Boondocks

Chapter 12: Stranger

FERN

Tex fell asleep beside my fire, and I spent an hour debating whether or not to wake him. He had to be exhausted, but sleeping in the open, in October, couldn't be comfortable. I contemplated offering to share the shelter. After all, he'd built it. But it wasn't that large, and I wasn't that brave. What if he said no? Or, even worse, what if he said yes? Would he expect something? Would that mean something? It felt like it would, and that felt like something any normal girl my age should know already.

In the end, I added more wood to the fire and left him. The shelter was the best I'd ever had, and it wasn't even finished yet. It lacked a door, a chimney, and a bit of mud and clay to insulate the walls. All things I wouldn't need until winter hit.

The thought of winter brought a whole barrage of new questions. How long would I stay? Leaving right before the weather turned wouldn't give me enough time to prepare. It would have to be soon; too soon to teach him what he wanted to know.

Would I stay until spring? That was a long time. Then again, it wasn't that long when I thought of how much time I'd spent alone. A few months surrounded by people couldn't hurt. If anything, my mind needed it. It was easy to forget about keeping my brain healthy. I was always so focused on my body, food and water, warmth and medicine. The mind took second fiddle to the immediacy of physical health, but it was just as important. I'd neglected mine for too long.

My time alone had been like living in a cage of trauma. Nightmares and memories and guilt. Today had been a blessing. Today, I'd spent time with someone. I'd enjoyed myself and experienced things I'd never thought I would. The thought of Tex's hand on my side made a zing do figure eights inside my chest. My stomach knotted and clenched, and I couldn't lie, I was curious.

So many things I'd never done. So many firsts stolen from me. First crush. First date. First kiss. I'd given up on having them, but spending a day with Tex had made me crave those things. Just once. I wanted more than painful memories to feed my mind when there was nothing else to occupy it.

But when I woke the next morning, Tex was gone. Someone had added more wood to the fire, and a new shirt lay folded in the spot where he'd been. Atop it was a piece a torn envelope with a man's handwriting sprawled across it.

I have some things to take care of this morning. Here's a new shirt. Get whatever you'd like for breakfast from camp. I'll be offended if you don't.

–Tex

I sat the paper down and picked up the shirt. A deer head and the words I like big bucks filled the center. My lips curved. Had he picked it out? Had he taken his time to find the one he thought I'd like? Probably not, but it was nice to think so.

I removed the coat and slid it over my head, then smiled at it one last time before putting the coat back on. The morning was crisp, the kind of weather that used to make me think of pumpkins and cider. Now, it just made me think of that day. The crunch of the leaves, dry and brown on the ground. Dead. Decayed. Everything died in the fall. Everything. Everyone.

Usually, I'd check my snares first thing. I grabbed my pack and contemplated setting some, but the thought of killing a talking rabbit made me put it off. I'd have to ask Tex about it first. Considering he'd offered breakfast, I wasn't too concerned. I walked to the garden, grabbed Julia's pale and an empty bucket she had close by, and filled them with water.

It felt good, doing something for someone else. I'd completed a task and someone would notice. It would make her happy. I thought of Mama: how I used to do little things for her, set up the bread dough, weed the garden, make the coffee or brew the tea. It had always made her gush, so relieved was she to have an extra bit of her massive workload taken away.