At home, if I was, for some reason, trying to do this, I would look up a video showing me how to make a pour-over cup of coffee. But here, everything takes longer, with the task before me like a puzzle I have to figure out on my own, rather than getting to follow someone else’s color-by-numbers of what to do.
Luckily, I do find an electric kettle in the cabinet, which means I don’t have to mess around with figuring out the wood-burning stove yet. I rinse it out, fill it with water, and wait for it to get hot.Ten minutes later, I’m pouring it over the coffee and sighing into the smell of it, grateful I grabbed a bag at the hardware store.
“It’s roasted at the coffee shop down the street,” Liam had said, grinning at me as I added it to the mound of items I purchased.
For some reason, Maxreallydidn’t want to go over to the general store, despite the fact that I still don’t have any food up here other than the cans and rice in the cabinet. I pull down a can of soup and crank it open, finding a spoon and deciding I’ll eat it cold.
Later, when I learn how to use the wood-burning stove, a hot breakfast will be like a reward. Part of me yearns for the egg-white and red pepper burrito I get every morning with my coffee, but another part of me feels a weird sense of satisfaction with my slow, pour-over coffee.
I don’t even have milk for it. Just sugar.
Gathering the mug and soup can in my arms, I head out to the back porch of the cabin and sit down in one of the folding camping chairs, breath whooshing out of my body at the sight before me.
I’d be lying if I said my view back in San Francisco was pitiful; I have an amazing vantage point of the city and the harbor. Not that I ever really have time to appreciate it.
But sitting here, I can smell the water, clean and cool. A swan — anactual swan— lands as I sit there, gliding smoothly through the water and grooming at her feathers.
Sitting down, I watch for long enough that the air turns from cool and dewy to warm and moist. Even when my coffee is gone, I’m content just to enjoy the sights — the trees pushing up on thewater on the other side of the pond, the ducks that have joined the swan in the water, and the little trail of ducklings that make my heart squeeze, thinking about my mom.
On my birthday last year, nearly a year ago now, she’d tried to bring up the subject with me again of finding a partner, having kids.
“If there’s something you need to tell me…” she’d said, trailing off with a knowing look.
“No, Mom,” I’d said, rolling my eyes at having to tell her for the fiftieth time. “There’s no manorwoman. I’m not hiding a secret partner or my sexuality from you. I’m busy with work.”
“But you’ve been busy for adecade, Lace,” she’d said, uncharacteristically fiddling with her wine glass. “I’m worried that you’re going to look back and realize you didn’t prioritize the right things.”
Those conversations with her were always beyond frustrating. Growing up, my mother had impressed upon me two things: first, that she loved me, and second, that she didnotwant me to have a baby in the same circumstances as her. That it was mortifying to have to rely on her younger brother, and for me, she wanted a successful career, a stable situation in which to start a family.
And while my heart flutters at the thought of having a baby of my own, I’d always assumed that things would happen naturally. If my mom managed to get pregnantaccidentallyat eighteen, then surely I could manage itpurposefullyby thirty, right?
Except I’m thirty now. I’ll be thirty-one in two months, and there’s no magical suitor on the horizon, no perfectly well-adjusted man waiting to make a baby with me. Besides, all themen in my life who have the same interests as I do — being into gaming and computer stuff — end up being intimidated by my job and my abilities.
A second swan lands in the water, disturbing the ducks as she heads over to her friend, and I stand, chest feeling tight. I don’t want to think about this anymore.
Maybe that’s the beauty of living in the city. I’m never alone with my thoughts for this long.
Inside, I crank the water in the shower and do a little dance when it starts to steam up. I don’t think I’d be able to handle another day without a good, long shower.
By the time I climb out, I know I’ve been in the shower for too long. My skin is pink and scrubbed clean, my hair double-washed and soft from a conditioning mask. I brush through it and throw on a pair of sweatpants and a tank top, before grabbing a notebook from the hardware store bag and walking through the cabin.
It’s time to make my first real appraisal of the place.
I could do this on my phone, but it’s charging up for the first time now, and something about taking notes on it feels less appealing now that I’ve gone a day without it.
For the next hour, I walk through the cabin, jotting things down. Three bedrooms, two bathrooms — I knew that much from my quick poke through the rooms when I first got here. And, like I thought before, it’s all going to need painting, new furniture, and styling.
One of the rooms is simply empty, like Jasper added it in but wasn’t sure what to do with it. Another is something of a study,with a single clunky, sturdy desk in Jasper’s typical style — unstained two-by-fours thrown together in a finished product that could survive a nuclear war but looks like something from Minecraft.
I laugh and run my hand over the top. At least it’s sanded and finished, smooth to the touch. I can actually imagine him sitting here, scribbling out plans. I wonder if he had ideas about other stuff to build out here on his land.
Then I notice two drawers, one slightly crooked, and my heart jumps into my throat. So far, I haven’t found anything left behind by him, other than some pantry items in the kitchen, wood by the wood stove. Nothing personal.
Nothing for me.
And if I were looking for it, I’d look for it inthosedrawers. Swallowing, I turn away from the desk and force myself to think about something else, looking around the room, taking in the large windows and the nature beyond them.
His study would be a great location for a gaming room, but it probably makes more sense to make this another bedroom, for rental purposes.
