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I nod, and he starts doing… whatever else he’s doing, cutting and sautéing and slicing a million things at once.
“So, how’d you end up here, anyway?”
“Huh?”
“In the cherry capital of the world,” I say.
“Oh.”
“Sorry,” I say when he doesn’t continue. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want.”
“No, it’s okay. I just—no one’s ever asked before. It was because of Jamie, actually. He was from here, originally. Well, near here. I’d only ever lived in hot places when we met and I used to complain about how I hate the heat. When it was really hot and we’d be in the park or have to walk in the sun, he’d tell me stories about the winter in Michigan. The snow, and how he and his brother would build forts out of it and drink hot cocoa in there. It sounded magical to me. I’d never even seen snow in real life.”
Rex smiles at the memory, his hands gone still and his eyes distant.
“Jamie told me he’d take me to Michigan with him one day for a real Christmas—he said Christmas without snow didn’t even really count. So, I just kind of made my way here after my mom died. I was doing odd jobs. Fixing stuff for folks. I got here just before Christmas one year. I love Christmas,” he says sheepishly.
He starts stirring again and continues.
“Anyway, I lived around here for a few years, really liked it. Then I was walking one day and I saw this place.” He chuckles at the memory. “Man, it was a fall-down mess. Half the wood was rotten and the kitchen was a disaster. I asked around, found out the guy who lived here died and the county was going to tear it down. I convinced them to let me rebuild it instead. Took a while.”
He’s running his hand along the countertop as if he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.
“Jesus. You built this cabin?”
He nods.
“Most of it. A bit was salvageable.”
“That’s… amazing.” Rex smiles. “I guess now that I look at it, it does seem like a nicer kitchen than you’d expect to find in a cabin.”
“You have much experience with cabins?”
“Um, no.”
I turn back to the apples, unsure of what to say so I concentrate on cutting them into chunks while not chopping off any parts of myself. I can’t imagine what it would feel like to build your own home. It must be amazing.
“So, about Will,” Rex says, and my knife skids off the skin of the apple and thumps onto the cutting board, coming within a millimeter of my finger. Rex’s head snaps up.
“Are you okay? Did you cut yourself?” I shake my head. “Here, give me that,” Rex says, and takes my knife, tests it on his thumb, and hands me a smaller one. I open my mouth to say something, but he says, “I think I need to sharpen that one; this one’s sharper.”
I go back to cutting the apples up, but Rex is watching me now, probably worried I’m going to require his emergency services. When I look up, though, his gaze is fond. And he seems a little bemused.
“What?”
“It’s not brain surgery, sweetheart,” he says. “You can just cut them up.” I look down at the cutting board. My chunks of apple are perfectly uniform. I cut the apple into rings and then strips and then chunks. Wasn’t that what he asked for? I look back up at him, puzzled.
“Never mind,” he says. “They’re great—they’re perfect. I just meant, you don’t need to try so hard to make them perfect. It doesn’t matter if they’re all the same.”
“Okay,” I say, but I don’t really know any other way to do it.
“Never mind,” he says, and pats my shoulder.
“Okay, so about Will?” I prompt.
“Yeah. I just… he’s my friend. A good friend. And I don’t make friends real easy.” He sounds sheepish. “I don’t want my friendship with him to be a problem for you. That’s all. And I didn’t know he was coming to town. Sometimes he just shows up. If I’d known, I would never have let him just come over like that.”
“How long did you date?”
“About a year.”
“That’s a long time.”
“I think we both knew it was never going to be anything permanent,” Rex says, and he sounds a little sad.
“Why?”
“We were just too different. And Will was never going to stick around here, you know? He couldn’t wait to leave. I’m surprised he stayed that long. He got a job offer in New York and he took it. He stops in here when he goes to Chicago. His sister still lives nearby, so he comes to visit.”
“And to see you.”
“Yeah, sometimes.”
“Do you still—I mean, if he hadn’t left, would you still want to be with him?”
Rex pauses, like he’s sincerely considering the question.
