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I’m a fucking Operator. I am not a coward.
Something in me tightens—feels like tugging. When I think about those little squirrel salt and pepper shakers. I can hear her voice say “BFF.” Her smile is in my head. It’s everywhere.
I tell myself to hate it. Hate her. Because there’s not a different outcome. Not for us. There never was.
In the end, I hurt her. That’s our fucking fate. This sweet girl with her bears and her little cabin. She’s not mine. Not even for a night. Not even for a minute.
I walk upstairs again, and climb the ladder to the attic room. The little library is filled with amber light. There on the window seat, Gwen lies curled on her side, covered by a quilt. I stand there with my feet on the top step of the ladder, longing to go over to her.
I don’t even need to touch her. I just want to see her. Not through a windowpane or through a fucking scope.
Of course, I don’t go over to her. I head downstairs and pull my phone out of my pocket. Pull up Netflix, brew some coffee, get my .338. I step out onto the deck, leaving the door cracked so I hear her if she walks downstairs.
In the meantime, I can’t let this—I can’t let Gwenna—die so easy.
I sit on the deck for hours, scouring the internet. Licking her crumbs.
Gwenna White signs with Superior Model Management.
Gwenna White signs on for indie film End of Day.
Gwenna White signs with Forward Momentum Records.
“Gwenna White. Gwenna White. Gwenna White.” My breaths are clouds that linger longer than I would have thought.
When the cold has set in, when there’s nothing that I haven’t read and memorized and weaponized, I click on the link from the Breckenridge County Gazette, a small news brief dated January 1, 2012.
* * *
Gwenna
When I open my eyes, the first thing I think is that I’m obviously still dreaming. I seem to be floating, blinking out over the dark forest. Then I look down at the soft cushion I feel under me, and I remember everything. The window seat. Barrett. Barrett’s mouth.
I push myself up on one elbow as my eyes dart about the little attic room. He isn’t here. What time is it? I turn back to the window, but the night gives nothing. I guess I fell asleep. Guilt wars with glee inside me. After a long moment, I decide to let glee win.
That happened.
Yeah…it happened. I didn’t return the favor—damn me! But it happened. Barrett wrapped his arm around me when we were talking about his brothers. He said we were friends, and then I gave him that little kiss—a friendly kiss—and it made him go crazy.
Not just me.
Barrett, too.
I remember his big body stretched over mine. The way he shook. How tight his face was, and him saying it had been a long time.
Glee loses ground to guilt.
I need to find him and return the favor! I can’t let this stand.
I toss the quilt off and discover I’m naked from the waist down.
“Damn.” I can’t stop a grin from spreading across my face as I hop down off the window seat. I shimmy into my leggings, do a little walk around the room, and feel my stomach flip as I look at the ladder.
Go get him!
I start down the ladder, then turn back around for my phone, which I find on the window seat. I check the time and am stunned to find it’s almost 1 a.m.
Oh God. I’m a taker. Shame heats up my neck and face.
