Authors: Ever McCormick
He looked down to the floor. The pots sizzled behind him. "It was an old truck that struck my sister and mother," he said quite frankly with no emotion at all, but I could tell by the way he wouldn't meet my eye that it was a very heavy admission for him. And judging by where he lived and the company he kept—the lack of company he kept—I guessed he hadn't shared these personal details with anyone in a long time.
"I a
m so sorry," I whispered. "I had no idea. That is huge. Why am I just hearing this now?"
He met my eye. "It took the cops five and a half minutes to get to the scene. In that five and a half minutes, the killer got away
—never found. The vehicle was ditched in an alley. It was stolen, no discernible fingerprints. The cops claimed they investigated the accident fully, but could never find a solid lead. Two people dead, no justice, no answers, no reasons."
"And that's why you won't call them now?"
"What's the point?" I saw all of the pain on his face as if it was on display in an airtight glass bowl. He had no way to let it out.
"After the accident, wherever I would go in the city, all I heard was brakes squealing, tires bumbling over potholes, squeaky and unsettling. It was like being in a war zone, except everyone around me was smiling as if they were at
fucking Disneyland. They were deaf to it, but it was deafening to me. Every report on the news was a vehicular death—it just seemed so loud. It was all I saw or heard."
I wanted to say some magic words that would make all of that pain evaporate, but I just stared at him, shocked by his story. I'd never lost someone close to me, not to death anyway. He had lost his whole family in one metal-on-metal moment. I couldn't imagine what that was like.
"So I left it all," he said, "and I heard a million new sounds, but never the sound of a car hurtling toward another, never again the screaming of brakes, the clatter of impact. I found some peace." He turned away from me, back to the stove, and I took a few deep breaths as well as a long pull on the drink he had made me.
"So you and your fianc
ée—you came out here together?"
"No, I left her behind, too."
"Oh," I said confused. It seemed like that's when someone would need their partner's support the most.
"She, uh, she let it be known that she thought I was going insane. She wasn't prepared to follow me to 'the jungle.'"
"Wow, so you really did lose everyone, everything at once."
He still didn't turn to face me, and I was glad because I knew the look on my face probably reflected the immense pity I felt for him. I tried to picture him at that time in his life, crushed and vulnerable, so different from the strong mountain man I'd come to rely on to save me. He had lost his entire family. Even though it wasn't my own sad story, but his, I sucked down the rest of my tropical drink until the straw started making noise as it strained to catch the last drops. I felt like my entire stomach had dropped away.
Adam walked over and took the empty glass from in front of me. "Feeling better?" he asked. He took my glass to the blender and refilled it. I couldn't even answer. How could he possibly tell me that and then ask about how
I
was feeling?
Maybe it was the al
cohol. Maybe it was the fear. Maybe it was the fact that this man made me feel completely safe that caused my reaction. For whatever reason, I walked up to Adam's back and wrapped my arms around his waist. I hugged him from behind and laid my head on his strong back. Even though I'd looked at that same back lustfully for a few days now, I didn't even think of him that way when I finally did lay my head on him. I wanted to comfort him. I wanted him to know that not every person out there in the world was a soulless bastard who cared only for himself. Maybe I wanted to convince myself of that too.
For some reason, I expected him to pull away from me, but he didn't. He tur
ned around and he hugged me. I squeezed harder and he squeezed me so tightly that I worried he might break something. I took short breaths and so did he, as if all of this was taking so much energy from us. I don't know what we were doing. It was a simple hug—that’s all anybody would see if they happened to be walking by and peeked in our window, but as one half of it, I know it was much more. It was the most loving physical touch I'd ever experienced. We just stood there like that, hugging, not saying a word, holding on to each other.
Eventually Adam whispered, "If I don't let go,
everything will burn."
"Then let go," I replied, squeezing him tighter before I released him.
11
"Dinner was amazing," I said honestly after swallowing the last bite. I'd never caught a fish, let alone eaten a fish I'd caught. Adam's culinary talents had made it delicious, and I was surprised by the pride I felt in it, like I was becoming more a part of the mountain with each bite.
We had eaten mostly in silence, letting the information he'd shared settle in my mind and ma
ke me feel even more sympathy toward him.
He nodded. "Thank you." He stood up and gathered our dishes, the empty glass. I ha
d polished off another frozen drink, which I'd nicknamed Mountain-ade, during the meal.
I burped. He smiled.
"Excuse me."
"In some countries, that's a compliment."
"It should be in this one too. That’s how I meant it." I watched him rinse our plates in the sink. "What would you like to do tonight?" I asked. I still felt this urge to make him feel better, to take care of him. I wondered if the reason people didn't share their worst moments was because they couldn't stand other people's sympathetic, unsure stares. Suddenly, I didn't know how to act around him. I felt like he deserved my deference. I wanted to walk on eggshells around him. I didn't want to disturb him like everyone else did. I didn't want to drive him away.
"You seem awkward," he said, facing me after he had washed the last fork and placed it in the drainer. "That makes me feel awkward. I'm sorry I unloaded on you."
"No, please, don't apologize. I am sorry if I seem strange. I just want, I just want—" The reason I couldn't finish was because I had a feeling of déjà vu. I had felt this way toward Michael, felt this indefinable urge to make him happy, and I had fulfilled the urge by initiating sex. It always worked. It always allowed me to make him feel better and to make me forget his pain and to give me this sense of accomplishment at the end. But even though sex and consolation seemed to have connected themselves in my brain with Michael, that seemed wrong in this situation. I didn't want to have pity sex with Adam. I mean, up until now, I knew I sort of wanted to have sex with Adam, but this new revelation had complicated that need. Before I was just a young woman who wanted a hot guy. Now it was something different. Now he was a wounded soul, and I felt like a letch for looking at him like a piece of meat.
I didn't finish what I was saying. I slumped. I sighed. I tried to put into words what I felt and thought. I felt his large hands on my shoulders, his strong fingers digging into my neck and shoulder muscles, working out all the stress I'd been storing there. I groaned without meaning to. "Feels good, huh?" he said with a satisfied laugh.
"Between the drink, the dinner, and now this, I think that Roadsie might have killed me on that mountain and I am dead and in heaven."
He moved to my side, and the sight of him standing there over me, tall and dark
—my own personal security team of one—made me swoon. My god, he was hot. He bent down, positioned his strong arms behind my neck and under my knees, and then he picked me up and carried me into the bedroom.
I was nervous. Was this really what I wanted? Was I ready? When had I last shaved my legs? I had so many conflicting feelings and they were too hard to sort out at the moment.
He placed me on the bed, sat on the edge, and looked down at me. "Turn over," he said. Still not knowing what I wanted, I couldn't resist his directions. I turned over and shut my eyes, giving him complete control. He didn't move for a few moments, and I wondered what he was doing.
Then he slowly began kneading my muscles again. Occasionally, he would come to a point in my back that would sting, where I could feel the muscles twitch and jump. He would dig in there for awhile, eradicating all the pain until that section of my body relaxed. My breathing became slower and louder as he continued. I drifted off to sleep, but not before realizing, just as I was losing consciousness, that I had meant to do something for him. I'd meant to massage all of his proverbial sore spots away after hearing his admission. How nice it would be to have someone cater to all your sore spots and help you return to normal.
*
When I woke, the morning sun was pouring through the windows like water into a sinking ship. I looked to my right. Adam lay flat on his back staring up the ceiling. His hands were folded on his stomach. He was fully dressed although in different clothes than he had been wearing last night.
"Did you sleep?" I asked him.
He turned his face to me and smiled. "Yes, but I nev
er sleep much. After you fell asleep, I passed out shortly after and awoke at sunrise."
"Well, I'm glad you slept. Sorry I wasn't much company last night. The things you told me
—" I shook my head in disbelief. "I still don't know what to say."
"I'm sorry about that."
"Sorry? What for?"
"I didn't mean to tell you all of that. I was only trying to take your mind off
your own problems, but I, well, I don't know what happened. I couldn't stop telling you. As if I
wanted
you to know."
"I'm g
lad you told me."
"It means a lot that y
ou listened, but I hate laying all that on anyone."
"No, don't apologize," I
begged. "I wanted so badly to say some comforting words last night, but I couldn’t think of any."
"It's okay," he assured me. "So
metimes there are no words. That's why you can’t find them. I’ve searched for the explanations, the redemption. Some things in life are unbearable, even though we'd give our attention to just about anything to not have to face them. They don't
mean
anything. They weren't even done to us on purpose so there’s no one to really blame. We have to endure them—but words can't do anything but distract us. The problems are all still there when the distractions go away."
I nodded. I knew what he meant. It's how I felt about Michael although I'd never said it so succinctly. There was no piece of truth I could latch onto to make the p
ain go away completely, and knowing that made the pain worse. Running wasn’t an escape either. This pain was inside of me. Wherever I ran, there it was.
"Listening to me, and giving me that hug
—" He shook his head. "It helped. It was more perfect than you can possibly know that you said nothing. I haven't talked about the accident in years. It's on my mind every single day, but I don't talk about it." He reached out and pushed a piece of my hair behind my ear.
I gazed at him openly. Was he going to kiss me? I sort of wanted him to kiss me. Ugh, but I had morning breath. There was always something.
"I want to thank you," he said, "by taking you out tonight."
My eyes widened. "You want to leave the mountain?"
He nodded. "There is a great place about an hour northeast. I've gone up a few times, but I usually get my meals to go. I hate to sit in restaurants by myself. Eating at a table by myself in a restaurant always makes me feel like an animal in a zoo."
I pictured Adam in the situation he described and I made a pitiful face.
He said, "Yes! That's exactly how everyone looks at me."
The least I could do was sit by Adam and be good company so he could have a nice meal. A thought crossed my mind and I frowned.
"What is it?"
I looked down at my t-shirt. A conspicuous golden stain reminded me of the pineapple drink he'd made me last night. "I'd like to get presentable if we're goin
g out. I don't know if I have anything dressy enough for a nice restaurant."
"We can pick up a dress on the way if you'd feel more comfortable. My treat."
That sounded absolutely wonderful, but my mother's voice reminded me that it was wrong to accept expensive gifts from men.
"I couldn't let you do that."
"Ina, please. This is the first time I've asked a woman to go out to eat with me in three years. Please just say yes."
"Yes, of course, yes." When he put it like that I couldn't say no. "But I'll need some prep time. I'll need to go to my cabin for a while."
"You can have as much time as you need. I need to prep too."
I wanted to shave my legs and take a long hot shower. I couldn't imagine what Adam would do to prep for our outing. I thought of the stranger
on the mountain, of Roadsie. How would I be able to get ready at my cabin? The fear must have shown on my face because Adam touched my arm reassuringly. His other arm reached behind his back to grab something from the nightstand.