Summer was becoming one long series of meals with Joel. Fresh vegetables, meats, and other products from around Jackson became the tools by which I was reintroducing Joel to what life had to offer here. There were more elaborate spreads of roasted vegetables and meats, stews, sandwiches created from leftovers. And Joel's favorites of stuffed dumplings boiled and then roasted with potatoes inside or the pastas I'd learned to roll out in long sheets on wooden dowels and then cut into familiar shapes. Served with herbed ricotta from the cows milk and other simple cheeses it was indulgent to say the least. My favorites were the simple times we had the extra ricotta drizzled with honey, scooped up with strawberries or spread over toast. Radishes with butter that cut through their spicy taste became their own end of day treat for us.
One meal of note was the morning he came by before a several day patrol would take him out of town, and I fed him eggs and bacon fried on the wood stove upstairs in the apartment and served with sourdough toast. The start of a day off for me, it was what some might call a "display of excess", but it seemed like a celebration of being alive in this place and having abundance again. For a second I didn't want to have to think about making the food last into the next pickup. I just wanted to share something with Joel. I poured him a cup of chicory coffee from my stash and when I placed the plate of food in front of him it was like he'd been transported to another time altogether. Joel savored every bit of that meal, right down to using his toast to drag through every bit of bacon and egg that remained on the plate. He'd closed his eyes and chewed the last of it, finishing the meal with a satisfied sigh. Hanging on to his cup and sitting back in his chair, one hand rubbing across his stomach to emphasize his point.
"You're welcome," I say over the rim of my mug and he smiles back at me.
"It's gonna be a long few days if I've got that memory to cover Tommy's cooking on the trail," he says taking another sip of the coffee.
"I promise I won't tell him you said that," I chuckle. "But now you have something to look forward to when you get back."
"Mmhmm," he mutters and I can feel his eyes on me, but I keep mine down on my cup.
About a year into my time in Jackson, I found a small tape deck radio that someone had fixed up and left on the trading table. A classic little electronic, I had snatched it up along with a couple tapes that came with it. The library in town kept a stock of tapes that you could borrow, but they were mostly audiobooks and the music choices were somewhat limited. Still, I enjoyed playing a tape in the bakery every so often, especially during the summers when I was alone at the end of the day. One of my favorites was a tape of Patsy Cline's greatest hits. I'd gotten it from the library originally and in the subsequent months had checked it out so many times that they ended up just letting me keep it.
"You're the only one who ever checks that one out," the volunteer had said, giving me a little wink. "Go ahead and just keep it. We know where to find it if someone else wants it."
It wasn't just that I liked the music. It was that it reminded me of the better times before the outbreak. The times that were so long ago that by now everyone associated with those memories would have been dead regardless of a deadly pandemic of zombie fungus.
I used to listen to Patsy Cline with my grandpa. We'd load up in his car and drive around the countryside near his home and listen to the tapes over and over. He'd hum to the lyrics and I learned about how he'd miss his wife especially during the choruses of Patsy's songs. She'd died when I was very young and her favorite song had been 'Walkin' After Midnight'. When I play the tapes and I'm alone, I can close my eyes and go right back to that front seat with my grandpa and hear his voice. I can feel safe in the memory of his presence and let myself feel like it's a time when the world wasn't so messed up.
Joel catches me in one of these moments one afternoon when I'm sweeping up. It was an afternoon when the warm summer air was relieved by the light afternoon breezes, a perfect combination at the end of a long day of work. I was moving in slow circles around the room, sweeping some but mostly enjoying the music, singing along a little bit. Lost in the moments that I don't notice when he's come along the road and is standing there at the base of the boardwalk stairs, watching me through the window and waiting till the song was through. I don't know that he's there until he walks up the stairs, footfalls extra hard on the planks to let me know of his arrival. I don't stop my movements or my singing, not even when he leans against the doorframe and smiles appreciatively at the music.
He asks me to come over for dinner at his place, the first time that I will have been over to his house since he and Ellie moved in.
"Tommy and Maria been talking about some kind of housewarming," he explains. "And I figure I might as well get it all over with."
"It sounds like fun," I say, taking a break for a moment from the chores. "Count me in."
On the day of, I make the short trek from the downtown streets to the quieter neighborhoods and to Rancher Street. I bring a pie, having been instructed that it's a potluck of sorts, but that Tommy had requested I bring a dessert when he'd found out that Joel had wanted to invite me. Joel greets me at the door and takes the pie from me before leading me through the house back to the kitchen. We can hear the chatter from the other dinner guests out on the back porch and in the yard, but it doesn't sound like there as many people as I thought there'd be. I can hear Tommy regaling those present with a story, the embellishments in his voice no doubt having gestures to go along with them.
"He just can't help himself," Joel murmurs while he sets the pie down on the counter next to other dishes of food. It's a few more than I had anticipated, but he can see me mentally counting them up in my head.
"Don't worry," he says. "Maria and Tommy went a little overboard. I didn't want a big fuss so it's just the four of us, but Ellie's invited a couple of her friends, should be a good time."
I nod and move slowly around his kitchen, marveling a little at his good luck at the size of it. I'd love to have this kind of space to cook in, and I wonder if he'd ever let me come over just for the chance to create meals in here. He watches me move around the room, dragging my fingertips along the countertop and taking mental notes of it all. I remind myself not to envy the marbled countertops on the island in the middle of the kitchen.
"This is a great space," I say, acutely aware of his unflinching gaze still on me. He's been keeping an eye on me the entire time, but I kind of like it. Ellie bounds in and greets me, her cheeks warm from the combination of early evening sun and laughter from the punchline of whatever joke that Tommy had been telling. She spies the pie and has the impulse to reach for it briefly, but not before Joel has a chance to give her a side eye that warns her against dipping into it before everyone has had a chance to eat.
The two of them sweep me outside and we are caught in the discussions now happening with the kids around different possible endings to the comic book series that they swap issues of. The debate is centered around speculation over what will happen next, or what could happen if they were ever able to locate the final issues of the series. There's more stories and jokes that are told around the group, and even some short glasses of whiskey from a bottle that Tommy has brought along for the occasion. We break into the food and I end up sitting next to Joel on the stairs of the porch, plates of food balanced on our knees and Tommy still talking and trying to goad his brother into divulging all kinds of secrets about himself in funny anecdotes.
The sun is fading and the strings of outdoor lights from the house to the back garage give us some muted light to see each other by. Tommy has settled back in the plastic chair with his feet propped up on the railing while Maria and I dispense slices of pie. Joel watches from his spot on the top step, his legs stretched out in front of himself and his hands relaxed on his lap and fingers laced together. I had him a slice of pie and he grins up at me, a warm mixture of gratitude and the mason jar moonshine we'd been passing around dulling our edges and reservations.
"Tommy told you about the fair at the end of the summer?" Maria says, downing a bite of pie.
"Nope," Joel says.
"It's kind of like the old county fairs," she explains. "But mostly it's become just a chance for folks to show off at the end of the season before it gets cold again. There's a couple handiworks contests, people enter their quilts or other crafts, stuff they've been working on all year. A horsemanship contest, biggest vegetables, that kind of stuff. Baking, too, some folks will get in a contest for best pie or other baked goods."
Joel casts a look my way and I shake my head. "I'm not allowed to enter," I say. "Levels the playing field that way."
"That's too bad," Joel says and takes another bite of his pie. "I have a suspicion you'd win every year, no problem." This time it's not the liquor that brings heat to my cheeks.
"The best part is the end of season dance," Tommy chimes in. "The kids all get together and pick a fair king and queen, just like at prom. Then it's just a big party to celebrate making it through another summer."
"It's really a good time," I say and I watch Joel set his plate down on the deck and settle himself back to lean against the house. He looks totally content for the moment and I want to sit next to him and lean against him while the stars come out over our heads. My heart races a little thinking about how easy it would be to just move over and take the spot next to him. If it weren't for the others at the gathering I might have done just that.
The teens on the grass don't lose steam the longer we all hang out, but eventually Tommy seems to be falling asleep in his chair and Maria rouses him saying that it's time to go home. I say that I should get going also, that I still have an early morning tomorrow and Joel stands along with me, stretching his arms over his head and easing out his sore muscles. He calls over to Ellie and tells her that he's going to walk me home, but before I can mount a real objection he raises a hand to wave any protest off. Maria links arms with Tommy and they saunter across the yard towards the back gate the leads out to the greenhouses. She waves back at us and calls a good night, Tommy yells to Joel not to do anything he wouldn't do.
"What's he mean by that?" I ask, trying to sound innocent but getting my own chance at teasing Joel.
"Nothin'," Joel answers, but not before I catch the grimace across his features at Tommy's comment.
We go back through the house, gathering my now empty pie plate, and Joel leads me back through the darkness and hushed silence inside towards the front door. Joel is a shadow ahead of me, moving like he knows the space but still with a hint of hesitation that betrays the little amount of time that he and Ellie have been settled here. I know he will gain confidence over time and the longer he stays the more he will become accustomed to moving inside like it's his real home and not just a place that he is staying for awhile.
"Joel," I say and he stops suddenly, turning my way but his features are obscured by the shadows. I almost bump into him but stop myself just in time. Still, I can feel the heat from him and still smell the fresh air that lingers on his clothes, the nearness of his body and my own want to wrap my arms around him almost push my closer to him.
"You don't have to walk me home," I say, a slight waver to my voice.
"I know," he answers. "I want to."
It's useless to argue with him, even if I wanted to. Joel is going to do what he wants regardless of what I tell him or not. He turns again and the shadow of him moves to the door, opening it to let in the little light from the porch. Even though it's summer, the night air is still chilly and I pull my flannel closer around myself while we walk. Joel almost meanders while he looks up and takes in the expanse of stars above us. I take the chance to openly admire his profile, and don't look away when he looks over at me. Instead I just smile back. I can always blame it on the liquor tomorrow.
"Can you see stars like this in the cities? Tommy said you were back in the Boston QZ before all this. Is it still bright?"
"You can't see as much as here," he says, pushing his hands into his pockets and scuffing his feet along, probably to slow our pace a little. "They keep the floodlights on at the different checkpoints in the Zone, and even that makes it hard to see the stars some nights."
I try to imagine life in the Zones. My time in them had been so sheltered that I wasn't even sure we all knew what life in them really was like. I didn't want to ask him any more questions about it, especially after having such a nice evening, and Joel didn't seem to want to offer more details. So we walked on in silence until we got to the bakery and were standing at the bottom of the steps.
"Thanks for comin'", he says and hitches one hand in his belt and lets the other hang loose at his side. "I appreciate it."
"Well, I didn't want to miss out on the chance to see your place," I say.
I lean a little on the stair railing and Joel must catch the way it moves slightly at my weight, just a little loose from time. He furrows his brow a little and reaches out to test how much it wiggles, muttering to himself a little about safety.
"I can take a look at that if you want," he offers. "Can come by tomorrow morning and take care of it. Wouldn't want someone falling."
Wouldn't want me falling, I think to myself seeing as how I'm the only person who uses these stairs. But what harm would it be to let him come to help me with the chore. It's so low on the priority list that if I were to actually file the maintenance request with someone then it surely would take forever to get done. I could dig out the hammer stashed in a little tool box somewhere in the back of my closet, but I wouldn't even know how to begin fixing it if there's a bigger problem than just a loose nail. Easier to let Joel handle it for me while the offer is still good.
"Yeah, sure, that'd be fine," I play it cool. He must see through the facade I'm trying to put up.
"So," he says, uncertain but trying to move ahead. "I guess I'll see you around tomorrow?"
I nod in answer and turn to go up the stairs before turning towards back him on impulse and moving in for a hug. It's one quick step down and then I move with assurance to put my arms around his neck and hold him against me for a moment. He responds without hesitation, putting his arms around me and for a couple heartbeats we're there in the moonlight and the silence of midnight in town while we hold each other. It's only a few seconds, but time seems to stretch out while we measure ourselves against one another and seeing how we fit together. I stand just on my toes to reach up around him, and his arms hold me up with ease against him. I know he's strong, it's easy to see in his build, but I wasn't ready for how it would feel to have that strength surrounding and supporting me.
Joel breathes out and his hands move slightly to conform to the curves of me, to secure his hold on me, and I come back to myself and let go just enough that he takes the hint and we move apart. I take a small step back and his arms fall again to his sides, but his eyes stay locked with mine while they implore each other if we're still okay, if a line has been crossed that we can't undo.
"Good night," I whisper and he nods, never breaking his gaze until I turn around and walk up the stairs. He waits at the bottom, watching me until I am up in the apartment and locking the door behind myself. I stand there at the door, my ears keen to hear him walking away but he waits still. Eventually he does leave, his footsteps echoing on the plank walkways to the alley and then disappearing around the side of the building. I close my eyes and bring back the feeling of being against him, of holding him and feeling his heart beating against me while we hugged. Joel was solid and warm and smelled like the whiskey and fresh air, and like someone who had been soaking up the summer sunshine, a mix of perspiration and salt from the sun beating down on his efforts that day. I wanted more of it. I was beginning to crave closeness with Joel, not just in a friendship but in a way that we sought each other out in the crowded town meetings, or were always next to each other at gatherings.
Like how tonight we had been near one another, if not next to each other then at least within an arms length, for most of the night. I need to parse out these feelings for Joel that are making their way into every part of my day. It was the way my stomach still did a little flip when he entered the bakery, or how I can't help but want to be near him all the time. There's a pull that I can't explain and that I especially don't want to go away.
I'm laying in bed walking through the memories of the evening at Joel's and trying to hold on to the feeling of hugging him, savoring the way it all feels a bit clandestine in the middle of the night, when there's quiet steps coming up my stairwell. A shiver goes up my spine and I sit up in bed trying to piece together who it could be this late at night. I don't have time to debate whether I should put on a sweater to meet the visitor when there's a gentle knock on my door.
Through the crack in the door that I open I can see his outline, still smell the hint of whiskey on his breath betraying that he must have gone home and had at least one more since we last saw each other. I open the door just enough to smile up at him while he's resting against my doorframe, hands in his pockets and an almost embarrassed smile on his face.
"I couldn't sleep," he says without me even asking. "I've been walking around for a little while just trying to clear my head, but it's no good. It's still weird to be able to move around at night without having to be mindful of the military or anyone else. But you probably know that already."
"Well, Patsy, do you want to come inside?" Joel smiles and nods in reply. Enough confirmation for me that I step back and let the door swing open and moves in to the dark quiet of my apartment. Once inside Joel hesitates, but I close the door behind him and walk over to the sofa where I sit in the middle and wrap a quilt around myself. Joel moves slowly around the place, taking his time until he's back by the sofa. I look up at him from my seat and he sits beside me, lowering himself down onto the couch bracing his hands on his knees and then letting himself settle on the cushion with a sigh. He sits back and drapes on arm reflexively along the back of the sofa, but also leaving himself open for me to move against if I had chosen. I see the opportunity, and let myself lean in against him.
"Do you want to talk about what's on your mind?" I ask, settling against him and finally feeling the long day creeping into my bones. Like I could fall asleep right here if I'd wanted to. But I want to savor this time with Joel, especially if this is all a dream.
"I'd just like to sit," he says and rests his cheek against the top of my head. So, we stay like that for awhile. Long enough that I can feel my eyelids getting heavier and heavier, drifting closed for longer moments before I snap them back open and try to rouse myself again. Joel's breathing stays steady the entire time.
I don't know when I fall asleep against him, only knowing that it actually happened when I wake up in my own bed and I am alone. There's no memory of walking from there to here. No note or indication from Joel as to what happened. Just that I've been tucked back into bed with the blankets curled around me and a wish that Joel had stayed.