The fawn looks back at its mother as if asking for permission, but the doe is already scanning the rest of the field. The fawn takes a tentative step forward, lowering its head.
It approaches me slowly. When it reaches my hand it stays back but stretches its neck forward, breathing in my scent. I smile as its wet nose touches the tips of my fingers.
I reach out with my other hand and touch the fawn’s fur. It’s soft and hasn’t grown coarse yet. I look up at the mother, who is watching me like a hawk. She trusts me, but only so much. Her eyes tell me, “Hurt my baby, I hurt you.”
“It’s all right. I won’t hurt them.” I pet the fawn from its head down its back, and it shakes its little tail. It’s like they intuitively know something happened to the human population. Like the silence of the roads and the significant lack of human-animals walking on two feet means things have changed for them. Like their world is less dangerous.
“All right, I think your mom wants you to head back now.” I take my hand away and its wide eyes look like they’re wondering a million things at once.
The spring breeze has cooled the sweat on my back. I fold the tarp and tuck it under my arm and lift the rifle, slinging it over my shoulder. The fawn tenses, ready to run.
“It’s okay, kid, I’m done for the day.”
The fawn turns and begins walking back to its mother, stopping every few feet to sniff at the ground.
“Be careful,” I tell the doe.
I smile and head back to the house.
There’s a book on the coffee table. It’s the first thing I see when I walk into the living room and my mouth goes dry.
It’sThe Voyage Out.I call out to Andrew but there’s no answer. There’s a piece of lined yellow paper sticking out of the top. I know it’s from Andrew and I’m terrified to take it out, but I can’t leave it there. I can’t ignore it. He wasn’t on the back deck waiting for me as usual and he’s not the kind of person to sleep in.
Slowly, I pull it out and unfold it.
Seeing his handwriting hurts like a knife.
Jamie,it says.I’m sorry. I hope you don’t find this until you come back from hunting. I didn’t want to be here when you got back. This is a trope you wouldn’t know anything about because it’s only in shitty movies you’ve never seen. It’s the coward’s way out.
I am a coward.
Hi, my name is Andrew and I am a coward.
(Hi, Andrew.)
I had to leave. This is your food, and your home, and I’ve been enough of a burden. But I want you to know how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. I NEED you to know how grateful I am. You’re a really good person.
He wrote something else after this but spent a lot of time scribbling it out so I couldn’t see it.
I took some food. Just a few cans... I hope you managed to get a deer so I don’t feel so guilty. I think you did.
I’m going to miss you so much, Jamie. And again, I’m really sorry. I’m more than sorry. I think there’s no word for what I am right now.
Stay safe.
Love, Andrew.
I read it over and over, hearing his voice in my head.
I’m unable to move from the couch or even think. He’s gone. He’s gone and I’m alone again.
Andrew
THIS IS KARMA. POINT TAKEN, UNIVERSE! BUTyou didn’t have to be such a bitch about it. I got way too comfortable here. Just days ago, I was sitting in the living room with Jamie, going through the movieBest in Show—almost got him to laugh with “Harlan Pepper, if you don’t stop namin’ nuts!”—when I realized, maybe I didn’t need to go down to Alexandria after all. Maybe I could stay here with Jamie, let my deadline pass, and pretend the Fosters have gone on to live their lives elsewhere. And Jamie and I could just be best friends and I could deal with the shit I did in my own way.
But no. I like it here too much and now the universe is all, “Ah, you think you deserve happiness?” and throws a wrench in our life.
But it’s a wrench in Jamie’s life. And it’s all because I decided I could stay. That I didn’t need to get right with the world.
