Faltered light

Part 4: Temporary safe haven

James

"I'll be right back", I tell her. Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit. I close the car door and head back to the bathrooms. I inspect this guy. Joe. That is what his name tag says. Fucking Joe almost hurt Calla. A few seconds later and she... do not think about that. She is okay. She is in the car. She is safe. I take my knife out of the fucker's skull — he looks funny. He is not some normal fucking perv. Although I bet, he was some kind of perv with the name Joe. His mouth is downturned like his having a permanent stroke and his hands are filthy. I splash some water over the black goo residue on the knife —disgusting. Back at the store upfront — I grab a bunch of shit. Food stuff, canned goods, a kettle, a shit load of matches, a red can, coffee, sugar and other things we may need. This gas station is one of those stops that house all types of stuff for the locals who came camping during the summer; it is far from town and I am grateful for the distance. I bag everything before looking outside again to make sure she is okay. She stares blankly ahead and I suppose it is going to be a little while util she is back to herself. I make my way to the car and put everything into the trunk. A shotgun is visible the minute the trunk pops. I am not sure what kind; I am not aquatinted with guns but I will take a look later. I fill Joes car — my car — with gas and fill the can too. 
"Buckle up" — I step on it getting us the hell out of this shit hole before something else happens. Calla falls asleep and I explore what kind of music Joe was into. A song by Pink Floyd - I wish you were here washes over me on the long road. I like Joes taste. I keep driving making sure she is still there alongside me.

The road that turns up to the right is instantly recognisable. Up the dirt road, a few miles later the cabin comes into view. It looks just like when I was a kid — it was almost like a second home for me. Hidden away behind a cove of green trees like a secret fortress — I had been here so many times as a kid I knew how to spot it. Ours was probably the only cabin still in use out here; not since everyone moved to the more expensive location. The river is about a mile down a narrow path that my father had stones put into; for the sake of Susan and I not getting lost on our walks down that way in the summers. We would go fishing and Susan was snack queen. I honestly could never explain why I was such a dick to her; she could never replace Grace — my mother — but she was not so bad. I wish I appreciated her more. 
I pull up to the cabin; Calla looks so peaceful when she is asleep. 
Calla never ate nor used the bathroom after the incident — she was scared — it was written all over her face. I want to let her sleep but I think it would better if we go inside. "Calla, we're here", I gently rock her shoulder. Her eyes shoot open, she must still be a little spooked from earlier. When she sees me and takes in her surroundings she relaxes.
Calla

We finally arrive at the cabin around sundown and I am so thankful for Joes car. I could not bare walking anymore. When James wakes me up, we walk up to the door of the cabin. The porch is beautiful and looks like something from a porch and gardens  book. Wild flowers surround the entire house and even though the grass is wild it has charm. The porch is decorated with a swing chair and pot plants — the flowers had died and makes the whole arrangement seem sad. James takes the key out from  under a short wooden plank that houses the pot plants and heads over to open the door. An alarm warning beeps and I realize the pot plants are just a ruse. I had not expected it to look so — modern. The couches are wrapped in plastic, to preserve them. The lamps are long black Steele poles that drape over the side of the couches  giving off an elegant theme; a large television hovers above a fire place stacked with fresh wood. This is very different to the kind of camping I thought the Venton's were doing. There is a stair case  that leads up to the bedrooms. I look across the room and the kitchen is large. I can picture Susan cooking for her husband and James. The counters are black marble, a gas stove in the middle of the kitchen and white cabinets all around. James gets all the bags out of the car while I explore further. A sitting room with a nice fire place and brown leather couches encompasses the entire lounge area. I wonder if I could stay here forever. "I thought you hadn't been here in years" I ask James. "Yeah well Susan and my dad come up here all the time" he says nonchalantly. "When I got older, I preferred staying at home, the renovations are nice" he says. He switches on the fridge and I uncover the couches. James locks the doors and we head to the kitchen. From the kitchen I can see an entire back garden. "What would you like to eat?" James asks me. "What do you have?" I respond. "I like you weir" he says with a smile and takes out rice, frozen veggies and canned corn. While James prepares the meal, I pack the rest of the food away in the cabinets. We have dinner in the dining room that I hadn't noticed before. James and I hold regular conversation but the sleepy feeling creeps up. It feels really good to be relaxing. Maybe I'll wake up and this will just have all been a dream.

James

I hope I remember the code for the stupid alarm. 0309. My mum's birthday. It works. I would have thought they'd have changed it but Susan always encouraged my father and I to talk about mum and 'embrace' her — whatever that meant. We step inside and the place looks different. There are new couches and a tv. This is supposed to be camping? Calla looks at everything in amazement and lets herself wander further. After I get all the bags from the car, I join Calla in the kitchen and I can tell Susan decorated it. How much money did my father spend on this place?

Calla dozed off around seven thirty. We spent the night laughing and watching tv after diner. We closed the curtains and decided on a movie that Calla insisted I see. I barley watched the movie, when Calla would glance over to make sure I hadn't fallen asleep I pretend to be paying attention but really, I just loved watching her expressions to the cheesy romantic parts.  I make my way upstairs and cover the beds with sheets I found in the sitting room cabinets. Susan loves white. She taught me to make my bed when she moved in. I obviously didn't do it but now I'm appreciative of the skill. I head back downstairs. "Calla?", she shifts and moans. "Calla it's time to go to bed", she moans louder and I decide to just carry her up and put her to bed. She's probably too exhausted to get up anyway. After Calla's safely tucked in, I head to the room opposite hers.
                                  Calla

The chirping noises hold an encouraging tug to waking one up from a slumber. I am not where I fell asleep last night. I am in a bed. Holy crap. Panic takes over, whose bed is this?  My jeans are off but my t-shirt hangs off my shoulders slanted and creased from the night. I look around but James is nowhere to be found. Thank goodness. I get out of bed and scan the room. It's pretty. The walls are plain white and the bedding is too. There is a quaint headboard made of lovely dark steel. It has all kinds of swirls and it makes me wish I had decorated my room more like a girl. The wooden floor is dark and gives the room a modern minimalist chic feel.  My bags are next to the door. To the right of the room is another door. Another bathroom. It's absolutely breathtaking. The shower is against the wall. In the place of a shower door there is just glass separating the bathroom of white tiles from grey. The basins are are oddly shaped, all kinds of soap and lotions, shampoo and conditioner line the wooden shelves alongside each basin. A large mirror ties the bathroom together. My pants are neatly folded on a dark green chair in the corner of the room. Odd. A chair in a bathroom. Once I get them on, I make my way to find James. A door across the hall is slightly closed, I peek inside and James is soundly asleep. Little wheezes and whistles come from inside and I retreat back not wanting to wake him. Halfway down the staircase I can't help but notice the family photographs. James, Susan and Bruce — they are all smiling, the happiness radiating from the photographs make me feel warm inside. There are more photographs with James as a young kid but these don't have Susan in them. I think that's his mother. A beautiful woman with dark hair and green eyes smiles back at me. She's lovely and I instantly see where James had gotten his gorgeous features from. Heading down to the kitchen and opening the fridge. James had grabbed a couple of groceries and I am grateful he didn't require my help. I open a few cupboards and notice that Susan has cutlery, crockery, pots, pans, mixing bowls — basically anything you would need in a household. I head to the fridge and take out some butter and eggs. I guess James skipped any meat available at the stop, after a few days it was off, nor milk. I wonder if he likes his coffee black. I am grateful to my mother  for my own set of cooking skills. The only a kettle Susan has needs a stove, I fill it up with water and wait for it to boil. I make eggs and dough for bread. I whip up some warm beans out of the can and when that's cooking, I sit down at the kitchen island while the dough rises.

James

The smell of eggs and a nostalgic scent sends me back to that bakery down the street of my childhood home — when Grace was still alive. It eases me awake and I head downstairs baffled at what might be going on.  Calla moves around the kitchen at a calm and steady pace, mixing and placing. "Good morning " she smiles at me. "I made bread", she practically sings. She prepared eggs, beans and bread — and coffee. "Have a seat", she points to the island. I smile,  "Thanks Calla, you really didn't have to do all this". "It's nothing really, it's the least I can do", does she mean what happened yesterday with Joe?