Cliffhanger

For Rachel

There is that moment where incredulity and reason just can’t hug.

Waning light and snow at my nether, warmth and fire and intruder at my fore.

I made my decision and the door slammed solidly behind me.

He didn’t move a muscle, this unwanted guest. Rather, he looked disinterested. I watched him the whole time, but the cold was the better of me and I scrambled to the fire to warm my flesh.

He didn’t move or speak through my motions. And to be quite honest, I couldn’t care less as I roasted myself back from my pekid state. One two and the boots came off, snow and shivers in equal measure. He was always at the corner of my efforts yet waiting patiently.

It was a good ten minutes of unusual silence only disturbed by my grunts, watery clothing stripped and furious hand rubbing. I watched him steadily and noted his outright dispassion for my plight. He watched demurely like someone forced to attend his friend’s child in a play…as a bush.

He finally chimed, “Tea?” I shot a glance to the pot belly upon which a kettle burped steam. Social norms and upbringing kicked in and I reflexively was ready to accept a cup but came to reason and lashed, “Who the Hell are you?”

Again, that fox smile.

“Ah yes. There is much to be said.” He paused, “Or not.” He put a finger to his lips contemplatively. “That will be determined, always, by you.”

My mind reeled from the no answer. You’re in my cabin, offering my tea…what the…

Warm bones now, cold fog fading from my frame and a more stalwart person was resuscitated. “No, no, no. Who the Hell are you? Why are you in my cabin?” I grew several inches as I stood upright.

His half smile never faded. “Why, I am here because you called for me.”

The statement washed over my being. I knew its meaning in some distant way like a trivia answer, but you just weren’t sure it was right.

Wait, wait, wait. I shook my head getting the last of the ice out.

Big breath and a solid look at the stately man in a three-piece suit sitting on a chair in my cabin.

“Seriously, who are you?” My tone very level and very serious.

Not a flinch, not even an eyebrow raised. He looked back just as steadily, “I am here for your adventure.”

The cozy air of the little cabin grew thick as we looked at each other. I attempted words after a few beats but to no avail. He foxed me the whole time.

Shaking my head finally, “What?!”

He shirked my question and nodded to the table and for the first time I spied two pieces of parchment. Who has parchment?

He cleared his throat as I leaned to see what was written. “You have choices on the table. Pick and follow one that appeals to you. Then your adventure begins.”

Uncertain, I stood and got a better look at the two pieces of paper.

In bold print, the one on the left read “PERHAPS – 1808 Grant Street”

The one on the right read “PERCHANCE – 141 Washington Avenue”

I stood fuller and looked long at the papers. I knew both these places. How could he know about these moments? How could this even be happening? These are my memories of times past. How could someone even know about this? I stared dumbfounded at the two pieces of writing and grew angrier by the second.

Turning hotly, I found only a steaming kettle.

He was gone.