Tucker:

When I woke up this morning, I was still in my jeans. I must’ve passed out hard. Molly’s snoring softly next to me in a pair of sweatpants and one of my t-shirts. Her laptop is cradled in her arms. I’m sure she was working late to make up for the lost time of the long drive we took yesterday.

We don’t have anywhere to be until later today, and I figure I’ll let her sleep as long as she wants. We are on vacation after all. Plus, I’m itching to do a little exploring.

This cabin is the kind of place that I could see us living in one day. It wouldn’t be that hard to build. Everywhere I turn sends my mind into a frenzy of angles and numbers, blueprints bouncing around in my brain. I can only hope I can give the woman I love a place like this to spend the rest of our life in. It’s going to take a lot of money, though and it’s pretty hard to get a loan to build a house when you don’t even have a last name.

“Tucker?” the woman with the blue white hair sitting at the kitchen table asks when I walk into the room, looking up from her crossword puzzle with a smile on her face. “You’re probably starving. You’ve been asleep for nearly twenty hours. Are you feeling alright?”

Holy shit, I think. It couldn’t have been that long. I feel amazing today. No wonder why.

“I could eat.” I shrug. “That car ride took it all out of me, I guess.”

“Have a seat,” she suggests. She gets up and starts pulling stuff from the refrigerator, cracking eggs and frying bacon in a big cast-iron pan.

“I can help you, Suzanne,” I say. “You know I hate making you wait on me.”

“Thanks for your offer, but my name is Bailey. Easy mistake. I guess I didn’t introduce myself properly. And I’m fine. This is the kind of stuff I enjoy doing. You just relax and get some coffee in you.”

I know her name isn’t Suzanne. But I have no idea where that came from. It slipped from my lips so naturally, like having a maid fix me breakfast was something I was used to. I rub my temples. My head is fucking pounding from sensory overload.

This place is overwhelming me. Everything about it is overloading my mind, giving me mixed signals, making me feel off balance.

“Do you have a headache? You want some aspirin?”

“You know I’m allergic to aspirin. You want me to have an asthma attack?”

“Tucker,” she says. “I don’t have a memo with your allergies. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, Bailey,” I say, “I need to go for a walk.”

I get up from the table, feeling like everything I’ve come to know recently is spiraling out of control. The stuff coming out of my mouth, I don’t know where it’s coming from. This house is doing something crazy to me, and the only thing I can think of that might solve my problems would be a walk in the woods.

Some time to think. Or not think. I want these thoughts to drift away. I want my simple Vagrant mind back.

I don’t want to leave Molly hanging. I love that woman more than anything, but I don’t want her to see me like this. I don’t want her to worry. Tonight is really important to her, and I need to be the man she knows and loves, not this disoriented guy living in two separate places in his mind. I take the trail through the backyard up into the mountains.

What would Tucker do? I laugh. I keep walking until my legs and lungs are on fire.