Cabin Affairs

Step 9. Pit Stop

Step 9. Pit Stop

Playlist: “Pit Stop” by Pyralid

Eric was out the door for his routine run quickly after we finished our defrosting in the kitchen. Actually, I shooed him out. It’s high time I take a shower and pull myself together again. The steam and warmth of the water feels so ultra calming, but I don’t linger. I have no idea how long Eric will be and I still want to blow dry my hair. I have always had long, straight brown hair, but it took quite a beating last night, tangling and knotting up more than my stomach did on the drive here.

I also put makeup on for the day, but I keep it simple, just a tinted moisturizer, a dab of blush, and my favorite black mascara to look more awake than I actually feel. I do not envy men for their lack of products. Men wear their levels of exhaustion in a way most women cover up. Of course, that’s the double standard, right? Women aren’t allowed to be that tired without being considered haggard, or at the very least being told the many ways to fix it by magazines, television, and, of course, men. Men are fixers.

Once I am freshly showered, shaved, lotioned, dressed, and madeup - how exhausting that is on its own - I decide to pull together the wreck of a kitchen. Eric may be able to cook for an army of firefighters at the Station, but he doesn’t seem to be used to cleaning up after them. It’s such a small kitchen for such a big mess! Where to start? I throw away pretty much everything and wipe the counters down. Then, wash the pans so they can be reused. At least, I know where to find everything, since Eric had pulled out nearly every item imaginable.

I’m starving by this point, but I decide to hold off on restarting breakfast. I don’t want it to be cold for Eric when he comes back. Plus, I have something more important to do right now. I grab my phone from the wall charger. Only about eighty percent of battery life I see, but what can I expect when I forgot to plug it in last night? After all, I had other things on my mind.

Still, the guilt of having not called Matthew to say goodnight has been weighing on me since the moment Eric left. I know he was in communication with Matthew from his cell, sending photos last night, but in my heart something feels… off. I just can’t place what it is exactly. When I found my purse in the living room and dug out my phone, I saw it had died sometime during the night. Is the empty black screen foreshadowing my doom?

At some point, Eric must have sent the video of our morning encounter-on-the-counter to Matthew as well, because the first message on my screen as it boots up is from Matthew, asking if I have a minute to chat once I’m wearing my own clothes again. That sounds ominous, but knowing my husband, it could just as easily be sarcastic. As terrifying as the prospect is, I have to know which. So much for a fresh shower, since I suddenly break into a sweat. How is this conversation about to go down?

With a deep breath, I hit the dial button next to Matthew’s name, hoping for the best and expecting the worst. What I don’t foresee is for him not to answer. After one and a half rings, I am immediately sent to voicemail, like when someone deliberately presses the end button on the call. Is my husband so upset with me that he doesn’t want to talk now?

After a few seconds of hyperventilating, I receive a text in explanation.

Matthew: Good morning, sweetheart. I’m sitting through a presentation right now, so I can’t talk.

Why? Why do I always do this? I get so far in my head that I imagine the worst case scenario before gathering all the facts. It’s Monday, so naturally, he is stuck in meetings all day. I should have anticipated this before letting my imagination run away and getting lost in the forest.

I set myself and my phone down for a second to reflect. I definitely have to work on this character flaw. I wish I could say it was a lack of trust for others, but it's more inward, I fear. For example, Matthew and Eric have never let me down, yet I keep predicting them to do so at every turn. The truth is, I don’t trust myself to be vulnerable. If I can prepare myself for the worst, then I can survive it without breaking. I am not necessarily pessimistic, but my mind has been trained to guard me.

Like when my parents died. I could have handled it better if I had been ready. My having been young felt like an excuse, therefore, I turned it into a lesson long ago. So, I still try to be ready for the next disaster coming my way. I try to be the ‘good enough’ and ‘strong enough’ that will be needed for the next calamitous event. I am constantly cautious and wary of others, so I can better protect myself.

And yet, this behavior is killing me slowly. I stress myself out unnecessarily. I need to remember there are certain people I can trust myself with. Frankly, I need to grow up.

Matthew: This is pretty redundant, though, so I can text if you like. What do you think?

Jenny Lynn: Yes, please! I was worried you might be upset with me for not calling last night, or forgetting to charge my phone. I’m so sorry I missed you. I still miss you now, actually.

I read my message back to myself, waiting for the three dots that might follow it to show that he is responding. Am I laying it on a bit thick? Honestly, yes, but it’s also how I am feeling. I do miss Matthew, a lot actually. I just haven’t had time to dwell on the sadness of that yet.

Matthew: Sweetheart, you have got to relax a little bit. I am not mad at you. Would I have preferred to talk to my wife last night? Yes, of course. But I also saw what you were up to, so I kinda figured you were tired.

He adds a winky emoji to the previous text and I have my answer. Matthew misses me, but he isn’t angry. He doesn’t even seem uncomfortable. If he was, then he would be texting in shorter sentences, one right after the other, and adding ‘haha’ or ‘LoL’ to the end of each message, as he does when he is trying too hard to convey he’s fine when he most definitely is not. I snort at the screen. We have been married long enough, I really should trust my instincts.

Jenny Lynn: Well, I am relieved you’re not mad at me.

Matthew: Mad at you? For going to sleep?

Jenny Lynn: Yes, that. Or… anything else?

I am clearly referring to the copious amount of s*x I had not only just had with my best friend, but had also just sent ample proof of it to my husband. What a weird sentence.

Matthew: No, nothing else. I just wanted to talk to you this morning and make sure you were OK.

Jenny Lynn: Me?

Matthew: Yeah, I know how nervous you were heading up to that cabin, seeing Eric again, and all this happening. I know I kinda pushed you into it, too. I want to check on you. See how you’re feeling about everything.

He wants to know if I am OK? I don’t deserve this man. Now, I miss him more.

Matthew: You can come home if you want to, you know. Whatever you want to do is fine by me.

Leave now? Do I miss him that much? Yes. Then, I think of Eric, and I miss the idea of him, too. We haven’t even spent twenty-four hours together, and I would like to get the chance to talk and hang out. Ok, I admit to myself, maybe I am still slightly more interested in ‘hanging out,’ but talking is a close second on the list. Admitting that aloud is something entirely different, though.

Jenny Lynn: Do you want me to come home?

Matthew: Yes and no. I miss you, baby, but I can also wait to hear all about it when you get back if you want to stay and have fun.

Baby. Matthew only calls me that when he’s horny. I realize he’s actually enjoying this, and so am I if I’m honest with myself. Eric seemed like himself again after this morning, too. Not to mention, I could use a hot minute not in ‘mommy mode.’

Jenny Lynn: Then, I think I’ll stay as planned. If that’s alright with you?

Matthew: I already said it’s fine. What are you planning to do today though?

Jenny Lynn: I was planning on getting a little editing done for work, even though I am on leave, but the internet here can be a bit spotty for that kind of work. I’m surprised the texts aren’t delayed right now. I think I might do some drawing while I’m here instead. The landscape of the mountain ridge is so incredible. We should take the kids camping around here sometime.

Matthew: Drawing, huh? You haven’t done that in years.

Jenny Lynn: Well, maybe. I was just thinking if I had time and all.

Matthew: It’s a great idea, Jen. I know how much that meant to you when we were in college. I like to see that side of you come back, that’s all. It’s interesting.

I’m not sure what he means by that, but I have to stop my train of thoughts here. This is exactly the character flaw I just promised myself to work on! Matthew only wants to see me happy, and he knows drawing used to make me happy, before kids and responsibilities and life happened. Plain and simple. I have to have more confidence; in both of us.

Jenny Lynn: OK, then I’ll have something to show you when I come home.

Matthew: Oh, baby. You will have plenty to show and tell. I have no doubt about that. I’m hard just thinking about it.

Jenny Lynn: Oh, shut up, Matthew! You’re at the office!

I add a semi-laughing emoji with red cheeks to show my embarrassment at his implied remark, but I know he’s right. I intend to see this adventure through to its natural conclusion - or at least the end of the week - which means, if nothing else, I will definitely have a story to tell.

Matthew: Just tell me one thing for now. Does he feel good?

Confidence is the key word, I remind myself for the hundredth time.

Jenny Lynn: Yes.

Matthew: Better than me?

Jenny Lynn: That’s ridiculous! It’s apples and oranges.

Matthew: Yeah, I know, I’m just trying to bother you a bit.

Matthew: Seriously though, I’ll still see you in a week, right?

So, he’s not adding his fake laughing comments, but I notice his texts are getting more rapid-fire. If he has an insecurity, it isn’t about me sleeping around, but rather not coming home. Of this much, however, I am certain.

Jenny Lynn: Of course. Always.

Matthew: I’m sorry, I have to go now, baby. Conference call with the practice group in five. I look forward to seeing your… designs? And the drawings, too. Talk soon.

I shake my head at his innuendos. As if seducing Eric again wasn’t enough pressure already, now I feel that I have to make sure it appeals to Matthew as well. Confidence, girl, confidence. I got this.

Jenny Lynn: OK, I love you.

Matthew: Love you more.

Not a second passes from me reading Matthew’s last text message while laying on the couch, the same lumpy sofa I shared my first kiss with Eric yesterday, then the man himself walks through the cabin’s front door.

Taking out his earbuds, Eric gives the kitchen a once over, and then turns to me with a grin. He does one of those male nods where his eyes trail from my head to my toes and back again, taking in my freshened appearance. He seems momentarily disappointed that I am back in my own clothes, but it passes quickly enough. “So, what have you gotten up to, J?”

Still shirtless and wearing those low-riding joggers, he kicks off his sneakers at the door. Now, the only real change in his appearance from this morning in the kitchen is the full sweat glistening off his toned body. My cheeks burn red. The question should have been, what was I about to get up to?