Page 42 of Fate Fiction

I burst out laughing. “A loon, you’ve never heard one?” He gave me a look that made me feel silly for even asking. “Sue always told me a story about how the loon was a mother who lost her babies, turned into a bird, and was cursed to cry out ‘where are you’ to them.”

Almost on cue the loon called again. Sometimes the sound still gripped at my heart. As someone who spent their life unmoored, I understood the feeling of calling out to something that I wanted but could never have.

“That is incredibly depressing,” Evan replied.

“I used to cry when I was younger whenever I heard them, I wanted to reunite them with their babies and with each other.” I laid down parallel to Evan, keeping a few feet of distance between us.

My fingers began fiddling with a loose thread on my shirt. My heart rate was rising without my doing, like being in his orbit undid my nervous system entirely.

“Sue does seem like the type to casually tell traumatizing stories to unsuspecting children.”

“You don’t know the half of it, she once showed me a moose skull she found in the woods and said Bigfoot did it. I wouldn’t leave the cabin for two days.”

Evan laughed, anyone who met Sue could instantly tell that she was a character. She was so well loved by every guest who came up, she listened intently, she was odd but funny, and a warm presence that you felt safe with. She was exactly who I wanted to be in thirty or so years.

We fell back into silence, I began mapping out constellations, some real, some I had made up when she was younger. I moved from my loose threads to mindlessly picking at the peeling paint on the dock, a habit that historically got me into trouble with Randy after I picked off a quarter of the paint and neatly placed the chips in a plastic cup.

“Dani, I know it’s been thirty hours—” he spoke softly, his voice unsure of what he was saying.

“Probably thirty three at this point,” my defensive lines assembled, new snarky jokes formed.

“Thirty three hours, but I am glad you crashed my trip. It’s been fun having you as a fellow guest.”

“Likewise” I shut my eyes for a moment, attempting to pull him from the context of how I used to know him. I was happy he was beside me right now, simple as that, “usually I’m here with old dudes on a fishing trip, this is quite the improvement.”

Evan’s hand traveled across the dock. Callused fingers dragged against my skin. An invitation. A spark of hope for something more. Alarm bells began going off all over my body. Something swelled in my stomach.

Evan wanted to hold my hand.

I snapped my arm tight against my side, a light slapping noise echoed.

My defensive line held strong, crisis averted. If this was a crisis at all. My heart felt like it was ripped from my chest after my hand clutched onto my leg.

“It’s getting late I should—” Evan pushed himself upright and stretched in an exaggerated yawn, he didn’t need to finish his sentence, he let himself trail off.

We were nothing if not an absurd mashup of tropes.

“Right, me too.” I hopped up and shivered as a breeze blew off the lake. My legs trembled a bit, the sudden rush of blood from my overrun mind threw off my limbs.

The moon illuminated our walk back to our cabins.

“Good night, Dani,” Evan said quietly as he stepped in the door.

“Night, Evan.”

As I laid in bed willing myself to fall asleep, I could hear two loons calling to each other from across the lake.

eight

. . .

I couldn’t fall asleep.

Evan tried holding my hand.

Why?

How?