Page 18 of The Cabin

“That’s blackmail.”

He doesn’t care. He ignores me and nods towards the nails. Oh, whatever. I choose nails at random, using the back of the hammer to rip them out, letting them fall onto the floor. “So… what happened?” I try, tugging on a particularly tough nail.

“With what?” He’s now messing with the area where the shower is supposed to go. Imagine this man soaking wet in a shower with no soap scum covered shower curtain in the way. Yum.

I probably shouldn’t be letting myself have these thoughts. We’re supposed to be friends. I shouldn’t be ogling him. But, it’s kind of fun…I haven’t gotten to do this in years (I’m giving myself whiplash too, don’t worry.) I can keep it casual, platonic even. I can admire without catching unrequited feelings. I’m totally capable of that. That wasn’t me that developed a crush after talking one time for three minutes. I am way cooler than that. Chill. The ‘chill girl’.

“I believe the list says we’re supposed to get blackout drunk before we reveal our deepest darkest secrets.” He sits up on his knees to grab something out of his pocket.

“Oh, c’mon! I told you mine. That’s the first time I’ve ever told someone.” Another nail

drops, bouncing twice before rolling to a stop.

“You’ve never told anyone you’re divorced?” His tone is skeptical.

Insert scoff of annoyance. “Obviously people know I’m divorced, Grayson. I’ve just never told anyone why,” I shrug, adding a foot to the wall for leverage and almost eating it when the nail finally slips out.

“Wait, are you serious? Why?” He’s stopped what he’s doing and turned to face me. I avoid eye contact.

“I’m a private person,” I hedge, taking a surreptitious peek in his direction to make sure he’s gone back to his work. He hasn’t. He’s just giving me a deadpanned look. Damnit, this whole, ‘learning to be vulnerable,’ thing is gonna suck ass.

“I, uh, didn’t want everyone to know.”

“Why, though? Why wouldn’t you let everyone know how shitty he was?” My eyes narrow, lips turning into a frown considering. I’m quiet for a long time and Grayson patiently lets me sort through my thoughts.

“I guess I didn’t really see it that way. The cheating felt like a representation of how shitty I was as a wife; not how shitty he was of a person.” It comes out barely above a whisper, and my cheeks heat. It still feels that way. Logically, I know that’s not true. But deep down, that’s where the insecurity comes from.

“Sol, that guy’s a piece of shit. I’ve never even met him and I know that. Any man who fucks around on their wife is garbage, but a man who fucks around on you? A fucking moron.” This time when he pauses his work to look at me, we make eye contact. I’m almost immediately fidgeting.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I know...” I try to brush it off, but he won’t let me.

“I’m serious, Sol. Any guy who is stupid enough to lose you, of all women, is the dumbest sack of crap in the world.” I can’t tell if he’s just trying to be nice or if he really means it. We haven’t known each other that long, so what does he know about what kind of woman I am?

Although, if you think about it… Grayson’s already said and done more kind, genuine things for me than Brian did in our entire relationship. And I know that about him in five days.

“Okay, we’re supposed to be talking about you, buddy!”

He gives me a victorious grin that almost immediately falls from his face as he clears his throat and goes back to work. “Not much to say. We just didn’t work out.”

He can’t see my knowing smile, but it’s there. “Mine used to be, ‘Yeah, we just grew apart.’ ”

His shoulders sag. “We wanted different things.”

I stay quiet, giving him time. He eventually breaks the silence. “Natalie and I met when I started working with her brother.” My jaw drops. Oh my god. He means, like,NatalieNatalie. As in Chase’s older sister Natalie. As in one of my best friends growing up, Natalie. We only ever saw each other in the summer when both our families would come up the mountain, but that was more than ten years of spending every day of summer vacation together. I haven’t spoken to her in years, I just know from social media that she’s a big wig wedding planner now, using her dad’s money to take the wedding industry by storm. Her business is extravagant, encouraging women to pay hundreds of thousands of dollars on their wedding because it will, ‘ensure a happy marriage.’ I may be a little bitter about weddings in general, so take what I say with a grain of salt.

Past that, though, I don’t know much about her anymore. I certainly didn’t pay enough attention to know who she’s married to. Apparently, she’s married to Grayson. The same Grayson I’m currently sharing a six by six space with. How did I not put that together? He knows Hugh, Hugh owns this cabin. He worked with Chase. The caller ID literally said Natalie for crying out loud. Thoughts swirl in my head and I suddenly feel very claustrophobic. I don’t think this is good. I don’t think I should be spending all my time with my old friend’s ex-husband. Actually, her current husband. They’re not even officially divorced yet.Carajo, carajo, carajo.

I'm fighting the urge to flee. I feel like all I’ve been doing is fleeing every time I feel an emotion. That’s not how adults communicate though, right? But it is way easier. And less stressful. It’s especially less confrontational. Yeah, I think I’m gonna flee.

Just as I’m about to drop the hammer and run, Grayson continues. “I’m the bad guy in my divorce story.” A humorless laugh leaves his lips. My anxiety triples. Oh god. He totally fucked her over and I am betraying her by being here. What a hypocrite, all that crap about men being garbage or whatever. What was that? Does he still think women should air out their husband’s dirty laundry when they get a divorce? Let the world know just how dirty it is?

“Things started out great. She was the boss’s daughter, it was exciting because it felt forbidden. We got married, I became a part of the family, everything was fine.” He pauses, I can see on his face that he’s working up the courage to continue. Whatever he did must be really bad. I am so screwed. Should I confess to Natalie what I’ve done? I mean, I haven’t reallydoneanything, but I’ve definitelythoughta lot of things.

“It became pretty clear that we didn’t really know anything about each other. Our courtship was based on lust and sneaking around. It was easy to fall right into marriage. I was blinded by the thrill of it all. I knew most of her family already, we lived and worked in the same city, she was always around and her father took me in like a second son. But outside of getting swept up in the drama of it all, we had no foundation. She didn’t want to see it. She wanted to pretend everything was fine. That we were happy and in love. I get it. I really, truly do. But I couldn’t pretend. I was getting bitter, living in a house with someone who bought bananas every week and complained I never ate them.” He shakes his head and adds, “I’m allergic.” Oof. This is clearly still very fresh for him. I’m struggling to see his villainy, though. This actually does sound like the cliché of, ‘It just didn’t work out, we were two different people.’

“How does that make you the bad guy?” I prompt.

He gives me a sad look. “Natalie refused to admit defeat. I tried talking to her, explaining how I felt. I offered to try every therapy or technique in the book. I did everything I could to try and save my marriage. Everything I tried was one-sided. She wasn’t interested. To do any of those things would mean admitting there was a problem in the first place.

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