He nodded thoughtfully, then pointed in a wordless question, to which she answered by stepping aside and holding the make-believe door open for him. He was no longer in his uniform,instead wearing jeans, a t-shirt and a thick button-up made of soft flannel the color of cornflowers. It made his eyes brighter.
Once they were both inside of the verdant cocoon, they sat on the blanket side-by-side. Jarred moonlight gave their fort an ethereal glow.
"How did you know I was here?"
"Would it completely freak you out if I told you I had a feeling?"
She looked at him and considered his words. She thought of the house icing over and the cabinets banging open and shut. "I've been here a few months now so honestly, no."
His crooked smile was gentle. "I have a cabin just up the hill that way," he pointed to somewhere unseen behind their willow curtain. "I saw you and the cat slip under the willow."
"This is your property?"
He nodded. "Been in my family for a long time. I just finished building a place next to the lake."
"There's a lake?" she mused. "There's something about being near a body of water, isn't there?"
He made a humming sound of agreement.
"Sorry I trespassed."
That crooked smile showed off his dimple. "You can trespass anytime."
"Ursula and I got into a fight. We don't fight often but when we do, I don't know. It's deeper than regular fights." Getting the words out, with someone sitting next to her, made the pressure in her chest release.
He sat back, resting his weight on his hands behind him as he sat silently and she talked. She pulled on words that were wound tightly around the vines flowing through her, trying to make sense of them as she got them untangled and laid them out.
"Do you have a best friend?"
"I have a few friends but I wouldn't dare categorize them in the same league as you and Ursula."
"Why?" Her curiosity was piqued.
He paused with a deep breath. "I don't think men think of friendship like women do. You have this way together, like you're connected. There's almost a hunger there that is distinctly feminine." She watched his strong profile as he filtered through thoughts to give her. "I guess men don't think of that as a need," he said looking at her.
"That's kind of sad," she remarked softly. She was surprised by his astute observation.
He laughed. "Yeah, it kind of is. But tell me what's wrong. Even a relationally-stunted man," he bumped her shoulder lightly, "can be a good sounding board."
"You want to hear about our fight?"
He shrugged. "Is it important?"
"Yes," she said.
"Then yes, I do."
She considered him and his words for a moment. She wouldn't be comfortable talking about this with anyone else, especially not their mutual friends, as it would feel like a betrayal. But she needed to get the words out and he felt like a safe space.
She looked at him. "I'm going to start a few years back."
"Oh, is this like, Shakespeare stuff? Deep, dark, years-long resentment?"
She almost laughed, but there was a truth to that. Years-long, maybe not resentment, but hurt. And it needed to be brought to the surface so that they could heal together.
"Not quite. She was with this guy for years and he treated her like she was lucky to have him. He was an accountant, which there's nothing wrong with if the boring qualities of that job didn't also bleed into every area of his life and personality. The man's favorite color was light beige," she shook her head. "Andit wouldn't have even been that bad if he were simply boring. That's not a sin."
"It should be, though," he remarked. "What a waste of a soul to favor light beige and only like numbers," he shuttered dramatically and she smiled at his way of making her feel at ease.
