TWO

Mia

A cool morning breeze blows onto shore when I pull the door shut behind me, locking Griffin inside. I’m tempted to rush back in the safety of my cabin, just like every other Tuesday. The weekly trek into town for my standing appointment with Rueben Moulin, a highly recommended therapist in town, is an ongoing struggle. At the same time, it’s a trip that forces me out of my self-induced isolation, and Lord knows I need that, otherwise I’d never see the light of day again. And I don’t want that. I’ve been there and it’s a scary place to be.

So for the past couple of years, every Tuesday except holidays, I’ve battled the panic clawing at my insides at the prospect of getting in my seldom-used car and driving for fifteen minutes to the medical offices on the other side of Bracebridge. I always bring grocery bags, in hopes that I’ll feel bolstered enough by my session with Rueben to hit the grocery store afterward, instead of ordering for delivery.

It’s a funny beast, agoraphobia. The fear and anxiety itself becomes the cause for fear and anxiety. And round and round you go. That’s why I know I can’t allow myself to skip a single appointment. Especially not since I’ve weaned off the meds I took for years, turning me into a virtual zombie. That was almost worse than the panic attacks, the way those pills would make me feel disconnected from the world around me—from myself.

With my empty grocery bags tucked under my arm, and my ball cap low over my eyes, I walk over to the make-shift garage. More like a shed, but just big enough to house my lawnmower and my ten-year-old RAV. Every time I get in and turn the key in the ignition, I keep my fingers crossed it’ll start. I’ve been lucky so far. The engine coughs once but thankfully catches, and I ease the car out. A bit of a tight fit, but one I’ve mastered. I get out to close the shed behind me, and when I turn back to my car, I see a flash of bright red in my peripheral vision. I turn my head to see a sporty little car come racing down his driveway.

I’ve avoided looking in the direction of the house across the inlet these last couple of days. Every time my eyes go there, I mentally slap myself, remembering the mortifying moments when he appeared to be staring right at me. I even took my kayak to the other side of the lake the last few days, after I spotted him watching me that same night. This time I look, only to find him step out of his front door as the car comes to a stop. I watch as he pulls open the driver’s side door and leans down, obviously saying something to the driver. When he steps back, a very pregnant brunette steps out of the car and wraps herself around him.

I didn’t know it was possible to be disappointed in someone without actually knowing them, but I feel it clearly. Less than a week ago, this guy was drilling a blonde on his dock, for the whole world to see, and now he’s got his hands on a different woman. One who is very pregnant and obviously comes with a shitload of luggage, judging from the moving truck pulling in behind her red car.

Not my business.

I shake my head before climbing behind the wheel and spin my tires on the gravel as I drive up the hill.

“You seem tense today,” Rueben points out when I walk into his office, twenty minutes later.

“As opposed to any other day?” I throw back sarcastically, making him chuckle.

“Okay, let me rephrase that; You seem tens-er today.”

I sit in the comfy club chair I’ve been plotting to smuggle out of here one day, and remove my ball cap, running my hand through my curls. It’s about time for another trim. Something else I’ll need to gear myself up for.

“My new neighbour moved in.”

“Oh? And did you go introduce yourself?” Rueben hones right in on the discussion we had just a week ago, when he gave me that assignment as homework. I had balked, as I usually do, and he’d pressed, as he’s prone to do. I’d had every intention of following through with my eventual promise that I’d go knock on my new neighbour’s door. In fact, I’d been working up the courage when I’d seen him speed off with his guest in his damn noisemaker that afternoon. Since I couldn’t get the image of what happened on the dock, just an hour after that, I’d steered clear. Any hopes of developing a friendly connection with the man were efficiently crushed.

My troubled thoughts must be legible on my face, because Rueben starts chuckling. “Must’ve been some introduction,” he says.

“Of sorts.” I try to play it off, but he won’t let me get away with it.

“Mia...”

“Can we just leave it at that?” I plead, already knowing it’s not going to get me anywhere.

“Mia.” This time a little sterner and I look up at his friendly age-lined face, his eyes calm and accepting. Oh, what the hell.

“He’s noisy, he’s obnoxious, and he did his girlfriend right on the dock, in broad daylight.”

“Did?” Rueben echoes.

“Fucked. As in fucked her bare-ass naked on the dock. In the middle of the damn afternoon. Who does that?”

“Anyone smart enough to grab that opportunity?” Rueben catches me off guard and I bark out a laugh. He’s seventy if he’s a day, but you could never tell from the twinkle in his eyes as he smiles broadly at me. “Are you sure you weren’t envious instead of irritated?” he teases. I can feel the hot flush on my face reaching my hair roots.

He studies me like I’m a bug pinned to the wall and I drop my gaze to the floor, grateful now for my outgrown hair, which obediently obscures my face.

“Too close to home?”

“Yes,” I snap. “Way too close to home; they were going at it just a few hundred yards from my house!”

“You know that’s not what I mean,” he says patiently, irritating the snot out of me.

“He’s a douche anyway,” I defer. “Just as I was leaving this morning, he was welcoming another woman. This one a brunette and very pregnant. She looked like she was moving in. The man is reprehensible,” I finish on a huff.

Rueben pauses with his fingers steepled against his chin. Something he tends to do when he’s thinking.

“Do you think it’s possible you’re jumping to conclusions? That you’re judging a situation not based on what you know but on what you choose to see?” He leans forward with his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped between. “One of the reasons I keep pushing you to interact more with the world around you is because that world keeps changing. You get comfortable in your routines, in the handful of relationships you maintain, but my dear, even if you prefer standing still in time, in isolation, nothing else does. You’re a young woman still, and although you’ve come a long way, life is still rushing on without you.”

It hurts—the truth does. I can’t even remember the person I was thirteen years ago. Can’t imagine getting on that crowded subway train and... But that was me at some point. Back when I was still a married woman, with a career I treasured, and friends I loved. I was happy then. All those things are lost to me now, slowly disappearing one by one until there was just me. Disconnected and invisible.

“I know,” I whisper without looking up, and I feel Rueben’s hand lightly touch mine.

“Transitions of any kind are bound to cause a disturbance. Your objective is to keep an open mind, to push yourself to step out of your comfort zone, and trust yourself enough to know you are able to deal with whatever comes your way.”

I leave his office a little later, with the promise not to close myself off from getting to know the new guy, and to stop at the grocery store on the way out of town. I manage to get as far as the crowded deli counter at the Metro before I feel the panic taking over. A tingling starts in my extremities and spreads over my body, setting every nerve on end. I can actually feel every hair on my head. Immediately followed by my breathing turning shallow and my heart beating erratically in my chest. The skin on my face draws tight and my chest feels like it’s being squeezed. I hang onto my cart as black dots blur my vision.

I work hard to visualize gliding my paddle through the water, my safe place, and struggle to breathe in through my nose.

“You okay, ma’am?”

I nod curtly at the young girl behind the counter, but can’t make eye contact or form words.

“Should I call someone?” she asks. Very sweet but it cuts me right where it hurts, and I can’t stop the moan from leaving my mouth.

There’s no one to call.

Jared

Holy shit.

I’d forgotten how damn messy Jordy can be. A few hours after she got here and already the place looks like a bomb exploded.

In all fairness, she is still in the middle of unpacking, but I shiver when I find her underwear on my kitchen counter.

“Jordy, Jesus,” I complain, holding up a lacy bit of confection, which has no place next to the toaster where I just recently made myself breakfast. My brat sister just snickers as she snatches the bra from my hands.

“Chill—I missed that one in the drawer and stuffed it in with the last of the kitchenware.” Waving the offensive piece of lingerie over her shoulder in a taunt, she disappears to her ‘wing.’

Really, it’s just a small hallway with a second master, a smaller bedroom for the nursery, and a second full bathroom. I have a similar layout on the other side, and the living, dining and kitchen are all at the front of the house. All open concept with large windows to the lake.

I have to admit, part of me is a bit concerned about our new arrangement. I like things tidy and in their place, something that served me well being on the road so much, but Jordy? Man, she’s something else. Add a new baby into the mix in a month, and I foresee chaos.

Carrying a box into my sister’s room, I catch her leaning on the dresser with a pained look.

“Are you okay?”

She swivels around and tries to smile, but I don’t miss the tears she’s blinking away. Shit. “I’m good. Just a little tired,” she says with a wobbly voice. I drop the box on the bed and walk up, wrapping my arms around her. She immediately slips hers around my waist and tucks her face into my shoulder. I can feel the baby moving between us. My nephew.

“He’s an asshole,” I mumble into her hair and feel her chuckle in response.

“He so is,” she says. “I just can’t believe the one-eighty he did when he was faced with this pregnancy. He...he accused me of trying to trick him. I didn’t. I swear...” Her cries are muffled by my shirt.

“Shhh. No need to tell me that, I know, honey. I know. This shit happens.” It sure does, I think, remembering the stupid risk I took just days ago. “And for the record,” I add. “If I see his face, I’m gonna rearrange it for him.”

Jordy snorts against my shoulder before pulling away. She giggles when she sees the mess she left behind on my shirt. “Oops,” she says, but this time the smile on her face reaches her eyes. “I’m afraid I messed you up good,” she teases. “Good preparation for when this little man decides to regurgitate breast milk all over you.” She proudly pats her stomach.

I roll my eyes, fighting the automatic gag reflex, and lean down to kiss her forehead. “He doesn’t scare me off that easily,” I lie through my teeth. The truth is, I’m terrified, but I’ll be damned if I let my little sister do this alone.

“Thank you,” she whispers, her hand stroking my cheek.

“My pleasure, honey,” I assure her, ruffling her hair before I turn to head to my room.

I need to change my shirt.

The loud whine of an engine trying, but not managing to catch, reaches me as I walk out on the deck. A small, white SUV is sitting at the top of my neighbour’s drive. It’s the same car I saw her leaving in this morning. I only hesitate for a second, before I step off the deck and follow the overgrown trail around the inlet to her side. She keeps cranking that damn engine, and I can smell the gasoline from the bottom of the hill. By the time I jog up to the top, the stench is thick.

She startles when I knock on the window, indicating she should roll it down. I lean and take in her pale, pasty face, her eyes red-rimmed. Just my luck, two crying women in one day. Pretty, though, and younger than I thought. Green eyes, narrow nose, and full lips, her obvious crying bout doesn’t hide her appeal.

“You’re flooding the engine,” I explain, but she looks at me confused, like I’m speaking a different language or something. “The engine?” I point at the hood, while speaking slowly, as if that’s going to help her understand. “It’s flooded. You need to turn it off and let it rest.”

The fingers that were clenching the keys in the ignition slowly let go.

“Oh,” she says. So she does understand.

“You may wanna come out before the fumes make you sick.” If anything, that seems to make her turn even paler.

“M-my groceries,” she stammers, her eyes big and frightened looking as she points to the back of the SUV.

“I’ll get them.” I round the back, open the tailgate and look at about a week’s worth of groceries piled up, along with a giant bag of dog food.

I try not to think about the fact this woman may well have seen me with Lori. The whole situation is awkward enough.

By the time I’ve got the dog food over my shoulder and the other bags clutched in my fists, the woman is out of the car, pulling a baseball cap over her hair. She pulls the bill down low over her eyes, before leaning back in the car to pull out a few more bags.

“I can give it a try for you in half an hour. See if it’ll start up.” She nods without saying anything and starts walking, so I try again, falling into step beside her. “By the way, now’s as good a time for introductions as any, I guess. I’m Jared. I moved in next door last week?” I don’t miss the quick sideways glance or the soft grunt.

“I saw,” she says, before her free hand shoots up to cover her mouth. “I mean I noticed the trucks. Mia.” She abruptly stops and sticks out her hand, except I have my hands full. More awkward. Fuck me, this chick is odd. “Mia Thompson,” she says, dropping her hand and her face now beet red. I start moving again and she follows suit. No doubt now as to who was watching last week.

“Nice to meet you, Mia. Great place you have here,” I look at her cabin as we walk up. It’s nice. A bit of a rugged look for a woman, but a sweet place nonetheless.

She stops at the steps to her door and turns. “Thanks,” she says, and I just notice how soft her voice is. I almost have to lean down to hear her. “You can just leave those here. I’ll grab them.” She indicates the bags in my hands.

I guess that means no invite inside, but I can’t resist asking, “Are you okay?” Her eyes shoot up from under her cap and take me in for a second before she answers.

“I’m good. Thanks.”

Just like that I’m dismissed. I figure I’ve done my bit to get to know my neighbour, the ball’s in her court now. If she needs me to help her with the damn car, she knows where to find me. I put the bags on the bottom step and back away.

“Let me know if you need a hand.”

“I think I’ll manage, but thanks,” she answers with the hint of a smile, but without looking at me again. Taking my cue, I walk back to my place.

Forty-five minutes later, I hear an engine and look across to see her drive her Toyota into the shed.

She managed.