Spring 2088. Jordan Graham is 28, Maria Boone is 26, Felix and Milo Graham are 8.
You can know what you need to do on a logical level, but the courage to bring down that hatchet and chop a whole family in half? These boys knew nothing else but the four of them, together. It had been that way since they were toddlers. They fashioned this beautiful lie for them that looked like a family on the outside and was a festering wound on the inside, and now what could they do about it?
You can know what you need to do on a logical level, but the courage to bring down that hatchet and chop a whole family in half? These boys knew nothing else but the four of them, together. It had been that way since they were toddlers. They fashioned this beautiful lie for them that looked like a family on the outside and was a festering wound on the inside, and now what could they do about it?
Leaving Colette, legally, wouldn’t be any more difficult than walking out the door. But to the boys, it would feel as much like a divorce as any. But that also wasn’t a reason to stay with their mom for another ten years. The idea of marrying her gave him hives. Staying in her house on her couch like a random cousin who came to visit made him bitter. He was a grown man who paid rent here, and he wanted to sleep in a bed. Was that too much to ask?
But not her bed, not for any amount of begging. No sex with that woman was worth the pit of dread he felt recently. He would put the boys to bed and tiptoe quickly past her room. He would anticipate her steps upstairs with the fear that she might try to come down and ask for it. Because then he would have to tell her, No, no thanks, no way. And Colette wasn’t a woman who liked to be told no. Her wrath would be huge enough to cause an explosion visible from space.
He shuddered to think of how badly it could have gone wrong, all over again. He was meticulous as anyone could be, but condoms break. As he found himself counting down the days to their boys’ eighteenth birthdays, the idea of starting all over again with her gave him shivers. He’d rather jump off a bridge, to be honest. And he wasn’t entirely sure he was being dramatic about that.
So something needed to change, but he didn’t dare start that conversation with Colette before he had a plan. First, he needed time to think, to fantasize even. Where would he live? How could they share custody? What might his life look like if he had his own decisions to make? Being single again, on his own again, making his own choices.
He hadn’t been very good at making his own choices in his youth. Case in point: knocking up Colette straight out of high school.
“Morning, Dad, time for school.”
But Jordan enjoyed fatherhood. Now, he did. But that didn’t mean Colette wasn’t right to be disappointed in him. At nineteen, he hadn’t been overjoyed at the task, and when they learned it would be twins, he just about shit a brick. She all but wrote him off for it, but his father encouraged him to try. And he did, here and there, before ultimately “flaking the fuck out” as Colette gently put it.
He didn’t bond with his boys truly until they were almost three years old. But now they were the best of buddies.
So, where to start? When he wasn’t tending to his boys, he was working and saving. And working more was fine by Colette. He gave her some of the money and she was happy.
And he was honestly happy to spend more time at work. Sharon had him building a shed kit to make into a wedding barn, with Ian as his helper. Jordan was no master carpenter, but they found a video to watch with some diagrams to follow, and it seemed easy enough to try. Ian was mostly useless, of course, but he and his twin sister had some wild ideas about social justice and environmentalism that was fun enough to pass the time. He could fetch a tool when asked.
His co-workers here were delightful all around.
Maybe one co-worker in particular was more delightful than the rest. His work often left him working outside, away from the rest of the crew. When it was chilly outside, Maria brought him warm treats. When it was hot outside, she brought icy lemonade. When he had no companions all day, she snuck out for a minute or two to keep him company. Today, she had a fresh hot coffee in a lidded cup.
“Can I have one, too?” Ian asked.
Maria smirked at him. “There’s more in the dining room. You can go get one yourself.”
So Ian hurried off to the dining room to fetch himself a cup of coffee, which surely he welcomed as an excuse to avoid his work. And Maria had Jordan all to herself for a moment, which perhaps she may have planned all along.
Maria had a crush on him. He wasn’t blind or stupid. So he had to be careful with her, because she was a widow and single mother and the most precious person on the planet. Irresponsible as Jordan may have been, he knew better than to jump straight from one woman to another. And Maria deserved better than that, anyway. Maria deserved so much more than he could ever give her. She didn’t need the absolute mess he would bring into her life.
If he were a good person, he wouldn’t have let this friendship run away from him like he had, leading her on. But he wasn’t a good person, he suspected, but a selfish one, because her friendship was something he craved. Her thoughtfulness, her compassion, her humor, her giggles, the way her curls bounced when she laughed… not just her curls, damn, her whole body bounced when she laughed! She was such a bright glow in his cold and rigid life.
So plans were being thought about, if not made. Maybe he was dragging his feet a little about the hard things that needed to be done.
But here was something he would have to learn eventually, and life would beat it into him until he did: life isn’t interested in waiting for you to be ready.
But not her bed, not for any amount of begging. No sex with that woman was worth the pit of dread he felt recently. He would put the boys to bed and tiptoe quickly past her room. He would anticipate her steps upstairs with the fear that she might try to come down and ask for it. Because then he would have to tell her, No, no thanks, no way. And Colette wasn’t a woman who liked to be told no. Her wrath would be huge enough to cause an explosion visible from space.
He shuddered to think of how badly it could have gone wrong, all over again. He was meticulous as anyone could be, but condoms break. As he found himself counting down the days to their boys’ eighteenth birthdays, the idea of starting all over again with her gave him shivers. He’d rather jump off a bridge, to be honest. And he wasn’t entirely sure he was being dramatic about that.
So something needed to change, but he didn’t dare start that conversation with Colette before he had a plan. First, he needed time to think, to fantasize even. Where would he live? How could they share custody? What might his life look like if he had his own decisions to make? Being single again, on his own again, making his own choices.
He hadn’t been very good at making his own choices in his youth. Case in point: knocking up Colette straight out of high school.
“Morning, Dad, time for school.”
But Jordan enjoyed fatherhood. Now, he did. But that didn’t mean Colette wasn’t right to be disappointed in him. At nineteen, he hadn’t been overjoyed at the task, and when they learned it would be twins, he just about shit a brick. She all but wrote him off for it, but his father encouraged him to try. And he did, here and there, before ultimately “flaking the fuck out” as Colette gently put it.
He didn’t bond with his boys truly until they were almost three years old. But now they were the best of buddies.
So, where to start? When he wasn’t tending to his boys, he was working and saving. And working more was fine by Colette. He gave her some of the money and she was happy.
And he was honestly happy to spend more time at work. Sharon had him building a shed kit to make into a wedding barn, with Ian as his helper. Jordan was no master carpenter, but they found a video to watch with some diagrams to follow, and it seemed easy enough to try. Ian was mostly useless, of course, but he and his twin sister had some wild ideas about social justice and environmentalism that was fun enough to pass the time. He could fetch a tool when asked.
His co-workers here were delightful all around.
Maybe one co-worker in particular was more delightful than the rest. His work often left him working outside, away from the rest of the crew. When it was chilly outside, Maria brought him warm treats. When it was hot outside, she brought icy lemonade. When he had no companions all day, she snuck out for a minute or two to keep him company. Today, she had a fresh hot coffee in a lidded cup.
“Can I have one, too?” Ian asked.
Maria smirked at him. “There’s more in the dining room. You can go get one yourself.”
So Ian hurried off to the dining room to fetch himself a cup of coffee, which surely he welcomed as an excuse to avoid his work. And Maria had Jordan all to herself for a moment, which perhaps she may have planned all along.
Maria had a crush on him. He wasn’t blind or stupid. So he had to be careful with her, because she was a widow and single mother and the most precious person on the planet. Irresponsible as Jordan may have been, he knew better than to jump straight from one woman to another. And Maria deserved better than that, anyway. Maria deserved so much more than he could ever give her. She didn’t need the absolute mess he would bring into her life.
If he were a good person, he wouldn’t have let this friendship run away from him like he had, leading her on. But he wasn’t a good person, he suspected, but a selfish one, because her friendship was something he craved. Her thoughtfulness, her compassion, her humor, her giggles, the way her curls bounced when she laughed… not just her curls, damn, her whole body bounced when she laughed! She was such a bright glow in his cold and rigid life.
So plans were being thought about, if not made. Maybe he was dragging his feet a little about the hard things that needed to be done.
But here was something he would have to learn eventually, and life would beat it into him until he did: life isn’t interested in waiting for you to be ready.
———
May 2088
The dreary winter led into a long and soggy spring, which finally broke now at the end of May. Today they expected their first truly hot day that announced the impending summer.
Especially as the big wedding date loomed closer, Jordan and Ian slept over at the hotel more often so they could wake early and accomplish their outdoor work before the late spring sun got too hot. Given the time crunch and a little persuasion on their part, Sharon offered them a double twin room to share.
And that was quite fine for Ian, who still lived at home with his parents, as well as for Jordan who had a domestic situation of his own to escape. It was kind of fun, even, for someone who never went to college—it almost felt like living in a dorm with a roomie.
It felt like one foot out the door.
The barn build was not only specifically for Stephanie’s wedding in two weeks, but Stephanie was Sharon’s dearest employee and this wedding was going to be the most beautiful they ever put together. Wedding barn included, first time building one or not. It might be close, but he would finish it on time.
Jordan was deeply focused on his work. Ian worked on some calculations on his phone, but Jordan was pretty sure he had a mobile game going. There was some commotion happening in the kitchen. Behind them, the ladies scurried in and quickly back out, hushed voices, something serious. He didn’t know what was going on. He would leave them to it and he was sure Maria would fill him in later.
A while later, sweat in his eyes, sawdust in his hair, he glanced up to see Maria waiting patiently for him to notice her, carefully moving herself between piles of stacked two-by-fours.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“So, the wedding is postponed,” she told him. “Justin’s dad had a heart attack. He, um… he didn’t make it.”
“Oh. Shit.” That was all Jordan could say before his brain flashed back to one of the worst times of his life.
Answer the phone, you asshole. Your dad, he had a heart attack. He didn’t make it. Why aren’t you here? You need to be here! Are you hearing me? He’s dead.
“It was so fast, nobody saw it coming, and he was supposed to be Justin’s best man…”
Maria said some more things, a Maria-shaped fog with sound coming out. Still as a block of stone, Jordan couldn’t even think to move through the cut planks of wood around them, feeling only the news to his core in an ugly ball of memory. Seven years ago now, but it sometimes felt as fresh as yesterday. Someone else’s bad news churned up that roiling ball of grief from its assigned place in the dark pit of his stomach, probably near his gallbladder, spleen, memories of middle school bullies, alien war conspiracies in kindergarten, and all those other useless things he liked to forget were there. He was that same lost twenty-two year old, completely alone in the world, not knowing what to do next. And he was out there when his own father passed, being young and carefree and selfish.
Why aren’t you here, you asshole?
Emerging from his block of stone, he felt Maria’s gentle hands on his wrists, taking the saw from his clenched hand, setting it down on the work table. “Hey, let’s take a little break from the saw, huh? I just made some lemonade. I’ll go get it.”
“Wait,” he said. “Don’t go.” He didn’t know why he said that.
“You don’t want lemonade?”
“I mean, sure.” A nervous laugh came out, though nothing was funny. “Yes, I’ll have some lemonade.”
She looked at him like he had two heads. She looked at the worktable, the sawdust, the sweat dripping down his brow. He must have been a wreck because she watched him carefully, a small pinch in her lips. “You should be careful out here, wearing all that black in the hot sun. You might get heat stroke. You’ve got a couple chairs set up in the barn? Wait for me in the shade? I’ll be right back.”
He went inside the barn, cluttered with his tools, lumber, and wedding decorations that would need to be boxed back up. It was messy in here, but the shade was nice. Maybe he did have a bit of heat stroke. He felt so stupid. His dad was already gone, long long gone. Poor Justin. Poor Stephanie, whose wedding was interrupted. He should offer his condolences instead of having a panic attack and combined sun stroke all together like a weirdo.
———
Seven years ago…
Colette signed up for an early morning real estate class so that she could still work for the rest of the day. “Somebody’s gotta pay the bills around here,” she said. Jordan wasn’t used to waking up on toddler time, barely past the crack of dawn, in this unfamiliar house with two little boys who hardly knew him.
Milo poked his cheek. “Why you look like Grampy?”
“Because he was my dad,” Jordan answered.
“So you are Grampy?”
“I’m not Grampy, I’m your dad. Grampy was my dad.”
“But why you here?”
“Why? Because your mom wants to go back to school, and, I don’t know, I guess I’m supposed to be.”
Because he fucked it all up and had nowhere else to go. That’s why he was here.
“Is Grampy coming?”
“No, he can’t come back.”
“He come back tomorrow?”
“No, not tomorrow, either.”
“I want Grampy.”
“I want Grampy, too.”
The boys climbed on him, sharp little elbows and knees digging into his gut while so many soft little fluttering fingers tickled his sides.
“You’re not Grampy,” Felix said. “You smell funny.”
“So do you.” Jordan stuck out his tongue.
“He he,” they laughed. The boys stuck out their slobbery tongues, too.
And they were sad—all three of them, sad—but that guttural belly laugh of a toddler, it spoke to something primal, biological, evolutionary. It made Jordan smile. It made him want to try.
Colette signed up for an early morning real estate class so that she could still work for the rest of the day. “Somebody’s gotta pay the bills around here,” she said. Jordan wasn’t used to waking up on toddler time, barely past the crack of dawn, in this unfamiliar house with two little boys who hardly knew him.
Milo poked his cheek. “Why you look like Grampy?”
“Because he was my dad,” Jordan answered.
“So you are Grampy?”
“I’m not Grampy, I’m your dad. Grampy was my dad.”
“But why you here?”
“Why? Because your mom wants to go back to school, and, I don’t know, I guess I’m supposed to be.”
Because he fucked it all up and had nowhere else to go. That’s why he was here.
“Is Grampy coming?”
“No, he can’t come back.”
“He come back tomorrow?”
“No, not tomorrow, either.”
“I want Grampy.”
“I want Grampy, too.”
The boys climbed on him, sharp little elbows and knees digging into his gut while so many soft little fluttering fingers tickled his sides.
“You’re not Grampy,” Felix said. “You smell funny.”
“So do you.” Jordan stuck out his tongue.
“He he,” they laughed. The boys stuck out their slobbery tongues, too.
And they were sad—all three of them, sad—but that guttural belly laugh of a toddler, it spoke to something primal, biological, evolutionary. It made Jordan smile. It made him want to try.
He would never live up to the example his father, their Grampy, had set for him. But in this moment, he wondered if maybe “good enough” might be better than nothing at all? He had a lot of lost time to make up for, if they would let him.
———
What a bittersweet memory that was, but it was also somehow soothing. In those early years, the boys had only been an accident, an obligation, a duty, until one day Jordan woke up and found that he wanted them.
It was probably only a couple of minutes before Maria returned with two icy glasses of lemonade.
“It’s terrible, huh? Less than two weeks before the wedding.”
“It’s terrible ever,” he said, but he hadn’t meant to dismiss her.
“Oh,” she said, coming to possibly a thousand realizations. “I’m so sorry, of course. I guess it’s not something you ever forget about.”
At least he wouldn’t have to explain himself out loud. She was intuitive like that. He’d already told her about his dad, and his mom, and almost everything there was to tell about anything.
“It’s okay. It’s not just the heat. I mean… I don’t know what to do about the barn.” That wasn’t why, but he needed to say something.
“I’m sure she would want you to finish it. Do you want me to ask?”
“Heh, no. It’s okay, I can ask.”
She stood beside him, and they both sipped their lemonade in a comfortable silence as the panic settled to a standard amount of sadness.
“Did you lose your mom around the same time as your dad?”
“No. That’s different,” he said. “I was only two. I don’t remember her much. At all, really. I don’t remember her at all.”
“Aw,” Maria’s big doe eyes went wide. “That’s a different kind of sad.”
Then she took their lemonades and set them on the step ladder. Before he knew it, she was hugging him. It happened too fast to decide whether it should happen or not. Did he want it? Was it a bad idea? Did he want it even though it was a bad idea?
He was rigid, but her body was soft and warm, her arms around him, her head tucked under his chin. He drank this hug like he was parched for touch and affection and warmth. He needed this. He knew he did.
But her skin smelled like a heady mix of florals and something sweet they’d been baking in the kitchen. Her fingers were light on his back, fingertips making his skin electrify. Her breasts were pressed to his belly, soft and hot, and his mind and emotions and body were operating on totally different frequencies. What did she look like underneath that apron? Were her nipples tinted pale or brownish or the same ruby pink as her lips. Jesus.
At this pure gesture of kindness, his body betrayed him with a raging erection. And that was unfair. Maria was the most precious person on the planet and she deserved so much better than a boner poking her hip.
He took her by the arms and made distance between their bodies, disappointing them both.
He didn’t need a girlfriend. He was trying to hard to make himself single, unattached, to live his own life for once without a woman telling him what to do. He needed that now more than anything, to hear his own brain for the first time in a decade.
He didn’t want another whole relationship.
Not now, not soon, not with anyone.
He needed just a damn minute to be alone!
So now there was rejection in her eyes, and he felt like a shithead. Those eyes, the sweet color of honey—he would never get sick of that color—he didn’t deserve to enjoy them when he made them look so sad.
“Saw dust,” he said, ruffling a curl of her hair where she had laid her head on his chest. He was still holding her elbow from when he had pushed her back from their hug. “Let’s talk about your parents instead, are they amazing?”
“Oh, amazing?” She laughed, weakly, still looking heartbroken. “Well, they mean well. That’s probably what matters. I should call them more.”
“You really should,” he said. “Parents don’t last forever.”
“Yeah,” she muttered, as his fingers left her wrist and she let out a sigh. “So, anyway, Sharon is giving everyone time off. We booked the week for wedding prep and clean up, and Sharon thinks it’s too short notice to fill it. She wouldn’t normally do that, but you know, Stephanie is her favorite. There was an opening in August, so they took it. What will you do with your time off?”
“Wow. I don’t even know,” he said, his mind blank.
Jordan never looked forward to vacation time. Colette would just give him a list of things to fix around the house. So if he wanted to enjoy it, he’d have to go somewhere. And that was an idea. An exciting one.
Why did this make him feel like an animal whose cage had been left open? The boys were on summer vacation and it wouldn’t cost very much money.
He also had a nagging suspicion that two weeks would not be enough to scratch this itch.
“I might take the boys backpacking.”
“I’ve never been camping before,” Maria said, with a look of wonder in her eyes, so much he wondered if she wanted an invitation. He didn’t think she’d probably like the kind of camping he had in mind.
“You need to go kindergarten level camping first, like in a campground.”
“You won’t be in a campground?”
“Nope, just nature.”
“Where do you go to the bathroom? Like, an outhouse?”
Her eyes filled with horror, and he recalled that day on the farm, months ago, when she’d been traumatized by that outhouse. Honestly, he would have been horrified if it was his phone, too. Jordan grinned, amused.
“Wait,” she stopped him, “I probably don’t want to know. I guess I’m probably not the camping type.”
“No, you might like it. In an RV, in a campground, with full hookups, electricity and heating and hot showers and cable TV.”
She smirked at him. “I’m not that bad. I could go without the cable TV.”
She was his best friend in the whole world, probably. He wasn’t looking for a best friend, but he supposed everybody needed one. He would like to take her camping, and he was foolish enough to think he could get her to love it. Or at least consider loving it. But the reality was, Maria was even more of a princess than Colette in some ways.
He liked to fantasize sometimes that he could be her knight in shining armor. Not her prince—he wasn’t that delusional. She was a single mother and widow, and she needed so much more than he had to offer. She needed stability and reliability, and he was neither of those things. Maybe in some other life when he was more of a knight than a wayward woodsman. But the princess doesn’t belong with the knight any more than she belongs with the woodsman. That only happens in fairytales.
And fairytales are dumb.
———
author's note: Jordan doesn’t know that his author’s favorite movie is The Princess Bride. 😇
extras & outtakes:
- Maria in the wildflowers
- all the deco I placed in this barn just to shoot one scene
extras & outtakes:
- Maria in the wildflowers
- all the deco I placed in this barn just to shoot one scene
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