Page 72 of Fragile Lives
“What? You do. All this dark and mysterious.” I circle my hand around his face. “Like a black panther or something. This small version,” I point toward where Midnight disappeared, “works too. It’s like a mini panther, but not even slightly less lethal.Grr.” I giggle and mimic the cat’s claws with my fingers.
He lets out a loud snort and gestures for me to keep moving.
When my face is so frozen, it threatens to fall off, and I finally find the perfect tree (miraculously), we both hurry back home. I never doubted for a moment that he couldn’t find his way back. Throughout our whole walk, he never lost his sense of the land, and we never walked in circles despite the heavy snow. I probably should have thought about the possibility of being lost when I asked to go on this trip, but I always feel less responsible around him. It’s like his presence takes the worry of being an adult away.
When we get back home, I shiver in pleasure at how cozy the place is. I cook us dinner while he heads outside to change Midnight’s food since he didn’t eat it, and now it’s frozen.
We celebrate the New Year with two orgasms and a glass of bourbon. I offer Stephan another one, but he refuses with a smile, letting me know he really doesn’t need it anymore. I’m happy. I don’t like him intoxicated and unable to enjoy his life fully.
We sit by the fire, cuddling and watching the dancing flames. If there is anything out there better than this, I haven’t found it yet. His arm is wrapped around me, and my head rests on his shoulder.
“Will it be okay if I ask you why you changed your name?”
He lets out a loud laugh and answers, “I haven’t.”
“What?”
“Haven’t changed it. Well,” he chuckles, “at least not myself.”
“What do you mean?” I glance up at him and find a beautiful, content smile on his lips.
“When I went to my first training in the Navy, they took one look at me and called me Archibald.” His eyes twinkle at the memory, reliving his past.
“Why Archibald?” I ask, still confused.
“I wore a black turtleneck and high pants—really high pants—and still had a really thick accent and looked like a butler from some British show one of the guys saw. So just like that, I became Archie.” I feel his shrug. “And I was cool with it, considering I was there to escape my old life. And trust me, some guys didn’t get so lucky with their call names.” His chest shakes with quiet laughter. “Like your brother.”
“What?” I pull away and start laughing. “What was his call name?”
“Speedo.”
“Why Speedo?”
He begins cackling hysterically. “His whities were the tightest in the whole station. Like so tight, your eyes might bleed.”
“Okay, stop, stop, stop!” I cover my face with my hands. “Forget I ever asked!”
This is way TMI for my liking, and my ears and eyes are about to bleed. I don’t want to imagine my brother in tight underwear.Oh no, why did I go there?
We spend the rest of the night sharing funny stories from our lives, and when morning comes, we move our cuddling to the bed.
The storm stopped sometime during the night, way earlier than anticipated, but we don’t talk about it. Talking about itmeans our little agreement coming to an end, and neither of us is ready for that.
And that’s why we spend the following five days in the cabin, eating, fucking, and talking. At some point, someone came to clear the roads.
We drove to Springfield to get some groceries and to find a tow truck. Stephan entered the body shop to ask the guy to come get my car. When he came for it, he told us it’s salvageable, but it might take a hot minute to fix. I wanted to pay for everything, but Stephan shut me down, almost offended, and gave the guy his phone number so he could take care of everything. I don’t know how I’ll explain the lack of a vehicle to my family. I can always tell the truth and just withhold the part about Stephan. Accidents happen all the time, and Kenneth is familiar with it more than anyone.
Today is the day we go our separate ways. In the morning, we had the laziest sex possible, enjoying the moment and memorizing each other’s bodies. Three times. I could say the man is insatiable, and it’s all his fault, but that would be a lie—I love it just as much as he does. In fact, the third time was totally my doing.
We clean the cabin, pack our stuff, and walk outside. Stephan loads our bags into his trunk and walks around the house.
“What are you doing?” I call out.
“Looking for Midnight.”
I don’t even try to hide my smile. “What are you planning to do when you find him?”
“Take him with me, of course,” he responds, as if it’s the dumbest question on earth. Stephan has such a soft heart, I can barely contain my emotions. God help me if he ever mentions a kid or something?
