We were quiet for a few minutes as we let his words sink in. It was what I’d been considering an inevitable possibility for some time now, but the reality and acceptance of the fact didn’t make it any more palatable. And then I realized that he’d said it was almost January, something I’d been wondering but hadn’t known for sure. Kevin spoke then. “So, we’re chopping up the rest of the wood. We did some estimating, and we think we have enough to make it till we won’t need it anymore. So, Larry’s right. We just figure out how to keep surviving and then, once the weather’s nice and the days are longer, we plot our way out of here.”
It was grim, but I appreciated the lack of sugarcoating. I could better face it if I knew what I had to do.
I was relieved that I at least felt there was one person I could trust. Otherwise, I didn’t know that I could handle it.
Chapter Fifty
“Garden” – Pearl Jam
I HAD NO idea how long we’d been away from home, but I was pleasantly surprised by a few things. My body and my mind, for instance. Aside from worrying about my children and extended family, it was amazing how free and quiet my brain had grown, except for when I needed to focus. Thought felt clearer and I felt more relaxed. I listened to my body too—I slept when I was sleepy and woke up with the sun—without an alarm.
My body? Well, I’d been honing it with the work we performed daily and the lack of junk food and other crap lying around that was easy to grab and down before we came here. But that wasn’t the only change I was marveling at. My skin felt good. I wasn’t using soap on it—just water—but no moisturizer either. The only skin that needed extra care was on my hands, and I knew that was because of having to wash dishes and maybe due to the cold, so we shared the lotion we found in my aunt’s place, but none of us went crazy or used more than we should have. My teeth also felt amazing. We’d managed to find enough toothbrushes and used the toothpaste sparingly—our thought was that as long as we brushed them, we were removing bacteria, and a little bit of toothpaste would just have to go a long way; we had no choice.
My hair gave me the biggest surprise. It didn’t feel as dirty as I would have expected and, in fact, it seemed healthier, even seemed like it had grown longer and stronger since we’d gotten stuck here. My fingernails were obvious in that they were longer, maybe tougher, and I probably needed to trim them. One thing I noticed was that I didn’t look in the mirror as much as I used to. Part of it was that I wasn’t getting ready for work every morning, putting on makeup and doing my hair. When I did look, though, I was sometimes shocked. My face was thinner but it was also darker—all the time outside under the winter sun was adding color to my face, color that hadn’t been there in ages, except for painted-on color.
So, there were some pleasant surprises, but none of it changed the fact that we were away from home, out of touch with the rest of the world and wondering about our loved ones. They were always on my mind, whether at the front, weighing heavily, or nestled in the back, a constant reminder under the surface.
Kevin and I were doing a water run one day. We’d both been quiet as we walked down the mountain, deep in our own thoughts, but we’d been looking around. The sun was out, bright and relentless, but the bitter cold lashed at our cheeks and noses. “You said your husband died…of MS?”
I blinked. I wouldn’t have guessed, after all we’d been through the last couple of months, that his passing would still feel raw, but it did somehow.
I knew why, though. Mourning his death and dealing with my feelings had been something I’d put off to a degree. Part of it was due to all the guilt I felt.
I had to give Kevin an answer, though, instead of just continuing to trudge down the mountain like he hadn’t said a word. “Yeah. A couple of years ago.” Exactly how long, I had no idea, because I didn’t know the date anymore. Time wasn’t as good a measure as it had been before. I only suspected it was January now, which made it almost, not quite, two years before—and, in some ways, it still felt fresh.
That didn’t mean I wanted to talk about it, and my rather reticent companion had said very little about his own past life. I needed to shift the focus to him and get my mind off my own sorrows. “What about your wife? Er…ex-wife?” It was probably a path I shouldn’t trod, because I still had my doubts as to the finality of his previous relationship (and that would affirm that ignorance does, in fact, love bliss), but maybe it was because we hadn’t discussed it.
“What about her?”
I couldn’t help but notice that he seemed to intentionally avoid looking at me then. Yes, we continued to walk and scan the landscape, but he didn’t even glance my way. I suspected he didn’t want my questions—and that made me all the more determined to ask. I could be sensitive about it, but I needed to know, now more than ever. “I lost my husband to illness. Just wondered why you and your wife aren’t together anymore.” I looked over at him again and he seemed to visibly tense up. “I know you probably don’t want to talk about it.” But I wanted to—needed to.
“Yeah, I don’t.”
Well, I hadn’t expected that level of abruptness, but I would respect his wishes and not say anything else about it. We arrived at the creek and filled up all our containers in silence, having to break off some ice to get to the water as usual. It was a routine we’d mastered over the dozens of days we’d been here, and so we could do it without discussion.
It wasn’t until we were heading back up the mountain that he chose to speak. “I suppose it’s only fair to tell you about my past, though.” I felt a little hope lift my heart, but I didn’t dare grab hold—not till I heard his story. I nodded but kept my mouth shut.
We hiked a little longer before he started talking. “I didn’t get married for a long time. Never….” He was quiet again, and that was when I could tell this was harder on him than I would have imagined. I wanted to hear, but I wasn’t going to push. I looked down at the snow as we walked a path we’d trudged multiple times, but we usually made new footprints in the fallen snow. We’d found if we walked over our old path too many times without a lot of fresh snow on top that the path would grow slick and it would be manageable until we had to climb. Then it was treacherous and, carrying water, made it more difficult than it had to be.
“Anyway, her name is Kim. We got married pretty early on. She was pregnant. I probably would have married her anyway, but that just kind of sped stuff up.” Sounded way too fucking familiar. He was quiet again for a few yards, no doubt contemplating how to put the next few sentences together. “Our daughter, Alex—she’s an amazing girl. I’m not sure what I would have done without her. She’s gotten me through some tough times in life.”
I didn’t want to ask if he meant that she had literally been helping him or if it was like it had been with me and my children—they meant the world to me, and so I did everything in my power to stay alive for them, to keep going for them, even when it felt like I couldn’t take another step. I could tell Kevin was struggling with each word, each sentence…and I didn’t want to take away his momentum.
“Things were rough for a while. I’d done some construction, some roofing, all labor shit, but I never went off to school like you did. I’d thought about it but there was the question of money—and drive. I wouldn’t have known what to do in college, so why waste time and money? It got even harder after Alex was born. Kim had some complications with her pregnancy, and our insurance sucked.” Sounded like another thing we had in common, but no way was I going to interrupt him to tell him that. “Alex had some issues too, but once she pulled out of them, she was as healthy as could be.” He grew quiet again and I looked over at him. I could tell he was reliving moments in his mind, and he loved his daughter more than any words he spoke would communicate. “She was a beautiful baby. I loved watching her hit those milestones—first smile, first laugh, first word, first step, first spoonful of cereal.” He shook his head and actually looked over at me as we continued taking one slow step after another up the road to my aun
t’s house. “I remember it like it was yesterday.”
“Yeah. I know what you mean.” Like yesterday—only not. Even though the memories were sharp and vivid, I could feel the passage of time. It was massive, all those years I’d lived, and many of them felt heavy, thick. So…not long ago, but in some regards, like forever.
“Anyway, there was an oil boom in North Dakota about ten years ago—huge money. A buddy of mine told me it was the opportunity of a lifetime. I got a job, but Kim didn’t want to move there because her mom had just had open heart surgery and she wanted to be near her to care for her. We lived in Colorado Springs at the time.” Oh. So Kevin had been close by that whole time but I’d had no idea. Colorado Springs was less than an hour away from Winchester, but they were like night and day. The Springs was a metropolis—huge, frenetic (but friendly), and it hardly slept. Winchester was the quiet town nestled in the mountains—not much room to grow, based on the terrain, but it wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea.
Kevin continued. “The money was at least more than double what I was making at the time, and the way my buddy described it, there was nothing to blow cash on up there, so everyone worked insane hours and made serious bank. Most of it was sent to our wives. And we’d come home a couple of weeks every few months or so to decompress, then head back up and do it again.
“He was right. The money was incredible, and after the first year, Kim and I were buying our first home—really nice one too, more than I’d ever thought I could afford. The year after that, I was buying us both new vehicles. And it kept up. It was a hell of a gravy train. But…”
His voice drifted off and, once more, we were trudging up the hill in silence. I was aware of the crunch of the snow under my boots, the whisper of the breeze through the tops of the evergreens. I wondered if maybe that was all Kevin was going to say, and I wasn’t going to push him. It sounded like his life had been difficult in its own way—separated from the ones he loved while he provided for them.
Actually, in that regard, his story continued to feel a lot like mine.
He took in a long, slow breath. “Kim…she got lonely, I guess.” I could hear something in his voice, some deep emotion making it hard for him to push out the words, and yet he persevered. “It was an old friend of mine.” I could see him swallow in spite of the beard, and I could tell his words hurt, even though he wasn’t visibly displaying the anguish. “Anyway, that eventually led to me coming home, but we missed the money. So…I got another job, here in Colorado. That’s when we moved to Greeley. I tried commuting for a while but it was a pain in the ass. We wound up moving Kim’s mom with us too, so she could be close. Her mom wasn’t an invalid or helpless, but Kim had started doing more and more for her. Besides, she was close with Alex too. I guess the rest is history.”
We were quiet for a long time as we finished carrying the water up the hill. It wasn’t until we could see the house that he said, “It’s stupid, you know. You stay with someone for lots of reasons, but it usually isn’t love.”
Once more, Kevin blew me away. How many times had he emphasized that he wasn’t college educated or had even called himself dumb? And yet he was turning out to be the wisest man I knew.
Chapter Fifty-one
“Call You Out” – Flyleaf
TIME WAS SWALLOWED up by the routine—and by things that used to take no time to do. Now, cooking a meal and cleaning up after took so much longer than it had in our modern world. Popping a burrito in the microwave could have a person eating in less than five minutes, but making everything from scratch took lots longer, especially without running water or a stove. Preparing vegetables alone could take three times as long.
After complaining a little, I managed to get everyone in on the effort. I thought it was ridiculous that I’d become the main meal maker, although Larry would have been, I think, quite happy had I remained in that position, but when I talked to everyone about it one evening, they all agreed to pitch in, even if it was just to peel some potatoes or wash a pot the next day.
But the days—the weeks—drifted by, and I had no way to track them, no idea of knowing where time fell on the calendar. I had lost all sense. In fact, the only thing I did know was that spring was coming. Even though the storms were getting colder, harsher, more severe, the days seemed to be getting longer. The sun appeared to be coming up a little sooner and lingering in the sky a little longer. I realized too that my mind, brimming with wishful thinking, might have had a little to do with it as well, but I was certain spring was getting close.
And the weight on my shoulders seemed to lift some with that belief.
Kevin helped, too. Day by day, he felt more like a partner, more like a best friend, someone I could lean on—someone I could trust. And I did. I trusted him with everything, with it all. Had he asked me to follow him out of there, blindfolded, my arms tied behind my back, I would have, and I wouldn’t have asked a question about it.
Part of that trust might have been that he was juxtaposed against Larry. Larry, in my old life, had been a trusted neighbor, someone I’d more than once asked to keep an eye on my place when I’d be gone to my aunt’s for the weekend, someone who’d let me know when suspicious activities were going on in the neighborhood. And, reflecting on those memories, I wondered if I was blinded by the fact that we were living under the pretention of being civilized, and if being forced to live as we had been might have brought out the savage in each of us…or was it that Larry had been that way all along and I hadn’t seen it because I’d never known him very well?
I didn’t know now, but I did know that Kevin was the exact opposite of Larry. He was true, honest, and reliable. He was transparent and aboveboard. He worked his ass off and never complained. He was quiet and humble.
And he felt like he was mine…no matter the case, I was his.
Oh, there was no denying that. My heart had found that scarred over place where I’d once carved his initials. It had been an easy enough path to follow. Once more, I felt like the naïve teenager without a clue, and I’d again fallen headlong into something I didn’t quite understand.
Only this time, it felt mutual.
One reason? Kevin no longer came into the bedroom later at night after the conversation had died down along with the fire; instead, he came to bed when I did, making no pretense of the fact that we were together. That act alone made me feel more secure with him, made me feel like we were now in this together instead of as individuals forced to cooperate for their common good.
One night in particular, we said our good nights to the Dingels and headed away from the glow of the fire, aided by the flashlight. Kevin draped his arm over my shoulders, making me feel warm, loved, and secure.
Once we were snuggled in bed, letting our bodies heat up the area under the covers and the tiny spaces between our bodies, Kevin whispered, “I gotta tell you, Nina. Something about Larry’s not right.”
I knew I didn’t trust my neighbor anymore, but there wasn’t anything specific I could put my finger on, and that made me often feel like my doubts were illogical. Kevin had voiced this concern before, but I didn’t remember if we’d ever come to any kind of conclusion. I wanted to know if something more had set off his alarm bells. “Like?”
“Just little things—like the look in his eyes. He looks…he looks like a caged animal. You know? Have you seen the look I’m talking about?”
It was dark in the room but I still felt my shoulders shrug a little. “I think I know what you mean—but he’s always had that look. Kind of a glint in his eye, right?”
“Yeah…”
“I thought it was because he was like lower-tier law enforcement. Like he thought he was a bad ass and he needed to let everyone know that. You know, don’t fuck with me or I’ll make your life hell. I thought maybe it was one of those things where he had to put off those vibes so the inmates wouldn’t even go there.”
I could hear the doubt in his voice when he said, “Maybe.”
We were quiet for a few
moments until I said, “What do you think we should do?”
“Nothing to do, really. Just—keep an eye on him. Be cautious. Maybe it’s just part of who he is…but I don’t know.” Then he added, “I’m thinking about…talking to him. Finding out what his game is.”
I thought about it for a few seconds. “Do what you have to do. Might set your mind at ease.”
Being close to Kevin and wrapped in his arms felt so right, and it seemed like something I’d been missing for years. After a while of not talking, I felt my body relaxing with the warmth, but I also couldn’t stop thinking about the man pressed up next to me, and I wanted to express my love in a way that didn’t require words.
My hands were already on his chest, so I moved them to the buttons on his flannel shirt and started to undo one at a time, moving down. This Nina, the more assertive one who went after what she wanted, was probably foreign to the man lying in bed with me, especially considering I hadn’t even had the presence of mind to return a simple hold as a teenager.
But it didn’t stop him from responding. I lifted my face up to his and, even in the dark, he sensed it and our lips joined.
The bed seemed even warmer then.
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