I’m not a teacher anymore. And these women are clearly still my friends.
So maybe this is just a long overdue Wine Down Wednesday.
Russell and I walk them down to the lot where they parked, using my phone to light the way. Courtney drove by herself, but Deandra rode with Vee since they live in the same subdivision in Youngsville.
The parking lot is as dark as tar, and what little moon there is tonight hasn’t risen yet.
“Damn, Gret,” Deandra says. “I’d be scared to death to sleep out here all by myself.”
“Nah,” I murmur. “It’s wild, but it’s mostly peaceful.”
I wouldn’t say that I’m scared out here alone, but Zach’s absence has made me realize how safe I feel with him.
As soon as I knew he was leaving, I had no illusions. I miss him just as much as I thought I would. Which is a hell of a lot. But being out here—especially without cabin guests—is different.
Sounds at night seem louder. It’s like I can hear every leaf fall.
So I’m not afraid to be here by myself. Just more alert.
But I’ll be so glad when Zach comes home.
Home.
I smile into the darkness because that’s what we share.
This place is home, and it’s because of him.
“Y’all need to put up some lights out here,” Vee whispers as if she’s expecting a bear to jump out of the bushes and maul us by her Kia Sorrento.
I suppress my giggle. Instead, I murmur, “Y’all, look up.”
Three gasps surround me as my friends tip their faces to the night sky. The stars out here put city living to shame.
“Never mind,” Vee says. “Not one damn light.”
“We should book your cabins. Have a slumber party,” Courtney says, still ogling the stars. “Drink some more of those margaritas, watch the skies all night, and not have to worry about driving home.”
“I’d like that,” I say with a smile. “You just say the word.”
“Maybe we can reward ourselves with that the weekend after midterm exams,” Deandra says, all breathy.
“I’ll give y’all the teacher’s discount,” I say, excitement evident in my voice.
The three of them try to argue.
“I didn’t say it would befree,”I argue back. “If Loft can offer a teacher discount, so can I.”
That makes them laugh. We hug, and when they tell me to pick up the damn phone when they call, I promise that I will.
They climb into the two cars, and headlights illuminate the drive. Russell and I stand there in the parking lot, watching their taillights disappear when they turn onto Highway 353.
“C’mon, Russell. Let’s go clean up before bed.”
Inside the lodge, I load the decimated charcuterie board with our four glasses and carry everything to the sink. I toss the cinnamon sticks in the trash, feeling a bit wasteful as I do. As I hand wash the dishes, I am wondering if there’s a better way to garnish my new favorite fall beverage when headlights sweep the lodge, and I hear the crunch of gravel.
I peer out the window, but I can’t tell if it’s Courtney or the girls who must have forgotten something. Grabbing the hand towel by the sink, I dart to the couch to check if one of my friends left a phone or a purse. But there’s nothing.
Frowning, I head for the door to see what’s wrong.
