Page 14 of The Cabin

“Sol, c’mon. I’ll drive you down to the mechanic and we’ll call a tow truck.”

“Wewill not be doing anything.”

He jogs back in the direction we came and I breathe a sigh of relief. Be gone, foul beast.

Luck is not on my side.

The truck pulls up beside me, passenger side window down. “You don’t have to get in the truck, but I’m going to follow you the whole way. Might just be easier to get in. And faster.”

I flip him the bird and keep walking.

This goes on for about thirty minutes. Grayson turned his radio on around minute three and has been bellowing country music ever since. This guy and his country music.

My foot falls into another hole in the road, causing it to twist in the exact same way as about twenty times before. I’m going to kill someone.

“If I get in will you stop fucking singing?” I grumble.

“Sorry, what?” He turns the music down. Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“Never mind.” I pick up my pace, he matches it. I’m dripping with sweat and gnats are starting to crawl all over my face.

“Turn the fucking music off!” I yell, and to his credit, Grayson slams his hand down on the radio’s power button.

I motion for him to slow down, and yank open the door, climbing in about as gracefully as a drunk toddler. “Drive. No talking.”

“Ma’am yes ma’am.” He salutes me, and I consider ways I can murder him without getting in trouble.

There’s a bouquet of flowers sitting between us and my blood starts to boil. Oh, how nice! Off in the wee hours of the morning buying apology flowers for his freakingwife. This man sure loves to apologize!Hey hunny, sorry I’ve been ignoring your calls, I’ve been acting indecent with an ax, watching women while they shower, and wining and dining them. Hope you don’t mind!

I was fuckingflatteredthat he had looked at me in those YMCA showers. Flattered! What the hell is wrong with me? That isn’t flattering. It’s creepy! I am actually the antithesis to the feminist movement.

I’ve been so desperate for so long for someone to see me as something desirable, sorry, God, someonedesirable, that I took whatever scraps finally came my way. My self-confidence is abysmal, I know that. I do not think very highly of myself, it’s a problem I’m aware of and that I am attempting to fix. That’s why I came here. To fall in love with myself as a woman. To figure out what I like, what I want, what my future looks like. What are my dreams? Where do I see life taking me?

But instead, I got all tangled up in having a middle school crush again. It’s been so long, and I got so wrapped up in the foreign feelings so fast. The oxytocin from a new attraction getting me high and clouding my judgment.

When love does find me again, I have no interest in being anything like past versions of myself. Versions that accept the bare minimum, thinking that any attention is good attention, that I’m not worth affection or intimacy. I say that with love. I owe a lot to those versions of me. But I am ready to evolve. Or I want to anyway.

The mechanic is, thankfully, open when we arrive. I shove out of the truck, sucking in large breaths of Grayson free air. I mean, we’re literally living in the woods. Why does he smell so good?

There’s an old, balding man behind the counter, decked out in about every piece of clothing possible sporting the logo,Bob’s Autoon it.

“Hi! Good morning, I uh…” but Bob isn’t paying me any attention. His face lights up and he claps his hands together.

“Grayson, my boy, so good to see you!” He hobbles around the counter and I hear them do some hand shaking, slapping on the back, and other kinds of man BS behind me.

“Hey, Bob, how are things?” He’s such a charmer, it makes me sick.

“Oh, you know, knees aren’t what they used to be…” Bob groans.

“Well, you let me know. I’d be happy to help you out around here.”

“Aren’t you at McKenzie’s anymore?” Bob exclaims, coming back towards his post behind the register.

Grayson hesitates. “No, no, it was, uh… time for a change.” His entire body language has shifted. He went from jovial to a stiff deer in headlights in one question. But Bob doesn’t seem to notice.

“Well, I might just take you up on that! Now, what can I do ya for?”

“We got a car stuck up on the mountain. Can you tow it?” There he goes again with thatweshit.

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