Dec 29, 2008

        I’m back at my house and I’m having a cigarette and drinking coffee in my room. I slept in this morning while Scott did chores again. It’s comforting to sleep in his bed with the light coming in the room, listening to him bustle around. He brought me a cup of coffee with some toast and refilled my glass of water. He really is so good to me.

        I feel as though I should be more disappointed in him after last night. Maybe I should have told him this morning that we should stop whatever we’re doing. I don’t feel like telling him that though. I enjoy his company too much and I do think I love him. I think anyone who might read this will think I’m insane, and maybe that’s true. I’m trying to be as honest as I can in these entries, no matter how I may be perceived.

        Before I left we sat in his bed together as I drank my coffee and ate my toast. It was around 11 am and I felt okay despite staying up so late.

        “How would you feel about going somewhere together for a couple days?” he asked as he sipped his own cup of coffee.

        I laughed. “What do you mean? Like where?”

        He shrugged. “What about a little getaway somewhere? Like a bed and breakfast or something? I dunno about you but I’m feeling a little stifled out here. A change of scenery might be nice.”

        I looked at him and smiled. “Really? You’d wanna do that?”

        He kissed my cheek. “Why not? Could be fun.”

        “Like…where? We probably shouldn’t go somewhere people would recognize us,” I said as I chewed a piece of toast.

        He nodded. “Yeah. Of course. I was thinking somewhere secluded and a ways away from here.”

        “Okay, yeah. If you want to. I think that’d be kinda nice.” I kissed him with buttery lips.

        He said he’d look into it and let me know what he could find and which days we could go. Classes don’t start until January 12th so I’d planned on staying here until the 11th, so there’s flexibility.

        I think I can put off ending things until the end of the break, if that’s what I decide for sure. I want to enjoy my last days and going somewhere with Scott sounds really nice. Maybe we could act like a real couple in some place where nobody knows us. I could get a glimpse into a life I’ll never have and don’t deserve.

I still feel pretty firmly decided, and it’s a relief, though I’m a little worried about the execution. I’m really nervous about making a mistake. The last thing I want to do is partially complete my goal and end up brain dead or disabled but alive. I bought 25 10 mg tablets of hydrocodone, and that should be more than enough to do me in, especially if I combine alcohol with it. In fact I think I have enough that I can take some recreationally before the time comes. I have nearly two weeks left to try and enjoy my life.

        I’m trying to decide if I should tell Scott about my plan or not. At this point I almost feel like it would be unfair not to tell him and have him find out the same way as everyone else. I feel so close to him, especially since he told me about what happened with Roxanne last night. He didn’t have to tell me, but he did, and I respect that. Maybe he would understand, especially if I explained my reasons to him.

        We decided he would come stay here tonight. We’re going to make dinner and have drinks again, and maybe go for another drive out East. I want to keep things light tonight. We’ve been stressed out enough the last couple of days.

        I need to get ready so I’m going to go now. I’ll probably write another entry after Scott falls asleep tonight. I’m excited to see him.

***

        It's around midnight and I’m writing in the living room tonight. This entry might be shorter than usual because we have to get up early tomorrow. I have a glass of  wine and Scott is asleep upstairs in my bedroom. I wish I could write up at my desk so I could watch him sleep but I’m afraid he’ll wake up and see me and ask what I’m writing about. He would be mortified to know the detail in which I’ve recorded our interactions. I know how he sees himself and what we’re doing.

        I don’t know what I’ll do with these entries yet. Do I want my friends and family to know what I’ve been doing in my last days? Maybe it's better no one knows, especially since Scott has become such an integral part of everything. I don’t want to smear him. I hope someday he can get another teaching or principal job.

I wonder if my dad would even let anyone read all this, assuming he would be the one to find it. What would he think? I don’t know if he could make it past the first sexual encounter I wrote about. He would probably want to vomit, especially since he kind of knows Scott. Maybe he would burn this journal and all this effort would be for nothing. I need to think about what I’m going to do with this notebook, but I’ll save that for later.

Scott got here around four this afternoon. He brought steak, potatoes, and asparagus for dinner. I’d told him that there’s a propane grill on the back porch that I think we could get to work to cook the steaks on. He also brought a couple bottles of wine and a six pack of beer.

As we unpacked the bags of items he brought he informed me of the good news. “Well, I found somewhere for us to go for a couple days.”

“Oh yeah?” I asked as I put the package of steak and the beer in the fridge.

“Yeah,” he said as he set the bottles of wine on the counter. “I made the reservation so I hope you say yes.”

I laughed. “My schedule is pretty demanding. I dunno.”

He hugged me from behind. “So I found a cute little place in Pelican Rapids. The Cormorant Inn. The rooms are themed.”

I turned around and kissed him. “Pelican Rapids? Wow, that is in the middle of nowhere. Why is there a hotel like that out there? Themed rooms?”

“Yeah, and each one has a jacuzzi inside.” He paused and kissed me deeply for a few moments.

I broke from him, smiling. “So, you made the reservation? When?”

He grinned. “Tomorrow, actually. I figured we could stay two nights and celebrate New Year's Eve there.”

I hugged him and squealed. “Okay! That sounds so fun! What theme is our room?”

“Please don’t hate me. It’s a little corny but it’s the Valentine suite.” He paused and kissed my forehead. “I thought it’d be kinda cute.”

I pressed my lips to his. “I love it, Scott! I can’t wait. That was so sweet of you. What better way to bring in 2009 than with you in the Valentine suite?”

He held me in the kitchen for a long time. “It’s so nice when you’re happy, Christine.”

I kissed the side of his face, then his lips. “You make me happy. Would you like some coffee before we make dinner? I know it isn’t the fancy kind like you make.”

“Sure,” he said.

Once again I gave him his coffee in the “Best Dad Ever!” cup. I don’t know why I selected it again when there were plain cups that were clean. We sat for a little while at the dining room table and sipped coffee together, making light conversation.

“You seem really happy today,” he said as he sipped from my dad’s mug.

I smiled and nodded. “I am happy. Why shouldn’t I be?”

He sighed and drummed his fingers on the table. “Well, last night…”

I shrugged. “We talked through everything and I feel better. There’s no uh…secrets now, you know? You were honest with me and now I know.”

He looked at his hands and nodded. “Well, alright. Good. If you’re happy I’m happy.”

We braved the bitter cold to take a look at the grill on the back porch. Scott shoveled the now hardened snow from the porch while I uncovered the grill and inspected it. The propane tank was still connected but turned off.

Scott had marinated the steaks this morning and we sliced up the potatoes and put them in tin foil with olive oil and seasoning. We also wrapped the asparagus in tin foil and oil. After everything was prepared we turned on the propane and began heating up the grill.

Scott poured us each as a glass of pinot noir and we went outside together to monitor the food. I had a cigarette as he put the potatoes and asparagus in first. I hadn’t spent much time on the back porch since I was in high school and I’d help my dad grill.

I stared out into the woods that I’d been planning to disappear into after taking the hydrocodone. It wasn’t like Scott’s pine grove. It was mostly popples and brush, and in the winter it looked very sparse and dead. I imagined walking out there, high on painkillers with a bottle of whiskey, trudging through the snow and pushing branches out of the way. The idea seemed intolerable and I thought I’d much rather spend my last moments in the beautiful pine grove. I took a long drag off my cigarette and shivered.

Scott stepped to my side and gestured for my cigarette. I handed it to him and he took a long drag.

“What’re you looking at?” he asked.

I shrugged and thought about what he’d said about lying to him. “I was just thinking about how awful it’d be to walk through those woods. The pines in your West field are much nicer.”

He handed the cigarette back to me. “Yeah. That’s how the wild, uncultivated woods look. It’s a lot of work to maintain trails through those.” He paused. “Let’s put the steak on in a few minutes. Wanna go inside while we wait?”

I nodded and put my cigarette out in the snow next to the door. I made a mental note to pick it up later so my dad wouldn’t see it.

We drank wine and kissed for a while as we waited. I let Scott put the steak on and sat at the dining room table. I read my copy of The Terror by Dan Simmons while he was outside, and I had a highlighter and pen so I could highlight passages and make notes in the margins like Scott did.

Scott brought the food inside and we ate and drank wine. I ate heartily since I’d only had toast this morning and barely ate last night. The steak was medium rare New York Strip and it was delicious.

“This must’ve been expensive as hell at the grocery store here,” I said.

He shook his head. “Naw. I bought a quarter of a cow from a farm in North Dakota and had it delivered. It’s expensive but not like buying from the store here.”

I smiled. “You’re so smart. This is really good. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Christine.”

After we ate we cleaned up and saved the steak scraps for Angel. We went outside to have cigarettes and put the scraps in the barn. Scott carried a flashlight as we entered, and I set the plate with the steak on the ground.

“When’s the last time you saw her?” he asked, referring to the cat.

I shrugged, noting that he referred to the cat as “her.” “You know, I think she’s a girl too. I saw her yesterday, even got to touch her. I think I’m making progress. Shine the light over there,” I said and gestured to the opposite corner of the barn. “That’s where her shelter is. We probably scared her off.”

Scott shined the flashlight to the shelter and a white flash scampered out and squeezed between the wood planks. “Damn,” he said. “Well at least we know she’s alive.”

The acrid smell of the frozen dead deer nauseated me. “Let’s go,” I said. “I’m sure she’ll be back once she realizes this is here.” We left the barn and finished our cigarettes before returning to the house.

Before we went inside Scott started his truck to warm it up in anticipation of our drive out East. We took the six pack of beer and hopped in his truck, and I rolled down the window to have a cigarette.

“Jesus, Christine. You just had one,” he said.

I shrugged. “Who cares? I’m on vacation.” His concern annoyed me, but I understood it. I normally didn’t smoke in quick succession like that, but once I had decided to end things I didn’t care anymore. I was going to do what I wanted, when I wanted, for the next 13 days.

As he drove the truck down the driveway I opened two of the beers and handed one to him. “What time should we head out tomorrow?” I asked.

Scott took a swig of his beer. “Well, it’s about a four hour drive and our check-in is at three. Let’s try to leave by 10:30.”

I nodded and took a sip of beer. “Sounds good.” I thought about the reality of being in public with Scott. Would we present ourselves as a couple? He wasn’t so much older than me that it would look weird to strangers. I thought he still looked and acted quite youthful, so we could probably blend in well enough in some hotel in the middle of Nowhere, Minnesota, and nothing we were doing was illegal except my underage drinking, which no one cares about.

As we turned onto the minimum maintenance road I gazed out at the trees surrounding the road. It was a mix of popples, pines, and brush. “Is it gonna be weird for you to be seen with me?” I asked and looked at him.

He smirked. “Maybe a little, but that’s my own overthinking. I’m not too worried about it.” He smiled at me and rested his hand on my thigh.

“So, am I gonna be like…your girlfriend? Fiance?” I paused and smiled mischeviously. “Wife?”

He laughed and shook his head. “I guess I hadn’t thought of that. What do you want?”

I took a drag from my cigarette and thought. “Well, I think we like each other too much to seem married, and I don’t have a ring to act like a fiance, so I suppose girlfriend will have to do.”

He squeezed my thigh. “Works for me. I’ll be proud to be seen with you,” he said and winked at me.

I giggled and took another swig of beer. “Why’s that?”

He shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I be?”  

I puffed my cigarette. “I’m embarrassing and no one likes me,” I said, trying to sound sarcastic even though it’s how I really feel.

He sighed and took a swig of beer. “Come on, Christine. You know that’s not true.”

“I really haven’t changed that much, you know,” I said. “I’m still the same loser who had to ask you to make the cool kids let me use my locker. I don’t have any friends at college except the guys Paul and I used to hang out with, and they won’t be my friends anymore now. My roommate and I get along but we don’t actually like each other much. I don’t talk to people in my classes unless it's related to schoolwork.”

“You know, I wanted to tell you it was a bad idea to go to college with a boyfriend from high school, but it wasn’t my place. I think without Paul you’ll make more friends this year and get back in touch with yourself. There really isn’t anything wrong with you, Christine. You’re smart, funny, pretty. You should focus on yourself this year so you can see that,” he said and patted my knee.

I smiled at the futility of his reassurance. It felt good to not have to contemplate the truth of his words. It doesn’t matter how smart, funny, or pretty he thinks I am. I’m going to be dead before the Spring semester begins. I didn’t reply, and I took a drag off my cigarette and took a long drink of beer.

“Christine?” he glanced at me expectantly.

“What?”

“Are you alright?”

I sighed. “I’m fine. I just don’t wanna think about going back to college right now.”

He nodded. “Alright. I’m sorry.”

We were silent for a while, and I stared out the window as we drove by uncle Bobby’s cabin. I thought about how I’d left the open bottle of Bacardi on the table. Would he come back someday and know who’d had taken the last sip from that bottle? Would he know it was me and be sad that he outlived me? He’d always been very kind to me even though he enabled my bad habits, always offering me booze and cigarettes.

I took the last puff of my cigarette before tossing the butt out the window. “Sorry, environment,” I murmured.

Scott laughed and drained his bottle of beer before chucking it out his window. I couldn’t help but laugh as I opened another bottle and handed it to him.

“Fuck the woods,” I said and drained my own bottle of beer and tossed it out before rolling the window up.

Scott shook his head and laughed heartily. “Fuck the woods!”

After I recovered from laughing I opened another beer. “Isn’t glass like…not bad for the woods though?”

He shrugged. “Naw, it’s fine. You know, sand and glass are pretty much the same thing, and this whole area is basically the bottom of an old lake. Lake Agassiz.”

I nodded. “My dad told me about that.”

“It supposedly drained about 8500 years ago and that may have inspired the story of the flood in the Bible,” Scott said as he sipped his beer.

“And Lake of the Woods is like…one of the remnants of it?” I asked, even though I knew the answer.

He nodded. “Yep. Red Lake too.”

“I’ve always thought like…this place had a really deep place in history. I just don’t know much about it.”

He smiled and patted my thigh. “I know some things if you’re ever interested.”

I took a long drink of beer. “I’m interested but like…not right now. I already get scared being here.”

“History scares you?” he asked.

I looked at him like he was stupid. “Um, yeah. History is always scary.”

“Why do you say that?”

I shook my head. “Well in history bad things always happen.”

He sighed and nodded. “I suppose you’re right.”

I scooted closer to him and laid my head on his shoulder. “I’m tired of bad things happening, Scott.”

He put his arm around me and squeezed my shoulder. “Me too, but bad things will always happen, Christine. All we can control is how we react.”

I sighed. “I’m tired of reacting. I’m just…so tired.”

“You’re too young to be talking that way, you know.”

“I know. Whatever.” I paused and thought about what he said. I was too young to feel this way, which made me think I was wise beyond my years, and ready to die earlier than most. The thought made me feel certain about my decision, but I didn’t want to talk about that.

I smiled abruptly, hoping the change in my expression would influence my voice. “Anyway, I’m excited for the Valentine suite,” I said and kissed Scott’s cheek.

He kissed my forehead. “I’m glad. I hope it isn’t too cheesy.”

I shrugged. “I think cheesy sounds nice. I hope it’s obnoxiously red, pink, and full of hearts. I want my eyes to hurt,” I said and laughed. Normally I would have been joking, but I meant it. I wanted the room, the experience, to be so far removed from reality that I could feel like we were in another world, or on a movie set.

As we drove past the fire tower I craned my head to see it. I couldn’t see it in the dark.

Scott chuckled. “You wanna go up there?”

I shook my head. “Absolutely not! I couldn’t think of anything I’d rather not do right now. Do you go up there in the dark?”

“Not often. A couple times.”

“Why would you go in the dark? Without the view?” I asked.

He shrugged. “I dunno. It's so quiet, somewhere people shouldn’t go. When I was fired–forced to resign, I went up there with a six pack of beer. Drank all of them. I hoped maybe I’d fall through one of the steps on the way down.”  

The thought sounded familiar to me, like something I would do in such circumstances. I laced my fingers through his and kissed his knuckles. “I’m glad you didn’t.”

We sat in silence for a while and I zoned out as I drank my beer and watched the large white pines close in around us. I wasn’t sure how long I was hypnotized before I realized we were very deep in the woods, much further than I’d been in many years. I became uneasy. “How far are we going?” I asked, remembering the time Paul and I had become stuck.

“Not much further. I was gonna turn around at the snowmobile camp.”

I remembered the camp he was talking about and nodded. It wasn’t much further in. “Oh, yeah. Do people actually stay there?”

Scott smiled. “I have.”

I grimaced. “Seriously? It’s just like…a shed with a campfire thing next to it. Isn’t that like…scary?”

He laughed. “You’re not very outdoorsy, are you?”

“Not if it means sleeping outside. There’s like…bugs and animals and maybe creepy men,” I said and drained my beer before chucking it out the window. I opened another one and lit a cigarette. Scott gestured for my cigarette and I rolled my eyes, handed it to him, then lit one for myself. “I hope you’re not getting hooked. I don’t wanna be responsible for that.”

He took a long drag. “I don’t care for them unless I’m drinking,” he said.

“Are you drinking this much just ‘cos I am?” I asked, genuinely curious.

He took a swig of beer. “Well, I figure we’re both on vacation. No, I don’t normally drink this much. Although I have been more this year in general…I’m sure you understand.”

I took a drag from my cigarette and saw the snowmobile camp on our left hand side. There was a little driveway that led into a clearing with a campfire and a small log shed with a bench inside. I tried to imagine Scott in there, curled up inside a sleeping bag, or sitting next to a roaring campfire and I felt sad. He seemed so lonely.

He pulled the truck into the driveway and put it in park. “What’re you doing?” I asked.

“Wanna look around?” he asked.

I shifted uneasily. “What’s there to look at?”

“I wanna see something,” he said and grabbed a flashlight from the console.

I sighed. “Oh, alright.”

We got out and threw our cigarette butts into the campfire. Scott pointed to a broken bottle of Four Roses bourbon. “I left that there this fall. Oops.”

I laughed. “What the fuck,” I said and shook my head. “You just came out here and got wasted?”

He nodded. “I sure did.” He shined the flashlight towards the little shack. “Wanna sit with me for a second?” he asked.

I shook my head and shrugged. “I guess so.”

We crouched to enter the tiny shack and sat together on the bench. Scott shone the flashlight over the walls where people had carved various things, phrases and initials. Someone had carved “Fuck Bush!” and we laughed at that.

Scott handed me the flashlight. “Hold this up for me, please,” he said and pointed to a section of the wall next to us before he pulled a pocket knife from his jacket.

“Okay…” I said. “What’re you gonna write?”

“You’ll see,” he said and winked at me. His face looked ominous in the light from the flashlight, his dimples and undereyes exaggerated.

I held the flashlight, my hand shaking after a while, and I discerned that he was carving an “S.” I didn’t say anything and let him focus, as he seemed very intent on his task. I had a feeling it was going to be our initials. The air was still, quiet, and cold, and I began to shiver.

“I’m sorry, I’ll hurry,” he said.

“It’s okay,” I said.

After a while, it was clear that I was correct about him carving our initials, except he only put “S + C.”

“It’s because our last names start with the same letter,” he said.

I laughed. “Or is it ‘cos people could tell easier with both letters?” I asked.

He chuckled. “Maybe. I’m also cold and lazy.”

Once he finished I committed the little carving to memory. The writing was choppy, with no curves, so “S” looked like a backwards, tilted “Z” and the “C” looked like a less than sign, and there was a “+” in the middle. I was freezing but I felt the gesture was sweet, immortalizing our strange relationship in a place few people on this earth would think or care to look. Something deeply hidden and painfully obvious at once.

“Well, I never said I was an artist,” Scott said as he folded up the pocket knife and returned it to his pocket. “Alright, let’s go.”

I stopped him as he was getting up from the bench and kissed him deeply. We made out with cold faces for a while before he broke from me and took the flashlight. “Come on. Before the eating man comes.”

We laughed together and got back in the truck. I opened the last two beers and we drank them leisurely as he drove us home.

When we got home we had sex on my dad’s couch before he said he needed to go to sleep so he could drive tomorrow. I plead insomnia and stayed in the living room so I could write this entry. It’s about 1:30 now and I think it might be hard to sleep but I’m going to go lay down with him. I’m excited for tomorrow. I don’t know when I’ll be able to write very much while we’re at the hotel, but I’ll do my best and bring this notebook with me. Maybe I should tell him I’m writing a story so I can do this without hiding it. I suppose it isn’t a lie.