They started out on the highway to bring back their bounty of eggs to the hotel. It wasn’t very late yet, but these early January nights had ended the day hours ago. Now the road shone ahead of them with the light of a full moon on the fresh white snow. The green glow of the dashboard lit Jordan’s face, and Maria took the opportunity to study him deeply as he drove, with little chance he’d catch her staring, as he told a story about his boys and how they messed up the living room couch and Colette blamed him for it. How he didn’t seem angry, only bemused and accepting of his fate.
“Wait, do you always sleep on the couch?”
“Heh, yeah, usually.” Then he seemed embarrassed, as if only just realizing that was unusual.
“Why, do you snore bad or something?”
“No, I don’t think so. She’s just very fussy. So many rules about when and how and for how long—it’s not worth the fight.”
Weird. Maria couldn’t imagine. If that man lived in her house, she wouldn’t keep him out of her bed for any reason, even if he snored like a train. She may have sighed audibly. Some women didn’t know their own waste.
“Joseph snored,” she told him.
Jordan chuckled at that. “Did he? You don’t talk about him much. I think that’s the only thing you’ve ever said about him, that he snored.”
Ha, funny how Maria didn’t want to think about her dead husband when she was with Jordan.
Jordan was quiet, considering something. “Can I ask, like, how it happened?”
“Oh, sure,” she said, digging up a time of her life that felt like another life entirely. “It was one of the earlier conflicts, in ’84. He was stationed in Hawaii, but they fought in the upper atmosphere. That’s how most of them went, if they didn’t make it back. You know, explosions.”
He looked at her then, for a moment, away from the road, his eyebrows raised with concern. “Geez, I’m sorry about that.”
She shrugged. “I guess nobody dreams of becoming a widow at twenty-two.”
“Life is wild, huh? I wonder if anyone’s life turns out the way they dream?”
His thoughts were heavy as he focused on the road, one hand on the wheel and the other fiddling with radio stations. So much fuzz, then country, which he didn’t seem to prefer. More fuzz, then he settled on some top hits station and turned the volume low.
“Did you always dream of the whole ‘house in the suburbs, white picket fence, two kids and a dog’ life?”
“That’s not so bad, is it?” she wondered. “I don’t know about the dog, maybe a cat?”
“Hm, Colette thinks I’m weird.”
Oh god, Maria thought. This is where he shares his dark secret, something grim, something disturbing, something grotesque. There is no perfect man on the planet. And what he was about to tell her could change her feelings for him. She grimaced. “Are you about to tell me you want to be a furry?”
“A furry!?!” He cackled with laughter. Out of control laughter, side splitting, spit spitting, aching in the face laughter. Despite his controlling a vehicle at 70 miles per hour, it was actually a welcome respite from the gravity of the whole rest of the day.
“Okay, now watch the road, mister.”
He was still chuckling softly. “No, I don’t want to be a furry. Not that I judge people who do, of course.”
“Of course,” she echoed.
He ruminated on his confession. She waited for it.
“I don’t want a house,” he said. “I wish we didn’t all have to live in houses, you know? You take out this giant mortgage to shackle yourself to this box, then you have to get some big ugly career you hate to pay for it all, because that’s what everybody says you’re supposed to do. It’s how you be an adult. A successful one. It’s everybody’s shining end goal. I don’t see the appeal.”
“Where would you live instead?” she asked. “You have to live somewhere.”
He shrugged. “A van, a tent, a sleeping bag under the stars.”
“Where would you keep all your stuff? I mean, everybody needs some stuff. Kids need a lot of stuff.”
“But what if we didn’t need so much stuff? Kids don’t even need all the stuff they think they need. Nature is a playground. Then the place you lived could be a lot smaller. You could move around easier. You could live truly free and unburdened in the world.”
Maria made a quick mental checklist of the contents of her own home and all the things in it. Her favorite chair by her bedroom window where she liked to sit with a latte and watch the sun rise, a soft knitted throw she bought at an arts fair, an abundance of pillows, more bottles of nail polish than she’d ever finish in a lifetime, a kitchen well stocked with spices and utensils and all the pots and pans, a very extensive boot collection to match any outfit. Sure, they were just things, but those things made her happy. The tiny joys that belonged to her within her four rented walls and a roof.
“Hmm, I don’t know. It’s a little weird. I think I’d miss all my stuff. It makes me happy, you know.”
“Yeah, I know,” he said. “Most people like stuff. Most people like houses, too. I’m just a weirdo.”
She tried to paint a mental image of him traipsing through a forest with only a tent on his back. He’d probably grow his hair and beard long and wear his clothes until they wore holes in them. He would make a cute hermit, and he would be happy. And maybe she would drive out to the forest and bring him cookies. And let’s be honest, he would probably be slightly ripe-smelling, so she’d take him to a river where they’d bathe each other in the rapids. Then he’d carry her, dripping and cold, to the riverbank and lay kisses over every inch of her wet skin until she grew hot with—
“I’m kind of shocked that you even know about furries,” he teased, breaking her fantasy. “I wouldn’t have guessed that about you.”
He had the most delightful smile on his face. And she blushed for several reasons all at once.
-----
Coolidge House Country Inn was a small artisan bed and breakfast tucked away in the wine country suburbs of Milwaukee. Back at work, they were having a slow night and Sharon didn’t seem to mind Maria and Jordan’s extended absence. She poured herself a glass of wine and watched Stephanie cook, endeared by the charming and expressive faces she made as she worked with equal parts skill and clumsiness.
There were no events planned for the night or the week, no guests staying, the holidays were finished and no more were coming up soon. After they checked inventory and restocked the café, the staff hung around, catching up, trading gossip. Stephanie was insanely jealous that she had to stay behind and cook while Maria and Jordan got to go on a field trip.
What a happy place to be, Maria thought, thankful to stretch her legs, thankful for the warmth of a crackling fireplace and the smell of whatever Stephanie was cooking in the kitchen, thankful for friendly coworkers and a lenient boss. Especially thankful for hot running water, lots of soap, and soft dry towels.
While Maria freshened up for an excessive amount of time, Jordan found Stephanie in the kitchen. He had a little favor to ask, if it wasn’t too much trouble. “Could I borrow one of the brunch cakes?”
“Borrow?” Stephanie had a perplexed look on her face. “You don’t borrow a cake, you eat one.”
“I’ll pay for it,” he said.
Maria was in good spirits now that her birthday had taken a turn for the better. It was about seven o’clock, and she didn’t want to rush home and interrupt a young child’s delicate bedtime routine. So, when Jordan asked, “Can you stay a little longer?” besides that she would do absolutely anything he asked anyway, it was a no-brainer. “Sure, I think that would be fine.”
So Maria and Jordan joined the slow night work banter. Coffee was brewed, cola was spiked with the bottom shelf rum, and there was plenty of laughter to go around.
“You know you called your sister from my phone earlier?”
“Yeah,” Maria said with hesitation.
“She’s been texting me back all day,” he said.
“Oh, no. Oh, God. What did she say?”
He grinned. “I can’t.”
“I’m gonna kill her. You have to tell me what she said.”
He shook his head. “It’s nothing bad.”
“It’s not?”
“No, it’s not.”
She absolutely would have pressed the matter further, but something smelled wonderful coming from the oven. Maria just assumed that Stephanie was baking for work. But then Stephanie emerged with a cake, glowing with a few haphazard candles on top.
“Oh my gosh,” Maria gasped. “How did you know?”
There was only one way she could have known. Jordan was the only person here who knew it was her birthday today. She was stunned, more in love with him than ever before. And more hopeful than ever before that maybe, just maybe, he might feel something more than friendship in return. Please, oh, please.
Oh, what torture it was to be in love with this man.
She tried to find the words to express her gratitude for what had to be the most memorable birthday of her life, even if it hadn’t been an entirely pleasant one, but before she could, the entire staff began singing. “Happy birthday, dear Maria. Happy birthday to you!”
-----
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