Triple Sec, page 21
Mel stood and stared up at the beautiful timber ceiling. She sighed, hands on her hips. Every cell in her risk-averse body was telling her not to do this. “Fuck me, I guess.” She looked at Kade. “I’ll go.”
“Mel—” Kade began in that grating, reasonable tone of theirs.
“Look, of the two of us, I’m the one who has the most experience with blue-collar shit, right? Lifting heavy things is in my job description.” She pointed out the window in the vague direction she remembered seeing the lean-to. “And as the butchest person in residence, I should haul the firewood.”
“Absolutely not, Sorrento,” Kade said. The use of her last name was new. Kind of funny, like they were in the same platoon or something. “I’m going.” They moved to their suitcase that still sat nearby, opened it, and pulled out a second pair of thick socks.
Mel boggled at them. They weren’t exactly willowy, but they weren’t built either. “Why you? I’m the most logical choice.”
“Because if anything happens to you—” Kade shut their mouth with a click, jaw working furiously. “Bebe would kill me,” they said in a more sedate voice.
“And what do you think she’d do to me if I let you freeze to death?” Mel groaned, and scrubbed a hand over her face. “We could both go.”
Kade pulled on the socks, standing on one leg then switching. “So we can both die a horrible icy death? How is that better?”
“I am trying to come up with equitable solutions!”
Kade cast around as if looking for something. “We could flip a coin.”
“Do we even have a coin?”
Kade strode to the sofa and plucked their discarded book off the cushions. “We could toss this in the air. Front cover, I go. Back cover, you go. Deal?”
Mel eyed the tattered copy of Frankenstein. “Fine,” she said, “but I’m doing the tossing, St. Cloud.”
“If you insist.” Kade shoved the book into her hands.
She threw the book so that it spun end over end near the high ceiling before flopping back to the floor. The front cover of Frankenstein stared up at them.
Mel winced. “Best two out of three?”
“I’m going,” Kade said, pulling on a pink-and-yellow ski jacket that looked like it had been plucked directly from 1985. “You should stand by the window with your cell’s flashlight on. That way, I can follow the light if I lose my bearings. How’s your phone charge?”
Admitting defeat, she checked her phone’s screen. “Half battery. Should be fine. I’ll put it on low-power mode now. You know where the firewood is stacked?”
“Yes, I saw it when we arrived.” They jammed a hat on their head and snapped on a pair of ski goggles. “It’s not that far. I’ll move briskly but carefully. The last thing we need is a twisted ankle.” They stepped into a pair of ski boots and began fastening them.
Mel stood there, feeling helpless and rubbing her arms to ward off the creeping chill of the house. Outside, the wind was whipping through the trees and around the house. The walls shook, picture frames rattling. “I don’t like this. I should be the one going.”
Kade looked up at her, a wry eyebrow raised. “Look at it this way. If I don’t come back, you’ll have the house to yourself.”
“Don’t fucking joke about that,” Mel snapped. “That’s not—don’t even think it, for fuck’s sake.”
“Sorry.” Kade adopted a shamed look. They stood to their full height, which was the same as Mel’s. “Bad time to attempt humor.”
“I’ll say. You can crack wise all you want once you’re back here safe and sound.” Mel looked them up and down. They looked like a neon marshmallow, bundled from head to toe in flashy colors. It didn’t feel right to send them into the blizzard without some gesture of gratitude or—something. “I’m going to hug you.” She opened her arms. “Can I hug you?”
“Oh.” Kade blinked behind their already-foggy goggles. “Yes? Yes. If you like.”
Mel wrapped her arms around them, squeezing tight so they could feel her through the puffy layers. Her chin hooked over their shoulder, and she felt theirs settle atop hers in turn. Kade smelled a little like Bebe, plus woodsmoke and a hint of panic sweat. It wasn’t bad, actually. Tentatively, like they weren’t sure if it was allowed, they wound their arms around her waist.
“I’ll be back soon,” they said, and then peeled away.
Mel went with them to the mudroom. With one last nod, Kade wrenched the door open. The snow was flying sideways in torrents of sharp, stinging pellets, so different from the earlier fluffy flakes. They ducked into the storm, and Mel slammed the door closed, fighting the wind the whole way.
She ran back to the huge window and turned on her phone’s flashlight. Kade’s neon shape moved across the snow drifts, obscured more and more by the snowfall the farther away they got. Mel slapped her phone light-side out to the glass. If Kade could see it, they made no sign, trudging single-mindedly toward the outbuilding. Within moments, they disappeared completely into the white.
“Come on,” Mel whispered to herself. “Come on, Kade.” She counted the seconds to herself, trying to gauge when they would come back into view. Sixty seconds went by; they had to be coming back soon. Another sixty. Surely it didn’t take so long to grab a few pieces of wood. Sixty more. Should they have agreed on a time frame? Mel couldn’t be expected to sit here all night with Kade out there in the barren arctic wasteland. She lost track of how much time had passed. Too much, she decided. She dragged a side table closer to the window and propped her phone up against a decorative bowl so that the light still shone like a beacon.
Kade’s bag held the extra winterwear they’d brought to lend her. If she suited up, just to be safe, Kade would probably make it back by the time she was done. Mel tore through the suitcase and began donning every piece she could find, miles of Patagonia fleece in dark, staid colors. Kade was still nowhere to be seen. How long could someone safely be outside in this kind of weather?
Mel heard a crack in the distance. A terrible whoosh and a thud. A tree had fallen under the force of the icy wind. Close enough for the house to shake.
“Screw this,” Mel said, and went out the door.
CHAPTER 20
Kade was not happy to see her. Kade was also still alive, so Mel didn’t really give a shit about the other stuff.
“What are you doing?” they shouted when they saw her dragging herself through the snow. They were a pink-and-yellow smear next to the outbuilding, which was frosted completely white. The entrance of the lean-to was covered with a blue tarp to protect the firewood, and Kade was struggling to release the myriad bungee cords that held it in place. “You’re supposed to be inside!”
“Well, I’m here, so let’s get this done.” Mel could barely speak, the cold wind taking her breath away whenever she opened her mouth. Her nose stung; her lips felt like they were on fire. She wished she’d thought to craft a sweater into a muffler of some kind because even a few inches of exposed skin was too much.
They communicated in clumsy ski-glove gestures more than words, since the wind whipped them away as soon as they were spoken. Kade pointed frantically at the bungee hooks. The damn things had frozen together, locked in ice and refusing to come undone. Kade struggled with them, but they only managed to dislodge a clump of snow from the top of the lean-to, cursing as it fell down the back of their neck. It took Mel several whacks of her gloved fist to get one hook loose and by then, the icy chill was inching its way into her body. She’d never been as bone-achingly cold as she was out there. Kade smashed their doubled-up hands into another set of hooks.
At last, after endless strong-arming, the plastic tarp fell away. Kade mimed folding it into a sort of carrier that they could use to drag the firewood back to the house. Mel flashed two thumbs up. Pretty soon, she thought wildly, we’ll be unbeatable at charades. They loaded up a couple dozen split logs and started dragging their prize, parachute-like in the tarp, back to the cabin.
It was slow going. The snow was almost up to Mel’s knees. At one point, she put her foot down and the earth wasn’t where she thought it would be. She stumbled forward, but Kade caught her by the arm before she fell face-first into a drift. Their eyes were wild behind their goggles.
Mel nodded her thanks and kept pulling her designated tarp corner.
Tumbling back inside the house felt like reaching the pearly gates. Mel wanted to weep with happiness at the relative warmth indoors. She struggled to shove the door closed, then sat heavily on the mudroom floor. Kade made it to the step that led up to the main floor and all but collapsed onto it. The harsh sound of their combined breathing, heavy and desperate, was the only counterpoint to the noise of the storm.
“Fire,” Kade said after long minutes had passed and their breathing was somewhat stable. “We should get a new one going.” The fireplace’s embers were nothing but glowing coals, throwing off very little light. If not for Mel’s propped-up phone, they wouldn’t be able to see their hands in front of their faces.
“I can do it.” Mel groaned as she rose to her feet. “You should get out of those clothes, you’re soaked.”
Kade looked down at themself. Their ski jacket and pants were indeed caked in ice that was slowly dripping onto the floor. “I suppose you’re right.”
Mel did the preliminary work of stripping off her outer layers, then got to work on the fire. She realized—belatedly, but better than never—that the knob that opened the flue didn’t need to be opened fully, and that in fact, by keeping it only partway open, it would release the smoke but not eat up the firewood as fast as the first attempt had. It was all about airflow control. Same concept as creating smoke bubbles on cocktails, a trend that Mel hoped to god would die already.
She raided the pantry for more cardboard (sorry, Triscuits, you live in a salad bowl now) and lit a new, hopefully longer-lasting fire.
“There we go.” She stood, dusting bits of bark from her hands and watching the logs catch in the grate. “Should be plenty of light and warmth for tonight, although we might want to—” She turned around and stopped short as she caught sight of Kade.
Kade was standing with their back to her, in the middle of tugging their thin, silky thermal layer over their head. Their tousled red curls popped free, leaving them naked from the waist up. Mel had never seen them in any state of undress unless you counted the removal of dramatic overcoats and capes. And she’d certainly never seen Kade like this, down to the skin, the smooth expanse of their back bunching with lithe muscle.
That was shocking enough by itself. But even more shocking—and delightful—was the discovery that Kade, like Mel, was covered in ink. She saw the dark swath of it roiling up Kade’s spine and across their left shoulder blade before she could register what the shape was. By then, Kade had turned toward her so they could rummage through their suitcase for dry clothes.
“We might want to what?” They looked up and caught her staring, freezing in the act of pulling out a jade cable-knit sweater.
Mel couldn’t stop herself from scanning Kade’s arms and chest, looking for more tattoos, but their front was bare save for a smattering of body hair. Must have just the one back piece, she thought. Unless there’s something more below the waistline.
Which was not an appropriate thing to wonder about your girlfriend’s wife.
She shook herself. It felt like she’d been standing there with her mouth open for a solid hour. “Sorry, I was surprised. I didn’t realize you had—” She pointed over her own shoulder.
“Oh.” Kade peered over their shoulder as if they’d forgotten the tattoo’s existence and was mildly confused to be reminded of it again. “Yes. I do.”
“It’s a lot of ink,” Mel said in what she hoped was an interested yet respectful voice. “Can I take a look?”
Kade looked at her, their eyes dark in the flickering firelight. Only a couple yards separated them, but Mel felt it as an ocean gulf. She couldn’t detect any clues from Kade’s face, whether they were insulted or intrigued, so she had to assume the worst.
“Never mind.” She held up her hands like she could stop the very idea. Kade didn’t need her all up in their business, checking it out. “Forget I asked.”
“It’s fine,” Kade said. “You can look.”
Mel’s hands lowered. “Really?”
“I should warm up by the fire anyway.” They crossed the distance and turned around, presenting their back to Mel. Their head turned slightly so that Mel could view them in profile. That sharp nose. That delicate jaw. They stood, silently waiting, patient and still.
“Okay.” Mel swallowed. “Uh, thanks.” The word came out in a whisper. It seemed only right to speak softly when the only other sounds were the distant whistle of the wind against the chalet and their combined breathing. She fastened her gaze ahead and got her first real eyeful of Kade’s tattoo.
It wasn’t some abstract shape like she’d assumed at first glance. It was a tree branch, she realized. The gnarled length of it began in the center of Kade’s spine, artfully shaded so the viewer could easily imagine it attached to a strong tree trunk that might follow the knobs of their vertebrae. The branch twisted upward and out, across Kade’s shoulder to end in a twiggy point right where their arm met its socket. Whoever had inked it had done a fantastic job getting the texture of the tree bark just right; Mel’s hand lifted of its own accord, aching to touch it to see if, by some magic, it felt as rough as it looked.
She curled her hand into a fist and dropped it to her side. A harsh squeeze, her fingernails digging into her palm. She’d gotten permission to look, not to touch.
And there was still so much to look at. All along the length of the branch, tiny bits of plant life were sketched curling in on themselves like brown, brittle feathers. Mel caught sight of a small splash of green at the very end of the branch. One plant was still alive, brilliantly alive among the shades of black and brown and gray. It stretched upward toward some unseen sun, its miniscule leaves defiant.
“It’s an oak tree,” Kade said. They were whispering, too. “A live oak.”
“And the little plant things?” Mel asked, unable to tear her eyes from Kade’s back. She traced the shape of the branch with her gaze again and again, each time finding some new detail: a bole in the wood, a tattered swag of Spanish moss.
“Resurrection fern. In a drought, it dries up and looks dead, but when it rains, it comes back to life.” They reached their right hand over their left shoulder and tapped the single green speck at the end of the branch.
“It’s beautiful.” She was closer to Kade’s skin than she meant to be; her breath ghosted along the nape of their neck. Gooseflesh pebbled under her gaze.
Kade drew a shaky inhale.
Mel took an abrupt step backward. “Sorry. You’re probably—it’s freezing in here, you must want to get dressed.” She stared down at her double-socked feet, scratching one hand through the stubble on the back of her head. Very casual, very cool.
Kade turned around. They did not, Mel noticed, put on the sweater they held in their hands. She was a casual, cool person, so she looked away from their chest as soon as she realized she was staring.
“Maybe you could—show me some of yours,” they said. “I’ve never had a chance to see your tattoos up close.”
“Oh, mine are nothing special.” Mel shook out her hands, the nautical stars flashing on the backs of them. She smiled in self-deprecation. “Your piece is clearly thought out. Meaningful. Most of mine were just something to do.”
“Does that make them any less meaningful?” Kade’s brow furrowed. “It’s still art, even if it’s idle.”
Mel’s smile grew. “You’ve always got to say the most poetic shit possible, huh?”
She meant it as a compliment, but Kade ducked their head, murmuring, “Sorry. That must annoy you.” They shoved their head into their sweater and pulled it on.
“No, it’s fine, it’s—” Mel clamped her mouth shut. She reached for the hem of her oversized hoodie. “Let me show you mine. It’s only fair.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Shut up. I’m doing it, aren’t I?” Mel’s words were muffled inside her fleece and double-layered shirts as she struggled to work them over her head, but finally she popped free. She tossed the clothes onto the sofa, leaving her in a black sports bra. “Okay.” She planted her hands on her hips to showcase her arms. “Look all you like.”
Kade stayed where they were for a moment like they thought the invitation might be a trap. Only when Mel gave an impatient huff did they come closer, their eyes running over Mel’s skin with the cool detachment of a professional. Mel tried not to fidget under that gaze. She knew her left arm was a mess, a smattering of small tattoos arranged in a haphazard jumble along her biceps and forearms. They were older, the first ones she’d ever gotten, inked before she’d had the money for something bigger: the stick-and-poke laughing skull near her elbow; Italy on the inside of her forearm; the long line of a bar spoon running along the outside; a pinup’s legs kicking high from the depths of a coupe glass; a spread of tarot cards a fortune-teller had once drawn for Mel to cover a bar tab; a devil sticking out his tongue. Mel wasn’t particularly proud of any of them, but she also wasn’t ashamed—that is, until she noticed Kade pause and lean down to get a better look at the inside of her biceps.
“What is this?” they asked.
“It’s nothing.” Mel crossed her arms over her chest and shivered. It really was chilly even right by the fire.
Kade straightened and looked Mel in the eye. “It looked like numbers. A date?”
It was a date. Mel’s wedding date. A terrible, impulsive, romantic decision to get it tattooed on her arm the night before the ceremony. She’d invited their favorite tattoo artist to the wedding, of course, and he’d offered it as a wedding present. Mel had been so certain she’d want it on her skin forever. Now every time she looked at it, she cringed. She’d been such a tool. And yet she still hadn’t found the time to schedule a cover-up. She told herself she didn’t have the time or money to waste on it, but on some level, she wondered if she felt she deserved to carry the reminder of her mistakes around forever.
