Tuesday morning, and I push my cart in front of me, looking at the produce available in the Lakeville Market.

Ugh. I really wish I could find a good farmer's cooperative that would deliver to my house, but the simple fact is that there isn't one nearby. I don’t care what some of the locals say about the weekend farmer’s market, I’m picky about my damn food. Sure, there's plenty of places that'll ship to me, but if I wanted vegetables that were picked a month ago in California… I'd come here.

Picking out an avocado, I sigh as I give it a test squeeze, finding it really, really too hard. It'll be at least three or four days before I can even use this. But it's the best of the lot, and I put it in my cart along with three or four others.

“Dan, it's nice to see you out,” Dirk says as he approaches, pushing a cart of his own. “How're things going for you?”

“Normal,” I grunt tersely. It's not that I have a problem with Dirk, in fact he's one of the people in town I don't mind all that much. It's just that I hate being in town at all, it’s worse than a kid going to the dentist, and I only come when I’m sure most of town is at work and I can avoid as much observation and speculation as possible. “Avocados suck, and the strawberries are still nearly green.”

“Well you know, if you wanted the best berries you could stop at the stand out by the turnoff to your place,” Dirk says amiably. “They had some very nice strawberries last time I checked.”

I shake my head, not wasting the time to explain to Dirk that the woman who runs that fruit stand is one of those folks in town who believe all the bad rumors about me, and who probably would spit in a basket of berries if I bought some from her. “I prefer to make my trips in and out of town as direct as possible.”

“Your choice, but it's still the best fruit in the area,” Dirk replies. “How're you getting along with your new neighbor?”

I stiffen a little, wondering if someone saw me and Chrissy on the lake last week. Since then we've taken the time to spend at least a little bit together each day, even though she's pushing hard. After the success of her last show in Chicago, she's been invited to a special group exhibition in St. Louis, and is trying to get another five canvasses done. I asked how, oil paint normally takes forever to dry, and she told me about some additives or something that left me shrugging and figuring she knows what she’s doing. Still, even if it's just morning coffee or sharing a bite of toast together before we both start our days, it's been some of the best times I've had in the past six years.

“I'm getting along fine with her,” I finally answer, looking at the bananas and throwing a large bunch in them. “She's an artist.”

“I know,” Dirk says, following me as I leave produce to pick up a few other items. “I was out fishing when I first ran into her, she took some photos of me cleaning fish of all things. Said it helped her see the beauty in the macabre… funny girl, but I guess that's okay. This town can use some more funny people.”

“Don't let the voters hear you say that,” I reply, adding a dozen bags of dried beans to my cart. “You're up for election in just over a year.”

“Not worried, I just think things are always better when there's some variety to the spice of life,” Dirk says. “Speaking of which, I just want to warn you… there's some rumors floating around about Chrissy.”

“What rumors?” I ask, maybe a little more harshly than I should. I can't help but glance over my shoulder at the register, but Bobbi Valentine isn't working today. It's one of the other reasons I only come into town on Tuesdays, it's the day she's always off. Still, her little sewing circle of shrews have very long ears. Lowering my voice, I look back at Dirk. “And why are you telling me?”

“Because as a person who's been on the receiving end of the grapevine in this town, you know how painful it can be,” Dirk says quietly. “I was hoping you can help me, let me do what I can to deflect the comments before they grow.”

“You didn't seem too happy to help me with that,” I note, and Dirk nods. No reason to rehash that particular situation, or the reason Dirk's doing things differently this time. “Fine, what's the story?”

“She's been seen out a few times with Willow Trapham,” Dirk says, pausing. “Now, I honestly don't care if that's what Chrissy wants to do, I happen to think Willow's a lot better quality a person than some of the folks around town. She's never been arrested, never gotten in trouble with the sheriff, she pays her bills and taxes on time, and she tries to make the town a better place in her unique way. Trust me, that's got her a few rungs up around here.”

“I bet. But I doubt the rumors you’re implying are true,” I reply, thinking. Of course I've heard about Willow, I've even seen her out and around town a few times. Her style's a little too over the top sexy for me, and when I heard the rumors, I've been doubtful. I mean, sure she could be in adult movies, but a lesbian? It's hard to believe. Then again, I guess lesbian’s don’t go around with signs on their foreheads either. “I don't think Chrissy is into girls.”

“But has Willow been out to her house?” Dirk asks. “Listen, I'm not worried, like I said. But they had a dinner over at Dusty's, and a lot of people are saying it damn near looked like a date. Dan, I'm just asking… do I need to make sure that there's not going to be an incident of gay bashing or anything in town?”

A date? Willow and Chrissy? I think, but my mind's troubled. Looking at Dan, I shake my head. “You know I wouldn't let anyone fuck around on my street. If someone started some shit with Chrissy, my house might be the next spot the damn lynch mob would come to party. As for who Chrissy dates, I think that's her business, and not Bobbi Valentine's. Now if you don't mind, I need to get the rest of my shopping done, you know how I hate being in town longer than I have to.”

Dirk nods, looking a little sad. “I'm asking for another reason, Dan. Another rumor is that you two have been hanging out a lot, and well… I don't want you getting hurt too.”

“A lot of town would probably laugh. Excuse me.”

Dirk reaches out, putting a hand on my shoulder. “You know you don't have to leave, Dan. Forget those assholes.”

“A good percentage of those assholes probably voted for you, Dirk,” I remind him, not angry but also not comfortable with where this conversation’s going. “Your decency notwithstanding, this town's got more assholes than decent people. That you even need to ask me to look out for Chrissy because she's friendly with Willow is all the proof I need on that.”

I leave Dirk and complete the rest of my shopping quickly, not looking at or saying anything to anyone as I check out beyond 'debit card.'

I drive home quickly, but as I do the little voice in my head starts nibbling at me. Chrissy's an artist, and artists tend to live… unique lifestyles I've heard. And Willow, whether she's straight, lesbian, or whatever, is beautiful in her own way. And if she's in adult entertainment, then she's certainly spent time in bed with both men and women. I mean, I'm not a porn freak but I’m also not a monk, and I watched my fair share back before I started having to measure my Internet usage by my cell phone.

So what if Willow and Chrissy are seeing each other? What does that make me? Am I just inspiration? Am I a dick in a burned case? Am I… well, am I just being a dumbass?

More than likely, I'm just being an insecure dumbass. But that's nothing new, I've been calling myself an insecure dumbass since the fire.

I get home, unpacking my stuff and looking at my yard. I'd planned to try and get a little bit of woodwork done, after our first date with Chrissy my ideas to expand my cabin started to really take hold and I'd been planning on starting work on the boards for flooring, but now I just don't feel like it.

Instead I stay in the cabin, making myself a cup of tea and sitting on my couch. I try to keep my mind free of the worries and stupid concerns running around my head, but I can't stop them. Instead I sip my tea and when that's gone I lay down, closing my eyes and ignoring the soft knock that comes at my door later.

I don't trust that I won't say something stupid.