hey,” I say, still staring at Hunter and Mandy.
They both turn their heads. Mandy’s smiling, but the moment Hunter sees me, his face falls.
Yeah, no one likes getting caught, that same voice whispers.
I clear my throat and force myself to take a deep breath, even though I feel like all the air’s been sucked out of the room.
“I brought over the emergency supplies you guys were missing,” I say, my voice sounding hollow to my own ears.
Outside the window, there’s a white flash as lightning goes off, then a boom so loud it rattles the dishes in the cabinets. The lights flicker.
“Just in time, seems like,” Silas says.
“There’s candles and flashlights and stuff in the other room,” I go on. I can’t take my eyes off of Hunter, Mandy on his shoulders, his hands on her knees, keeping her steady. “Just wanted to let you guys know.”
I feel like someone’s stuck a kitchen mixer into my stomach and turned it on. Part of me knows I’m being stupid, probably overreacting, but all I can think is this is exactly what it felt like before.
History’s repeating itself, just like you fucking knew it would.
“Stay for Clue!” Mandy says brightly, holding it up. “We just found it buried on the top shelf.”
I shake my head, doing my best to act normal.
“I can’t,” I say, already stepping backward. “I gotta go take care of some stuff at home, you know, laundry and Trout’s been there all day, and... water the plant... stuff.”
Mandy frowns, but I turn anyway.
“Clem,” Hunter says.
I just walk. I need to be somewhere else now, I need to be alone and not surrounded by people I barely know, in a house that’s not mine. If there were a hole I could crawl into I would, because I just want to be by myself, in the dark, where no one can watch me melt down.
I hear a soft thump, and then Mandy’s voice asking, “Is something wrong?”
“Clem!” Hunter says again, closer this time.
I ignore it. I hurry to the living room, but he’s right behind me in the hall, and he puts one hand on my shoulder.
“Clem, wait,” he says. He sounds half-worried and half-annoyed.
“No,” I say.
“For fuck’s sake,” he hisses, trying to keep his voice down.
Suddenly, there’s a crackle just outside, like the air itself is splitting apart, followed by a boom that shakes the floor.
The lights go out, and in an instant, it’s dead quiet, the electronic hum of everyday life gone. We both stop and look around.
“Well, we’ve got flashlights,” one of the guys in the living room says. I can hear him get off the couch and walk into another room.
Hunter’s hand is still on my shoulder, and I shake it off.
“Look at me,” he says. “You can’t just go silent and storm off.”
I whirl around.
“Yes, I can,” I say. “Watch me.”
“Are you fucking serious right now?” he whispers, his voice slowly getting louder. “You don’t even text me for two days and now you’re just stomping off again?”
“I told you I needed space,” I say. “I don’t have to tell you what I’m doing every second.”
How the hell did I get on the defensive?
“I don’t want to know what you’re doing every second,” he says. “I just wanted Hi, I’m fine, I think about you sometimes, I didn’t forget you.”
“You didn’t say you wanted me to text you,” I say, my voice rising too. I can hear people walking around upstairs, and I glance behind me. One of the firemen is padding through the living room, very carefully not looking at us.
The blood has rushed to my face, and I know I’m bright red, my eyes quickly filling with tears, my throat closing. Right now I’d give a pinkie to be anywhere else.
“I thought maybe you’d want to text me, or call me, or fuck, something,” he says. “I guess I should have known.”
The hell does that mean?
“Like I guess I should have known I’d come back to find your head between someone else’s legs?” I hiss. I’m clenching my jaw so hard it hurts, doing my absolute damnedest to hold back tears.
“That’s fucking unfair,” he says. “I didn’t know you were coming over, I wouldn’t have—”
“So it’s fine that you were flirting with someone else until you got caught,” I say.
&n
bsp; One tear spills down my face and I brush it off furiously. My jaw is trembling, and it’s taking everything I have not to lose my shit.
“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” he says.
Another tear.
“I’m not doing this here, in front of goddamn everyone,” I say, holding up both hands. “We can talk about this—”
Hunter snorts. Then he walks past me, opens a door, glances inside, and enters.
“Come on,” he says.
I walk into the bathroom, close the door behind myself, and turn to face him.
“I just told you, I don’t fucking want to—”
“Yeah, well, I do, since apparently I don’t know when I’m going to hear from you again,” he says, his voice bitter.
“I’m not sure why I should call if I’m just going to find you putting the moves on my roommate,” I say.
Lightning flashes again, outside the tiny bathroom window.
“I wasn’t putting the moves on your roommate,” he says. “You can’t decide whether you want me or not, and in the meantime, I can’t talk to other girls?”
I roll my eyes and snort.
“That was not talking,” I say. “She was on your shoulders, for fuck’s sake.”
“She needed to reach the top shelf.”
“There were no chairs to stand on?” I ask. “The first thing you thought was hey, let me lift you up on my shoulders?”
Hunter glares at me, clenching his jaw. He turns away, shoves his hands through his hair, and turns back. There’s more lightning, close by, and we both turn to look at the window for a moment.
“It didn’t mean anything,” he says at last. “She suggested it, and I just got caught up.”
I can’t look at him, so I look away, at the ugly tile wall of the shower. There’s tears running down my face now, my throat nearly closed off, and I have to force myself not to start sobbing, because holy shit does this feel familiar.
It’s always been like this with us. He was the quarterback, the prom king, and I had to stand there in my fancy dress and watch him dance with Ashley Fucking Newman, who was blond and blue-eyed and a cheerleader and everything that I wasn’t.