Unearthly

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

“What was that back there?” I asked him as we plowed through the darkness. My nails dug half-circles into my palms. Joe liked getting his money’s worth out of the new engine.

He turned to look at me, a smile playing on his lips. “What do you mean?”

“You dropping by the shop. Getting Evan to close up.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Burgers, babe. Thought I’d surprise you. And he’s not a kid; he can handle it.” He was silent for a moment, the hum of the engine the only sound. Then: “But you know, you’re smart. It wasn’t just about burgers.”

I’d thought as much. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said, taking a curve in the road faster than necessary. My hands went white-knuckled. “I mean, first of all, you’re not feeling good, so of course he should close up for you. That’s just common decency. And second of all, he’s a stoner. I mean, he was obviously high back there.”

“He’s always good to go by the time we’re leaving.” This was true, plus Evan always made sure to take the drive real slow for me.

“Still, better for you not to ride with someone like that. And his car’s kind of a shitbox.”

I took almost personal offense to that. “But I like his shitbox. Agatha’s got character.” Evan drove an old police cruiser he’d bought at auction. She’d seen some things, and she creaked ominously whenever he took downhill left turns, but he drove her with reverence, like the stately dowager she was.

“It’s unsafe. And…” He grimaced. “Well, I hate to say this, but I think he’s into you.”

I inhaled sharply as the car sped over the beginnings of a pothole. It would be a crater by February. “Would you mind slowing down a bit?” It was the witching hour for deer.

A muscle twitched at the side of Joe’s mouth; was this funny to him? My irritation swelled.

“Anyway,” I continued, “he’s definitely not. Into me, I mean.” I knew this for a fact; Evan always got all starry-eyed when he worked with Gabriella, our newest college kid. He’d never once looked that way at me.

But Joe’s expression said he wasn’t convinced. “Come on, of course he’s into you. Anyone would be. You’re gorgeous. Kind. Caring.”

“Thanks.” Thanks, and I’m sorry about this, but let’s break up. “So, what, you just thought you’d pick me up from now on whenever Evan and I close together?”

He brightened. “Not the most terrible idea, right? And…” He let out a breath as his hand slid from the steering wheel to my knee. “Well, I’ve been thinking about some other things, too.”

I had a sudden, crawling instinct that our conversation had veered into uncharted waters, very possibly rife with sharks.

“This is just so right between us.” Joe barked a little laugh, shaking his head, and his hand tightened on my knee. “You know, I’ve dated other girls but I’ve never felt… Well, I guess I’ll just say it. I love you. Can’t hardly believe it, but there it is.”

Oh God. Oh no. And now he’d want me to say it back…

But no, he was continuing on, with the cadence of someone reciting a long, concocted speech. “And I’m sure you’ve guessed I feel that way about you by now. I know it’s soon, I know it’s crazy—but we should move in together. There, I’ve said it. Corinne? Hey, Corinne, what’s wrong?”

I did my best to keep my voice steady, even as my cheeks heated up. “I don’t… feel that way towards you. And I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

The speed of the car faltered—hallelujah. “I know it’s early, babe. I get that. There’s no rush to say it back. But moving in together would be good for us. You’ll see. Once we—”

“No, Joe. You’re great, but I’ve been thinking we should… see other people?” Every syllable from my lips was a Herculean effort. The air in the car had gone all hot and syrupy, the heater up a tad too high.

“But—”

“No. I’m sorry, but I’m not going to move in with you.” I couldn’t look at him, opting instead to stare out the window into the dark. If we did hit a deer and die, at least that would put an end to this conversation.

A few torturous seconds ticked by. “Because of your dad,” he said slowly. “He likes you living at home. He wouldn’t approve.”

Well, that might be true, but it was beside the point. “That’s not it. He likes you. I know he might have given you the tough dad talk when you came by the house, but—”

“Then what is it, Corinne? Because this”—he thrust a hand at the empty air between us—“is a good thing, and I’m having a hard time understanding how you can’t see that.”

What do you say when any answer you could give is just fuzzy instinct? I was trying to string words together when his next sentence bowled me over the head. “You’re cheating on me, aren’t you?” His voice had gone flat. “With Evan.”

I goggled at him, flabbergasted. “I am actually not cheating on you. How can you say that?”

He huffed out a breath. “I saw you two through the window when I drove up. Saw how you were joking around with him.”

My jaw was about on the floor. “And you think I’m seeing any guy I joke around with?” I shook my head wonderingly. What reality was he living in? Had he never been turned down before by a woman?

I shivered as he shot me another look: eyes hard and flinty, mouth set in a thin line. That was the moment I became acutely aware that I was being driven in a car by a man who was very, very upset with me. A man who, perhaps, was not often told no.

“Again,” I said slowly, “I am not cheating on you.” And I let my right hand fall off my lap and slip inside my purse, feeling for my phone. Not that he’d do anything, surely; Joe’s the type of guy where people always have some nice story to tell about him. Loved by all—well, everyone except me, I guess, and that was what really counted right now in this slow-moving train wreck of an evening.

So I fumbled for my phone and said, “Let’s just get back to the house and we can talk about this. Maybe I’m shy of commitment. So we can talk about it. About moving in together.”

“Yeah?” His eyes held mine, and I winced.

“Yeah, but can you please just watch the ro—oh!” For a dark streak of fur had just bounded out of the forest straight towards the car.

We missed the first one; they say that’s how it always goes. The second deer, though, we hit square on. A thunk and the sound of splintering glass. The squeal of brakes as we careened left. Lurching toward the windshield, before the seatbelt bit into my shoulder and wrenched me back. The car had stopped, I could feel that, but my heart was beating at a sprinter’s pace.

It had finally happened, the thing I’d feared so long realized again. The thing that never left me, stuck to my subconscious like a stubborn burr.

“Corinne?” I opened my eyes to Joe’s white face. “Are you all right?” His voice was oddly distant.

“F-fine.” The world spun around me.

“You didn’t hit your head or anything?” He scanned me for injury, his hand brushing my arm.

“Don’t touch me!”

He drew back sharply, like a snake recoiling, then regarded me for a long, strange moment before casting a look around. “All right. We’re blocking the other lane.” He reached back over to the steering wheel. “I’m just going to pull ov—”

But I was scrabbling with the seatbelt, not ready to be driven another inch by this man. With a click the belt released its death grip, and I opened the door. “No, I’m getting out of this f*****g car.”

His brow knit into a frown, but before he could say anything I half-stepped half-fell out into the winter night. The pavement was wobbly under my feet, like I was a sailor stepping back onto dry land after months at sea. Utter silence from behind me; the truck didn’t move, and I could feel him watching me.

I called my dad as I made my way over to the shoulder. I expected to see the deer slumped on the road, but the asphalt was empty, save for black skid marks from the tires. The truck was real banged up on the right side—the headlight shattered, a chunk of the bumper hanging off to scrape the pavement—but the deer had at least been of sound-enough health to leave the scene. I was panting, each breath a little stabbing knife of cold.

My dad answered just as his voicemail was about to kick in. “What’s up, sweetheart?”

“W-we got in an accident over on Fett’s Gap. Joe and I. Hit a deer. Can you come?” It would be nice if my voice stopped quavering.

“You’re all right?” His cheery tone had gone all low and serious. “You call an ambulance?”

“I’m fine. Can you just come?”

“On my way,” he said and hung up.

By this point Joe had pulled the truck over and was out of the car surveying the damage, accompanied by a few muttered curses. The hazard lights were a blinking spotlight that did little to press back the darkness of the woods on either side of the road. In my peripheral vision, I saw Joe turn his head toward me like he was thinking of saying something, but then he ran a hand through his hair and bent again to look at the truck. Dimly, I wondered what the deer was doing right now—if it would escape this night with just a nasty bruise or if it was in the process of dying.

There came a glow of headlights from behind us. Not my dad—it would be a few more minutes yet before he got here. The approaching driver gave a quick double honk and pulled over.

“Hey there!” said an older male voice as the driver’s side door opened. “Joe Gagnon, that you? Run into some car trouble?” Like I said, Joe’s pretty well-liked around town, and it wasn’t surprising that whoever this was knew him in some way or another.

“Yeah,” Joe called. “Hi, Ted.”

It took a moment of squinting around the headlights before I realized I recognized the speaker: a portly man with a white beard in a down coat and jeans that I’d seen working at Arlene’s Bar and Grill. Arlene’s isn’t fancy fare, mostly burgers and wings, but it’s Wakpa’s favorite watering hole. All small towns need some place for the buying and selling of gossip, and Arlene’s is our designated establishment.

“Evening, miss,” the man said, turning to me and dipping his head. “Ted Wint.”

“Corinne Kaminski,” I said. “Oh, hello.” This I directed to a woman, presumably Ted’s wife, who had just gotten out of the car. She was a round woman with frizzy gray hair wearing a nicely tailored coat and slacks. The lights from the cars set her pair of heavy diamond earrings sparkling.

“Hi, hon, I’m Arlene,” she said with a wave and a warm smile, and I was briefly starstruck. This was basically the equivalent of meeting Wakpa royalty.

Introductions out of the way, the men set about taking a look at Joe’s truck.

“We hit a deer,” Joe explained to Ted. “Big mother—” He shot a look toward us ladies. “Real big sucker.”

“Got away, huh?” Ted said, craning his neck this way and that to look into the woods. That’s too bad was what he really meant. Montana natives aren’t shy about bringing home a just-hit deer to dress it, and a lot of guys keep deer tags in their car, just in case. Spit and odds are you’ll hit an NRA bumper sticker.

“Well, we’ll let them get on with it,” Arlene said to me with a flap of her hand. “You look like you need to warm up.” She beckoned me towards their car, a red sedan on the older side that looked well-maintained. We both got in, her in the front passenger’s side and me in the back.

We watched them through the windshield for a minute in silence, before Arlene turned around to look at me.

“Had a fight?” She laughed when I gave a start. “Oh, hon, sixty years on this fair earth, and thirty of those spent in the bar business, will teach you an awful lot about human beings. You’re giving off angry vibes brighter than those hazards.”

I squirmed in the seat. Her sitting up front like that looking back at me had me feeling like a kid. “It’s not going to work out,” I said simply.

“Now you don’t have to tell me anything about it…” This with a leading pause. Well, it was only natural; this woman and her husband owned the town’s gossip factory.

“Anyway,” she said, when it was clear I was staying mum on the subject, “fights happen. That’s just the way of things. But we can take you home if you’d like.” She gave me a wink. “It’d let you have your storming-off moment. Give him something to think about.”

I felt my face reddening. “Oh, that’s really all right. My dad’s on his way to pick me up.” How humiliating; now I was really feeling the little-kid role.

“That’d be Walt Kaminski?”

“That’s him.”

“Good man. And Joe’s a good guy, too,” she said, with a nod of her head towards the truck. Man, was I getting tired of hearing that. “I’m sure you two will iron things out. Saw you getting chili dogs a while back… You’re such a cute couple.”

“Not sure about that,” I said in a low voice, then my heart leapt as my savior in the form of twin headlights appeared up ahead.

“And that must be Walt,” Arlene said, twisting back around. We got out of the car just as my dad pulled up in his pickup.

You know how they say people look like a lot like their dogs? I’d argue the same thing’s true of vehicles. I’m not saying my dad looks like his aging truck per se, but the two of them match really well: big, no-nonsense, and often in a less-than-cleanly state, whether by mud splatters or grease stains. My dad’s a machine operator at Pyne Metals, and if he leaves the house in his good jeans and blue flannel shirt you know it’s a fancy occasion.

Anyway, his truck might be a bit beat-up, but at least it had never tried to commit suicide by deer. To my eyes, it was as beautiful as Cinderella’s enchanted carriage, and my dad’s arrival as welcome a sight as Prince Charming.

He hopped out and looked me over, face grave. “Sure you didn’t bang your head or nothing?”

“I’m good.”

“Good.” His gaze shifted to Joe’s truck and the empty road. “That’s a real shame.” The men all shook their heads in glum commiseration, before my dad looked back at me with a silent question, and I gave him a thin-lipped smile that meant, yes. I’m sure I looked shaken up.

“Chilly out here,” I said, shuffling my feet. “Think we’d better get going.”

“Yup,” my dad said to me, then with a nod to the others: “Night, everyone.”

“Mr. Kaminski, I’ll just have a word with Corinne, if you don’t mind.” All eyes in the group swung over to Joe as I said a fleeting, internal prayer for grace.

“Well,” said my dad with a cough, “I’m sure that’s fine.” The older folks shuffled a little further down the road—guaranteed that Arlene’s ears were in full eavesdropping mode—and I turned to Joe.

“What’s that?”

“Just think more about what I said. I’m serious, Corinne.”

“And I’m serious, too. It’s not working for me, Joe. That’s nothing on you, but I’ll ask you to respect that.”

His eyes darkened. “I’ll call you, then. Give you a few days.”

If there’s one thing I hate, it’s people who nod along to what you’re saying and don’t hear a single word. It seemed this evening had been sent to test me, and I’d at last reached my threshold.

“No,” I snapped, “you won’t. It’s over.” I heard the older folks’ conversation from behind us go quiet. “Don’t call me, don’t text me, and don’t drop by the goddamn store!” And I turned on my heel and marched away to my getaway truck.