The next morning broke with clear skies and it seemed a bit warmer. After a late breakfast I decided to call my friend Keith Murtaugh to see if he was around. He invited me out to his place on Caney Fork to go hiking up on the backside of Coward Mountain. The damp woods were perfect that day. We ate two tabs of paper acid and peaked just as the sun was setting in the distance, casting a violet glow over the ridges surrounding his house.
I woke the next day about noon to the sound of a car on the gravel outside my house. By the time I got to the door Laurel was standing there, her soft smile putting an ounce of humanity back in my heart.
“When did you get back,” she asked.
“Day before yesterday. I’ve been thinking about you.”
“Were you gonna act on that thinking? Maybe at least invite me in?”
I admit that I stood there blocking the door. It was as if I was afraid of all that might come naturally if I let her into my life. But eventually I stepped aside. Her scent lifted my eyebrows as she passed me. I could get used to this, I thought.
Laurel stepped into the middle of my darkened living room.
“So this is where you live?”
“Something else isn’t it?”
“Not bad,” she said. She looked around a bit. “How long have you been living here?”
I told her how I’d moved up to Berry Mountain at the end of the semester. I was staying here for the summer. The renter had taken off to Europe and wasn’t due back until the first of August. Laurel asked me if I had plans for the day. Seeing as how I didn’t, she enticed me into going to the lake with her.
The clear water of Cliffside Lake was too cold to think about swimming in but the sun warmed us as we sat among exposed tree roots and green foliage. Sunlight sparkled in the water. Nervous small talk did little to mask the tension of the unspoken topic I knew would soon arise.
“Have you talked to Will,” she asked me. I hesitated before answering her.
“I talked to him last week during exams, but not since the end of the term. You?”
“Hardly,” she replied. “I wouldn’t know what to say to him.”
“I’m sure it would be difficult.”
“Did he say anything to you about why he … you know … why he ended it?”
I searched around for the right thing to say, wanting only to not add to her unhappiness.
“I don’t know, maybe he said some things, but none of it makes sense to me. Maybe he’s just selfish, immature, unwilling or unable to commit to the next level.”
Tears began to well in her eyes as she stared at me, expressionless for the moment.
“Well then why couldn’t he tell me that after two years? Why did he keep sleeping with me? Keep telling me he loved me right up until the very end?”
Her voice tailed off as she looked out across the water.
“I don’t know, Laurel, I’m sorry.”
She wiped a tear from her cheek with the back of her bent index finger and seemed to compose herself on the spot.
“It’s ok. I guess you learn who your friends are along the way.”
As she said that she reached over and placed her hand on top of mine. My arms were stretched out behind me as I leaned my body weight back onto my hands. Laurel caressed the top of my hand. I found the sensation wonderful.
We remained silent for a time. It had been a week to the day since we’d gone hiking on Coward Knob with Will, Jordan and Kim. But it seemed like so long ago. Laurel appeared to be handling herself well. I’d hoped she found some way to overcome the blow.
Without notice Laurel turned toward me and pushed me onto the ground. She was on top of me and I gently shifted my arms so that I could open to her embrace. She kissed me, softly at first, but as I opened my mouth to her she pushed deeper. I tightened my grip on her hips, returning her passion.
We kissed without speaking for what seemed like the rest of the afternoon. I stared into her blue eyes and could see the loneliness and the disappointment she was processing after last week’s shock. She’d smile at me every so often and then return her lips to mine.
At some point we stopped and she placed her head on my chest. I began to caress her red hair and she placed her hand on my stomach. Unspoken contentment was all around us.
But after a few minutes I could detect sniffling and I understood that Laurel must be weeping.
“I’m so ashamed,” she said. “I can’t believe I actually thought he loved me. He was such a good liar.”
I lowered my free arm around her waist and embraced her.
“I’m sorry it happened. But you’re a good person. Strong and generous. There’s a lot better things to come for you.”
Her fingers bunched up a part of my shirt, like she was in need of something to cling to. The sky approached a darker shade of blue overhead. The building heat providing a taste of the many summer days to come. Laurel sat up and appeared to wipe her eyes.
“Do you believe in love, Scott?”
A falcon screeched nearby, and I heard the rustle of smaller birds shifting to protect themselves.
“I do. Maybe not in the biblical man and wife, children obey your parents sense of the word. But I do believe in the kind of love a person feels for his friends, for his home, for his favorite song. I believe in the love that brings people together. Does that make sense?”
“It does,” she said without looking at me. She remained still. After a moment I sat up next to her. Laurel had crossed her arms about her chest so that her elbows rested on her knees. Leaning forward, her chin rested on her arms.
On her face was the hint of a smile.