Andrew

Standing in the doorframe of the cabin I had spent over a month living in, I realized that it had only recently begun to feel like home. Yet time does not stop once familiarity sets in. And my time here was now up.
I tiptoed slowly across the plywood floors even though there was not another person in sight. Peering into my room, it was now filled only with noon light and melodies humming out of the iHome.
'Be my friend. Hold me. Wrap me up and follow me'…the speakers serenaded the bare walls and bed before I yanked its plug out of the wall. In one swift motion, I had removed any presence of myself that remained; in a mere two hours, I had vanished. The last of me was laying in my car, waiting at the door with my keys on the dash.
         Stopping at the front door, I willed myself to leave. I willed myself to turn the ignition and drive home. But while my entire life lay piled in the back of my car, my heart did not. Flipping open my cell phone, I stared at a blank screen: no messages received, no calls missed. I wondered if he wanted me to go, as silent and quickly as I had appeared. Was he waiting for me to come, or had he already forgotten?
         ‘Well, you don’t know what he wants. What do you want?’ I mused to myself. ‘Are you willing to just leave? Is it over for you, or will you regret not saying good-bye?’

         Ten minutes later, I was standing in the doorframe of the cabin I had spent so little time in, awaking a man I barely knew. Unsure, I clung to the wooden frame a few feet from the bed. He opened his eyes and turned his head to face me, eyes beckoning.
         “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you,” I insisted softly.
         “It’s alright,” he replied. He waited a moment for me to move. “Come on. Get in here,” he stated.
         I said nothing, instead smiled weakly and kicked off my shoes. Sliding in next to him, he wrapped his burly arms around my head and waist as I nuzzled my head into his shoulder. I listened to his breath next to my ear as I closed my eyes, attempting to savor the sound. His clothes still smelt of dew from the night before when we slept outside in a makeshift tent, hiding from dawn. We didn’t have words, only questions that I already knew the answers to. My contract was done as of yesterday. The summer is at its end. This is over as soon as I walk out of the door.