The moment I step into the basement, I realize I won’t be back in Dogwood Cove by tomorrow like I had hoped. Even if I find the source of the leak and repair that, the cleanup down here is going to take a long time. Marilyn’s got boxes everywhere, many of which show evidence of water damage on the bottom.
“I tried to move some boxes away from the water, but a few things got wet,” she frets, twisting her small hands together.
“I see that. Let’s start with getting stuff out of here so I’ve got some space. Is there somewhere upstairs we can take them?”
Aunt Marilyn nods, and walks slowly up the stairs out of the basement to show me a space she’s cleared in the corner of her kitchen.
“Alright, I’ll get to work. Don’t suppose you could make a pot of coffee?” I ask, knowing I’ve got a long day ahead. Marilyn’s eyes light up, and I suspect she is happy to have something to do to help me.
“Absolutely, dear. Coming right up.”
Several hours later the basement is emptied of boxes and Marilyn is busy sorting the contents into piles of items that can be salvaged, washed and kept, or need to be tossed. I’ve already told her I’ll do a run to the dump later.
Thankfully, emptying the basement is a mindless task that gives me plenty of time to think of other things, namely, how to make it up to Summer. I briefly debate planning an overnight trip somewhere, but when you consider I haven’t even taken her to bed, that seems presumptuous. Finally, I settle on the plan I had all along. A romantic, candlelit dinner at my house, and after, I can take her upstairs and worship her body the way she deserves.
I step outside for a break after carrying the last of the boxes upstairs and check my phone. Summer has been sending me photos of what she’s working on at the resort. The most recent picture is a selfie of her, set against the ocean. She’s so beautiful, it kills me that I’m not there right now.
ETHAN: Hey, how’s the cleanup going at the resort?
SUMMER: Great. Your friends came back.
I chuckle at the picture she sends me of two raccoons glaring out the door of one of the cabins. She’s never going to let me live that down. It’s not my fault I think they’re disgusting and infested with disease.
ETHAN: DAMNIT I said never to mention that again! And be careful. Please. Maybe skip that cabin?
SUMMER: Don’t be a baby. I opened the door and they walked out. Easy peasy.
ETHAN: You take pleasure in mocking me.
SUMMER: I do.
ETHAN: I’ll have to punish you for that later.
I see the bubble with three dots appear and disappear several times and wonder if that was too far. I start to type out an apology, when her response shows.
SUMMER: I might like that.
I groan, and crouch down in the dirt, letting my head fall forward. She’s gonna be the death of me.
ETHAN: Fucking hell, Summer. It’s killing me that I won’t be with you tonight. The things I want to do to you…
SUMMER: Maybe you could call me tonight and tell me about them?
ETHAN: You’re damn right I could. And I will.
SUMMER: You know what they say about absence making the heart grow fonder? Maybe anticipation makes something else… grow.
SUMMER: And on that cheesy innuendo, I’ve got to go and teach a yoga class. Talk to you tonight, lumberjack.
ETHAN: Can’t wait.
I exhale loudly. Good thing Aunt Marilyn takes her hearing aids out to go to sleep at night.
“Hey lumberjack, what are you wearing?”
This is how Summer answers her phone tonight and I’m instantly hard the second I hear her voice.
“Nothing but plaid, baby,” I tease.
