Christmas Eve



I died in the light of the morning. 
You died the next day.


Maya had bought the sweater with money from the last truck driver. It wasn’t for the warmth, though essentially that was good for keeping up appearances, but for the dirty great reindeer stitched to the front with the googly eyes and glittering antlers and stitched sequin nose.


She had always loved Christmas and even though last year hadn’t been ideal, Maya was determined to resurrect her longstanding habit of festive happiness. Or whatever.


She supposed she looked ridiculous in the sweater, but still, she'd bought a small, unsweetened coffee and set up camp at a grimy table in the corner. The girl behind the counter had been giving her the eye ever since. Jesus, Maya thought to herself, what was she gonna buy, a cow burger? Even that probably wouldn’t have satisfied the stupid slut who was still glaring Maya down like she was about to steal the cash register or just plain solicit right there in the diner.


After a while the girl behind the counter was distracted with one thing or another and Maya found herself free to get back to the hunt. More than a dozen truck drivers were milling around in the warm interior of the diner but one in particular had caught her eye. He was tall, lean, barely older than her, she guessed, and though clearly minding his own business over a cup of steaming soup, Maya could feel him buzzing with human need — he had already noticed her — she could hear the blood pumping through his veins.


Dark curly hair, rough fingers...her mind ran over their course surface and there was an echoing sound that boomed around her...a scraping so loud...


An unbuttoned flannel over a dirty grey shirt, hat on, its brim straight as an arrow but just as dirty as the shirt. A beard that sprouted in a thick carpet on his face. Maybe four days worth.


Maya could smell him on the air between them. Her hands were starting to shake from hunger.


***


She was tiny. And pretty.


He had seen her across the diner as soon as he came through the doors into the warmth. Out of the cold.


He had seen her, looked away immediately, and then found that he had memorised her in less than that moment. Jayden sighed. He was getting tired of failing to surprise himself.


Don’t think with your little brain, brother. That’s what Jimmy had always told him. Troy burned for Helen. Jimmy was probably the only voice of reason he’d ever hear.


Jayden had told his Mama that he would be good out here — where it was cold and isolated and the women were ‘strange’ and always ‘wanting to tempt him' -- and he was going to hold himself to that promise. The women that he’d encountered hadn’t really been like that, so he could never understand what his Mama was so afraid of. They were just women. Some were truck drivers, some were prostitutes, some were housewives who served him hot soup in cups at diners along the interstate.


This women, well, she was more girl than woman... She was tiny. And pretty.


***


Time passed for this man. Tall Beard. More boy than man, Maya thought to herself.


She watched him lift the cup of soup to his lips and time passed for him and his beard grew and she swore she could hear it growing. Time passed for this boy but it didn’t really seem to pass for Maya anymore. Sure, it had been a year, but she only knew that because Christmas was here again. She wondered if that made her like everyone else, with her hair and fingernails that continued to grow and her lack of surprise when night turned into day, over and over again.


She felt like the same Maya. She felt unchanged, as if her self was persistent and the world moved and grew around her in its own way. Perhaps it would have been different if Baby was still alive.


The only thing that was different was the fact that she wasn’t a little girl anymore. It wasn’t a blatant change that the people in the diner wouldn notice — the girl behind the counter, the tall boy with the beard — but it was definitely a change.


The bruises on her elbows and knees, and the dark circles under her eyes, these were more visible when she was hungry, and tonight she counted four days since she had last eaten. She needed more money. And she needed to eat.


The sweater had been frivolous, Maya could admit that to herself, but the improvement it had made on her mood was more than worth it in her opinion. The coffee tonight had been a dollar which left an even eleven dollars tucked into the back of her winter leggings.


Maya sipped her coffee and tried not to be envious of his plump, pumping arteries. Tall Beard. She could feel the heat of his blood coming off him in waves. The heat seemed to mimic her own want; her terrible, unforgivable need.


No big deal — just two consenting adults who needed what the other had.

Sure, Maya wanted it to be true, but she knew there was no way Tall Beard would consent to what she needed tonight. She was going to have to take it from him.


***


Jayden was tired but his heart seemed to be working harder than his body could manage, and a lot of his blood was funneling straight down to his...


Well. If he was being honest, that had probably started happening as soon as he’d seen her, really. Big dark eyes, with bags above her cheeks that were screaming lack of sleep, dirty bangs across her face, swimming inside a too- big Christmas sweater. There was something about her — like a car crash that you just ached to look at — this girl, with her big eyes; she was a magnet.


The soup was definitely not enough. Jayden bought an egg salad sandwich from behind the spit-guard for $4.50 (it was probably old and dry, but whatever) and wished he was anywhere but this truck stop diner in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere. In less than a day he’d be gone from this place, just like he was gone from every other place, but still.


He was already rock hard in his pants underneath the table when he looked up to see her face, not a foot from his own, as he finished opening the sandwich packaging. How had she come over without him noticing?


“Hi.” She smiled at him, but God, she looked pale enough and weak enough that she might just pass out.


Jayden smiled in reply. "Hi yourself." He motioned for her to sit down opposite him in the booth, which she did. She did not, however, accept the half of his egg sandwich that he offered her.


***


When you have no heart, it’s as if that heart belongs to everyone. And so, Maya’s heart was every man’s heart. But that was really only because men were easier.

There were women out here, in the cold, but it was as if most of them had no intention of exploring their wants or giving in to their urges. Men on the other hand were dripping with need and all Maya had to do was be there.


Just like Carl’s friend had told her.


It had been a night after the boys were all too drunk to remember that she was, in fact, a girl. An average kid, average height, average face, but there had been a glint in his eyes that made her think he was smarter than he let on and perhaps the alcohol only really opened his mouth and let out the words that had already been inside his mind.


“I’ve tested it out,” he had said.


Maya hadn’t understood.


“I’ve tried it, and it worked,” he continued. “Not like, stalker style, but just...you know, texting her on a Friday afternoon, or mid-morning Monday. Times when you know she needs attention. Just be there. Be there.”


Maya had only been half-listening at the time, with her mind on other things (though, she didn’t know then that she was pregnant), but now, these days, she found that it worked. And it worked pretty fucking well.


Just be there.


***


Perhaps it was just because it had been so long since he had been close to someone; touched someone, or felt something other than his own isolation.


Jayden found himself picturing her naked, this girl across from him at the table, looking up at him with big, wet eyes. He wondered what her nipples looked like; if she was shaved; what her skin would feel like underneath his fingers.


He took a long, calm breath and sipped his soup. It must have been Christmas Eve messing with him — making him think of home; making him wish he had a home of his own — a wife, child, dog. A lawn that needed mowing, a garden full of bright colourful flowers, a home cooked meal on the table every night, bacon and eggs in the morning.


All the things that he would never have.


No, he thought. Stop it. All he had to do was rest up, make it through this night, fucking Christmas Eve, and get his load upstate, on time, without incident. Then he’d be done. Home free, as other people said. Ready to chug on to the next job.


***


Maya found it oddly comforting that his truck cab felt more like a home than any other she’d been in. Normally they were littered with greasy crisp packets, empty soda cans, sticky used condoms, crumbs, and shards of broken glass.


But this was different. There was a sturdy blind that pulled down and covered the inside of the windshield blocking out most of the sunlight that had already started to finger it’s way through onto their legs.


The way she was now, Maya could feel everything, but when she touched her fingers to Tall Beard's chin and the sides of his face she was taken aback to find that it was total overload.


His thoughts came flooding in and there was no gate. The kid was an open book of feelings.
Mostly there were images of a small family home. Blurry, angry memories of a father. Tall Beard himself, picking coloured flowers against a brightening morning. There was a girl as well. Soft and curved and smiling, as if she herself, was the actual sun inside his memory. Big, pearly-white teeth; cherry red lips; bright blue eyes that sparkled. A girl — slipping away, fading away; moving her lips, but Maya heard no words.


She knew Tall Beard had lost himself to this girl. Maya knew that Tall Beard's heart had been rendered as useless as her own. She felt sorry for him. She had seen heartbreak before, she had felt it, but this was different somehow.


This was closer and louder.


***


Carl had scrambled on top of her in the motel bed, and, thinking he was on a bender, Maya had given up fighting him. It hurt less if she relaxed.


And then, just as she did, she had felt his teeth. By that point they were sharp and elongated. They opened up her neck and in response, her chest rose in an unintended arc towards him, pulling her upper body away but simultaneously giving him more space to straddle her and get at the hot blood that was running down her neck and into her hair on the sheets underneath her.


Carl. She had pawed at him but he was different. He was strong. Too strong for an addict. Too strong for the pathetic excuse for a human that she knew him to be. His skin was cold against her own and it was as if he was fevered, or pumped full of adrenaline, or something else...


He hadn’t fully drained her that night and then, eventually, she had turned. In the midst of her mindless convulsions Carl had dragged himself out behind the motel and died.


And then it was just Maya and Baby then. Maya. And Baby.

***


Jayden was nervous. His little brain was telling him what he wanted, but at the same time it was hard to think that this tiny pretty girl was anything other than dangerous.


She straddled him with the ease and grace of the experienced, and licked from his collar bone to the edge of his jaw. He was hard — a coiled spring — and he had the strong urge to toss her into the back, get on top, and hold her down while he had his way.


That was wrong though. Merely an urge. Not the way you act around other people. Jayden knew how to act appropriately and that was exactly what he intended to do.
As he let her move on top he noticed that she was lighter than he had anticipated.
She kissed his neck. She kissed his beard. She kissed his lips and then the lids of his eyes. Her pants were off (he hadn’t noticed her taking them off) and she pulled her knickers aside. Jayden could feel with his fingers how wet she was and it only made him realise that he was much closer to an edge he hadn’t noticed before. He wanted to buck up into her. He wanted to push her down and use her. He stopped himself.
This tiny, pretty girl slid herself onto him just as her razor sharp teeth pierced the warm skin of his neck.


Jayden clawed at her shirt trying to detach her from his neck but her hands were suddenly so strong that she had him pinned and he could feel nothing but the warm red blood that slicked out from his carotid.


***


Penetration.


Maya knew it had never been her word, but it was hers in that moment. She had penetrated him.


Her fangs had punctured his soft skin and it was as satisfying as anything she had ever felt. Even more than the first time. She sucked hard, desperate to get her fill, desperate not to waste a single drop. Tall Beard's blood flooded her system; overwhelmed her; set her cool, pale body afire.


The morning Carl had turned her, Maya had been in pain. It was Christmas Eve. Carl died out behind the motel but she woke the next day to a fresh hell that she didn't want any part of. And then she had become hungry. So hungry. Too hungry.
 
She had grown weak.


She had failed.


Failed Baby.


Baby had been her first meal. Tall Beard wouldn’t be her last.

The Maker of Bad Decisions

The Maker of Bad Decisions



    for Billy










Sylvia heard him dump his boots in the hall only just a moment before she could smell the cigarette.

“I need a snack!”

Her husband was drunk. Again.

Sylvia wiped her hands on her apron and attempted to ignore the banging and the cussing that always followed him home from the pub. It wasn’t every day, but it was most days. She had noticed that the closer it got to Christmas, the more days it had been.

“A twelve hour day!” he hollered from the living room, where Sylvia knew he was already slumped in his chair in front of the box.

He shouted at her when he wanted sympathy, love, and everything else, and she hated herself knowing she’d give all of it to him. Despite the shouting. And despite the fact that he was mean — a mean guy who happened to be her husband and the father of her only son.

Sylvia dumped a packet of salted peanuts into a small festive ceramic bowl and filled her lungs with air — trying to float above it. Her life. It, the air, tasted of tobacco. She walked quietly, out of habit, from the kitchen, careful not to disturb the unseen demons. It didn’t matter if they were real or not.

There he sat — Scott, her husband — in his chair and his dirty socks, plump and sweating and reeking of stale beer. He never failed to fill a room, but it was always in an insidious kind of way. As if he was a disease that spread out as soon as he was given the chance.

Sylvia carefully placed the bowl of nuts on the the small table next to his chair and tried to smile. “I thought you were going to pick up Scotty Jr from school today?”

Her husband picked his nose with a fat finger and scoffed at her. “Did you just hear me, woman?”

Sylvia stayed quiet, calm, holding his eyes with her own.

“A twelve-hour-fucking-day and you want me to put my boots back on and go and pick up your son from school, before I even have a fucking snack?!”

“He’s our son,” Sylvia noted, quietly.

Scott burst into a fit of laughter, his jelly-like stomach jiggly grossly, and stuff a handful of peanuts into his mouth.  “Our son?” he shouted. “You get pregnant and squeeze one out and now he’s our son?”

It took all that Sylvia had to resist the urge to bite her lip until it bled — until it hurt and she could dissolve into that pain as opposed to this pain. Her husband continued without prompt.

“A twelve-hour-day. Can he not catch the fucking bus?”

“His leg is broken.”

Sylvia’s husband — Scott — stuffed another handful of peanuts into his wide, greasy mouth, and called her a word that she could never, and will never, repeat.


~~~


Scott was tired. Macmillan had given him an earful over the whole Calthorpe fuck up from last week, and then, he’d copped a speeding ticket on the way back to the warehouse in the afternoon. The last thing he had need was back-chat from the woman.

All he wanted to do was relax in his chair and pretend like this day had never happened.

Scott put his boots back on an stomped (loudly) down the front stairs. The bitch was probably already crying herself hoarse in the bathroom anyway.

He turned the keys in the ignition, but if he was going anywhere, it wasn’t to Sylvia’s son’s school.

Scotty Jr’s school.

Oh no. He wasn't going there.

He knew of a place out behind the local department store that seemed to be open all the time and let pretty much anyone in. Scott parked his truck in the lot behind the store, and checked his cell phone. Two missed calls from Scotty Jr and a short text from Syl.

    Please don’t make him catch the bus. I know you’ve had a long day, but please.

Even her text messages had fucking punctuation. Scott needed another cigarette, so he got out and lit one.

It was cold out but the fresh air on his face was nice and for a moment Scott thought of Scotty Jr, who was probably…

Oh whatever…

The kid was grown; he could fend for himself.

“Hey buddy, I’m afraid you can’t smoke here.”

Scott looked up (well, up…a little bit) to see a midget sitting on the stairs that were bolted to the back of the store. Flanking the little guy, Scott counted five other midgets and no word of a lie, they were all dressed in matching red and green elf costumes, gold bells dangling from the tips of their pointed shoes and hats.

Scott couldn’t help himself — he burst into laughter. It was the laughter of a man who’d had a long day and a few too many beers.

The group of midgets were not impressed but Scott didn’t notice, he was still laughing and lighting another cigarette.

“Seriously though,” continued the first midget who was holding a half-eaten salad sandwich. “If you want to smoke there’s a designated area over there, away from the building, man.” The midget pointed beyond where Scott stood.

“If it’s okay with you, little man, I think I’ll stay right here and finish my Marlborough.”

A midget behind the first one stood up on his step, a similar salad sandwich in his hand. “I think Franklin made it pretty clear that we’re not okay with you smoking anywhere other than the designated area.”

Scott barked out another laugh and in the back of his mind, noticed that his eyes felt heavy and sleepy — perhaps he should have stayed home after all. Or gone to pick up Scotty Jr. Oh well, once he finished his cigarette he was going to get shit-faced at the bar and then maybe sleep in his car.

If only he could get these midgets off —

THWACK!

The blow to the right side of his face seemed to come out of nowhere, but Scott was verging on all-together drunk so it was only really a surprise to him. He didn’t see the second one coming either.

POW!

Scott stumbled back and felt himself unable to stay upright. His butt and lower back hit the ground, hard, and the world spun, as if reality was orbiting his head. On the edge of his vision he could see the midgets were surrounding him. Down on the ground now, where he was, he couldn’t help but think they seemed a lot bigger.

A lot more intimidating.

FWAP!

One of them slapped the back of his head, like you would a naughty child.

“Hey!” Scott was starting to get pissed off. “I’m just going over to the bar across the lot. I didn’t ask for trouble.”

“Mister,” said the first midget, the one who’d told him he couldn’t smoke, “if you came here…you came looking for trouble.”

Scott coughed and there was blood on his hand. He stood up. His cigarettes were strewn across the ground.

A midget with holly embroidered on his buttoned vest stepped forward. “This is our territory, you big oaf.”

Scott coughed again, and laughed again. “This ain’t the North Pole, sonny," he said. Then he laughed once more — at his own joke.

FFFFFSSSHHAK-BLOD!

One of the midgets had launched himself off the ground, tumbled in the air, and landed a punch right to his gut. Scott’s gut. Scott’s soft lower belly.

He crumpled, and even with his eyes closed, he felt the presence of the little guys all around him.

“We asked you nicely.” The voice was behind him.

“We were polite.” This voice was to his left.

The next was right in front of him. “Are you always such a dick, guy?”

Scott did his best to speak over the pain he was holding behind his hands. “If you’re done with this, Fun-Size, I think I’ll go over to the bar now.”

“Oh,” the fist midget laughed, “is that what you think?”

And all Scott knew was a dull THUNK! under his jaw and a strong urge to lean back off the proverbial cliff.

~~~


“Dude, you’re dad’s not coming.”

Scotty shuffled, trying to find a more comfortable position. His cast was itching like crazy today. “Mum said she’d ask him to pick me up today. He’s coming.”

“Dude, no he’s not.”

Scotty knew Gavin would be right in the end, and that there was no point in arguing. Still…

“Dude. Seriously. This is getting old.”

“What?”

Gavin swung his backpack up onto his shoulders. “This. This whole thing where you try to convince yourself that your dad isn’t an absolute cunt.”

Scotty stayed quiet. He hated that word. He also knew Gavin didn’t say that word unless he deemed it necessary; unless he was trying to make a clear point.

The point was made.

Gavin shrugged at Scotty’s silence. “I can give you a lift, dude. If you want?”

Scotty stared down the empty road behind their school and knew that he had never expected to see his father’s car. He had wanted to see it, but he had never really expected it. He sighed and turned awkwardly — he was still getting used to the crutches. “Okay man. I guess you were right. But can we stop and grab a burger?”

“Dude! It’s like you’re in my head sometimes.”

Scotty laughed but it was with half a heart. Maybe food would distract him.

The two boys started their journey to the student lot where Gavin’s second-hand Prius was parked. Scotty hobbled and Gavin walked (considerately slowly) and texted on his phone.

“Love messages to Liz?” Scotty asked.

Gavin paled. “Uh, actually, just letting my dad know I’ll be late.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Sorry. I mean, you can totally share him.”

Scotty laughed. “Thanks man. Your dad is the best. Hey! Remember that time he tried to teach us how to fly fish in the stream when we went camping.”

“Dude! That was such a fail. We are clearly not fishermen in any sense of the word.”

They both laughed. Scotty tripped forwards and almost lost his balance but Gavin was right there with a steady hand pulling him back up by his school shirt.

“I have no idea what made you think you could land that triple without ruining yourself in the first place.”

Scotty fell back into step with his friend. “I dunno man. I guess I just wanted to do something impressive for once.”

Gavin rolled his eyes. “Dude, all of your gymnastics shit is impressive. Trust me. Liz can’t shut the fuck up about how impressive you are.”

Scotty felt a dull blush come to his cheeks.

Gavin quickly changed the subject. “So, burgers and then I drop you home yeah?”

“Uhhh, burgers and then you drop me a street away from my house.”

Gavin made a dramatic sigh. “You still haven’t told your folks that I got my license?!”

Scotty pretended to be sorry. “Hey man, I’m an invalid right now. All I wanted was for them, I mean, for dad, to maybe give half a shit.”

“That’s manipulative, dude. And I fucking love it!”

They fell silent again and the gravel crunched beneath their feet and the ends of Scotty’s crutches.

Gavin eventually broke the silence. “Ok. Burgers and then I drop you a block from you house.”

“Thanks.”

“Can I say something?”

Scotty stopped and looked up. “Of course. But this seems serious.”

“Oh,” said Gavin, “this is deadly serious.” He paused for effect and brushed the hair out of his face. “I bet, right now, that your dad is getting beat up by a bunch of Christmas-clad midgets.”

“What?”

Gavin burst into laughter. “Yeah. Like they’re totally dressed in elf costumes and they’re just beating the shit out of your stupid dad. That’s what I think.”

Scotty laughed as well and wondered if there was any justice in this life. “Gav, you’re a freaking nutbag sometimes.”

You Did So Well

… ‘Sluggish we were
in the sweet air made happy by the sun,
and the smoke of sloth was smoldering in our hearts;

— Dante Alighieri (Canto VII: 121-123)

You Did So Well

~~~

“Where were you last night?” Chuck sounded accusing as he stood in the doorway.
Adrienne didn’t understand, “What?” her hand was still on the door knob.
“I came by and the house was all shut up. You didn’t answer your phone. All the lights were on.” his words pressed against her memory but she couldn’t even recall the previous evening. It was a blank space.
Chuck didn’t wait any longer for an answer and brushed past her into the kitchen, “I’ll put on some coffee.”
Adrienne opened her mouth to respond but thought better of it and closed the door quietly in front of her. In the kitchen she watched him grind the beans and fill the small percolator, setting it on the hob and turning to meet her eyes, finally.
“Addy?”
She forced a smile and said nothing, shuffling over to grab two cups and saucers.
“It’s fucking freezing in here, why don’t you have the heat on?” he grumbled.
She didn’t have an answer.
Chuck turned back to her and crossed his arms over his chest, “What’s wrong?”
“I’m fine,” she insisted.
He looked pointedly at the stove, “Then what happened to dinner?”
Adrienne paled as she followed his gaze and saw a congealed pot of spaghetti and a pan of hardened pasta sauce. A knife sat next to a dried out onion on the bench. She couldn’t remember starting dinner.
“Look if…I’ve done something to upset you, you gotta tell me.” Chuck was looking down at the floor.
“No. No. I don’t know…what’s…”
The percolator whistled and he turned back to it shaking his head.
Adrienne was tired. When had she even woken up? She remembered the ring of the doorbell and feeling like she had only just slipped into bed, still in the thin nightdress that she had no recollection of putting on, especially in the middle of fucking winter. None of this made sense.
He poured two cups and handed one to her without making eye contact. Adrienne felt the air between them heavy with doubt.
“You haven’t done anything wrong,” she felt the words tumble out too quickly.
“Then maybe we’re going too fast?”
“No, we’re not.” Adrienne put her coffee on the bench and moved over to him, “We’re going at just the right speed.”
Her smile seemed to do the trick, because as she leaned into him, he tilted her head up for a chaste kiss.
“I must have fallen asleep. I’m really sorry, work has been stressing me out lately,” it was an almost-truth.
Chuck pulled back to look down at her face, “Yeah, the holidays. I get it.” He broke apart from her then and seemed like he was going to leave.
“You’re off?” she asked tentatively.
“I just wanted to come by to make sure you were still alive.”
“Sorry, again.” She sunk down behind the words.
“No, it’s fine. I was just…..worried. Obviously.”
“Okay, how about I make it up to you tomorrow night then?”
“A proposal?”
“Brandy and chestnuts by the fire. You can help me put up the tree?”
Chuck smiled, “Just make sure you come to the door this time.”
“I’m sorry,” she blushed.
“I’m not going anywhere Addy. I’m just worried that you are.”
“I promise I’ll be here. Tomorrow night. Seven-thirty?”
“It’s a deal.”

Chuck left then, after a brief, awkward moment at the door and Adrienne realised her stomach had been up in her throat from the moment she had opened it to see him standing there. Why was she wearing just a slip? Why was the heat off? Admittedly, she didn’t feel cold.
Upstairs in the bathroom she could see the bags under her eyes in the mirror. She felt tired…far too tired. After washing her face she trudged back downstairs to the kitchen and started a fresh pot of coffee. Staring out the kitchen window she saw proof that there had been snow the previous night; the night she still couldn’t remember. It was at least four inches and covered the front drive and the field that lay out to the side of her house and stretched out back all the way to the woods.
She didn’t bother with breakfast: she wasn’t hungry, anyway— if nothing else, she felt a strange lack of any kind of urge, as if she was somehow content. Though her mind didn’t feel content at all.
Out on the front porch she nursed her coffee and inspected the fresh powder. Chuck’s boot prints were pretty much the only disturbance. After a while she noticed Mrs Cleary was waving from her porch across the street — well it wasn’t so much a street as it was the long stretch of road that passed between their houses; the only two houses for 10 miles in both directions.
Adrienne rolled her eyes to herself and stuffed her feet into her boots that sat by the front door. Apparently her morning was going to get even longer. Coffee still in hand, she made it to Mrs Cleary’s yard and across the stretch of path up to where the yellow roses still insisted on blooming underneath the snow.
“Good morning Mrs Cleary. Everything okay?”
The older woman was leaning over the porch railing, wild-eyed and worried, “I can’t seem to find Toby dear. Have you seem him this morning?”
“No sorry, I haven’t.”
“It’s just…he normally comes down for breakfast before college. He’s not upstairs and I didn’t hear him leave.”
“Perhaps he ducked out early, before you woke?”
“Yes, perhaps.” Mrs Cleary looked around as if she might see him at any moment, seemingly unconvinced that he had left without breakfast.
Adrienne sipped her coffee and tried to smile as comfortingly as she could.
“Good merciful Lord girl, where’s your jacket?” Mrs Cleary finally glanced down from the porch to notice that Adrienne was wearing only a slip and her boots.
She laughed, “Don’t worry Mrs C., it’s just winter weight keeping me warm.” That was a lie. If anything, she’d lost weight. In the last few weeks she’d dropped eight kilos without even trying. But what did it matter? It was probably just work.
The old woman shook her head, but when she looked up her eyes were suddenly bright, “Won’t you come in for some tea dear? I have a lovely cardigan that you could borrow.”
Oh God, “Thanks Mrs C., but I’ve got to get back, lots of work to do today.” Adrienne smiled, waved and turned in one fluid motion to trace her path back across the road. She did actually have work to do and a kitchen mess that needed to be cleaned up.
Back inside with the heat on she did have to admit that she felt marginally better. Leaving her boots by the door, she slipped on some socks and took a deep breath, readying herself to face the kitchen. She dumped the pasta and the sauce in the bin and shook her head at the waste. In the sink the water ran freezing over the dirty pans and Adrienne heard the faint sound of her phone vibrating somewhere. She turned off the faucet and listened — she eventually found it face down on the living room floor. Maybe she’d dropped it there last night?
There was a message from Chuck and she tapped the screen to open it.

    hey, sorry i snapped this morning. i was just worried. but now…can’t stop thinking about you in your pjs. x

Adrienne couldn’t help but smile, she probably even blushed at the relief she felt. She typed a response: 

    i’m the one who should apologise! but i’m glad you came by. see you on friday night x

Adrienne hit send before her nerves could fail her. She hoped her reply was in the right place between long and short; needy and stable. She jumped as the phone buzzed in her hand — her heart raced:

    oh…now it will be all i can damn well think about ;)

Adrienne grinned to herself and tossed the phone down onto the couch, she didn’t dare send anything in return too terrified that she’d embarrass herself. She liked Chuck. A lot. They’d only been dating for two weeks now and she wasn’t even sure if that was the right word. This was as slow as she’d ever taken things — they had kissed and she had almost buckled into her old way, but in the end she had managed to stop herself and they hadn’t yet gone further. She was proud of herself, but God in heaven if she was honest, she was aching for it. She knew Chuck was as well.
That said, he’d always seemed cautious about it; he’d never initiated anything and though it had been just two weeks they’d seen each other almost every other day. Adrienne blanched as she realised maybe that’s why he had been so upset this morning — when she hadn’t answered the door last night. Perhaps he had though it would be the night, and that she had backed out.
Oh fuck. She picked up the phone again and typed quickly as her stomach dropped out of her.

    me too :-) i think we’ve waited long enough

Chuck’s reply was almost immediate.

    agreed x

She managed to breathe again.

Back in the kitchen she washed the pans and opened the windows to rid the room of the smell of garlic. It was 8:30am according to the clock radio on the bench. She really needed to sit down and finish the specs for her current project — she was already a few days behind and the regional managers was enough of a dick on a good day.
Adrienne put on some sweats and her glasses and hunkered down at her desk in the back room with another cup of coffee, determined to concentrate. She actually felt quite focused after a while. The drawing board filled with hard work and eventually it was midday. She still didn’t feel hungry but figured her brain needed something to keep up the work.
She fried a couple of eggs and cooked up some mushrooms but in the end as she sat down to eat she just couldn’t be bothered. After a few minutes of absent-mindedly forking her egg yolks into a mess, Adrienne heard her phone buzzing on the desk. It was a call — she went back to check it. The screen said it was ‘Gavin (RM - dick)’. She sighed and gave in.
“Hi Gav.”
“Adrienne.”
“How are you?”
“Are the specs for C block done?”
Jesus, “I’ve just finished them now, I’ll email them through as soon as the files upload.”
“And the floor plans?” he cut every word off.
“I’m working on them. The last minute changes really set me back — and it’s the holidays,” Adrienne did her best to keep her tone even and pleasant.
“Well, I’ll need the hard copies today.”
She hesitated, then said, “I’ll courier them over as soon as I’m done.”
“No. That’ll be too late. I’ll drive over to get them this afternoon.” — it wasn’t a question.
“Okay great.” The fake smile that pinched between her cheeks was purely for herself. She heard the call disconnect and rolled her eyes. Asshole.
Adrienne dumped her plate of uneaten lunch into the kitchen trash and returned to her desk. Floors needed to be planned. She only stopped a moment in the hall to consider pressing the blade of a kitchen knife into the soft skin of her inner thigh — the moment eventually passed.

~~~

It was just on sundown when she woke up on the floor of the living room on her back. Someone was knocking at the front door. Adrienne hauled herself up with a groan and stumbled through the hall. What the actual fuck?
Before she had time to fully fall into the confusion she was feeling, the knock came again. Her sock (she noticed she was now only wearing one) and the bottom of her sweat pants were wet.
Mrs Cleary looked up as the door opened and the worry in her face was all too clear. “I’m sorry to come over so late dear, but Toby hasn’t come home today.”
Adrienne was still trying to right herself as she looked around and out into the night, attempting to find the words she needed. Some of them eventually came, “It is the season Mrs C. Maybe he went out with friends or something and forgot to tell you?”
The old woman wrung her hands together, “Do you think I should call the police?”
“Maybe not just yet. Have you tried Toby’s phone?”
Mrs C nodded, “Yes, it rings but then goes to voicemail.”
Adrienne scrubbed a hand across her face; she’d lost time again and she didn’t need to be dealing with this bullshit again — today. “I’d say give him a little space perhaps. He’s in college after all.”
At that comment Mrs C looked guilty but seemed to lighten a little. She nodded and sighed.
Adrienne was done, “I’m really sorry but I have to get back to work Mrs C.”
“Oh, sorry dear. I…okay. I’ll be off then, but please do let me know if you see him or hear from him.” With reluctance Mrs C turned to leave.
Adrienne watched her go and shut the door, leaning back against it with relief that quickly turned to worry. She searched her mind for the afternoon — work, the call from Gavin, more work — that was all she could remember. Had this really happened again? She wondered if she was ill or something. She didn’t feel ill. Was this what a brain tumour felt like?
She stripped off her wet pants and single sock, dumped them in the hall and grabbed her phone from where it still lay on her desk. No missed calls. No texts. It was just on 10.00pm. She figured Gavin had decided the floor plans could wait a day, though that was very unlike him. She sure as hell wasn’t going to call him to ask about it.
Adrienne inspected the living room for any sign of — well, she didn’t know what exactly. In her sweater and knickers she unplugged her laptop and brought it through to the kitchen table. She opened the bottle of cheap Cabernet that had been collecting dust next to the spice rack and googled 'blackouts + lost time'. The results made her already unsettled disposition spiral further away from her. Bipolar disorder, epilepsy — the more she read the less she felt any closer to an explanation. The wine helped a little, but soon she closed up her computer and drummed her fingers on the table in frustration. Maybe she was just losing her mind. People went crazy all the time right? — could she be one of them…
It was possible, and as she poured another glass she was considering it with a furrowed brow. She needed a shower.
Adrienne took her wine to the bathroom and ran the water. The ceiling lamp flickered off and on a few times before it died and left her in darkness. Great, just what she needed at this point. Luckily a few old, half burned candles sat on top of the toilet cistern. She lit them and lifted off her sweater. In the mirror her face looked thin and pale. She leaned closer — there was dirt and grit in her hairline. She hadn’t been outside; couldn’t remember being outside, at least. She stepped back again, swaying in the dim yellow light; the wine was going to her head. Her mind felt murky and didn’t fully register the yellow-green bruise on the front of her shoulder as she stepped away from the mirror and got into the shower.
Adrienne washed her hair, drifted, sipped her wine, and set it back down on the bottom ledge of the shower. She traced a finger down the line of tattoo that ran the length of her torso and upper left leg. Most days she forgot she even had it — a reminder to stay upright and subdued — but it had worked when she’d needed it in the past. Yes, the past. Most of which she would prefer to forget. Adrienne was feeling it again as the water fell down around her; that spark of electricity that traveled from the base of her spine up to the back of her neck and then out and down to her finger tips. She pressed herself against the wall in resistance. Her teeth drew blood from her bottom lip and the taste was enough to snap her back. She shut off the water hurriedly and got out, dripping; shaking.
In bed, the tedium of real life seemed to come down over her heavily as she realised she was tired and had plenty to do tomorrow. The tree was ordered but she still had to drive into town to pick it up, along with more firewood and some groceries and things.

~~~

In the morning she woke early, made a pot of coffee and booked the courier for the floor plans that Gavin needed. She hadn’t heard from him but it was only 6:30am, so she figured there was still time for him to ruin her day. Adrienne was tempted to text Chuck (she was already jittery with anticipation) but stopped herself due to the hour. Patience.
Taking the truck she drove into town along the snowy road and listened to the radio crackle out cheesy Christmas tunes. Jimmy was smoking a cigarette and leaning against the gate as she pulled up. He winked and watched her jump out of the truck.
“Morning Addy.”
“Morning. Jimmy,” she was unable to stop her smile.
“I’ve put aside a nice big one for you this year.” He was teasing, so she didn’t respond.
Instead, she smiled politely and walked around to unlock the truck’s tray. Jimmy stepped out his cigarette on the gravel and continued to crack wise at her as they trailed their way through the tree yard in between the firs on display until they found what he had been talking about. Her tree was magnificent — bushy and a lovely deep green — all tied up neatly in the back. The two of them carried it out to the gate. When they were done, Jimmy paused and leant on the edge of the truck, “Got plans for tonight?” he asked slyly.
“Actually, yes.” She said, trying to keep her expression as neutral as possible.
His eyes narrowed but kept their sparkle, “”What’s his name then?”
Adrienne raised a brow, “It’s way too early in the morning, Jimmy. Thanks for the tree.” She smiled and handed him the money from her pocket.
He took it but pressed her nonetheless, “When are we gonna be up for round two? I’ve only ever had eyes for you, Addy.”
The blood rushed up into her cheeks and Adrienne quickly brushed past him to jump in and start the engine. He shrugged and lit another cigarette as she closed the door.
“Merry Christmas Jimmy.”
He sighed and waved, “You too Addy. Think of me, yeah?”
She ignored his final request, but as she drove away toward the hardware store she found her mind wandering to places that it shouldn’t. A faint sweat pressed out through the skin stretched across her lower back.

~~~

She picked up a couple of crates of firewood from the store and dropped into Glenda’s for a bag of chestnuts, a bottle of brandy and a box of stone fruit. By the time she drove home it was almost 11.00am. Her phone rang on the passenger seat — it was Chuck.
“Hiya.”
“Hey there,” he paused, “how are you?”
She laughed quietly, “Nervous.”
Adrienne heard him hum in agreement, “We still on for tonight?” there was doubt in his voice.
“Definitely. I’m just getting home now.”
“Oh, you’re not working today?”
She pulled into the driveway and it started snowing lightly, “Nah, I finished up last night, I…” — I woke up on the fucking floor and might have a brain tumour.
“Addy? You all good?”
“Sorry, yeah.” She settled a little into the seat, tried to grab back the normality she’d felt a second ago, “It’s snowing again.”
“Yeah, this side of town as well. Jack told us not to come in.”
Adrienne smiled to herself, pondered, and then — “You could come over now?”
There was a moment of silence and she felt the blood drain from her head and shoulders.
Eventually Chuck coughed awkwardly down the phone line, “Right now?”
“Uhh, yeah? I’m going to go out back and split the firewood, but I mean, if we’re both off work today?”
“I’ll get my boots,” he rushed the words out.
Adrienne covered her laugh with a hand.
“Oh god, that sounded too eager, didn’t it?”
Hand away, she let the laugh escape, “It’s just a suggestion. Though…I’d love to see you.”
“Okay,” Chuck seemed to relax, “Okay, I’ll get some beers and see you in twenty?”
“Don’t take too long,” Adrienne smiled at her own confidence.
“I promise I won’t.”
“See you soon,” she said, and hung up, not trusting her nerves to hold out any longer. Adrienne slipped the phone into the breast pocket of her puffy vest and jumped out of the truck.
Getting the tree into the house by herself was a mission and ended in a broken window and copious amounts of snow tracked into the hall. She lugged the firewood out behind the house and came back around the kitchen side to grab her axe from the tool box. Adrienne noticed her shovel was resting against the wall of the house — that was odd; she never left it out for fear of rust in the snow.
Around on the front porch she sat down to sharpen her axe but a quick guilt came over her as she looked across to the Cleary’s and saw no light on in the front window — there was always a light on. Adrienne set down the axe, grumbling to herself as she dragged her feet through the snow over to Mrs Cleary’s front door.
She knocked, “Mrs C.?” the call didn’t elicit a response. Feeling remorseful about the previous night, she knocked again and when it remained silent she walked around and tried the back door. It was locked, and the mottled glass in the window only allowed her to see blurred blobs of colour. Maybe Mrs C had gone out shopping or something; admittedly it was only a few days until Christmas and the old bird had quite a few grandchildren.
Adrienne eventually gave up and crossed the road back home. She’d forgotten for a moment that Chuck was coming and as it sprung up in her mind again, so did her nerves. It was probably excited anticipation more than anything but it was making her feel ill. Inside, she changed her shirt and put her vest back on. A little makeup and a comb through her bangs — she felt no better. Out in the back yard it continued to snow as she cleared a space around the chopping stump and dusted of a couple of seats that sat near the fire pit.
Sharpening the axe was a careful and grounding task that she’d always enjoyed and today it was a welcome distraction. She must have gotten lost in it though, because when she finally looked up, it was to see Chuck standing by the back door watching her with a smile.
“Hiya. You know your front door is unlocked right?”
Adrienne felt her cheeks warm, “Hah, oops. I didn’t hear you drive in.”
“Are you feeling better today?” Chuck asked as he took a few careful steps toward her.
She smiled, “I literally have no idea.” It was the truth, “I’m sure I’ll feel better after one of those.” Her eyes flicked down to the beers in his hand.
He laughed a little and closed the distance between them, holding a bottle out to her. “The woods are amazing in the snow,” he commented as he looked past her out across the field.
It was true — Adrienne had bought the house in winter the year before. The isolation and the woods beyond the field had had a strong impact on her decision. In the summer she’d made a habit of walking across the long grass and down to the tree line of the woods and lying down to stare up and see only the sky and the very tops of the firs. Sometimes it was as if she felt drawn out there somehow.
She opened the beer and watched Chuck as he nestled the rest of the bottles into the snow and sat down.
“I’m glad you came.”
“Me too.” He leant forward and tapped their drinks together.

They took turns splitting the fire wood but neither of them said very much. Things were still a little tense — though Adrienne felt good to be outside — as if whatever had upset their balance was drifting up into the air away from them. When they were done they stacked the wood up against the back of the house, keeping a few logs for the moment, and walked side by side around to the front door. They left their snowy boots on the mat and hovered for an awkward moment in the hall, then shared a mutual, breathy laugh.
“There’s a crate of fruit in the kitchen if you want to put some in a bowl and start a fire?”
“Ok, cool.”
“I’m going to duck up and get the baubles and stuff.” Adrienne turned and practically darted up the stairs. Her heart was racing again. She stopped as she rounded the corner and pressed her back up against the wall. You’re acting like a fucking school girl. She took a measured breath and pictured the line down her body. The world stopped swimming long enough for her to hear Chuck from downstairs,
“Addy, brandy?”
She swallowed, “Yeah. Next to the spice rack near the window.”
She collected the box of decorations from the top shelf of the linen closet and descended the stairs quietly and slowly this time. Chuck was trying to light the logs in the fire place — two snifters of brandy and the fruit bowl sat on the floor next to him. Clearly he hadn’t heard her come back down because he was berating himself quietly and she could see his hand shaking.
“Oh, come on you motherfucker. Seriously, why won’t you light?” he fumbled for another match.
Adrienne silently stifled a laugh behind him.
Chuck went on, oblivious, “I swear, I will cry if you don’t light. I will literally fucking cry.”
“You won’t really cry, will you?”
He jumped at her words. She grinned as she watched him turn to see her, and then he sat back letting the box of matches fall to the floor in front of his crossed lets. “Oh god.”
She winked at him, “Let’s get this tree up before your day release is over.”
Chuck drew in a breath and stood up, “I’ll die of embarrassment before I get back to the ward.”
She laughed then and dumped the box of decorations on the floor. He was nervous — knowing that actually helped her relax. They undid the strings around the branches and stood the tree in the corner next to the fire place. The decorations were all hand-me-downs; mismatched, broken, some were the most hideous colours. Adrienne noticed that he didn’t comment, just sat down next to the box with his brandy and a plum and, seemingly lost in thought, handed bauble after bauble up to her.
She made careful work of distributing the shiny ornaments here and there on the branches while pretending to ignore the electricity she felt every time her fingertips brushed against his. Eventually the box was empty and so were their glasses. Adrienne ushered Chuck over to the couch and sank to her haunches to start the fire. It didn’t take long — she kind of had a knack for stuff like this — looking after herself, chopping wood, fixing the dodgy wiring.
“All done,” she said as she blew on the initial flames and crouched up closer to the iron grill. She had almost forgotten her nerves — almost — until she felt Chuck standing behind her. When she looked up he was holding a hand down to her and she took it and stood up. At the same time her heart leapt into her throat and she attempted to swallow around it, “More brandy?”
He shook his head and held eye contact. Leaning down to her, he pressed a soft kiss between their lips and as he pulled away again she heard the fire crackle to life. Her self control burnt away with the wood; disappearing into ash and smoke. She wrapped her arms around his neck and their mouths met in a messy kiss opposing of everything they’d let themselves do up to this point.
Adrienne pressed her hips into his and felt him harden against her. This was finally it — the undoing; the collapse.
When she broke the kiss she heard him struggle to take in a shuddering breath. She wanted him more than ever in that moment and pushed him with force back toward the couch. Chuck stumbled, caught off guard, and shot her a surprised look. She bit her lip and moved forward, spreading a hand out on his chest to sit him down.
Adrienne couldn’t believe the urgency she felt, nor could she wait any longer. Unzipping her jeans with hast she held his eyes as she slipped them off. She straddled him and felt his hands come up on her waist, still shaky but curious. Fingers under his chin lifted it for another kiss and she felt his need underneath her. He reached up to undo her vest and wrangle it off her along with the button-through, leaving just her singlet and knickers
“Oh fuck.” He didn’t seem to realise he’d said it out-loud, but he had, and it was enough to bring her ache to a peak that she couldn’t ignore.
Fumbling underneath herself she undid the buttons on his pants and freed him, at the same time leaning forward and licking inside his mouth which was now slack and open. Chuck groaned into her and spread his hands out across her back and down to where he skin was exposed. She pulled her knickers aside and felt the heat of his yearning.
This time he was louder, “Oh fuck.”
That was all Adrienne needed and she pushed herself down to take all of him. She settled a moment before she pulled up and slid back down, watching Chuck eye’s glaze over and his mouth open slightly. She moved in earnest then; with intention, brushing her hands softly across the stubble on his face and becoming aware of he quickening heart rate. He was close — she could feel it, and she was as well — it had built for weeks and now, here, as she moved on him and felt the fabric of the couch against her knees, the heat of it curled at the base of her spine and rippled down her legs.
“Addy…I’m…”
She could barely breathe the words, “I know.” Adrienne felt the tide slide over her — she tightened and shuddered and buckled in on him pressing her face into his neck as she came. He followed close behind, his hand gripping her hips wot the point of pain.
It was all over as quickly as that, and they were both left shaking and panting and prickling with sweat in the cold house.
“Jesus Christ,” the words were ragged when they finally escaped him.
Adrienne opened her mouth to respond but nothing came out. After another pitiful breath she lifted up off him and slid a leg to the floor. Chuck stopped her mid-movement and pulled her close.
She leaned into him, “I’m sorry.”
“I was not expecting that. I don’t think sorry is the right word though.”
She could feel his heart beating through his chest but out of sync with her own. He turned his head and pressed a kiss to the skin below her belly button. Chuck kept an arm wrapped around her as he took his shirt off with his other hand and used it to clean her up and set her knickers back in place. Adrienne attempted to hide how exposed she felt.
“That was so quick, I don’t know what came over me…” she reached up to touch the sweat at the back of her neck.
Chuck cleaned himself off as well and tossed his damp shirt to the floor. He looked up to meet her eyes, “Are you kidding? That was amazing. We’d waited so long…I’m not really surprised.”
She laughed, “I’m spent.”
Chuck pulled her down to lie her back flush against him, “You okay?”
Adrienne let herself nestle back into his warmth, “Yeah.”
“You gotta work tomorrow?”
“Not sure yet.”
There was an awkward pause/silence before she realised what his unspoken question was. She voiced it for him, “Do you want to stay tonight?”
She felt him kiss her shoulder blade and smile against her skin, but still, he didn’t answer.
“Or, you don’t have to…” had she pushed him too far?
Chuck laughed then and ran his hand down her back and in behind the top of her knickers, “Only if you promise to fuck me like that again in the morning.”
She chuckled, “I can’t promise anything.”
Standing up finally and stoking the fire, Adrienne couldn’t help but smile ridiculously to herself.
“I’m pretty sure you promised me brandy and chestnuts…”
“That I did,” she turned and saw him doing up his fly awkwardly on the couch, “Did that really just happen?”
“I have no idea,” he admitted with a smile.
Adrienne picked up a nectarine from the fruit bowl and tossed it to him, “I’ll get the chestnuts if you pour more brandy.”
“Wait up,” Chuck scrubbed a hand up through the back of his hair and sat forward on the edge of the couch, “I just…can I ask, those scars on your legs..”
She stopped and looked at the tree, avoiding his eyes as she answered, “It was a while ago. It’s over now, I promise,” she wished she had more clothes on.
“Shit, I’m sorry. That was rude, it’s none of my business,” he back-pedalled.
“It’s fine, honestly — you can ask me whatever you like.”
He laughed, “Okay, then why are we both still so nervous?”
“Well I clearly have a history, what’s your excuse?”
It took a moment for him to realise she was teasing, but then he laughed and bent to pick up his dirty shirt.
“I’ve got an old pair of men’s pants somewhere — I’ll go and find them. You can chuck all your shit in the washer next to the study.”
“Thanks,” he caught his lip between his teeth, “uhhh, would it be okay if I had a shower?”
Adrienne relaxed a little, “Go ahead.

Upstairs she heard the water run as she rifled through the blanket box for the pair of her father’s pyjamas that she kept only for the sentimental value. They were threadbare but looked about the right size. She carefully opened the bathroom door (which had never closed properly since she bought the house, anyway) and scooped up Chuck’s clothes, replacing them on the floor with the pants.
She waited downstairs until she heard the water stop, and then turned on the washer. Realising she was still only in her knickers and shirt, she picked a faded purple house dress from the basket of clean laundry, wishing she had something longer that would cover her scars.
It was too late for that though; she heard Chuck cough behind her and when she turned she saw him leaning against the hallway wall, the pyjama pants slung low on his hips.
“Thanks,” he said, arms crossed over his chest.
“You’re welcome.”

They sat cross-legged in front of the fire for the next few hours talking about books and their pasts and other bullshit, slowly working their way through the brandy and jumping every time one of the chestnuts split open on the grill over the fire. Eventually Chuck spread the blanket from the couch out in front of the weakening flames and they curled up together just as the sun was going down.
“This was the best day in forever, Addy.” Chuck said, and she couldn’t help but think he was right.

~~~

Adrienne couldn’t remember falling asleep and as she sat up in bed, realising she was naked next to a similarly naked Chuck, she felt the same murky confusion that she had the last few times she’d woken up. This was not a good sign.
The heat must have been on because the sheets were soaked through with her sweat. She got up and flicked off the thermostat — maybe Chuck had turned it on in the night. Light was filtering in slanted lines through the blinds. It was morning; the alarm clock said 5.17AM. Adrienne felt a bit shit — correction: she felt sore. She rifled through a drawer for some clothes and saw Chuck sitting up on the bed out of the corner of her eye.
“Is it morning?” he mumbled.
“Apparently so,” she answered, immediately realising it had come off a little too blunt, “Shit, sorry, that was…I just. Fuck.”
“Addy relax,” Chuck shifted to sit up, “Jesus, you’re sweating like crazy.”
He was right; she could feel it running down her back and beading on her neck. “It’s just the heat,” she said as she pulled a sweater from the drawer. “I think the brandy must have been too much for me last night. Sorry for….for whatever I did.”
“Do you not remember?”
She turned to see only concern on his face and shook her head as she held the sweater against her chest in reticence.
He smiled softly, “Well, I guess we did almost finish the bottle.”
“And then?” she asked, turning back around to the dresser to slip the sweater over her head.
Chuck said nothing
Adrienne braced herself on the dresser and tried not to hyperventilate at the realisation that she’d lost time again. She heard Chuck moving on the bed.
“Please come here and talk to me Addy,” he sounded worried and she felt instantly guilty.
She went to him — Chuck was sitting on the edge of the bed and pulled her in close, taking her hands between his own.
“Something is going on and you’re not going to tell me, are you?” he held her in a hug and rested his chin on her sweater, catching her eyes.
Adrienne only gave him a wry smile — how was she going to explain what had been ‘going on’. She didn’t even know. Chuck pushed his hand up between the fabric of her sweater and the skin on her back, “Why’d you put this on if you’re hot.”
“I’m embarrassed.”
“Why?” he asked as he pulled back from her, his brow pinched with concern. That was when she saw the bruises on his neck and shoulder and the words escaped her unfiltered, “Holy shit, did I do that?”
He raised an eyebrow, “It was…a little hectic.”
Adrienne put a hand over her mouth; tried to pull away from him.
“Hey hey,” he circled an arm around her to stop her escape, “I liked it. I’m pretty sure you really like it as well.” He looked up again as he ran his other hand up her inner thigh and let his fingers find their way to where she was still wet.
Adrienne steadied her hand on his shoulders as Chuck shifted a knee in between her legs, pushing them apart slightly. The sheet was still wrapped around his waist but she could tell he was silently screaming for her.
He started, “Addy..”
“You don’t have to ask.”
His eyes turned dark with want and he only paused for a second before he pulled her down and flipped them so she was on her back. Chuck kissed her as he pushed inside, hooking a hand under one of her knees and stilling a moment, his breathing suddenly strained as he slowly pulled back out of her.
“I think we’re going to use each other up,” he noted, not moving.
She laughed, finally giving in to the hot, crackling air between them, “I can go for miles yet.”
Chuck groaned and pushed into her again.

~~~

The day was lost to sleepy conversation and cups of coffee that ended up cold and congealed on the nightstand.

~~~

“Should we go for a walk out back?” Chuck was standing at the sink washing dishes.
Adrienne stared at her glass of wine, “Sorry, what?”
“Out to the woods. I know it’s late, but you’re always saying how nice it is.”
Adrienne looked around her — had they eaten? — she couldn’t remember cooking. She looked down to find that she was wearing just the sweater and a different pair of knickers. At the sink Chuck wore the pants she’d leant to him. Neither of them had shoes on.
She sipped her wine, the glass was warm and mostly full, “That’s in the summertime.”
“Okay. Sorry, you just seemed bored at dinner — you didn’t eat anything. I thought maybe you wanted to be somewhere else.”
Her stomach dropped, “I don’t, I just…you know what, that’s perfect. Let’s get our boots. Forget about that,” she gestured to the sink and stood up.

The fire had gone out but they reignited it before they left. Out in the cold night their boots crunched the fresh snow and puffs of steam pushed out in front of them into the air. About half way across, Chuck stopped. He was breathing hard and whatever he wanted to say was going to have to wait a minute. Adrienne waited patiently, adjusted her vest and looked up at the moon — it was full and bright, perfectly round against the dark sky.
“I think I love you,” he said, still clearly out of breath.
She looked back down from the sky and met his eyes, “You can’t know that.”
His voice came out in a breathy laugh, “Don’t tell me what I know.”
Adrienne stood up and moved to him, circling her arms around his waist.
He continued, “I know this is new — and things…have been weird — but yesterday, today, I haven’t felt this good in years Addy. It’s because of you.”
She melted, amidst the snow, and turned her head to press a cheek to his chest.

They walked the rest of the way to the edge of the woods and flopped down onto the snow. The night was cold but not enough to force them home straight away. So — an hour later, Adrienne was curled against Chuck, watching the moon and not really listening to his stories about work and how to barbecue perfect steaks. A yawn escaped her but he didn’t seem to notice. Adrienne felt content.
The moment lasted and nothing loomed or threatened to ruin the last perfect hour. Her head moved with the rise and fall of Chuck’s chest as he rambled on — fly fishing and Mafia films — and her heavy-lidded eyes fluttered closed and open over and over again.

~~~

She was on the couch under the knitted blanket Mrs Cleary had made for her when she had moved in last year. The heat was off and for the first time in weeks, Adrienne actually felt cold. She sat up stiffly and saw her clothes and boots in a pile on the floor. She was swearing just her sweater and knickers again. Fingers pressing into the bridge of her nose she stood up and felt a groggy haze wash over her.
Had Chuck left?
In the kitchen the clock said it was coming up to 2AM. Chuck’s car keys were still on the kitchen table. Adrienne poured a glass of water and downed it — the washing up sat in stagnant sink water.
She padded barefoot around the house. He wasn’t in the bedroom or the bathroom. She called out once and felt immediately silly (and worried) when there was only silence. Back in the bedroom she looked in the mirror only to see a long, dark purple bruise along her jawline. She touched it but the pain felt muted; far away. She pulled her sweater off over her head and experienced a stinging heat as the fabric brushed against her left arm — and there, half naked in her ice-cold room, Adrienne looked down to see the words literally burnt into the soft skin from elbow crook to inner wrist:

    hai fatto così bene

A light touch proved they were real and painful. She’d studied Italian at high-school and it didn’t take much for her to decipher it — you did so well —
Adrienne stumbled downstairs, found her phone on the kitchen bench and called Chuck. No answer. At that point she wasn’t surprised, simply frustrated. She put on fresh clothes and tried him again — it rang out so it must have been turned on still. In the living room she put her outdoor coat back on and continued to try Chuck’s phone as she squinted out past the archway into the kitchen and through the window over at the Cleary’s place; still not a single light was on. Adrienne made a mental note to call the Sheriff in the morning (and lodge a report or something - whatever you were supposed to do). As she hit redial again, the blood under her nails finally caught her attention, it was dark and dried and also lining the creases of her knuckles. Mind reeling at each new, inexplicable piece of insanity that presented itself, she tried to think how well she really knew Chuck.
He was new in town but everyone seemed to like him. They’d met at Joe’s coffee house in the main drag and he’d seemed so — normal — though still she had declined his (very subtle) advances, afraid of her past, afraid of her brutal lows, afraid of the hole she sometimes ended up in. Then, a few weeks ago they’d bumped into each other in one of the aisles at Glenda’s market, both of them looking for taco spice.
So that night they’d shared Mexican food in her kitchen and Chuck has cracked bad jokes through the mesh of his nerves, and Adrienne has swooned nonetheless. He was cute, had a job, and had just barely kissed her that first night. But — she didn’t know much about him, or where he’d moved from, only that work had brought him to her town and he was living on the other side of town in the industrial district. She didn’t know anything tangible — it was all just superficial bullshit. Was there something she had missed? Something big and dark and bad?
She leant against the sink trying to fit all the pieces together.
A crash from the back of the house made her jump in fright — Adrienne was close to not being able to take anymore. She peered around the wall and into the hallway to see her shovel lying on the ground near the back door. She hadn’t brought it inside; hell she hadn’t used it since…when? Two, three days ago to clear some snow maybe.
you did so well…
She decided then to go and look out back for Chuck, maybe he’d stayed out or…something…
Adrienne realised she was probably kidding herself but she put on her boots either way and up-righted the shovel as she stepped through the back door into the cooling night. It swarmed around over her and into the house. She hadn’t expected to see him out in the yard but it would have made her feel a lot better.
Out past the fire pit and the chairs she could see a single set of footprints in the snow that lead across the field but their direction was towards the house. Steady snow fell around her and the prints were visible enough that they must have been fresh. As she came to the first one, Adrienne fit her boot into it neatly — it wasn’t the fact she’d come back to the house that concerned her; it was the lack of a second set of footprints. Maybe he’d stayed out there, near the woods.
She scanned her eyes along the line of trees and the closer she got, the easier it became to see the disturbed patches of earth where some of the snow had been moved away. Adrienne followed her own footprints to find they made a beeline for that place — where the trees seemed thicker, closer together, with heavier branches.
you did so well…
The snowfall continued and by the time she’d made it across the field, there was a fairly thorough layer blanketed over the earth. Still, it wasn’t thick enough to disguise the row of four rectangles in the dirt that had clearly been filled in with loose soil.
Something glinted in the moonlight catching her eye — it was small and silver and rested on top of the plot at the far left. She bent to look and found it was a watch: dirty, with dark stains on the face. Turning it over in her hands she silently read the engraving on the band…

    ~ Toby J. Cleary ~

Adrienne felt her heart beat jump up and down in her chest. She didn’t want to know what, if anything, was on top of the other rectangles; the other…graves? She didn’t want to know, but she did know that there were other things. She didn’t want to know what they were, but she had to. She didn’t want to know anything anymore.
On the next plot, hidden completely under the snow, was a scratched up gold wedding ring. The initials inside were 'G + M' — Gavin’s? She didn’t really need to ask the question.
 Her shaky hands fumbled to find a pair of glasses folded on the next plot; they were faded blue plastic — they were most certainly Mrs Cleary’s.
Adrienne bent, unsteady and nauseated, at the last plot — and right there in the fresh dirt, was Chuck’s phone. She swiped it on and saw the missed calls from herself. The only other app that was active was his picture reel and she flicked it open. The latest photo was one of the two of them, lying in the snow and looking up into the camera. She saw her eyes; pupils obsidian black and blown to the absolute edges of the whites.
you did so well…
She dropped the phone and stood up, abruptly backing away from that place. That place with the…graves. She could barely bring herself to picture the word but it forced it’s way into her mind.
She wanted to run. Wanted to —
Frozen in place, she felt a wind pick up around her and Adrienne turned to see a towering dark figure standing at the other end of the edge of the wood. It was tall and muscular, but without a discernible face, and had horns like trees growing up from it’s head. Before she could even register her own fear she heard the figure hiss her name — right next to her face —

    Aaaaadriennnnnnnnne….

She was stuck as if in a vice grip. The next time the figure spoke, it was a whispered question —

    Aaadriennnnnnnnne, my sweeeeeeet. How can you still be sooo saaaad?

She stared at the dark figure and felt something forcing it’s way up her throat. Adrienne fell forward onto her hands and knees as she retched thick foul black sludge onto the white snow in front of her. A cloud drifted across the moon and left her in shadow for a moment.
She wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve and tried to spit out what was was left in her mouth, but when she looked back down, the snow was pristine white. What?
Her eyes jumped up but of course, the horned figure was gone — had he even really been there? She pulled off her gloves and pushed up her sleeve. The burnt Italian had been replaced with streaks of dried blood. At the same time she heard a loud siren over at the house — she looked up to see red and blue flashing lights.
you did so well…
Adrienne only hesitated for a second before she clambered up and took off into the woods.

~~~

Merry Christmas! -- because what are the holidays without smut and inexplicable violence? It's late but it's done now. Only took me a month. Enjoy....if anyone actually reads this. Also I'm sorry if my Italian is off.