Landslide (45 page)

“Morning! A bit brisk out, isn’t it?” he calls to me with a smile and a wave. My only thought is that he must be assuming I’m a neighbor out for a stroll.

I wave back and decide to go fishing. “Whitest winter we’ve had in years. Hit us early too. Everything okay? Seemed like you were looking for something…”

“Yeah, I think the pilot light must’ve been blown out…it’s freezing cold in there,” he indicates Erica’s house with a jerk of his chin, “Was gonna see if I could find it and relight it.”

“The furnace in that house is inside down in the basement and it’s electric…no pilot light to go out,” I tell him, “You check the thermostat?”

He looks embarrassed when he rubs one of his cheeks. “Nope. Truth be told though, I don’t even know where the thermostat is. I just got here last night.”
 

“Oh yeah? Erica was at a party last night. Hope you didn’t have to wait long for her to get home.”

“Nah, hardly more than an hour, and turns out, my car was warmer than the house anyway,” he says and sort of chuckles, “So, you know Erica?”
 

I consider my answer and then slowly nod. “Mmhm. I’m Cole.”

“Nice to meet you, I’m Greg,” he pauses to extend his hand, and taking it, my blood turns to stinging ice when he continues, “Sure glad to know she’s starting to meet people now. Last week when she stayed at my place she didn’t mention meeting anyone and I was a little concerned for her being up here all by herself.”

In one single fucking sentence, Greg manages to send a scalding message in that not only has Erica never mentioned me in the past, but that she didn’t say a peep about me last week either. And she slept at her fucking ex-boyfriend’s house not four days after she woke up at mine.

“But, since I’m thinking of spending more time up here, I won’t be so concerned. It was just these last weeks…women need to be looked after and a woman like Erica shouldn’t be left alone for too long, if you know what I mean.”

I have absolutely no idea what you mean, Greg. Are you insinuating that women can’t take care of themselves? Because that’s the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard. And what the fuck? Someone like Erica especially shouldn’t be left unattend—oooh. He’s talking about a woman who
looks
like Erica. Because she’s like chum for sharks.

“Right. A man’s gotta be around to protect what’s his.”

“Exactly. And I’ve got a lot riding on this investment of mine,” he says, tapping the underneath of his ring finger with his thumb.

“Well, congratulations I guess and good luck with that, Greg, I gotta get going. Maybe I’ll see you around sometime,” I tell him, trying desperately to not choke and literally puke on my words.

“I’ll look forward to it. And I’m sorry, what did you say your name was again?”

“Cole,” I answer flatly, not needing another reminder that I’ve never meant enough to Erica to even warrant mentioning my goddamned
name
to someone she considered marrying, however briefly that was.

“Right. Sorry. Have a good one, Cole, and happy holidays,” he waves as he turns to head back inside.
 

“Yep,” I mutter and wave over my head already facing away from him, in a hurry to escape.

My lungs struggle to expand with the deep breath I’m going for, my chest is tight, and getting in my truck, I tell myself the stinging behind my eyes is from the frigid wind. It’s not though. Like my hopes and dreams, the wind died down to nothing. And it did it long before I ever shook hands with the man who last night was welcomed into the home of where my heart dwells. My everything. A tear that feels like lava as it slips down my cheek has me starting the truck and clearing my throat, as well as trying for the life of me to calm down enough to drive away like a normal person instead of like the raging maniac that I’m trying to contain within me would. And it’s not that I’m even raging exactly. It’s more like I’m utterly defeated in every way imaginable and I’m screaming and crying inside about it.

It’s what having your heart truly snapped in two feels like.

38

“Separate Ways (Worlds Apart)”

—Erica—

“Erica? Is that you?”

My name being called just as I’m getting to my car in the grocery store parking lot has me spinning around to see who’s asking. However, I’m already on edge, I’m standing on a patch of ice and it’s snowing in addition, so of course I slip and almost fall on my butt. I grab the car door handle and catch myself, although I sacrifice my grip on one of my bags to save myself so it falls to the ground with a thud and tips over. I’m really hoping the eggs aren’t in that one…
 

Ryan crouches down next to me and makes an effort to collect what’s been set free from the grocery sack. No broken eggs, however I almost feel like abandoning the Ritz crackers and package of Hershey bars and simply fleeing as fast as I can. After last night and this morning even more so, I don’t want to be within a two hundred-yard radius of Ryan.
 

“Uh, thanks,” I tell him when he hands me the bag with all its contents in place again, “It’s really starting to snow and I’m not all that comfortable driv—”
 

“Sure, I understand. I just…” he says, earnest sheepishness taking over his features, “I won’t keep you, I just needed to apologize. The things I said to Cole last night, like—”

“Stop!” I cut him off, emphatically shoving my hand out in front of me palm outwards, “I don’t know what was said, and I don’t need
or
want to know.”

What Ryan said was enough to provoke Cole and have him resort to becoming violent to shut Ryan up, and not that I know for sure whether he’s like this now after being in the military and everything, but even with knowing how he’s gone to bat for me in the past on multiple occasions, the old Cole was so laid back, it took something really heinous for him to get as worked up as I imagine he was last night, which makes what Ryan said something I definitely never need to hear with my own ears, I’m sure.

Ryan nods. “Okay, well just know, I was completely and totally out of line last night, and I deserved the ass kicking Cole gave me.”

I just peer through the lightly falling snow at him without saying anything, especially something to contradict him. Like, I don’t know if he expects something in the way of forgiveness, but if so, we’ll be here a while because it’ll be a colder day in Hell than it is here today before I forgive him.

“Look, Erica, I don’t expect you to tell me it’s all good now. I really don’t. And I’ve never told anyone since I moved up here, but I used to be in AA about five years ago or so. I put myself back in the program this morning after realizing that I really do have a problem, so now, I’m just trying to get a jump on working the steps.”

Okay, now I almost feel like a bitch…
 

“I’m sorry, Ryan, I didn’t realize. Of course I’m open to your apology and I accept it. I just won’t be able to honestly say I forgive you until I see with my own eyes that you mean it and make legitimate changes.”

A relieved smile spreads across his face and he nods. “That’s considerably more than what I’d hoped for. Doubt Cole will be so gracious, but…gotta do what I gotta do. I’m just thinking we both might be better off if I give him a day or two before I put myself in his face again though, so, if you wouldn’t mind giving him a heads up the next time you talk to him, I’d appreciate it.”

“I will.”

“Thanks, and, sorry again. And drive safe,” Ryan tells me with another chagrined look, leaving me to get in my car and drive away in peace.

Well, about as much peace as I can possibly have driving over to Cole’s in what city folk like me would call a blizzard. For all I know, though, this is probably just an average Sunday in December for locals.

With the Grenada’s wipers working their poor rubber hearts out to keep snow off my windshield and not being all that successful at their task, I feel it better to be safe rather than sorry, so it takes me close to thirty minutes to travel the distance it normally takes me about ten. Despite the time it takes and the white knuckled driving, I arrive safe and sound and in one piece at Cole’s. Turning the car off and with a deeply relieved breath let out in a whoosh, I peel my fingers one by one from the steering wheel.

Laden with groceries, the crunch of snow under my feet is almost deafening in the eerie quiet of the late afternoon as I carefully pick my way up Cole’s porch steps. Using my teeth to pull the glove off my hand, I raise it to knock and wince at seeing how pink and cracked my skin has become in just a few short days. During nursing school I quickly developed an almost neurotic hand washing habit and subsequently learned to routinely moisturize, although this weather has me considering slathering Vaseline on my hands at night and sleeping with gloves on. I rap my knuckles against the door and grit my teeth through the sting. A thought occurs to me though as I’m waiting, and I set the bags down to rummage through them for the tube of Zim’s Crack Cream I fortunately discovered to be carried in stores up here.
 

Once found, I open the tube and begin liberally applying its soothing contents over my painfully chaffed hands, and I realize Cole hasn’t answered the door yet. I ring the bell this time and start thinking about not hearing from him…

I mean I really thought he would’ve at least called. Then again, I’m guessing there are four possible scenarios explaining why he wouldn’t have. One, he’s still in lockup, which I’m going to go ahead and assume isn’t the case as Ryan was clearly sprung this morning, and Cole’s truck is parked in the carport. So two, he’s embarrassed, which isn’t likely either. Three, he’s been dealing with a hellacious hangover all day; totally plausible. And four, he could potentially think I’m pissed off at him for getting into a fight that then resulted in him being arrested. And, I sort of was last night, although after thinking about it and how I was praying like mad for him to show up earlier today, I just can’t be. He’s always been like my savior so how can I be upset with him for doing any of the things he’s ever done in that regard when his sole motivation and intent was simply standing up for me in some way? It’s just not possible. In fact, I feel like I should be the one apologizing. It’s because of me that he ended up having to sleep in a jail cell after all.

It takes me knocking
and
ringing the bell again before clear sounds of anyone being home are heard. Those sounds being from a highly enthusiastic dog on the other side of the door and Cole’s exasperated voice as he tries to catch the wild animal so he can open it without the dog bolting out. Moments before he opens it, it suddenly dawns on me that it could’ve taken him as long as it did to answer because he was sleeping. Low-grade guilt washes over me for maybe two seconds, until Cole finally pulls open the door and I see him standing there looking a bit disheveled, yes, but also wearing a knitted sweater with a reindeer on it, and he’s of course holding Skull Eater; this itty-bitty thing wearing a Christmas colored hair bow in between her ears, and who’s also doing an excellent impression of a whirling dervish in Cole’s hand as she desperately tries to get out of his grasp.

I mean I don’t even know what’s more funny. The dog is twisting, squirming, flailing about, and even running in mid air, and how she manages to do it at the same time, I haven’t a clue, although she’s also able get herself close enough to Cole’s face so that she can cover his cheeks and chin in doggy kisses. However, the reindeer has a sparkly red nose and actual jingle bells sewn onto its antlers.

Cole’s apathy to seeing me on his front porch with four bags of groceries dangling from my arms while snow comes down around me in sheets prompts another pang of guilt. “Um…hi? I woke you up, didn’t I?”

His face contorts into a rather nonplussed expression as he switches Skull Eater into his other hand while taking a few meager steps aside, allowing me just enough space to enter. “Uh, no. It’s hardly five o’clock. Why would you think I’d be sleeping?”
 

“Oh, well…I knocked and rang the bell a couple times. Thought after last night, you might be napping or something.”

“First thing I did when I got home this morning,” he tells me, closing the door and then setting his dog down. She immediately runs to me, jumps and begs to be picked up, but then races back to Cole and does the same thing. He ignores her. “Then I got some lunch, took a quick job, came home and showered, and then decided I should probably start getting my tree decorated.”

“Oh,” I try to hide the disappointment stabbing me in the throat; I just don’t know how well I succeed, “So, I know I should’ve called and I can explain why I didn’t, but, um…I feel like I’m interrupting. Am I?”

His eyes travel across his house to where his tree is set up. It’s bare aside from a single strand of lights haphazardly draped on the bottom-most branches. “I guess not,” he replies with a blasé shrug of his shoulders, bringing his line of sight back into the kitchen and to the bags I’m putting on the counter, “What’s all this?”

I sigh and rest my hands on the tops of the bags. “Well,
this
will be dinner and dessert. I figured you might like a little comfort food and it’s all I really know how to do halfway decently in the way of expressing my gratitude for you and all you’ve done for me. So, I’m making you my grandma’s macaroni and cheese. There’re some ham steaks, fresh green beans, a bottle of that wine we both obviously liked, and a loaf of squaw bread in here too. Oh and I hope you still love s’mores as much as you used to because I got the fixings for them as well. That is, if you haven’t eaten already and want me to cook for you.” Which up until this point, I’ve been getting the very distinct feeling that he’d prefer I didn’t cook
and
weren’t here in the first place.

Cole’s expression however turns to one of intrigued consideration as he tries looking in the bags without touching them. “What kind of chocolate did you get?”

“The kind you like…with almonds.”

“
Humph
. You said your grandma’s macaroni and cheese?”

“Mmhm.”