only by sharp purple peaks
dipped in snow. They drove in comfortable silence, taking in the majestic
views. Joshua trees turned to pine trees, and the desert gave way to winding
mountain passes as they traversed the ancient landscape.
“How you
feeling this morning?” Zach asked.
“Hung over.”
Jenna looked over and had a vague flashback of telling him that all men are bastards
when he said he needed to go back to his hotel. “I was awful to you last night,
wasn’t I?”
“Nah. I’ve
seen worse.” He smiled. “I’ve done worse too, without half the provocation.”
She nodded,
grateful to let it go. They settled into an easy mix of silence and
conversation, keeping things light. The next thing she knew, they were outside
the vacation home her parents purchased with her father’s first big royalty
check. It was a modest pale yellow cabin, set back from the street on the
lake. The quintessential cozy
mountain retreat, it still retained the original hardware and lovely built-ins.
She
remembered it being bigger—the way adults often do, returning to places
from their childhood. It was equally possible that it had been dwarfed by the
mega-mansions flanking it on either side that sprung up since her last visit.
Opening the door, she flipped on the light.
“Need help
with your bags?” Zach asked.
“No, I’m
okay. Thanks for the ride.” She said.
“No problem. It was on my way,” he smiled.
He stuffed his hands in his pockets to keep
himself from helping her as she struggled up the two small steps to the door.
“Thank you,
Zach. For everything.” She put her
hand over his and pulled him into a hug. In his ear, she repeated it again,
wishing she could say more. He was the only one who’d been there for her when
she most needed it and she didn’t think she could ever thank him enough. He’d
been so sweet to pack her bags for her when she couldn’t face going home to do
it herself. Thankfully he’d been able to avoid an awkward run into Alex, who
was already on his way to the next gig. He squeezed her hand, got back in his
car and reversed down the driveway, tires crunching on frozen earth. She stood
for a long minute outside, watching his headlights disappear from view, leaving
only the yellow orange light from the cabin spilling softly on her, beckoning
her inside. Silence enveloped her and her hands trembled as she pulled out the
handle on her toiletry bag. The cold hardwood floors creaked and moaned in
protest to the thunk , thunk , thunk -ing of the bag’s
wheels as they hit each groove on their way to the master bedroom. Jenna looked
out at the lake, moonlight dancing on its glassy surface, searching for the
light switch. She flicked it on but nothing happened. She tried again. Nothing. Great, she
thought. She turned on the light in the bathroom instead. It provided just enough light for her to
wash her face, brush her teeth, and climb into bed. The heavy down comforter
swallowed her in its warmth, immobilizing her in its cocoon. Sleep had never
felt so good or come so easily. Tomorrow she could think about what to do with
her life, but for tonight, all she wanted was a dreamless sleep.
The sun rose
above the mountains, illuminating the small room. Blinking, she opened her eyes
to reveal a blue-bird day, the light spreading
cheerfully across the white-washed pine walls of the master bedroom. She sat
up, staring across the sapphire water. With a long yoga inhale, she breathed in
the crisp clear beauty of her surroundings. Never one prone to introspection,
Jenna had always opted to help someone else through their turmoil rather than dwell on her own. For the first time in her life, she was
forced to sit, utterly alone with herself. I am me ,
she thought with Zen-like serenity.
The house, built in the early 1930’s, had a lot of
what people call “charm,” which really meant that it creaked and leaked and was
small compared to its contemporaries. It was like calling a woman
dipped in snow. They drove in comfortable silence, taking in the majestic
views. Joshua trees turned to pine trees, and the desert gave way to winding
mountain passes as they traversed the ancient landscape.
“How you
feeling this morning?” Zach asked.
“Hung over.”
Jenna looked over and had a vague flashback of telling him that all men are bastards
when he said he needed to go back to his hotel. “I was awful to you last night,
wasn’t I?”
“Nah. I’ve
seen worse.” He smiled. “I’ve done worse too, without half the provocation.”
She nodded,
grateful to let it go. They settled into an easy mix of silence and
conversation, keeping things light. The next thing she knew, they were outside
the vacation home her parents purchased with her father’s first big royalty
check. It was a modest pale yellow cabin, set back from the street on the
lake. The quintessential cozy
mountain retreat, it still retained the original hardware and lovely built-ins.
She
remembered it being bigger—the way adults often do, returning to places
from their childhood. It was equally possible that it had been dwarfed by the
mega-mansions flanking it on either side that sprung up since her last visit.
Opening the door, she flipped on the light.
“Need help
with your bags?” Zach asked.
“No, I’m
okay. Thanks for the ride.” She said.
“No problem. It was on my way,” he smiled.
He stuffed his hands in his pockets to keep
himself from helping her as she struggled up the two small steps to the door.
“Thank you,
Zach. For everything.” She put her
hand over his and pulled him into a hug. In his ear, she repeated it again,
wishing she could say more. He was the only one who’d been there for her when
she most needed it and she didn’t think she could ever thank him enough. He’d
been so sweet to pack her bags for her when she couldn’t face going home to do
it herself. Thankfully he’d been able to avoid an awkward run into Alex, who
was already on his way to the next gig. He squeezed her hand, got back in his
car and reversed down the driveway, tires crunching on frozen earth. She stood
for a long minute outside, watching his headlights disappear from view, leaving
only the yellow orange light from the cabin spilling softly on her, beckoning
her inside. Silence enveloped her and her hands trembled as she pulled out the
handle on her toiletry bag. The cold hardwood floors creaked and moaned in
protest to the thunk , thunk , thunk -ing of the bag’s
wheels as they hit each groove on their way to the master bedroom. Jenna looked
out at the lake, moonlight dancing on its glassy surface, searching for the
light switch. She flicked it on but nothing happened. She tried again. Nothing. Great, she
thought. She turned on the light in the bathroom instead. It provided just enough light for her to
wash her face, brush her teeth, and climb into bed. The heavy down comforter
swallowed her in its warmth, immobilizing her in its cocoon. Sleep had never
felt so good or come so easily. Tomorrow she could think about what to do with
her life, but for tonight, all she wanted was a dreamless sleep.
The sun rose
above the mountains, illuminating the small room. Blinking, she opened her eyes
to reveal a blue-bird day, the light spreading
cheerfully across the white-washed pine walls of the master bedroom. She sat
up, staring across the sapphire water. With a long yoga inhale, she breathed in
the crisp clear beauty of her surroundings. Never one prone to introspection,
Jenna had always opted to help someone else through their turmoil rather than dwell on her own. For the first time in her life, she was
forced to sit, utterly alone with herself. I am me ,
she thought with Zen-like serenity.
The house, built in the early 1930’s, had a lot of
what people call “charm,” which really meant that it creaked and leaked and was
small compared to its contemporaries. It was like calling a woman
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