Lacking any better ideas, I retreat to the couch.
I’m not expecting him to follow, but after a while, he appears beside me, the ciders I’ve brought back clutched in each big fist. “I don’t know if one of these was for me, but I’m stealing it anyway.”
“I brought it for you.”
“How many did you drink first?”
“A few. Eve’s a bad influence, and she was driving, so I drank hers too.”
“True that. Where did you go tonight?”
“Winooski. Some hole-in-the-wall burger place and bar in an old mill. It was nice.”
“Winooski is nice,” Tanner agrees absently. He’s looking at the map I left spread on the table before I went out. The one he’s already circled with better spots for my cameras. “You should put one in the woods.”
“I thought of that.” We lean forward in synch, and I tap a location I’ve already earmarked. “But I don’t have the right lens for a place that dark—no moonlight, no sun. It wouldn’t work.”
“What kind of lens do you need?”
“The kind I can’t afford yet. Jerry said we could split the cost, but that won’t pan out when my contract is up. I’d rather have the lens than the money.”
“There’s a place in Montpelier where you can rent camera equipment. They might have one.”
Tanner writes the name of the store on my map. His letters are pointed and slant to the right. My nan used to say that meant a person was the perfect contradiction of intense and open-minded, a free spirit who wouldn’t let themselves fly. I don’t know Tanner well enough to judge him by his handwriting, but my nan was a wise woman.
I drink my cider while Tanner scowls at my map. Another drink is probably a bad idea, but I can’t get enough of this musky stuff. It reminds me of home, and…something else. Whatever. It makes me feel good, and being this close to Tanner makes me feel even better, despite the fact his face is folded into a deep frown. I nudge him. “What’s up?”
“Hmm?”
“Have I fucked something up?”
“With what?”
“The map. You’re looking at it like it tried to kill you, so I’m assuming I’ve done something wrong with it.”
“Why would you think it was your fault?”
“Isn’t it?”
He snorts. “No. This is all me.”
I’ve had enough conversations with him by now to know that’s all I’m going to get. Tanner doesn’t want to talk about himself, and I don’t want to make him. I want him to chill, like he did the night we sank all that wine. But I want it to be real, not forced by booze and my average company.
The map is still giving him a migraine. I fold it up and drop it into the bag I’ve brought home from work. For once I haven’t spent my day tramping up and down the freezing trails. There’s another wet weather front moving in that’s kept me grounded, and I don’t know how long it’ll last.
I’m willing to bet Tanner does. I toy with asking him, but he turns to me before I can speak, and lays his blistering palm on my knee. “Can I ask you something?”
He can do anything he wants if he’s going to touch me like that. “Sure.”
“Do you really not remember getting attacked by that shark? I just…” He takes a breath. “I can’t imagine not remembering the worst thing that ever happened to me.”
“It’s not the worst thing that ever happened to me.”
“No?”
“I don’t think so.”
Tanner considers my answer. He takes a deep sip of his cider, and his frown is back.
