Evan Arden 04 Isolated (7 page)

I count out the bills and lay them on the counter. He stares at them suspiciously for a moment, then picks one up and looks at it closely. I would give him a higher offer, but after paying off the sub captain, I have limited funds. I’m still going to need to find transportation from Thompson to the cabin, and it’s not like I can just go buy a car on credit and keep my movements untraceable.

He fingers a couple other bills, checking them for consistency. The guy must be satisfied that the cash is real because he looks up at me and nods.

“
Yeah, that’ll work.”

“
Let me know when you’re gassed up and ready.”

“
Thirty minutes.”

The plane is a tiny one and only seats six people. I’m the only one in the passenger area, and that suits me fine. The flight is short and bumpy, but we arrive in Thompson almost exactly one hour after takeoff.

It’s early evening by the time I’ve thanked the pilot and headed out of the airport. I’m starving. The walk into Thompson is a good three miles, and I’m not in any shape to get my ass there. There’s hardly anyone around, and lifting a car is out of the question—it would be noticed far too quickly. I hang out in the parking lot for a while until I find a guy who looks pleasant and has his keys in his hands. He agrees to give me a lift into town after I tell him I just flew in to visit my sister. He yaks about how boring his job is loading and unloading luggage and eventually drops me off at the local Pizza Hut.

Pineapple and mushrooms on cheese-stuffed crust—it’s exactly what I need. I savor every bite until the entire pie is nearly gone. I’m tempted to just sit there for a while and watch the people go in and out, but I don’t want to delay my homecoming any longer, and I still need to find transportation.

There’s a neighborhood just north of the restaurant, and I find a house with dimmed lights and a four-wheel drive vehicle parked outside next to the garage. There aren’t any windows facing the vehicle, and its absence probably won’t be noticed before morning.

I drive into the night, pass the airport, and cruise down the small highway out of town. I fiddle around with the radio, but I can’t get much of a signal. In the center console, there’s a collection of CDs—mostly rock from the seventies and eighties. I pull out The Who’s
Quadrophenia
album, slide it in, and crank up the volume.

“
The girl I used to love
Lives in this yellow house.
Yesterday she passed me by,
She doesn't want to know me now.
Can you see the real me, can ya? Can ya?”

I tap my fingers against the steering wheel and resist the urge to crank up the heat. I’m tried, and I need a bit of a chill to keep me awake. Highway 391 is a decent road, but it also winds around a lot. There are a dozen frozen lakes and bridges along the way. In the dark, I definitely have to pay attention to what I’m doing to avoid going into a ditch.

As I pass by a sign for Leaf Rapids, the tiny mining town near our cabin, I feel lighter. Two hours, tops, and I’ll be home. I run my tongue over my lips as I think about what she might be doing right now. It’s late, and she may have already gone to bed by the time I get there, but sometimes she stays up. I can almost see her leaning up against a stack of pillows on the bed or maybe propped up in front of the couch near the fire, reading one of those smut books she likes. Freyja would be lying next to Lia with her nose on her paws.

I won’t have to leave her again.

I smile at the thought, turn the music off, and crack the window. I like the smell of the cold air. The sky is clear, and I look up at the constellations: Orion, the Big and Little Dippers, Draco the Dragon. Without the light pollution of cities, the stars in the sky are bright and clear. I can even see the sparkling river of celestial bodies that make up the Milky Way.

Maybe tomorrow I can take the dog out for a long hike in the woods. She loves running around and shoving her nose into every rabbit hole she comes across. When I get back, Lia will probably have something warm cooking on the stove. I’ll bring in a fresh load of firewood from the stack outside to make sure Lia’s warm enough as the night winds howl around the cabin. I’ll wrap my arm around her shoulders as we sit on the couch and watch some stupid chick flick. If I bitch about it enough, I’ll convince her to watch an action movie instead.

Fuck it. She can have the chick flick. I don’t really care.

I just want to be home with her.

Completely Alone

It’s late when I arrive. I’m tired and in too much of a haze to focus on what’s around me, but my brain catalogs information anyway. The meaning just doesn’t register with me yet. The snow on the ground is fresh. There are no recent tire tracks, no footprints around the door. Everything is quiet. Cold.

Empty.

Trudging onto the porch, I tap my feet against the wall near the door to knock the snow off my boots and then open the door. It’s warmer inside but not warm. There’s no fire going in the fireplace and no sound from the back room or the television. I’m not greeted by barking or a wet nose on my face.

“
Lia?”

Silence.

The kitchen is immediately to the left as I walk in. There are no dirty dishes in the sink or clean ones drying in the rack. The scent in the room is bland and sterile—no evidence of recent food preparation.

I glance back at the entryway, and the empty coat hook finally holds meaning.

Is she outside?

I walk slowly to the sliding door that leads to the back porch. There’s a clear view of the woodpile out back, but no signs of Lia or Freyja. There are no tracks in the snow going to and from the woodpile. The porch is devoid of snowy boots.

“
Lia?” I call again.

Nothing.

Back in the kitchen, there is only one item left out—a sheet of notebook paper on the counter near the stove. My throat tightens as I drag my feet across the linoleum floor, and my hand shakes as I reach for the paper.

Dear Evan,

It’s been weeks since I last saw you, and more than ten days since every one of my calls went straight to voice mail. I don’t know where you are or even if you are alive. I know you’ve been lying to me. I think part of me has always known. You leave for days at a time without any real explanation, and when you return, your eyes are always dull and blank. I’ve seen that look too many times not to understand what it means.

I have no one I can confide in. Even the idea of having a friend feels strange to me now. I thought you would be enough, but when you leave, I am left alone to imagine what you might be doing. I keep wondering why I bother with school. What will I do when I complete my degree? Where would I work when we have to live in secret?

I can’t do this anymore, Evan. I love you with all my heart, but I can’t cope with this. I can’t live wondering where you are, what you are doing, or if you’re going to come back home at all. I can’t reconcile what I know you are still doing with my conscience. I can’t be okay with it.

I’m going back to Arizona. There are some job openings at the local hospital, and my mom is going to help me find my own place and get settled in.

I wanted to do this in person, but I had no idea when you’d return. I don’t even know
if
you’ll return. I’m sorry, Evan. I thought I could do this, but I can’t. I will always love you, but it isn’t enough.

Lia

There’s no date on the page. I have no idea how long ago it was written. Days? Weeks?

I place the paper back on the counter after I’ve read through it four times. There’s tightness in my gut, and for a moment, my mind flashes to blazing heat, the feeling of sand on my torn knees, and the grip of a rough hand around my throat. I try to swallow past it, but I can’t. I can’t even draw breath into my lungs.

Previous thoughts of food, warm beverages, and the heat of a body next to mine as I sleep dissipate. I walk absently to the bedroom at the back of the cabin and stare at the neatly made bed. I drag my fingertips over the bedspread, tracing the abstract pattern.

Her scent is long gone from the room.

I slump down to the bed and grab her pillow. It only smells like laundry detergent. Still, I hold it against my chest and bury my face in it. My body is exhausted, but my mind is racing. When I look toward the nightstand, something catches my eye.

It’s a slender, silver chain. Threaded through it is a quarter.

Aside from the lamp, it’s the only item on the nightstand. It is laid out neatly and deliberately. In my head, I can see Lia slowly taking it from her neck and displaying it there. It is the symbol of our first encounter. Seeing it there feels like a punch in the gut.

Shoving the pillow away, I push myself off the bed and stomp back into the main room. I stare at the fireplace and the handful of logs stacked neatly beside it. Grasping one of them, I clench my fingers around it and feel its weight against my palm.

“
Evan, that’s not a fire. That’s a bonfire!” Lia laughed and tossed a piece of popcorn at me.

“
It’s negative twenty degrees out there,” I told her. “I gotta keep you warm.”

“
There are better ways to do that.” She tilted her head to one side and raised an eyebrow at me.

I looked into her eyes, smiled slightly, and pretended to contemplate.

“
You need another blanket? Is that what you mean?”

More popcorn hit my chest, and I dove at her, spilling the contents of the bowl all over the floor. She giggled as I pushed her down on her back, spread her legs with one of mine, and pinned her to the floor. I rocked myself against her core.

“
You looking for a little something?” I said into her ear as I pressed the tip of my cock against her opening. I nipped at her earlobe with my lips.

“
That’s not a
little
something,” she stated.

“
Sure it is,” I countered. “It’s your little buddy. He wants to play hide-and-seek.”

“
He always hides in the same spot.”

“
Not always.”

We quickly shed our clothing and rolled to the rug in front of the fire. With one quick thrust, I was buried inside of her. The heat from the flames warmed my skin as I held myself against her flesh and kissed down her neck. I felt her hands grabbing my ass and pulling me down against her and took my cue to start moving.

Slowly.

I kissed her softly, my tongue gliding over hers and savoring every taste of her. I let my hands roam over her body, feeling her twist and turn beneath me to produce more pressure. I knew her body so well. Every movement was natural, unhurried, safe.

She moaned into my mouth and bucked her hips up against me. I pushed down, keeping the pressure and rotating until I felt her tighten around me and then relax. With one hand on her hip, I quickened my pace and released inside of her.

I stayed right where I was, holding her body against mine and panting against her skin. The heat from the fire was nearly painful on my skin, but I didn’t care. I didn’t want to move.

“
I love you, Evan,” Lia whispered. “I love you so much.”

Without thinking, I swing my arm, and the piece of wood goes flying, smashing a hole in the drywall above the couch. It’s not enough. The next piece also flies through the air. Then the next and the next. When the stack is depleted, I grab the fireplace poker and start smashing the lamps in the room.

Every move is accompanied by a scream. Every crash is cathartic.

It’s still not enough.

I drop to my knees in the middle of the wreckage and press my palms into my eyes. I try to swallow, but it’s painful. I can’t take a deep breath, and my lungs burn when I try. Instead, I breathe in staccato gasps.

Every part of me aches. I don’t know if it’s because I’ve actually managed to hurt myself in my tirade or if it’s due to exhaustion. There’s a chill in my body that seeps through to my core, and I can’t stop shivering. I grasp blindly at the couch with my fingers to try to find the blanket Lia always kept there and wrap it around my shoulders. I’m warmer at least, but my fingers feel numb.

I drop to the floor on my bad shoulder, and as much as it hurts, I don’t move. My head is pounding. When I open my eyes, I can’t focus on anything, so I keep them closed. Pressure behind my eyes threatens to burst forth, but I hold my breath and keep it in.