After Charlie woke up and Avi made them both breakfast, they left for their date and promised to bring black plenty of apples and cider. When they were outside, Mitch watched from the window and heard her gasp about how pretty it was while she pointed at the trees. So far, whatever plan Avi formulated seemed to be working; despite that Avi wasn’t looking at him, Mitch gave a little thumbs up as a means of distributing thoughts and prayers or good energy.
He couldn’t imagine being so far away from a significant other so consistently, and judging from the sparse conversation on the topic last night, she did not harbor much enthusiasm about leaving Washington. It was an obvious tightrope situation, but she appeared to adore Avi, and hopefully they would work it out.
Yet, something nagged at the back of his mind; without a doubt, there were words that went unspoken, and the underlying tension below Avi’s demeanor when they were alone in the master bedroom did not go unnoticed. If anything, it’d been gestating.
But it also wasn’t worth dwelling on, because he knew that he would see issues that might not exist. So instead he retrieved the camera and announced to Jodie -who set up shop at the table with several stacks of paperwork- that he was going out. She waved him off without looking up from what she was reviewing, which was fine, since he didn’t want any attention drawn to the fact that he was slowly getting back into old hobbies.
Eventually he’d be fine with talking about it, but as of now it remained a more sensitive topic. The reminders that he lost interest in roughly every last passion he once held was still raw and felt like a colossal failure, even though Ann insisted otherwise. He wished that he could take some comfort in her assessment that other people went through it, but that information left him sore as well. There would be no winning this struggle and no way to rush it, just acceptance in due time.
He stepped outside and took a deep inhale of the fresh air, letting it settle deep down in his lungs. Everything was cool and crisp, his favorite kind of weather, and he was grateful for the warmth that the hat provided. He wanted to ask if Jodie could make him a matching scarf, but years had passed since she gave him the hat and he didn’t know if she had another skein of yarn in that color. Or still knitted, for that matter.
Turning the camera on, he descended a stone staircase behind the house to get onto the lake’s shore. The water’s gentle lapping grew louder the closer he got. Setting foot on the small beach, smooth pebbles and sand crunched underfoot every step that he took. To his left, a wooden dock would sometimes sway, and it brought on memories of when he and Jodie were teens and would sit there for hours, talking bullshit out of earshot of the adults. It was the place that he first admitted out loud to anyone that he thought more about kissing boys than girls, under the light of the moon and stars, 15 and in possession of a few nips she’d stolen from her mom, scared witless that his best friend would abandon him the moment the words accidentally tumbled from his mouth. But it was that, or continue to let it burn him up inside until one day he’d spontaneously combust and be reduced to ash.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
Years later, he retold that story to Jodie, and she was aghast at 15 year old Mitch’s assumptions. Then she hugged him tightly, but only after a good whack upside the head.
He pointed the camera at the end of the dock, imagining them both sitting there half of a lifetime ago, and took the shot. Sure, an empty dock on a fall day was a photography cliche, but he needed a warmup and it felt right to do. A few more shots were taken before moving on, focusing on the lake’s glassy water and the tree’s vivid colors until he was interrupted by rustling that came from the adjacent woods. He turned to look, and spotted a lone doe that was frozen in place. “Hi there,” whispered Mitch, and he was able to get some pictures before she disappeared into the thicket.
The canoe upon its makeshift rack of two sawhorses was eyeballed, filling him with a sense of adventure and curiosity; when he was younger, he only approached it with trepidation, as bodies of water filled used to incite a phobic reaction once upon a time. He since then made peace with it and was no longer fearful, but he’d need to go grab the paddle before he embarked. It would also be wise to alert someone about going on the water. Maybe he’d convince Jodie to come out with him, and he could attempt to get a few closeups of the raptor that circled above.
That was a task for later, when Jodie grew sick of working. He opted to climb into a hammock that was suspended between two trees at the edge of the forest and closed his eyes, relishing in the sporadic cold breeze that rocked him back and forth. For a few moments, he mused over the idea of potentially moving here and how feasible it’d be. Without a doubt he first needed a better car because all of the surrounding roads were mostly dirt and winter would be hell on it. But Roland offered the cabin for him to stay at for as long as he needed it, even indefinitely, and he'd been granted the blessing from work to fully go remote. It was only about an hour and a half away from Monument, which was considerably better than the three hours commute from Greenwich.
A reset may do him well, he pondered. And maybe this slow-paced idyllic setting would get old over time, but maybe it was exactly what he needed for right now: to get the the point where a situation could get old for once, and instead of it getting exhausting.