Wet Firewood

We drove up the snowy, winding road towards the cozy A-frame cabin. It would still be a few more minutes before we made it there and the sun set over the snow capped mountains.

It was colder in the car than outside, or at least it felt that way. We’d been together for ten years this past April and yet it felt like something had ended long ago.

The roads were slicker than I’d have liked them to be considering how the light was fading, but I didn’t tell her to slow down or take the curves easier. I’d learned long ago not to criticize her driving. It wasn’t worth the argument that would inevitably ensue. So, I bit my tongue and wondered what a car crash would feel like and if we survived, had I packed enough supplies… my mind started going through the inventory of what we had in the trunk while I could tell she was stealing glances at me out of the corner of her dark eyes….

One.. maybe two flashlights.. Two gallon water jugs… a few snack bars.. Extra clothes… a hatchet and fire starter kit.. My mind slowly turned off as I thought about nothing except for the best way to get a fire going if the fire wood at the cabin was wet.

“Can we talk?” she says as we pull up to the quaint A-frame. Uh-oh, here we go, I think but simply say, “Sure. What’s up?”

I’ve already started unpacking the luggage from the trunk of our all-wheel drive SUV. I hate talking, silence is much more my style.

“Are you even going to look me in the eye?” Her voice has a strange edge to it now that I haven’t heard before, an urgency I guess you could say.

“Are we really going to start our trip off with an argument?” It is all I can respond with, after all, I don’t know what’s wrong with us, all I know is it doesn’t matter.

“You seem so distant lately. Well, no it’s been for months actually. I don’t know if I can stay here for 4 days with a robot who doesn’t even LOVE me anymore.”

“You’re being crazy. You know I love you.”

“THEN WHY WON’T YOU TALK TO me anymore? I just don’t know what is going on in your head! You’ve been so different and I know you’re going to blame it on the accident - that’s what you always do, find something or someone else to blame, but this time, Kevin, it’s YOUR fault. I haven’t changed. Why can’t you see that?!”

I slowly walked towards the door and closed it. She can unpack, I’ll go grab firewood and let her calm down.

I grabbed my winter gloves and the hatchet from the back and after circling the cabin a few times, and come to the conclusion that whoever stayed here before us must have used all the firewood and I would need to go gather some for us and then see how quickly I could dry it out. At least this place has a back-up generator, this weather seems like it’s getting worse.. Fast.

By the time I make it back, she’s already got everything unpacked and is cooking.. Something… in the built-in kitchen. The scenery is beautiful but the winter storm outside is picking up and I’m glad to be back and warm.

She doesn’t say anything as I start to lay out some firewood near the stove that had just enough left to get a small fire going. I eye the opened bottle of wine in the kitchen and now the silence makes sense.

Maybe we will get through this storm and this rough patch in the relationship.. I can’t help but think this is my fault, even though she insists I always put the blame elsewhere. It probably is my fault, even though I haven’t done anything. That’s the problem. I can’t keep a job, or find any desire to go out with her friends or visit her family. I just feel stuck. Not in our relationship. Just in life. Things have just been slow. Hard. Not the way I thought they were going to go. And she had to bring up that incident, that didn’t help but she’s right, the problems started before that.

Silence for the rest of the night. She goes to bed early, likely reading a book and I stare at the darkness and then at the fire and try to get it going with wet wood. Which seems like the perfect metaphor for our love, just trying to keep it going but the fuel’s not working. Something just isn’t right. And my fear is, it’s me.

In the morning, she’s gone. I felt like there was a fifty percent chance of that. And I can’t tell if I’m relieved or not. At least, she’s left me my cell phone, after going through it a hundred times I’m sure, looking for evidence of an affair or crime that doesn’t exist. If it did, it would be easier. She could stay mad forever then.

I make some coffee and watch the wintry landscape from the cabin windows for a while, just trying not to think about anything.

How will I get home? That thought keeps sneaking up on me, since she took the car. But I decide that doesn’t matter, either. Nothing does anymore.

She took the rest of the wine with her. I realize that a few hours later.

I guess it's a walk in the woods then.

That walk turned into a sit and mope for another hour. What am I thinking? She was the best thing that had ever happened to me? I didn't pass the bar exam, but did I even want to be a lawyer? All they do is read and write constantly and that's my nightmare. How could I have been so stupid, and now I'm stuck in this blistering cold wilderness.

I panic a little on the way back to the Cabin as I think I've lost my way, but just as quickly as it's gone, I've found it again.. another metaphor?

I don't know but there's a car, our car, in the drive way when I get back.

I run up to her, as she's getting out. "You came back!" I almost yell it as I grab her around the waist and spin her in the air. A light snow has started falling around us and the cabin.

"Of course, I only went to town to get more wine and some bread... Didn't you hear me last night?" the smile on her face is slightly mocking. Whoops.

"No, umm, I don't think I was listening."

"Typical." she says and rolls her eyes, but the playfulness is still there. "Well, help me get this stuff in before it gets super cold again."

"Yes, dear. I'm sorry, by the way." I say it quietly, but I mean it.

"Me too."