When I emerge, Jaws is dancing in circles. I bundle my hair in a towel, throw some sweats on, and step out of the bathroom. I need to let him out before he pees on something.
My eyes scan the cabin as I prepare myself to take in the sight of the most handsome guy on the planet. I’m disappointed to find the place empty. The fire has died to just embers.
“He must be out there chopping some wood,” I say to Jaws, as if he gives a hoot. It makes me feel like less of a desperate chick to think I’m just keeping track of things for the dog.
I let Jaws out and shut the door behind him. I need some tea before I face the day. A note on the counter catches my eye as I move into the kitchen. My heart fills with dread when I see the masculine handwriting. I move closer and touch the paper as I read it.
Dear Sarah. Do you spell it with an ’H’? I hope so, since I just did. I wanted to thank you for everything. I know we don’t know each other very well, but I can still say that you’re a great friend. I’m really glad we met. I took your advice and decided to go home and see my family. The plows showed up at 5:00, so I took off as soon as I had a clear path. I’ll bet you’re glad to be rid of me! Sorry about all those beer bottles, by the way. You’re a real sport for cleaning the place up. Anyway, good luck with your painting, and if you ever find yourself in Manhattan, or if you just need to talk, give me a call. Here’s my cell number.
I stare at the numbers as tears well up in my eyes. He left? Without saying goodbye in person? Without a hug? Without a kiss? Without having sex with me?
I wander over to the front door and let the dog in. I barely feel the freezing cold wind that flows into the room. Tea gets made, I assume by me, but I’m too busy swimming through the sea of regret that’s flooded my brain to pay attention to the details.
Why did I say no to him last night? Why did I have to be a do-gooder, overthinking, goody-two-shoes idiot and tell him we should just be friends? God, I have to be the stupidest woman on earth! The universe handed me the hottest, nicest guy in the world on a silver platter, out here in the middle of nowhere — snowed-in no less — and I turned him down? Holy shit. Talk about cabin fever. I’m obviously sick in the head. I plop down onto the couch and stare at the orange embers glowing in the fireplace. It’s over. Over before it began.
I try to make myself feel better by thinking how it’s probably a good thing he’s gone. Less complication for my life, that’s for sure. And he’s a raging alcoholic, right? Who needs that? Not me. I have to get my life back on track. Paint some things. Wake up my creative muse and make her sing.
I sip my tea and cry when it burns my lip. “Why did you have to leave?” I ask the air around me.
Jaws climbs up onto my lap and quickly gets me wet from the melting snow clinging to his underbelly. I don’t care. So what if I look like I peed my pants? It’s not like there’s anyone here but me to see it.
The cabin that used to feel like my escape feels like a prison now. I’m in solitary confinement with only a mutt to keep me from going crazy. I take another sip of my tea and burn myself again.
“Goddammit!” I throw the cup across the room. It smashes against the fireplace and spreads pieces of porcelain and splashes of tea everywhere.
Jaws looks at the shards and then at me, as if to say, ‘Are you okay?’
I hug him to me and cry into his fur. At least it doesn’t smell like stale, burned popcorn anymore. “I shouldn’t have let him go,” I moan. “I should have told him to stay.” I can’t believe how lonely I feel. I was perfectly fine being alone before. Why do I care so much now? Nothing is making sense. Maybe I’m the one who needs therapy. It sure feels like it today.
Jaws angles himself around to lick my face. I have to stand to get him away from me.
I look around the cabin and take stock of my situation. If I’m going to be here, I can’t be crying in my tea and breaking dishes all day. This isn’t high school anymore; I have to move on with my life and accept the facts as they are: Jeremy left and I’m here, by myself, exactly how I wanted it three days ago. I have wood, I have fire, I have a dog. I have enough canvas to paint until the end of January. I have food and I have money. I arrived with the same thing I have now, and moaning over the loss of something I never really had in the first place seems really ridiculous to the common sense part of my brain.
“No problem,” I say to Jaws, sniffing really loudly. “I can do this. I came here to paint, so I’m going to paint.”