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Friday
Junesleptlikeshit, waking up almost every half hour. Figures she finally fell asleep right before Colin's phone alarm went off.
“June, wake up,” came Colin’s voice. June rolled over in her blankets, pulling them tighter around her shoulder. “June, darling.” Colin tugged at the comforter to wake her up.
“No,” she muttered. “So warm.”
“June.”
“5 more minutes.”
“June.”
“Just slide back under the CholeraBlanket with me,” June wanted his warmth, the press of his body against hers. Then she could go back to sleep again.
“June, you have to pack up,” Colin said, sadness dripping from his voice. That statement snapped June out of her reverie with a start. She opened her eyes and found Colin seated at the foot of his bed, Muir in his lap. He was petting Muir, not looking at her.
I don’t want to go. The thought ricocheted through June’s brain, settled in her heart. She wanted to stay here, wrapped up in blankets, wrapped up in Colin, among the aspens, and enjoy days like this. Leisurely coffee mornings, work during the day watching the lake, hikes in the evening, stargazing, and nights with Colin. Days with Colin. Weeks with Colin. Years with Colin.
I love him.
And she was leaving.
Fuck.
“June, darling,” Colin repeated, reaching his hand out and placing it gently on her leg. “We have to get moving. Kids will be up soon and you have to help load them onto the bus.”
“I know,” she said, more sharply than she intended. She sighed and sat up. She had gotten cold in the middle of the night and reached around and grabbed one of Colin’s sweatshirts on the floor and threw it on, and now she reveled in its distinctive Irish Spring and forest scent around her body. “I’m sorry,” she added. “I’m just dealing with…everything.”
“I know,” Colin replied. Muir hopped off his lap and padded his way over to June, crawled up on her lap and began to make biscuits. June scratched under his chin, ran a hand down his sleek fur. She’d even miss this ridiculous cat, with his snoring and talking and thousand pound weight. “C’mon, darling,” he said. June wasn’t sure when he began using the endearment, wasn’t sure when she had stumbled from like to love, wasn’t sure how she was going to untangle the mess of feelings in her chest when she returned back to Vanberg to figure things out. Again.
The irony being that she was returning to the city that had confused her so much that she needed to figure things out with a week away, where she was supposed to have figured things out. She looked up from Muir to Colin, who was absentmindedly rubbing her leg in small circles, his eyes focused on the patterns of his hand. He hadn’t looked at her since she had woken up.
“Colin,” she said. “Look at me.”
“I can’t, June,” he replied. “Because if I look at you, I’ll kiss you, and we’ll end up tangled in blankets, and we have to go. You have to go.” June knew he didn’t mean it as an accusation, but it didn’t stop the last sentence from slashing across her heart.
“I can’t stay here,” she replied. “I have to go back to my place, to my job.”
“The job you hate.”
“The job I have to finish this year. The apartment I’m still paying rent on.”
Colin sighed and then finally looked at her. “When can you come back up here?”
“I don’t know Col, I have to -”
“Figure things out,” he finished for her, finally looking up at her. “I know. I’ve heard it a thousand times this week.” June threw off the covers, got out of bed, and started to gather her things. Clothes scattered around the room, a phone charger, her book, a water bottle. It was odd how much she had moved into the tiny cabin over the past three days, how much this cozy place had begun to feel right and natural for June.
“I’ll get you a bag,” Colin said, leaving the room to head into the kitchen. This didn’t feel right, with Colin’s voice so removed and his physical distance from her. He came back with an old tote bag with his camp from New Mexico’s logo on it, then turned around and headed back into the kitchen. June shoved her things into the bag as Muir wound himself around her legs. She slid her feet into her hiking boots, ankles feeling stiff in the morning. She heard Colin rattling around in the kitchen, heard what had become the familiar sounds of Colin’s moka pot beginning to gurgle.
June did a final sweep of the bedroom and made the bed. She was even going to miss the CholeraBlanket and the MurderCouch. And, of course, the things that she and Colin did on them. She gave the arm of the couch a loving pat as she walked by it and headed into the kitchen.
Colin was pouring coffee into two mugs. He handed her the first one, which already had a splash of cream in it, warming June’s heart. With a grim smile, he clinked his mug against hers in a cheers, then took a sip. June looked at her mug, which read Friends and Marshmallows Get Toasted in the Woods.
“Will you call me?” June asked, sipping her coffee too quickly, feeling like she deserved the slight burn on the roof of her mouth. She hated how she had become desperate in the morning, a far cry from the way she had tried to hold Colin at arm’s length last night, when he had confessed his growing feelings for her and she had refused to acknowledge what she knew to be true.
Colin took a slow sip of his coffee and looked down at the table. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” he carefully replied.
