In the Woods with a Woman

         “Wake up honey,” I nudged Lily. She opened her eyes and smiled. I hugged her, then got up to make coffee. I poured myself a cup, and one for Lily. I touched her cheek, set the coffee on her bedside stand and walked out to my porch chair. The wood screen door tapped shut behind me with a familiar thud. I looked out across the wooded lot, yellow and orange maple leaves spun to the ground in a soft breeze. Through the trees, I could see slivers of the lake. The morning sun was winking off the calm surface.
         We had moved to our dream house-- a one bedroom cabin in the woods-- three years ago. After I had received the diagnosis. Brain cancer. Six months to live. I had showed them. Not that I cared too much anyway. I was ready to die. Sometimes I felt bad about taking Lily with me to my Walden-esque life in the wilderness. This final chapter of my life was dragging on much longer than anticipated. We were in limbo. But Lily was selfless. The kind of woman you grow up thinking might exist, if God is really there, but probably doesn't. She was beautiful. American Indian with dark hair and dark eyes. The kind of eyes which were almost black. They had stillness and depth. Sometimes when I was looking into those eyes, I was reminded of her ancestry, and the dignity and magic that must have pervaded their culture before it was corrupted. She was powerful. She was feminine. And she loved fully. She joined me on the porch, wrapped in a rough woven blanket, and curled up in my lap.
         “Good morning,” I said. She kissed me and put her head on my chest.
         “I’ve been thinking,” she started. Melancholy and a hint of fear pulsed through my chest. Whenever she started a conversation like this it worried me. “We should take the canoe out today.” I smiled, gave her a squeeze and held her on the back of her thighs.
         “That sounds nice,” I said.
         We set the canoe in the lake. Water lapped against the sides of the boat. Slapping little waves. I was lost for a moment, staring at them. I pretended they were giant ocean waves and I was a giant looking down at them. We climbed into the boat, me in front, Lily behind, and paddled out to the middle of the lake.
         We did our customary ritual of disrobing in the middle of the lake. Then we both laid backwards soaking in the sun on our bare chests. I stared at the sky through my sunglasses. I didn't care for the tint on this pair. Dull grey. I much preferred my other pair that I’d lost earlier that year. The pair with the soft sepia lenses.
         “I’ve been thinking,” she began, speaking directly to the sky.
         “I hate it when you say that,” I interrupted. “I don’t know why. You worry me.”
         “I’m sorry baby.” She fell silent.
         “What is it?” I asked after a few minutes.
         “I think we should cook those steaks for dinner.”
         “That’s all?” I asked.
         “And some squash too. The orange squash is ripe.”
         “I love you baby,” I said. She put her feet gently on my shoulders and I held them.