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  Phillip set his boxes on the counter. He said, “I would’ve never gotten rid of her stuff if I’d thought you’d need it.”

  “It’s okay. That’s what credit cards are for.”

  We both chuckled.

  He pulled his cellphone from his pocket to check the time. “When did you say the cable guy was arriving?”

  “Between two and six.”

  “We better get my car unloaded so he has a place to park.”

  I nodded and crossed the cabin to the backdoor which opened onto the sizeable covered deck surrounded by railing. The view overlooked a thick mass of enormous trees. I left the door open and proceeded to open the four windows and turn on the two ceiling fans to air out the place. When I was done I helped Phillip to empty his car of my possessions. Luckily I hadn’t bothered unpacking much in the two weeks I’d inhabited Mom’s old guest room and it took us less than an hour to reload everything back into both of our cars.

  Once we’d emptied his trunk he backed his car out of the parking space so we could fully open the rest of his doors and retrieve the remaining items. He returned his car to its original spot when it was completely unloaded and we proceeded to do the same with my car.

  At one point during the many trips up and down the stairs I turned my attention to the other cabin. I couldn’t be completely sure but thought I could make out the outline of a figure standing inside the screen door. It didn’t appear to be the woman from before, but a tall and broad-shouldered man. Whoever it was took a step backward and disappeared into the shadows of the cabin once they became aware I was watching them.

  When the cars were empty there was an hour to spare before the earliest scheduled arrival time for the cable installer. Phillip led me down the flight of stairs ending at the ground behind the cabin. Where the cabin on the path had an exposed crawlspace this structure was on much taller stilts and had a much bigger space underneath because of the severe slope of the ground. Someone had taken advantage of the space opportunity and enclosed the area with corrugated sheets of metal and transformed it into a small garage. There was a standard door and a narrow overhead garage door on the side facing the back of the cabin. Phillip unlocked the man-size door, pulled a string a few steps in the door to turn on the light, and showed me the breaker box, the water heater, and the washer and dryer hidden behind the mountain of cabinets, countertops, buckets of stain and varnish for the floors, and a myriad of screws and fasteners and hand tools to perform the work needing done.

  “You’ll have to rent a floor sander to do the floors,” he said. “But everything else is here. And the cabinets too. It’s just a matter of doing it.”

  “Well, I don’t have a lot going on right now. No girlfriend. No job other than the photography. I might have to make a few trips to the post office. I’m sure I’ll have plenty of time to work on it.”

  He went on to tell me if I made a right at the end of the drive there was an all-purpose convenience store, greasy spoon, and gas station combo a couple miles down the road. It was an overpriced tourist trap for the visitors who came to roam the state park and hiking trails. He instructed me to continue down the road for another twenty-five minutes and I would run into a small city home to a twenty-four hour one-stop mega store and a couple of hardware stores. He briefly contemplated staying until the cable guy came and went and driving with me so I wouldn’t get lost and he could help me haul my groceries back from the store. I reminded him of my landmark memory and told him I’d be fine and needed to learn the lay of the land myself since I was going to be living here for a while and he should head back home and try to beat the rush hour traffic. He reluctantly agreed.

  I got the feeling Phillip didn’t want to go back to his family. There was an envious vibe from him that surprised me when he handed me the hokey skeleton key for front and back doors of the cabin along with a small battered brass key for the garage door. I wasn’t sure if he was jealous because I was going to do the rest of the work to the cabin—the type of thing he loved to do—or if he wanted to be in my shoes. No partner telling me what I could and couldn’t do and demanding I give them all my attention and still not being satisfied when all their demands were met. No ungrateful kid who didn’t give a shit if I lived or died as long as I continued to hand them an allowance so they could buy things I didn’t approve of. No brainless nine to five job, the only thing remotely interesting about it being the paycheck. Did he want what I had? Did he really want the crippling loneliness and solitude and poverty that was my new existence? Because once he was gone and I was faced with the silence of being alone in the middle of the woods I began to question whether it was what I really wanted.

  5

  The cable installer didn’t arrive until six o’clock and I was starving by then. I hadn’t thought to bring a snack and Phillip had thoroughly cleaned the refrigerator and cabinets once Mom was gone. It wouldn’t have done me any good had there been food. I didn’t have any dishes or pans to cook or eat with. I resorted to chugging water straight from the kitchen faucet to stave off hunger pangs. While waiting for the installer I occupied myself by walking around the outside, phone in hand, and searching for a signal. I found the reception was finicky and there was no rhyme or reason to where or when the reception would work or not and most times it didn’t work in the same spot twice. I found if I stood on the deck near the stairs descending to the ground beneath the cabin I could pick up one bar of signal. Once I had a faint signal I tried searching for some basic furniture I could afford online. There were a couple of sites for stores nearby but once I clicked on the link my phone responded by informing me there was no signal. My cellphone was a couple of years old and I wasn’t sure if it was the reason my Internet and cell reception were so poor or if all phones would have the exact same problem.

  When the installer arrived he acted put out and complained about how difficult it was to find the place. He was an overweight man who sweated profusely and acted like it took a great effort to descend the stairs with his tools. He repeatedly tested my patience by trying to upsell me with introductory offers for the first fifteen minutes after his arrival before he even began the work. I was starving and becoming more irritable the longer he hemmed and hawed before getting to work. Apparently it was unheard of to only want Internet and no television or phone package. The man was pushy and overly authoritative and condescending for someone whose career wasn’t extremely desirable and didn’t require extensive educational requirements. It took several denials and repeatedly telling him I only wanted an Internet connection before he made a passive aggressive jab about spotty cellphone reception and how I’d regret it. I briefly pondered if I should relent and allow him to at least add a landline but I didn’t have a lot of money and I was cranky and hungry and damned if I was going to let him gloat in his success of bullying me into spending more money. I wasn’t sure if he worked on commission or not and I didn’t care. I was broke and I wanted him to hurry up before I died of starvation. It was only after he was satisfied he’d gotten the last word in that he finally got to work.

  My stomach grumbled loudly while the man fumbled with the installation and I almost literally ran out of the cabin once he was gone. My stomach was hollow and after repeatedly filling it with water I was certain it had decided to consume itself along with some other vital organs to keep me alive. My thoughts were so focused on food I nearly forgot my wallet in the process of leaving.

  My car whined as it climbed the drive and I made a right-hand turn like Phillip had instructed. I made a mental note of my odometer and the landmarks as I drove and found the lone convenience store with a hand painted sign identifying it as The Pit Stop. There was no way a person could miss the place. It had an overflowing parking lot, gas pumps, and an abundance of half-occupied picnic tables under a worn canopy. There was nothing else in the area except for a few scattered houses here and there along the road, punctuated with signs to caves, waterfalls, and hiking trails.

  The store was a nightmare.
It was full of trinkets and shirts and all the garbage a family would want to buy as memorabilia when on vacation. There was a small sad section in the middle of the store with a few last minute canned items, condiments, potato chips, soda, and a freezer full of pizza and ice cream. They also had an extremely limited selection of overpriced beer. The register area was packed with people buying beef jerky and potato chips and soda and the counters were stuffed with cigarettes and lottery tickets. I found a restaurant on the opposite side of the store from where I entered. But the extent of their menu was whether you wanted ketchup or mayonnaise with your fries and you could only order a medium pre-topped pizza with your choice of cheese, pepperoni, or supreme and there was no place to sit and eat inside. The eating area was at the picnic tables outside regardless of the weather. There were myriad signs throughout the place informing the customers the store had hidden surveillance cameras and shoplifters would be prosecuted. The store’s clientele didn’t deviate much from a certain type of people I’d actively avoided my entire life. Their clothes and manner of speaking were trashy, something I associated with people I would’ve called rednecks. There were only a few exceptions. There was a couple dressed in cycling apparel who acted as horrified as I was at the spectacle. It didn’t dawn on me until later that camping was a poor family’s idea of a vacation. The workers appeared hostile and unwilling to help any customer. They would huff and condescendingly answer people who asked them if the store carried a particular item or where they could find something specific. I resorted to grabbing a random bag of chips and a bottle of water and paying three times the normal price for them before returning to my car. I ate the chips hastily as I drove to the town Phillip told me I would find if I continued down the road. I told myself I would not shop at that store ever again unless it was absolutely necessary and I wondered if Mom had shopped there.

  The town was less frantic. I stopped at the first fast food joint I spotted and ate three dollar burgers before moving on to the mega one-stop store.

  I didn’t normally shop at megastores. I assumed the larger store would be as thriving and overfilled with the type of people I’d encountered at The Pit Stop. But the place was surprisingly quiet and docile. I made my way through the store and filled my basket with the cheapest bare essentials for the kitchen, bathroom towels, bedding, cleaning supplies, and some basic first-aid things. I ended up with two stuffed shopping carts. I paid for the items and unloaded them all into the car before reentering the store to purchase groceries. I made sure to stock up on beer.

  By the time I returned home it was nearly dark and I was exhausted. I unloaded the car and put the food in its proper place but piled the nonfood items in the middle of the floor. I drank a beer and stared at the mountain of stuff I’d purchased and tried to suppress the panic attack of how I was going to pay for the growing debt I was compiling on my credit card. The alcohol calmed me and I told myself there was no harm in making the minimum payment for the rest of my life. I also reminded myself I needed to change my ads for models to reflect my new location and tried not to fill my head with negative thoughts about how I would never receive another inquiry from someone willing to be photographed because I was out in the middle of nowhere and people would think it was some elaborate plot to lure them into the woods and murder them. My worries rolled from one thing to another: no one around here appeared to be remotely interested in the arts let alone be interested in modeling nude if need be, I needed to make more money, I needed to substitute my income with a another part-time job if I couldn’t make enough from my photography, where would I find a job, what if I got sick and died and no one found me for three months because I didn’t have a phone to call an ambulance, and lastly, was Naomi happier now? I put it all out of my mind and proceeded to construct a makeshift bed on the floor out of the bedding I’d purchased. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept on a floor—most likely when I was a child—and knew I wasn’t going to feel great in the morning, if I was able to sleep at all. I thought of scouring the Internet and trying to find furniture but I was too exhausted. I would make furniture hunting a priority tomorrow.

  I forwent establishing an Internet connection or checking email messages. I’d received a text while shopping from Phillip informing me he made it home safely. I responded in kind when I had a strong reception signal at the store. I didn’t need to know much more. The world was just me now and the only other person I was remotely worried about was Phillip. I checked my phone but there wasn’t a signal and the battery was almost dead.

  I downed another beer to help me sleep. I left the windows open since the weather was perfect and I was still combating the dog smell. I turned the lights off and the cabin was plunged into complete darkness. I told myself I should purchase a nightlight until I got used to my surroundings. I used the light of my phone to find the pile of blankets and pillows I’d constructed. I made myself as comfortable as I could under the circumstances. The silence of the woods was unnerving. I was used to the clamor of the city and I found it difficult to fall asleep even after a couple of beers. Time was hard to measure without the city sounds and I contemplated getting up and having a couple more beers. I eventually fell asleep after focusing on the faint rhythm of insects.

  A sound woke me in the middle of the night. It took me a few seconds to realize it was coming from outside. It sounded as if something were being dragged across the ground for a second, followed by a pause, and repeated again. Scrape. Silence. Repeat. Whatever it was it sounded large and my sleep-fogged mind struggled to put an image to it. It wasn’t the sound of a raccoon dragging a piece of trash. The sound conjured images of a large animal dragging oversized prey off to its cave. The image of a bear dragging a fallen tree branch to wherever it was constructing its home came to mind. It went on for a few minutes, fading a little each time. Eventually I couldn’t hear it anymore and drifted off again. Right before I dozed off I wondered if there were Yeti in the area

  6

  In the morning I was woke by the rhythmic rapping of a woodpecker. My back was stiff and my thighs ached from the exertion of repeatedly climbing the stairs the day before. I did some slow and deliberate stretching while I was still on the floor. My muscles protested and the ache of them being stretched was equal parts pain and pleasure. Relieving my painfully full bladder fell into the same category. When I was done in the restroom I dug through my plunder from the previous day and opened the coffee maker and bean grinder.

  Once the coffee was brewing I retrieved a pan, cooking utensils, and the dishes I would need to eat. I washed and dried them with a hand towel that left lint on everything it touched. I cursed aloud as I tried to rid the dishes of the lint and resorted to drying the dishes with a paper towel. I prepared a quick breakfast and once I was done eating I proceeded to open the rest of the items in the pile, wash all the kitchen equipment, and store them in their respective places.

  I constructed a pile of the towels to wash, reminding myself to buy a laundry basket on my next trip to the store, and collected the trash. All of the boxes and their internal packaging amounted to three large trash bags. I decided I might as well take the bags to the dumpster before I got absorbed in searching for furniture online.

  The bags were light and I was able to manage all three at once. My thighs protested when I started up the stairs. I thought, I should have taken a couple of Tylenol when I woke up. At the top of the stairs I looked for any sign of movement from the other cabin. I didn’t spot anyone or hear anything coming from that direction.

  I made the trek up the drive on foot and deposited the bags in the dumpster across the street. On my way back I checked the mail box and found a stack of junk mail addressed to Mom.

  As I walked down the drive a wind picked up and the trees began to sway and rustle noisily. A shadow passed over the drive and a rumble of thunder sounded in the distance. I looked up to see a darkened cloud traveling quickly to blot out the sun. I picked up my pace.

  Mom always complained ho
w quick the weather would change in the area. She’d joked about how the weatherman would forecast a sunny day with no chance of rain in the morning and by the evening it was pouring buckets. I remembered the phrase she used to repeat was ‘Mother Nature was a loose cannon’.

  A few drops of rain landed on the stairs as I hurried down the steps to the cabin. I was winded when I reached the door. I wasn’t used to running and my legs felt like overstretched rubber bands from the previous day’s activities. I thought I might want to start some type of exercise regimen sooner or later. I wasn’t exactly overweight but I also wasn’t an Adonis and the thought of possibly finding another woman who might be remotely interested in having sex with me made me self-conscious of my lazy and untoned thirty-year-old physique.

  I flung open the screen door and stepped inside the cabin. I stopped short and my heart jumped into my throat when I realized someone was in my cabin. An old man stood in the living area with his arms crossed, observing the pile of towels on the floor with a scowl. He looked up at me, scowl still intact, when I entered. His eyes were a pale shade of blue and his gaze was intense. He was thin and sinewy and tall with a full head of white hair. The way he stood made it apparent he was able-bodied but the thin skin and deep wrinkles of his face told a different story. He appeared to have dealt with rough times from the wear of expression. I was unsure how to interpret his age.

  I didn’t know what to do. I’d never dealt with a home invasion before and thought the likelihood for such an event would’ve been more statistically plausible when I lived in the city. Even though the man looked older than me I was aware he was completely capable of doing me physical harm, not to mention I didn’t know if he possessed a weapon. I wasn’t sure if I was getting robbed or what the situation was I’d stumbled into. The man didn’t make a move to introduce himself or apologize for the intrusion or explain why he let himself into my house. In fact there was an element of defiance to his posture and facial expression as he continued to stare at me.