Low Sided

by A. J. Downey

  My apartment was emptied of all my belongings which were being stored upstairs in the clubhouse’s second floor. They’d put the brakes on finishing the club’s upstairs, yet again, to do this renno on my apartment first, then the rest of the units surrounding mine. I don’t know what they’d said or done to convince my landlord, and personally, I’d been surprised he’d gone for it, but here they were, working away; everything covered in plastic and a layer of plaster dust and God knows what else. I wouldn’t be surprised if there were things like asbestos and shit in these walls… which is why we were all wearing respirators and other protective gear. It was a last look at the place, a final “before” before we left on our long weekend away – just me and just Mace.

  The weather was warmer, spring had sprung, and we were going for a long ride that I knew involved at least one ferry ride. I still had no idea where we were going, though. Mace was being close-lipped. It was an adventure in the making and I, for one, was excited.

  I needed the vacation, as small as it might be.

  “This place will be mostly done by the time you get back,” Glass Jaw vowed.

  I shook my head in wonder. “I seriously just don’t see how,” I said. I mean, there was so much to do.

  “Leave it to the professionals, sweetheart,” he said with a wink through his goggles. He moved around some of the other men in their Tyvek moon suits and I shook my head and smiled, though you probably couldn’t tell through the bulky respirator unit on my face.

  “Go on, get out of here!” Glass shouted, his voice muffled, and I did, stepping out into the hallway and going down the stairs, waiting until I got outside like I was instructed to get everything off.

  “So, was it as cool as you thought it was gonna be?” Mace asked casually from the back of his bike. I rolled my eyes as one of Glass Jaw’s guys from his regular day job as a contractor of some sorts took my protective gear from me.

  “Sort of, I mean, they’re taking sledgehammers to the walls! There’re all kinds of weird stuff in them, too. Like old newspapers from the forties.”

  “Yeah, they used to use that shit as cheap insulation back when,” Mace said nodding. I handed over my oversized moon suit thing to the guy who nodded and stepped into it.

  “Thanks again,” I said, and he grinned.

  “Boss says jump, we jump and ask if it was high enough,” he replied back. I laughed. That sounded like Glass. He was a hard-ass and somewhat of a perfectionist but his finished product really spoke for itself. He’d fired two guys about a month ago and had hired Mace to replace one and found he didn’t need to replace the other. Mace knew what he was doing and was damn good at it. Of course, I knew that already.

  “You ready?” Mace asked me as I settled onto the bike behind him.

  “I am more than ready!” I declared. “Take us out of here!” He handed me back my helmet, and I put it on my head as he started up the bike.

  I grinned in excitement and had to laugh a little at myself. To think, only a few months ago, I had been scared of the idea of getting on his bike, but by now I was thoroughly addicted to the ride and letting the wind sweep my cares away with every single mile that passed beneath its tires.

  We rode down to the Seattle waterfront where we boarded the Bainbridge Island ferry for the half-an-hour ride across the sound. We stood on one of the top decks breathing in the fresh and salty air and indulging in the wind off the water, taking selfies with the Olympic mountain range far in the background against the backdrop of a blazingly brilliant blue sky.

  The ride on the other side took me through places I’d never heard of or known until we ended up in a little slice of heaven known as downtown Poulsbo which is where we stopped for lunch and to explore a bit.

  “How did I not know about this place?” I asked as we waited on our food at this little Italian place that Mace swore was the absolute best.

  “I’d like to know that too, ‘Ms. Been to the Nevada desert for Burning Man.’” He wrinkled his nose at me, and I stuck out my tongue.

  “While I’ve been places,” I said. “I guess I haven’t gotten out to explore locally, much. Like, I bet I could show you places in Ballard and Fremont that you didn’t even know were there.”

  He conceded that point. “Haven’t spent much time in either neighborhood, so I bet you could.”

  I held up my wine glass, and he held up his beer. “To weekend adventures until we die,” I declared, and his eyes sparkled.

  “That’s a lot of weekend adventures with me,” he said. “You sure you’re down for the whole ‘until we die’ part?”

  “Mr. Anderson!” I cried, and he laughed at me. “What is the point in being your ride or die if I’m not in it until we die?” I asked.

  He grinned and said, “Fair point, well made, my lady. Fair point, well made.”

  We clicked glasses and drank our silly little toast just in time for my linguine with fresh clam sauce to be set in front of me, and Mace’s lasagna with meat sauce to be set in front of him. I smiled, and we both ate until we were stuffed.

  After, we decided to ride right away would be foolish – especially with such a lovely and wonderful slice of downtown to explore. A lot of the shops and things were, granted, touristy, but several were super cool. There was a little grocer that had hundreds of varieties of black licorice, just everything you could want from Australian, to Swedish, to Finnish, to German varieties, from salted to soft eating licorice, to hard pastilles, I was in love!

  Mace, on the other hand, thought my fascination with the stuff was gross but that was the nature of black licorice – either you loved it, or you hated it. I don’t think I had ever met someone that was just kind of meh about it.

  Still, despite his strong feelings about the stuff, Mace bought me some, and with the plain little white grocery sack looped around my wrist, we continued on, hand in hand to the bakery down the way.

  This place was totally Mace’s jam and smelled absolutely divine.

  “What should we get?” I asked as he eyed a pull apart bread, sticky with cinnamon and melted sugar, lousy with raisins that was in the window.

  “Breakfast?” he asked, nudging his chin toward the confection.

  “That sounds good,” I declared. “Do we have room on the bike?”

  He grinned.

  “Where there’s a will there’s a way,” he said, and I laughed.

  “Oh, lord of light and lady of night!” I knew what that meant. The pink box in its plastic bag would be riding around my wrist to wherever it was we were going for a final destination.

  The last stop we made along the little historic main drag was a bookstore and bath supply place. It was a unique but perfectly suited combination, let me just say that. While I was engrossed in perusing the books they had on offer, Mace snuck up to the register with some bath treats. By the time I had caught him, they were already wrapped and bagged, and he wouldn’t tell me what he’d bought.

  “You’ll find out later,” he said, kissing me soundly, and I knew when to quit while I was ahead.

  The ride from Poulsbo was beautiful, with towering trees high to either side of the highway, and points where we dipped out onto a wide, flat floating bridge across the Hood Canal. We even saw porpoises on crossing that bridge which was just phenomenal to me!

  We turned through a small town called Chimacum, where he pointed off to one side at the only little four-way stop and a fancy in its rusticness.

  “Yeah!” I called out, letting him know that I was seeing what he was pointing at, and he turned left down the way and up into the lot.

  “Oh! I didn’t know you meant to stop – but hell yeah, I’m in,” I declared.

  “Good deal, they have really damn good cider here.”

  “You know, you’re absolutely spoiling me,” I said, getting off the bike so he could back it into a space etched out in the gravel.

  “Ah ha, good to know I’m succeeding at my goal here.”

  I grinned stupidly, he had that eff
ect on me, as I took off my helmet. We went up to the hostess hand in hand and she asked us if we wanted to be seated at the bar or out in the orchard. We opted for the orchard, seeing as how beautiful it was today.

  We were seated at a glossy, live edge picnic table among the trees which were budding green, their petals all fallen to the grass like snow.

  “You hungry?” Mace asked, as we perused the menu on his phone, a little card in the center of the table with one of those QR codes printed on it, an effort to be earth friendly and green, to reduce waste.

  Lunch had been only a few hours ago, and I was thirsty more than anything, but I looked at the snacks on offer on the menu and said, “I could go for one of their pretzels.”

  “Sounds good.”

  We each ordered a pretzel and a flight of their ciders they had on offer. He ordered one set, and I ordered another, so that we could try them all.

  “Good day so far?” he asked, as I watched birds dart through the tall grass and wildflowers beyond the orchard where we sat.

  “The best day,” I told him with a smile. “Feels good to be out here.”

  He smiled back and nodded. “That it does, but only because I’m out here with you.”

  I blushed, he always seemed to have that effect on me. He showered me with compliments near constantly and they just never got old.

  “So, am I allowed to know where we’re going yet?” I asked.

  “We’re almost there,” he said. “Another twenty minutes, maybe.”

  “Yeah?” I asked, shading my eyes from the sun to look at him.

  “Yup.”

  “You’re a little infuriating, you know that?” I asked, and he laughed.

  “You really don’t like surprises, do you?” he asked, and I thought about it for a second.

  “No, I do,” I said slowly.

  “But?”

  “No but,” I said. “I mean, I used to love surprises, but I think now maybe I just have a few too many trust issues.”

  “You don’t trust me,” he gently teased, and I shook my head.

  “No, no, no! Don’t you even suggest that! I do. I just think this might be a new ‘me’ problem that I need to work on.”

  “Babe, tastes change over time for a variety of reasons. It’s okay if you don’t like something you once did anymore. It’s really no big deal. You have plenty of reason to feel the way you do. Your feelings are valid,” he said.

  I smiled gently and reached a hand across the table. He put his in mine and I gave it a squeeze.

  “You always know just what to say to make me feel better,” I said, and he smiled.

  “Good,” he said. “That ever changes, you need to let me know right away, okay?” he asked, giving my hand a little shake.

  I smiled and nodded, the waitress returning with our cider flights.

  “Those pretzels are coming right out,” she said. “In the meantime, can I get you anything else?”

  “A couple of those glasses with your logo on ‘em, please?” Mace said.

  I cocked my head as the waitress nodded and wiping her hands on her apron turned to walk back across the expanse of grass toward the building and shelter that housed the bar.

  “What’s with the glasses?” I asked.

  “So that we can remember the day,” he answered. “I’d kind of like to get a pair every place we go.”

  I raised an eyebrow and smiled. “So there are more places like this one in our future out here?” I asked.

  He laughed and nodded. “Yeah. A few more.”

  I looked out over the rolling green around us and smiled.

  “I am getting thoroughly spoiled this weekend, aren’t I?” I asked.

  “If I have anything to say about it, yeah.”

  He sipped the first cider and said, “Ooo, that’s a good one. Here try this.”

  He passed me the glass, and I sipped. It was dry, my mouth puckering slightly, but held notes of bright apple and hints of fresh vanilla and something slightly spicy, but not cinnamon. Something almost peppery. You wouldn’t think it would go together, but the flavors complimented one another nicely.

  “That is nice,” I agreed, handing it back. “I prefer sweeter myself, though.”

  “They get sweeter as they go,” he replied and added, “Try your first one.”

  “This is the blackberry,” I said and sipped, nodding. I handed it to him with a bit of a face on me. “Too bitter for me.”

  We tried them all, loved a few, only one of them mutually, and he placed an order for some bottles. We would have to jockey a few things around in the saddle bags to accommodate things, and I would indeed end up with the baked goods in my lap the rest of the way to where we were going, but that was alright. Totally worth it.

  31

  Mace…

  I’d rented a cabin, sort of isolated, with a view of the Strait of Juan de Fuca. It was one of those glam type places, all-natural glowing wood and warmly gleaming copper fixtures. One big room, the kitchen area, bed, and bath all sharing one open concept space and it was something I knew would be right up Raven’s alley.

  It had a big deck overlooking the water, and a stone fire pit out on that deck to sit under the stars and have a nightcap. I was looking forward to the peace, the quiet and solitude, just me and my girl.

  We had to drive through Port Townsend to get to it, and I took the long way through so we could go down the main drag of the Victorian port town. It was artsy and held a bunch of Bohemian charm and again, I knew it was right up Raven’s alley.

  She put her hands on my shoulders and levered herself up for a better view as we rolled through and I thought to myself, jackpot.

  It was a bit treacherous getting down the dirt track driveway to our cabin, the pine needles shifting under the bike’s tires making for some majorly slow going, but eventually, I was able to cut the engine on the cement pad near the building just as the light began to fail around us, the sun beginning to dip over the horizon.

  “Holy shit, Mace. This is wow,” she said getting off as I heeled down the kickstand on the cement pad that served for parking.

  “You like?” I asked.

  “It’s beautiful out here,” she said, looking up into the trees. “Do you think there are owls?”

  “I bet there are,” I said, really having no idea, but this was the Pacific Northwest at its best and when it was at its best there were all sorts of critters.

  “Someday, I want to go to Vancouver Island,” she said wistfully, looking out through the trees and down over the glimmer of the setting sun rippling over the surface of the straight.

  “Oh yeah?” I asked, lifting things from the saddle bags to bring in. “What’s there?”

  “There are white ravens on Vancouver Island,” she said coming over to take things off of me. One of the many things I loved about her. She wasn’t afraid to pull her weight no matter if things were big or small.

  “White ravens? What, like albino or something?” I asked, curious.

  She shook her head and shouldered her pack.

  “Not albino,” she said. “They’re white because of a genetic defect, but it’s not albinism. Their eyes are blue, not red.”

  “No shit?” I asked, leading the way down the steps and around the back side of the cabin that faced the water.

  “I’ve been fascinated with them for a while, was thinking about doing the other arm with one if I could ever get the money together.”

  I glanced back at her and she stopped looking at the floor-to-ceiling windows, the entire back half of the cabin nothing but large panes of glass.

  “Whoa,” she murmured.

  I went to the French doors leading inside and keyed the code I’d been given into the lock box hanging off the handle. It opened right up, and I took out the keys.

  “Welcome to our home away from home for the weekend,” I said, pleased at her expression.

  I let her go in ahead of me and watched her mouth drop open in surprise.

  “Hol
y shit, Mace!”

  It had vaulted ceilings, all-natural glowing wood, and a king-sized bed against the back wall facing the windows. There was a small kitchenette just inside the door and she absently slid the bag of her gross candy and the box of pull apart bread onto the little kitchen counter by the farmhouse sink basin.

  I’d been through listing after listing online looking for the perfect place for us, and this one had been booked fucking solid for months. I’d put myself on the waiting list in case of cancelation and it must have been meant to be or something, because at the eleventh hour, it’d opened up and I can’t tell you how fast I smashed the booking link in that email with my finger.

  By the look on my girl’s face, it was totally worth it.

  She drifted through the place, past the low dividing half wall hiding the toilet from view of the rest of the cabin to go over to the copper tub. She put a hand on the rim and turned back to me, blinking like an owl she seemed to so badly wanted to see.

  “This is… this is stunning,” she said.

  I smiled and cocked my head and told her, “Only the best for you, babe.”

  She dropped her shapely narrow butt to the edge of the tub, completely knocked off her feet while I put the cider in the mini fridge to chill.

  “You good?” I asked.

  “I’m more than good!” she cried, stunned.

  “I’m going to get a fire going out back,” I said. “Why don’t you settle in?”

  I left her sitting on the edge of the copper tub, which I was pleased to see was big enough for the both of us, and went outside. Availing myself of the woodpile just off the deck to get a fire going in the pit the deck was built around.

  There were a couple of Adirondack lounge chairs out here that we could make use of. A couple of blankets to drape over our laps inside. All in all, it was about to be a cozy evening out here.

  I looked up and caught Raven through the glass, making up some of her tea that she’d brought at the little kitchenette. It made me smile. By the time the fire was going, she was slipping out the back door with a couple of steaming mugs.

  “Oh, hey, thanks,” I said, taking the one she offered me.