The Gamble
Page 147
After Max left that morning, his parting shot so final, I knew I only had one choice and having only that choice, in my head I broke down the problems facing me then I tackled them one by one.
I called Thrifty’s and luckily got someone other than Arlene who answered the phone. This person had clearly not been informed of the ban on taxis to Max’s house therefore when I ordered a taxi he told me they’d send one and it’d be there in half an hour.
While I waited for the taxi, I made the bed and packed. Then I went downstairs, booted up Max’s computer and changed the password.
Then I wrote a note to Max. I wrote it longhand on a sheet of paper I took from his printer. I didn’t edit it or proofread it, just wrote it and left it on the kitchen counter. There wasn’t much to it anyway.
All it said was:
Max,
You’re right. You deserve better.
Thank you for all you did and for being you.
Nina
PS: Your computer password is Beautifulbluff
Then I got in the taxi and paid a fortune for him to take me to the closest rental car agency which was three towns over. I rented a car asking the clerk where I could book a few nights somewhere quiet, somewhere secluded. He told me he knew just the place, made a call, wrote out the directions, I followed them and I checked into my own little cabin amongst a bunch of other little cabins in a little wood by the river.
Then I texted my Mom to tell her I was all right, not to worry about me, I’d explain later, ignoring the fact that I’d had twelve calls and not even looking to see who they were from. Then I turned the ringer on my phone to silent and put it in the nightstand.
Then I drove to the market I saw on my way to the cabins and bought myself enough food to last a few days, drove it back to my cabin and unpacked it.
I made myself lunch, ate it but didn’t taste it.
Then I took the chair that was on the tiny back porch of the cabin and moved it down to the river and sat staring at the water rushing by, my mind weirdly blank, my body totally numb.
What could have been minutes or hours later, I heard, “Nice view.”
I looked to see an elderly man with a cane making his way to me over the snow, intermittent exposed rocks and dead tufts of grass.
I smothered the desire to get up and aid his journey, biting my lip as I watched his cautious approach, wielding his cane, thinking (what I didn’t know was correctly) from my experience with Charlie, he probably didn’t want some strange woman helping him and reminding him of a weakness he wasn’t likely to forget.
Then I looked back at the river rushing across its rocks, the snow shrouded banks, the green pine trees dotting all around.
It was a nice view and I hadn’t even noticed. I hadn’t really even seen it.
I looked back at the man and tried to smile as I agreed, “It’s lovely.”
He made it to my side and stared at the view.
After awhile, not looking at me, he asked, “You all right, missy?”
“Sorry?” I asked back.
I started when he replied perceptively, “Been on this earth awhile, know heartache when I see it. You been sittin’ in the sun even though it’s bitter cold, starin’ at that river for yonks. You all right?”
I pulled in a ragged breath then I lied, “Yes, I’m fine.”
He nodded and continued his study of the river. Again, he did this for awhile.
Then, after another while, he informed me, “I’m Norm. I’m in cabin number three with my wife, Gladys. You want company, she’s a good cook.”
Before I could say anything, he turned and picked his way back over the snow, rock and dead grass. I went back to my silent contemplation of the river and I stayed that way until now.
I got up slowly, my body creaky with cold and inactivity. I dragged my chair back to my porch and went inside. Instead of going to the tiny kitchen to make dinner, I went to the window, pulled the curtain back and looked out.
There were seven cabins along the river, four across from them, dotted up an incline in the wood. There were two cabins with cars in front. Mine, number seven, was at the far end on the riverside, and Norm and Gladys’s, all the way down on the riverside, number three.
I grabbed my cabin key, walked out the front door, locked up behind me and headed to cabin number three.
* * * * *
“I’ll see you at breakfast,” I said to Norm and Gladys as I stood on their tiny front porch, illuminated by their blindingly strong porch light.
“We’ll see you at eight thirty, Nina, dear,” Gladys smiled at me. “Cabin number seven?” she asked.
I looked into the drive area of the cabin complex and saw not much as the porch light was the only thing lighting the large, dark space. Then I looked back at Gladys and Norm.
“Yes, number seven. The silver rental car in front, can’t miss it,” I told her.
“’Night, Nina, thanks for the company,” Norm smiled at me, his eyes searching but gentle.
I hadn’t shared and they hadn’t pried. They’d just given me pork chops, mashed potatoes, gravy and green beans and finished it with homemade apple pie and ice cream, all of which probably tasted good if I could taste anything. They’d also told me about their three kids, seven grandkids and one great-grandkid, all of whom where spread across the continental United States, all of whom they loved dearly and all of whom I could probably recognize on the street after they were done talking about them. And this was even before they showed me pictures.
“’Night Norm, Gladys.”
“’Night dear, sleep tight,” Gladys replied.
I turned on a small wave and headed back and as the night enveloped me quickly in its bizarre, dense darkness, the thoughts I’d kept at bay all day flooded my head. Thoughts about how, this time, I’d been the one who made the good part of a new relationship go bad. How, this time, I’d been the one who had a good thing and didn’t take care of it. How, this time, I thought I was guarding against something bad when someone should have guarded Max against me.
With some effort (and not entirely successfully), I shoved these thoughts aside as I carefully made way through the darkness, found my cabin by what could only be considered a small miracle and then another miracle occurred when I found the lock in which to insert the key.
When I opened the door I was making a mental note to turn on the porch light next time if Norm and Gladys invited me over again when I was suddenly shoved through it. I emitted a small, surprised cry but had no time for any other reaction when I was jerked away from the door, slammed against the wall, my head cracking painfully against it then I had a strong, man’s forearm tight against my throat.
I called Thrifty’s and luckily got someone other than Arlene who answered the phone. This person had clearly not been informed of the ban on taxis to Max’s house therefore when I ordered a taxi he told me they’d send one and it’d be there in half an hour.
While I waited for the taxi, I made the bed and packed. Then I went downstairs, booted up Max’s computer and changed the password.
Then I wrote a note to Max. I wrote it longhand on a sheet of paper I took from his printer. I didn’t edit it or proofread it, just wrote it and left it on the kitchen counter. There wasn’t much to it anyway.
All it said was:
Max,
You’re right. You deserve better.
Thank you for all you did and for being you.
Nina
PS: Your computer password is Beautifulbluff
Then I got in the taxi and paid a fortune for him to take me to the closest rental car agency which was three towns over. I rented a car asking the clerk where I could book a few nights somewhere quiet, somewhere secluded. He told me he knew just the place, made a call, wrote out the directions, I followed them and I checked into my own little cabin amongst a bunch of other little cabins in a little wood by the river.
Then I texted my Mom to tell her I was all right, not to worry about me, I’d explain later, ignoring the fact that I’d had twelve calls and not even looking to see who they were from. Then I turned the ringer on my phone to silent and put it in the nightstand.
Then I drove to the market I saw on my way to the cabins and bought myself enough food to last a few days, drove it back to my cabin and unpacked it.
I made myself lunch, ate it but didn’t taste it.
Then I took the chair that was on the tiny back porch of the cabin and moved it down to the river and sat staring at the water rushing by, my mind weirdly blank, my body totally numb.
What could have been minutes or hours later, I heard, “Nice view.”
I looked to see an elderly man with a cane making his way to me over the snow, intermittent exposed rocks and dead tufts of grass.
I smothered the desire to get up and aid his journey, biting my lip as I watched his cautious approach, wielding his cane, thinking (what I didn’t know was correctly) from my experience with Charlie, he probably didn’t want some strange woman helping him and reminding him of a weakness he wasn’t likely to forget.
Then I looked back at the river rushing across its rocks, the snow shrouded banks, the green pine trees dotting all around.
It was a nice view and I hadn’t even noticed. I hadn’t really even seen it.
I looked back at the man and tried to smile as I agreed, “It’s lovely.”
He made it to my side and stared at the view.
After awhile, not looking at me, he asked, “You all right, missy?”
“Sorry?” I asked back.
I started when he replied perceptively, “Been on this earth awhile, know heartache when I see it. You been sittin’ in the sun even though it’s bitter cold, starin’ at that river for yonks. You all right?”
I pulled in a ragged breath then I lied, “Yes, I’m fine.”
He nodded and continued his study of the river. Again, he did this for awhile.
Then, after another while, he informed me, “I’m Norm. I’m in cabin number three with my wife, Gladys. You want company, she’s a good cook.”
Before I could say anything, he turned and picked his way back over the snow, rock and dead grass. I went back to my silent contemplation of the river and I stayed that way until now.
I got up slowly, my body creaky with cold and inactivity. I dragged my chair back to my porch and went inside. Instead of going to the tiny kitchen to make dinner, I went to the window, pulled the curtain back and looked out.
There were seven cabins along the river, four across from them, dotted up an incline in the wood. There were two cabins with cars in front. Mine, number seven, was at the far end on the riverside, and Norm and Gladys’s, all the way down on the riverside, number three.
I grabbed my cabin key, walked out the front door, locked up behind me and headed to cabin number three.
* * * * *
“I’ll see you at breakfast,” I said to Norm and Gladys as I stood on their tiny front porch, illuminated by their blindingly strong porch light.
“We’ll see you at eight thirty, Nina, dear,” Gladys smiled at me. “Cabin number seven?” she asked.
I looked into the drive area of the cabin complex and saw not much as the porch light was the only thing lighting the large, dark space. Then I looked back at Gladys and Norm.
“Yes, number seven. The silver rental car in front, can’t miss it,” I told her.
“’Night, Nina, thanks for the company,” Norm smiled at me, his eyes searching but gentle.
I hadn’t shared and they hadn’t pried. They’d just given me pork chops, mashed potatoes, gravy and green beans and finished it with homemade apple pie and ice cream, all of which probably tasted good if I could taste anything. They’d also told me about their three kids, seven grandkids and one great-grandkid, all of whom where spread across the continental United States, all of whom they loved dearly and all of whom I could probably recognize on the street after they were done talking about them. And this was even before they showed me pictures.
“’Night Norm, Gladys.”
“’Night dear, sleep tight,” Gladys replied.
I turned on a small wave and headed back and as the night enveloped me quickly in its bizarre, dense darkness, the thoughts I’d kept at bay all day flooded my head. Thoughts about how, this time, I’d been the one who made the good part of a new relationship go bad. How, this time, I’d been the one who had a good thing and didn’t take care of it. How, this time, I thought I was guarding against something bad when someone should have guarded Max against me.
With some effort (and not entirely successfully), I shoved these thoughts aside as I carefully made way through the darkness, found my cabin by what could only be considered a small miracle and then another miracle occurred when I found the lock in which to insert the key.
When I opened the door I was making a mental note to turn on the porch light next time if Norm and Gladys invited me over again when I was suddenly shoved through it. I emitted a small, surprised cry but had no time for any other reaction when I was jerked away from the door, slammed against the wall, my head cracking painfully against it then I had a strong, man’s forearm tight against my throat.
