I stepped out of the bathroom dressed in a white silk nightgown that stopped a few inches above my knees. I forgot to pick up plain plaid or cotton pajamas earlier today, but at this point, I had decided I’d wear my pj’s in this house. Calvin’s reaction to me was enjoyable. His cheeks would instantly turn red and his voice would get deeper. I’d catch him forcing his eyes to look away, but they’d always nd their way back. Calvin looked at me like I was the only girl he had ever seen, and I liked it. It was that dance at the beginning of a relationship—intoxicating, addicting. You just couldn’t get enough, until you could. It was probably why I had had so many of them. Every relationship eventually loses its luster. You get bored. It becomes routine, mundane. And then you nd yourself seeking that excitement and spark elsewhere.
Tousling my damp hair with a towel, I moseyed out into the living room, hoping he hadn’t gone o to bed. He wasn’t there, and I was about to turn in for the night when the porch door squeaked. Calvin’s eyes were wide and his mouth hung open. A blue knit cardigan wrapped tightly around his shoulders and biceps. He quickly snapped his mouth shut, but his eyes remained wide, wandering up and down my body as though they were lost.
“I was just heading to bed,” I said with a soft smile.
Dinner had gone well enough, a little on the depressing side with the chicken slaughter beforehand and death as the major topic of conversation. But I learned a lot about Calvin.
“Oh.” He shu ed his feet. “Want to join me for a nightcap?” He held up a
bottle of whiskey and two glasses.
I ran my hand through my damp hair, hesitating for a moment. I didn’t want to be too eager. “Sure,” I nally landed on.
His lips curved into a grin as he held open the door. Out on the porch, I took a seat on the steps. Calvin poured a double into both glasses and handed one to me. His ngers grazed across mine, sending a shiver down my spine. I wasn’t sure if it was from his touch, the cool night air, or how the middle of Wyoming made me feel. I brought the glass to my lips and sipped. It didn’t burn because I didn’t let it. Mind over matter as they say.
“You must be cold.” He removed his cardigan and draped it over my shoulders.
I thanked him and pulled it a little tighter around me. It smelled like Calvin: woodsy.
I looked up at the night sky full of millions of stars, like tiny little lights
watching us, reminding us that there was a bigger world out there—that no matter what we think we knew, we didn’t really know anything at all. e blanket of lights is just a trick though, an illusion to make us feel like we’re a part of something magical, but really, it’s all random. All of it—atoms just mashed together, particles, subatomic particles . . . creating everything we’ve ever known and felt. Even this, this right here—this moment between Calvin and me.
“It’s beautiful,” I said.
“Yeah, it’s a real slice of heaven.” He sipped his whiskey.
See? Magic. It’s easy to be fooled by pretty things. We look at them and think something special went into creating them, like extra time was spent, like they are good because of their beauty. I rarely trust beautiful things.
“I never see the stars in the city. I think I actually forgot they existed.” Calvin looked over at me and then back at the night sky. “ at’s a shame.” “It really is. Sometimes I think about leaving and moving someplace quiet,
someplace simple, where people live for the moment and not for the next,” I
said, taking another sip.
“Someplace like this?” Calvin gave a half smile paired with a quick glance. I looked at him and smiled back. “Yeah, maybe.”
He returned his focus to the stars as I took intermittent sips of whiskey. We
stared at the sky in silence for a while, casually drinking. Most people didn’t like silence, but I thought of it as a luxury. When you’re surrounded by noise and chaos, it’s the quiet that makes you feel alive.
An owl hooted from a tree and an animal howled on and o in the distance, probably a wolf or a coyote, but I wasn’t sure. From the corner of my eye, I stole a glance at Calvin. He was stoic like more thoughts were running through his brain than there were stars in the sky. I wondered what it was he was thinking. What did a simple man like Calvin have to think about? You could nd out a lot about a person just by knowing where their mind went when it was quiet.
“Whatcha thinking?” I asked, interrupting the silence.
He blinked several times and looked over at me. “Just how I managed to get lucky enough to be sitting here with you surrounded by all this beauty.” Calvin gave a small smile and lifted his glass to his lips, taking a sip.
See? at answer revealed that he didn’t think he deserved this moment.
But why? What had he done to believe that?
“What about you, Grace? What are you thinking?” he asked.
“I was thinking the same thing.” I smiled back and drained the rest of my whiskey.
“ ank you for the drink,” I said, setting the glass down and getting to my feet. I pulled the cardigan from my shoulders and held it out. “And for the sweater.”
Calvin took it from me. “Anytime, Grace.” “Night, Calvin.”
He told me good night, and I walked inside, letting the screen door close behind me. Just before I disappeared down the hall, I stopped and looked back at Calvin sitting on the porch, giving him a once-over, the outline of his broad,
muscular shoulders illuminated by the night sky. He sipped his whiskey slowly,
gazing up. His thoughts were a little more on display now, and on some level, I knew he and I were one and the same. I could feel it.
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e sound of a woman screaming pulled me from my sleep. I jolted up in bed.
e room was bathed in moonlight, and the window behind the headboard was partially cracked open. I tried to control my breathing. Four counts in through the nose. Hold for seven. Exhale through the mouth for eight. I listened closely. e buzzing cicadas were so loud, it felt like they were in the room with me. ere must have been a swarm of them because their high- pitched hum drowned out nearly everything else. e hoot of an owl came next. Four counts in through the nose. Hold for seven. Exhale through the mouth for eight. I wasn’t sure what I had actually heard now. I laid back down, pulling the blanket up to my chin. I laid awake for a long time, and I didn’t hear the scream again. Perhaps I was dreaming, but what if . . . I wasn’t?
