Landslide (47 page)

“Explain physical, Erica.”

“I’m okay, I swear. He didn’t hurt me.”

Almost as if he’s beyond furious with me, his eyes drill into mine when he growls, “What. Did. He do?”

“Nothing. Really…he just, shook me a little and pushed me down. That’s all. I promise. He was arrested and you see me standing here, and I’m completely fine. He just scared me and that’s why I don’t wanna go home just yet.”

Cole is shaking his head slowly, and I see him breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth, noticeably trying to control his temper. He takes one last, deep breath, letting the rest of his rage go with it. At the same time, though, he tips his head to the side to look out the window. “I got news for you, sugar, regardless of how pissed off I am about all of that, not to mention how I feel about you trying to keep it from me, it no longer matters whether or not you have plans to go home tonight. I’m not even letting you drive just down the street in this.”

I turn around to see what he’s talking about. Snow is coming down so hard now it’s practically a whiteout; although as soon as I comprehend that, I jump and instinctually duck when the house begins being hit with what sounds like machine gun fire.

“What the
hell
is that?! Are we under attack?”

Cole sighs again and lets out a short huff of cynical laughter. “Relax, it’s just hail. Hail the size of Alaska, but still…just hail.”

My heart still pounding, I take a deep breath and lament not having anything stronger than a single bottle of wine at my stressed out disposal while Cole decides to call the police department and see what he can find out. The officer he speaks to can’t tell him much, though. After he hangs up and evidently deciding to have dessert first, he grabs the marshmallows and everything he needs to make s’mores. I intend to leave him alone while he continues to cool down; however, about five minutes later, he looks over at me and still appearing out of sorts, he asks, “You gonna do this with me or not?” So, I join him and in complete silence, we sit side by side roasting marshmallows until it stops hailing. When it does, I get up to check on dinner and he goes to do more shoveling. Stopping in mid-stride, though, he turns on his heel to come back into the kitchen. A drawer is slid open, two flashlights and an unopened pack of batteries are pulled out, and then Cole climbs up onto the counter to open the uppermost cupboard, retrieving several candles in various sizes, a barbecue lighter still sealed in the package along with a couple books of matches.

He hops down off the counter, grabs the sponge to wipe his footprints from it and then turns to me with a sarcastically enthused grin on his face. “We’re gonna lose power tonight. Trust me.” Then he goes on his not-so merry way outside to shovel in the middle of a snow storm…

39

“Hand Me Down”

—Erica—

I’m eyeing the iPod Cole has connected to his stereo when I hear him coming back upstairs from putting Skull Eater to bed in the laundry room. “You have a playlist called Songs That Don’t Suck?”
 

“Doesn’t everyone?”

I snort and shake my head, selecting and clicking shuffle on the non-sucky playlist that looks to be made up mostly of music from a decade or more ago before he and I sit down to dinner. We mostly eat without talking, the older music softly playing comfortably filling the empty space that Cole’s ongoing crankiness and my unrelenting edginess creates.

He was doing a bit better until his dog slipped out between his feet when he was coming back inside from talking to his dad and another round of shoveling. It took him almost fifteen minutes of chasing her around before he decided to tag her with a snowball, allowing enough time while she was shaking herself off for Cole to snatch her and bring her inside. At least she did her business while she was out there though, because she was very promptly and rather unceremoniously tucked into bed after that. And I would like to say that my nerves weren’t still firing on all cylinders, but I
almost
peed my pants and literally jumped about two feet in the air because, unbeknownst to me, Prince Sparkle Bottom was waiting for me to get comfortable on the ottoman in front of the chair that sits directly below the loft so he could launch himself from right above me down onto the cushy chair not even a foot from where I was sitting. Evidently it’s the cat’s favorite thing to do in his new digs, especially if someone is close to that chair, which is fine, except an episode like that doesn’t exactly leave a person who’s had the day I’ve had feeling calm and relaxed.
 

Needless to say, the animals prompted the wine bottle to be sucked dry within about five minutes into our meal, and the only booze Cole apparently has left in this house now is less than a thimble full of nasty Goldschläger, so even if it didn’t taste like liquid punishment, it still wouldn’t be helpful.

Cole is part way through his third helping of macaroni and cheese while I’m still working on my first serving of everything when Trapt’s “Headstrong” clicks off, the house falls silent, and we’re plunged into utter darkness. Excepting of course the light from the fireplace across the room, which is just enough for me to see Cole’s amused face as he takes another bite of something from his plate and looks about at the vast nothing around him; all like it’s completely normal to eat dinner in an almost pitch black house. I mean I suddenly feel like a squatter with the lights out like this and no sound coming from anything, but he’s perfectly content to sit here and eat his beloved mac and cheese, the big dork.

He suddenly gets up and moving behind me, he tugs at the neck of my sweater. “C’mon, you gotta see this. Careful though, all those boxes are over here somewhere…”

Being able to make out the larger shadowy shapes in the darkness only once I’m almost upon them, I try to follow Cole as closely as I can, resorting to holding onto the back of his sweater like a child. Reaching where the Christmas tree is, we both begin shuffling our feet so that we don’t trip on the some of the garland that hasn’t made it onto the tree yet, which he reminds me is still strewn all over the floor by it. My foot catches in a strand and I stumble a bit and end up kicking a box into the wall.

“Shit. Sorry…I don’t know what that was, but I hope I didn’t break it.”

“From the sound of it, I’m guessing it was your Christmas present, which can’t really be broken, so…”

“You bought me a present?”

“No.”

We move through the doorway leading into the enclosed patio where the hot tub is and it dawns on me why we’re out here. Feeling my way into sitting on one of the chaises, I stare up through the skylights. It’s stopped snowing and the sky is a pristine blanket of black speckled with myriad stars joyously shimmering and winking at us from Heaven above.

“Oh my God, that’s beautiful…” I whisper, so as not to disturb the stars from their celestial play.

“Isn’t it? It’s like the sky is alive…you just can’t see it breathe unless every other light and sign of life is extinguished.”

Grudgingly, I peel my eyes from the exquisite sight to look at Cole. He’s just a shadow though so I lift my gaze back to beauty untold. “Two things…”

“Hm?”

“How are we seeing this? I mean, why isn’t there snow covering the skylights?”

“Because I’m a genius and had the foresight to install heating coils along the roofline. I had some leftover so I used it to line my doors, some windows, and the skylights. Should’ve done the driveway too though. I always forget how much I fucking hate shoveling snow until the first fall of the year.”

“Huh. That is kinda genius.”

“I know. What’s the second thing?”

“Oh yeah. So, you got me a present, but you didn’t buy it?”

“Right.”

I stare at his profile in the dark. “You’re not actually saying you stole it, right?”

“I’m looking at you right now wondering if you know me at all.”

I scoff. “Well, I had to ask! So, did you make it?”

“No.”

“Oh my God, you’re gonna make this really difficult, aren’t you?”

“What? I’m answering every single question with the truth!”

I huff out a breath and wish he could see me rolling my eyes at him in extreme exasperation. “Can I open it?”

“Sure. On Christmas, which is still more than a week away.”

“Come on! If I open it right now, I won’t even be able to see it, so it doesn’t really count. Lemme open it!”

“Nope. Wouldn’t matter if you can see it or not. You’ll definitely know what it is.”

“I’ll know what it is just by touch?”

“Mmhm.”

I’m adding up the clues in my head and coming up with a fat bunch of nothing… It’s not breakable, he didn’t buy it or make it, and without even laying eyes on it, I’ll know exactly what it is. Huh?!

What in the actual hell is wrapped in that box?

“You got quiet. Are you mad because I won’t let you open a
Christmas
present before Christmas, or are you just completely confused and trying to figure out what it is?”

“The second one.”

“Good lu—” The sound of glass breaking cuts off Cole’s semi-insincere wish of luck to me.

Twisting at the waist and futilely peering into the shadows of the house proper, I ask, “What was that?”

I hear him stand up and begin moving away. “I think I might’ve just lost one of those pretty crystal wine glasses you like so much…better go get the flashlights and light some candles so we can actually see. Are you wearing shoes?”

“Oh, no. I was wearing your wonderfully cozy slippers, but you took them from me,
remember
?”

“Because they’re mine and I was wearing ‘em first. And they don’t even fit you!”

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, since you stole your slippers back, I’m just in socks.”

“Okay, stay here. I’ll bring you a flashlight and your boots so you don’t end up with every sliver of broken glass in your feet. ‘Cause you know you will,” he chuckles at me.

I open my mouth to argue but realizing he’s probably right, I settle for muttering, “Shut up.”

Being told to stay put makes a person want to do the exact opposite, and what’s more, it feels wholly unnatural being a sighted person having my eyes wide open but not being able to really see anything, so, I’m tapping my feet impatiently and fidgeting on the chaise no less than thirty seconds after Cole leaves.

I look up again and decide to count the stars while I’m waiting, although I’m only on seven when I hear a ruckus and Cole’s agonized, “Ow ow ow! Son of a
bitch
, that hurt!”

Instinct kicks in and I don’t even realize that I’m on my feet and heading in his voice’s direction. “You okay? What happened?”

“I’m fine. Just knocked over that stack of boxes and a heavy one landed on my foot. Stay there…” the word trails from his mouth when I bump into him, causing him to take a step backwards where his feet connect with another box which puts both of us off balance. He readjusts and grabs me by my upper arms to steady me before we both topple over. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

“Mm-mm. Apparently not. Are you okay though?” I ask, inexplicably feeling tension in the air, as if an invisible force is tugging and pulling me closer to something undefined in the darkness.

“Mmhm…” I don’t need light to see or know that his hands hesitate relaxing their grip on my arms. My senses reach out, quickly bringing back knowledge of heat radiating off the body mere inches from mine, and an outdoorsy scent of pine and fresh mountain air just barely tinged with the unmistakable smell of smoked tobacco. The rush of adrenaline feeling the warmth of his breath washing over me makes my heart work double-time. “Don’t know what was in that box, though…”

“What box?” Without touching him, I can feel the electricity. The sparking energy that always precedes his lips making contact with any part of my skin.

We’re so close. I can almost taste his breath. I don’t push forward though or try to speed us up. The certain inevitably of our lips coming together doesn’t make the unexplainable nervous moments before they do any less palpable or exciting.

“The one responsible for the throbbing in my foo—” All at once, Cole and I are blinded when the power comes back on. We both blink and squint as we look around the room, taking the several seconds our eyes need to adjust to the brightness. Once they have and Cole’s land on something at our feet, I follow his gaze, subsequently wishing that I were blind again. “That box…”

I’m stunned and don’t have the tools to process the contents of the box that’s lying open on its side now, the disembodied sleeve of an all too familiar high school letterman’s jacket reaching out from inside it, along with a yearbook and a goodly number of photos spilled across it.

Cole sighs and uses the fingers of one hand to massage both of his temples at once before dragging that hand all the way down his weary face. “I
knew
I didn’t have any Christmas decorations that heavy…”

Prince Sparkle Bottom then jumps back up onto the dining table. With his attention turned to the cat and getting the broken glass cleaned, Cole leaves me staring at the box I once felt was filled with things that
should
be inconsequential.

“Hey! Dude! What are you doin’? Get down! You already broke something, you dick…go on or you’re gonna get glass in your paws.”

I force my line of sight from the box, reiterating to myself that what’s inside isn’t actual pieces of a human being like I once thought. Watching Cole walk back from the kitchen with a broom and dustpan in his hands, the inherent truth of that dawns on me. The box is just a container for things, and those things don’t make a person; not literally and not figuratively. They’re moments in time at best. My eyes still on him, Cole finishes sweeping and moves on to vacuuming. It’s sort of invigorating and altogether sexy. I don’t know what it is, but seeing a man doing housework is a turn-on. The cardboard time capsule almost forgotten—or maybe not forgotten but in spite of it—I suddenly
really
feel like recapturing those moments in time before the ones from the past had light shone on them.

I’m not given the opportunity though. After putting his vacuum cleaner away and wiping down the wood floor with a wet rag, Cole steps out of his slippers once again, exchanging them for his boots. He puts his jacket on while simultaneously patting the pockets, and then he simply walks out the front door without a word or look back for the box or me. When he returns, I know at once that he was out there smoking, and I’ve had time to re-stack the four boxes of decorations, pick up the garland from the floor, and I’m just about to sit down in front of the mastodon in the room that I thought for sure was extinct. I’m guessing I thought that because it’s been seven years since the last time I spoke to Cole or anyone else about him. Now though, it’s like he’s posthumously demanding our long overdo attention. I just don’t know how I feel about that; about why we haven’t metaphorically paid our combined respects for so long.