I watch the sky lighten out my window and the frost makes little patterns on the corners of the glass. My room will stay cold for much of the day, and as the days get darker I'll light candles to chase away some of the worst loneliness in the cold nights. I remember the trend vaguely from the before world, trying to make a space as cozy as possible so you could forget the harsh and unforgiving conditions outside your door. Not so different from what we did these days.
It's been a long time since I've had a restless night like this one. My dreams had kept me tossing and turning all night, waking suddenly only to lay in bed staring at the ceiling and wondering about my guests until I fell back asleep and dreamed of them. I dreamed of Joel's hands drying dishes, of the intimacy of having someone help me with a daily housekeeping chore. Even as brief as the moment was, it felt like something real. I dreamed of his smirk when I made the slip-up of telling him he could sleep in my bed. It hadn't been malicious, his tone stayed gentle, trying to ease away some of my embarrassment. I couldn't get over the contrast of that gentleness and the brutality that I knew he must have confronted on his journey west. It was impossible to survive any length of time in this world without amassing awful memories of decisions you were forced to make in your own self-interest and survival.
All night in my dreams, Joel's presence was constant. I wondered if he'd fade from my memory as well after he'd gone.
I try to be quiet when I get out of bed, taking care to avoid the noisiest floorboards when I move around. Washing my face with cold water helps shake the last of the sleep from my body and pushes the memories or dreams I'd been having back into the corners of my brain. I cringe a little and wish they'd leave me alone. But another part of me didn't want to forget them.
The morning is punctuated by the light snoring noises from the couch and I am relieved that joel is still sleeping. He deserves the rest, especially with the prospect of the journey that is still ahead of them. The few details I could glean from the quiet talk between Joel and Tommy the night before made me nervous about the trip. They both seemed like there was a good chance at failure, that Joel and Ellie may not ever come back this way again. Yet another reason to push the dreams out of my mind and forget them.
I settle myself into the first task of my morning: getting the fire going in the tiny wood stove in the living room. Frosty mornings were common now and they'd only get worse as winter came on in full force. I walk past Joel, whose face is still relaxed in sleep, the lines and look of a permanent scowl have softened in his vulnerable state. He's stretched his long frame out on the couch, covering most of his body with the thin quilt I keep draped over the back. I wonder if the pillow is as lumpy for him as I have found it during afternoon naps, but then I realize his feet are uncovered because he's left his boots on even while he's sleeping. It hits me in the chest again this not so subtle reminder of his life outside of our walls. How there are rules one lives by, like never take off your shoes, when there is always a chance that you have to run for your life.
The fire has burned down to coals and I shave some curls of wood off pieces of kindling to catch the flame again. It takes a few tries to coax the flames, but they do come back and I steadily add more curls and then kindling as the fire takes hold and grows. Glancing over at the wood supply I curse under my breath at myself at the low level. In the upset of my evening routine, I had forgotten to carry up more wood for the morning.
"You need some help?" Joel's voice startles me and I look back over my shoulder at him. He's still laying down, but he's got one hand up behind his head and the other is resting on his stomach. He's relaxed but focusing on me and I wonder how long he's been awake. Long enough for his eyes to be clear of sleep, at least. I wish he wouldn't lay like that, looking so damn comfortable and at ease. So much like I could settle in beside him. Could spend all day just having him here. No, I am quick to remind myself in my head. No good will come of thoughts like that when you're saying goodbye later.
"I forgot to get more wood last night," I tell him. Joel sits himself up and stretches his arms over his head briefly, easing himself up off the couch in a fluid movement despite some creaks and cracks from his body. Tommy had dropped hints in teasing over dinner that Joel was the older brother, and his age showed mostly in his graying hair and beard. But this audible complaint from his body was testament to Tommy's statements.
"I can getcha some more," he says. "Just tell me where it's at." He's absent-mindedly scratching at his stomach in another gesture that just distracts me to an uncomfortable degree. Another thing that I am determined not to let get under my skin. And yet another lie I try desperately to tell myself.
"Under the staircase, there's a stack with some split already. You shouldn't have to split any if you don't want to."
"It's no trouble. I'll be right back."
He leaves me still sitting on the floor, the fire crackling and roaring enough to set a water kettle on to make tea. I watch the flames for a few heartbeats before I hear the thunk of the axe in the chopping block. It's difficult, but I resist the urge to go watch Joel chop wood. Yet another mental image that would haunt me if I let it.
When Ellie gets up, I teach her to make pancakes. Joel seems anxious to get moving, but she convinces him to stick around at least until after they've eaten. She seems fascinated by the process of making the pancakes, of mixing the starter discard with fresh flour and some water. Then finally dipping into my precious stash of baking powder to make the pancakes fluff up when we drop the batter onto a hot griddle set on top of the woodstove. Ellie tells me that the pancakes back in the Boston QZ were always flat and tasted stale, no matter when they were served in the military school she grew up in. Joel added that most folks could do wonders with the food that came in rations, but even those were becoming scarce.
I want to tell them they could stay, that there would be a place for them here in Jackson, but I can feel that it's already been said by Tommy. That staying one night to get a good sleep was a compromise and that Joel and Ellie were moving on. I want to remember this part though, watching Ellie spread jam on a pancake and then take a bite of something real and good and solid. Of letting her and Joel eat as much as they wanted before uncertainty took over. This part I would definitely keep close to my heart, that I could fill them up and send them out with peace and kindness instead of hostility.
Maybe they would remember me, too.