The Rockmore House

35 | Across the Sea

I stomped through the snow in my tallest winter boots and it still spilled over the edges and soaked my shins. Underneath my coat I was still wearing the ripped jeans and black velvet top I wore to the party. If I was going there to be open and truthful, I was going as myself. I would not dress the part of a 1950s prospective girlfriend like I had that summer.

I felt electrified. Every part of me was prickling with anticipation, and cold, and maybe a little bit of fear. I wondered if Eric was right, that this was a huge mistake. I reminded myself that I could return to the present in a second if necessary.

I closed my eyes, turned my face to the sky and felt the snowflakes land and melt on my skin. I tried to imagine Pete in the cabin, warm yellow light and life illuminating the dark, empty house in front of me. When the pressure lifted, I was somehow still standing, on a shoveled path instead of in a snowdrift. Yellow light shone through a curtain in the front window. These small changes seemed proof enough that it worked.

I knocked on the door. After a minute, it's cracked open and revealed the backlit shadow of a silent, tall figure. I held my breath and took a step back. Then a light over my head switched on, the door swung all the way open and Pete was standing there in front of me.

His shoulders were broader, his face was a little thinner and his eyes were burning like a fever as he gazed down at me.

"Hi." I wasn't sure if I even said it out loud or simply opened my mouth.

Pete reached for my face, but as soon as his hand touched my skin, he startled and pulled his hand away.

"Shit!" He stumbled backwards. "Shit. Holy shit. I'm sorry," he said breathlessly.

"No, I'm sorry I scared you. Can I come in?"

"Yes. No." His dark eyes glanced over my face, while avoiding contact with mine, and then he quickly shook his head. "Of course. Give me one minute."

Pete pushed the door closed and I turned to face the dark night. I exhaled deeply and watched my breath condense into a rising cloud. A sharp wind swept away the cloud, stung my face and made my eyes water. It was so cold that I could feel my lashline tighten as the fresh tears crystallized. The feeling of being swallowed up by stress was taking over me; my heart was pounding, my ears were ringing, and sweat dampened my feet and hands despite the frigid temperature.

Swirls of snow rose from the crests of the drifts lining the shoveled walkway. I took a few steps away from the house and craned my neck to look up at the sky. An unbelievable number of stars scattered the sky, more than I'd ever seen. I was used to scattered stars, but these were like spilled platinum glitter. While I gazed at the breathtaking view, I pressed my overlapped hands to my wildly thumping heart and breathed deeply and waited.

When it had been long enough that I considered knocking again, Pete opened the door and gestured for me to come inside.

The door opened directly into an open room, with a kitchen and dining table on one side and a living area with a couch and chair on the opposite side. I glanced around the room and wondered what he was doing while I froze outside. His house appeared neat and minimalist. There were books stacked on the end table next to a plaid upholstered chair and a guitar on a stand in a corner. I gravitated toward the warmth radiating from a cast iron wood burning stove in the living room area. Next to the stove there was a drying rack draped with clothes: socks, undershirts, an empty space, a work shirt, gray pants. Something was missing.

"So you left me out there in the cold so you could hide your underwear?" I joked.

"I guess so," he mumbled.

Pete was still standing near the door. He was wearing a plaid flannel over a white t-shirt and gray pajama pants. I had no idea what time it was. The winter solstice was days away and it was Northern Michigan and it was dark outside. It could have been any time between four o'clock in the afternoon and eight in the morning.