Page 89 of Rough and Rugged

Dax

Herfrostyandpaleface terrified me. I would have fought Morty for her. She’s mine, at least for now. I need to warm up the cabin before I wrap her bruised and swollen ankle. The satellite phone doctor said she’d be in extreme pain if it were worse.

Her skin has a lovely flush to it now. But when I saw the red frostnip spot it made me want to panic cuddle her. We need a fire.

I stare at the hearth as if it will tell me how to fucking do this. There’s no switch like in our Vineyard house. Privilege doesn’t work for me this time. I turn to her for guidance, but she’s asleep. She needs to sleep to regulate her body temperature. There’s no power, and the room is getting critically cold. I know five phone numbers by heart and I think Colt was a boy scout. I text from her satellite phone I took from the cabin.

DAX:It’s Dax. Need help starting a fire. 911.

COLT:I’m going to need the others in on this.

DAX:Life or death. This is real. Limited battery on this Sat phone. Not fucking around.

COLT:Shit. What can I do?

DAX:You’re kidding, right? STARTING A FIRE!

COLT:Matches. Crumple paper and put smaller wood on top of lit paper. Use a lot of paper.

I’m remembering all the YouTube videos I watched about this now.

DAX:I only have my manuscript.

COLT:Is it really dire?

DAX:Chapter two: already crumpled. I’ll burn chapter one last.

COLT:Can I send help?

DAX:Rugged, Maine. Rental cabins by Loon Lake, Parks Dept knows, and can’t get to us. Get your father to get us the fuck out of here. A tree crashed through her cabin. SHE’s here with me.

COLT:Monica?

DAX:How did you guess that?

COLT:Everyone knows she’s there. You never asked. Slowly feed larger dry wood as each layer catches. Fuck, you’re in the storm. Dad’s on it. Be safe. Call when you can. Just keep burning things.

DAX:Thank the Colonel.

I shove paper under the wood and layer it up. I light all of it. The fire crackles and smoke billows in my face. Monica moans and I rush over.

“You ok, beautiful?”

She says weakly, “Damper. Pull the metal lever. Did you use the Sat phone to text those assholes?”

I grin at this woman as I yank it. “Yes, but we can split the pot of the bet.” Her lips curl up. “Precious girl. Please be ok.” I whisper into her neck as the fire roars to life.

“I am, Dax. I’m with you.”

The wood pops and hisses, as I feed the fire the book I came here to read, edit and perfect. I watch as my words go up in smoke. Monica’s shivering so I whip off my hoodie and put it on her. I’m shirtless as I tuck her back in and she touches my stomach. Her fingertips are chilly and slightly discolored. I kiss her gently, then swiftly rearrange all the furniture.

“Stay still, my brawny lass.” She’s only letting me kiss her because she’s scared. I move the bed closer to the fireplace for warmth.

Jesus those dark eyes and the way she’s looking at me it’s like I can see our entire timeline in one gaze. The little points of data that define a lifetime. Love, partnership, children, adventure, and companionship. I see it all so clearly it nearly knocks the wind out of me.

Once the bed is by the fire, I gingerly lift the covers and the left ankle is definitely fucked up. Playing sports in the Common as kids often led to ankle wrapping. This, I’ve got. “Stay still and I’ll get you a present.”

She sleepily says, “Can I have an island?”

---