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“All winter long?”
“Pretty much.”
“What do you like to read?” she asks.
The stack of books I purchased in Yellowknife is piled up next to the chair. I debate pointing them out to her and telling her to look for herself, but I’m not sure I want her to know what my reading preferences are. The subject feels very personal to me, and I don’t want to share that with her. The very idea puts me even more on edge.
“Words,” I finally say. I turn away from her, hoping to deter any further questions, but it doesn’t work.
“How often do you go into town?” she asks.
“There isn’t any town.” I let out a long sigh. “If you mean Whatì, I’ll go there for supplies if I need them, but I won’t. I already have enough to last me until the ice thaws.”
“Do people come here to visit you?”
“No.”
She stops washing the dishes and just stares at me for a long time. I turn my attention away from her and poke at the fire.
“That sounds very lonely.”
“Didn’t really ask for your opinion.” I grab a log and shove it into the coals. I stare at the flames as they lick around the wood. All the tension I felt before is back, and I envision myself picking up a burning log and smacking her with it.
I push off the floor and stalk over to the kitchen, brushing Seri aside and grabbing a pack of cigarettes out of the carton. I sit down next to the fire and light the cigarette off a nearby coal, nearly scorching my forehead but not caring.
I take a long drag and blow the smoke toward the fire. The smoke burns my lungs, and it takes all my willpower to keep myself from coughing. Solo mews and rubs up against my thigh, providing a much-needed distraction. The kitten is very interested in my cigarette, and I have to hold it away from him when he tries to sniff the burning end. The violent images leave my head, and I end up feeling like an ass. Apparently, Seri agrees.
“Did I do something to offend you?” Seri takes a step away from the sink and folds her arms across her chest.
“Other than existing?” It’s like I can’t stop shit from spewing from my mouth. Even Solo jumps a bit at my harsh tone.
“I didn’t ask to be here, you know!” Her voice rises in pitch and volume.
“Would you have preferred it if I left you in the snow?” I keep my own voice as quiet and calm as I can. The cabin is small enough that whispering can be heard from the far side, and yelling is hardly necessary.
“Of course not!”
“Then what are you bitching about?”
“I’m bitching because it’s very difficult to be grateful when you’re jumping down my throat every time I say anything!”
“Maybe it’s best if you just shut the fuck up, then!” Apparently, yelling is going to be necessary after all. I quickly finish the cigarette and toss the butt into the fire.
“I’m not the one being nasty!”
“Believe me,” I say through clenched teeth, “I could be a lot worse.”
“I don’t see how!”
I pick the kitten up off my lap and set him down on the rug beside me. My stomach is so tight, I can’t sit up straight. I want silence. I want solitude. I don’t want any of the shit that has been thrust upon me, and it’s all her fault for being stupid enough to trust some redneck tourists. Standing quickly, I face my unwanted guest and point a finger at her.
“I saved your fucking life.” I’m practically snarling at her, but I can’t stop myself. “I got you inside, fed you, and gave you a fucking toothbrush. What I haven’t done is bash your head in, though the thought keeps crossing my mind. So yeah—it could be a whole lot worse!”
Oh shit.
I hadn’t meant to say that out loud. Yeah, sure, I’d thought about it. I thought about it whenever I spent too much time with anyone. When two people are in close proximity for an extended time, someone inevitably starts asking questions. As soon as someone asks me where I come from, if I have any family, or any similar, normal questions, I’d get images in my head. I’d recall the feeling of my hands as they gripped the long handle of the axe. I’d shudder from the sensation of tendons in my arm tearing under the sheer force of the swing. I’d remember the feeling of warm blood spattering my face, and I’d lose all ability to function.
I don’t look up. In my peripheral vision, I can see Seri pressed up against the sink with her mouth hanging open. My throat tightens, and I can taste bile in the back of it. Even with my lack of social graces, I know I should apologize for my outburst.
