Author’s Note:
This is a rough draft. It has not been edited properly. I also tried using a dictation tool for some parts of this chapter, so that might lead to some weird formatting stuff I didn’t catch. Nothing is set in stone yet, and things may change as the draft develops. Thank you to anyone who reads and leaves feedback.
Read the rest, here:
Day Three:
Carey paces around the bedroom like a man possessed.
All Augusta can do is sit on the side of the bed, watching him. She’s trying hard not to pick at the edges of her fingernails; an anxious habit she thought she bested years ago.
“I don’t understand,” Carey says, for what feels like it must be the tenth or eleventh time. “I really don’t understand.”
“I think you just caught him off guard,” Augusta says, trying to keep her voice quiet. She doesn’t want Luana and Sam to hear them talking about it.
“He’s not homophobic,” Carey says. “ Like, I know it seems that he’s homophobic after that, but I promise he’s not. I mean, his closest nurse friend is a lesbian. Phoebe.”
Augusta feels like now might not be the time to try to explain why men might have a harder time conceptualizing same sex attraction in other men than in women. Carey is a smart man, he understands. He just can’t see faults in Sam. Not that Augusta thinks Sam is any kind of hateful; that fear might just be pointed inwards.
“Carey, maybe he just didn’t want to have the conversation in front of Luana and I,” Augusta suggests. This very well could be true. “You were going to wait until after this week, remember?”
“So it’s my fault he acted like an asshole?” Carey asks, a little defensively.
“That is not what I’m saying,” Augusta replies. “I think it was just an unfortunate time for that conversation. If you know he’s not homophobic, then just give him the benefit of the doubt, and assume he’s just processing new information.”
For a moment, Carey stops pacing. He nods, as if registering what she’s saying for the first time. Logic shining through the cracks in his anxiety.
“But what if he’s super specifically biphobic?” Carey asks. “I never considered that, but that’s a possibility, isn’t it? How popular is that, on a scale from one to ten?”
Wow.
“If you really know your best friend, then I think you know that’s probably not the case,” Augusta says. “ Why don’t you talk to him in the morning, and I’m sure he’ll apologize?”
Carey’s shoulders sag. He crosses the bedroom to sit next to Augusta on the bed.
“That just felt so shitty.”
She rests a hand on his shoulder, rubbing small comforting circles with her thumb.
“I know, honey. I’m really sorry it didn’t go well.
And she really is. She really does wish that that had gone better for both Carey and Sam, even if it meant making her more uncertain about her own place and Carey’s life. She wishes that she could take all of Carey’s pain and confusion away right now. But she can’t do any of that without outing Sam. She can’t make Carey feel better without admitting she’s in on a secret that excludes him, even if she’s not truthfully in on it. She just has a really strong suspicion. She wouldn’t out Sam, but even if she did, he could simply deny it and make her look paranoid. And even if he didn’t deny it, and outing him wasn’t ethically horrendous, she can’t make Carey feel better without him learning the thing that she is, by now, pretty convinced will be the reason she loses him. And she doesn’t want to lose him.
Carey exhales heavily.
“Maybe he’s freaked out,” he whispers quietly. Like he’s voicing his worst fear. “We’ve shared beds before, you know? At sleepovers as kids and stuff. When I’d come to visit him in nursing school. That sort of thing. We’ve never been the kind of friends that were weird about hugging or… What if he’s freaked out?”
Crap. Augusta can see why his brain would go there.
“I really don’t think that’s it,” Augusta says.
“How do you know?” Carey asks. “I mean, you don’t even know Sam. Not really.”
That’s true, she doesn’t. But she thinks she knows something about him that maybe nobody else does.
“You’re right, I don’t,” Augusta admits. “ But I’ve come out to people before, right? It really seems like he’s just taking time to process and he could have handled it a lot better.”
“Yeah,” Carey agrees. “He really could have.”
Augusta can see anger and resentment taking shape out of the pain in his eyes. But instead of letting it lead him, he squeezes her hand.
“Thank you for being here for me,” he says. “ You’re so amazing. Thank you, Gus.”
And the compliment should warm her heart. The gratitude should make her happy. But really, it just makes her feel vaguely ill. All of this is becoming so much for her to handle. And as much as Augusta doesn’t want to lose Carey, she’s not sure how much more of this she can stomach.
▪️▪️▪️
It’s not the easiest night to try to fall asleep. For one thing, it’s grown very humid. More humid than she’d expect this far north. Even with the windows open and a fan on, it’s not a comfortable night for sleeping. Especially beside Carey, who not only seems to be a thermal generator, but who is also tossing and turning, in a clear show of stress. He’s not having an easy time falling asleep either. Augusta can’t blame him. But she does know she’ll lay awake all night, irritated and exhausted, if this keeps up. So she decides to go grab a glass of cool water and try to fall asleep on the couch.
She tries her best not to disturb anything as she gets up. She grabs her phone, but doesn’t turn on the flashlight. She just quietly feels around until she exits the room and makes her way down the hallway, down half a flight of stairs, towards the kitchen. She doesn’t want anyone to wake up on her account. Especially not after the evening they’ve had.
But as she creeps down the stairs, Augusta realizes that she’s not the only person that has given up on trying to sleep in their rooms tonight. The lights on the back deck have been turned on, and the sliding glass door is open, leaving only the screen marking inside versus outside. On the deck, in their pajamas, are Luana and Sam. And based on the harsh tones of their whispering, Augusta seems to have stumbled upon a rather heated discussion between them.
“Then why the fuck would you react that way?” Luana is whisper-hissing at Sam.
Augusta stays standing in the dark, listening unnoticed.
“I didn’t mean to!” Sam insists.
“Your best friend in the whole world, the person you told me you trust more than anyone, just came out to you, and you acted like a total dick,” Luana accuses.
Augusta finds herself feeling strangely ingratiated to Luana. Like, yes, tell him. Tell him how badly he’s fucked this up. Just don’t push him so far the other way that they both end up dumped.
Sam’s expression falters. His throat bobs, like he’s about to be sick.
“Oh fuck. Oh fuck. I did, didn’t I?”
Luana scoffs. “Like a man? You’re saying you had sex with a man?” She mocks his voice.
“Oh my god,” Sam pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fuck, this is bad.”
“Is this, like, a problem for you?” Luana demands. “Because I really don’t get why it would be. It’s not like you don’t have queer friends. What’s the difference?”
Pretty big difference, Augusta thinks.
Sam’s jaw clenches. He looks angry.
“It’s not that his being…. It’s not that,” Sam says. “It’s just… Carey tells me everything, okay? He’s always told me everything. He gets poison ivy having sex in the damn woods? I hear about it. His ex wants to try rope play? I hear about it! He thinks Augusta is the woman he could marry? I hear about it! And maybe he’s onto something there, because he told her about this, and not me.”
Augusta goes very still. Carey said that? About her? Did he really mean that?
“It sounds sort of like you’re jealous that he confides in her, Sam,” Luana whispers. “But I don’t think you need to be upset at all. I think he just figured it out. I don’t think he was keeping it from you?”
“I should’ve known,” Sam mutters.
“Why?” Luana asks. “Why should you have known? Come on, it doesn’t matter. Nothing has changed.”
Sam doesn’t say anything. He turns, looking away from her, out toward the lake.
“Sam?” Luana presses. “Why does it matter so much?”
Sam shakes his head a little. He turns back to her. “It doesn’t. Clearly. Can we just drop it? I’ll fix it, okay? Tomorrow, I’ll fix it.”
Luana doesn’t react right away. She doesn’t let him off the hook. Augusta wonders what she’s thinking. She wonders how aware Luana is. After all, she seems so in denial about herself. How could she not be somewhat in denial about Sam, too? Or is that the point? That they can be in denial together?
Eventually, Luana heaves out a sigh. She takes a step forward and squeezes his hand in hers.
“Yeah, okay. I’m sure it’ll all be fine. The two of you will be okay.”
She hugs him, and Augusta feels now like she’s watched for too long. Well, she supposes that even watching for one minute was a minute too long. This was a very private conversation. In fact, Augusta would be mortified to be caught eavesdropping on it at all.
With that in mind, she does something sort of stupid.
She backs up as quietly as she can until she’s at the bottom of the stairs, and she can feel on the side of the wall for the hallway light. She takes one big loud step, enough to alert them to her presence, and flips on the light as though she’s just entering the space.
She hears Sam and Luana gasp a little bit.
“Carey?” Sam mutters, clearly spooked.
“Oh, sorry!” Augusta calls out. “Just me. Coming down for a glass of water.”
Luana pokes her head inside the house.
“Oh, Gus hi,” she says shakily. “We were just getting some air.”
“Sorry to interrupt,” Augusta mumbles.
She walks into the kitchen, grabs a glass of water, and without seeing another word to any of them, heads back towards the bedroom. So much for sleeping on the couch and getting a break from everything. This whole cottage is filled to the brim with secrets.
Day Four:
“There’s rain on the forecast.”
That’s the first thing Carey says to her when they wake up. Almost as if last night never happened. He’s sitting up in bed, looking on his phone.
“What?” Augusta asks.
“Rain,” Carey says. “Later today and tomorrow. It just appeared on the forecast. It wasn’t calling for it before this morning, I checked every day leading up to this week.”
“Okay,” Augusta says. She kind of dreads the idea of rain. It means they’re going to be stuck inside. Especially after whatever the fuck last night was, that’s pretty daunting. “Well, sometimes the forecast gets it wrong.”
“Yeah,” Carey replies. “Sometimes…”
“Maybe we should use this as a very solid reason to sleep as long as we can,” Augusta says. “Catch up on some rest, if it’s not going to be a nice day.”
This is simply her excuse for not wanting to leave the bedroom. She doesn’t really know how to interact with Sam and Luana today.
“I don’t know,” Carey mothers. “If it’s going to be nice for the morning, I should probably go for a run now.”
Oh, right. Runners.
“Okay,” Augusta nods. “Yeah. That makes sense.”
“I’ll just go for a run, and then… Then, hey. No reason we can’t still have a great day, right?”
Can they? Can they have a great day? After the shit show that went down last night? Somehow, Augusta severely doubts it.
“Are you going to talk to Sam this morning?” She asks, because that information is the central variable in their having a good day or, more likely, not.
Carey stiffens a little.
“If he wants to talk, I guess,” he answers.
“Maybe pull him aside?” Augusta suggests. “Clear the air before we all get rained in together?”
Carey blinks, like this is an outlandish suggestion. “It’s his job to clear the air.”
“Right,” Augusta agrees. This is technically true. “But maybe be the one to initiate it anyway? I mean, you don’t want things to be awkward for the rest of the week.”
Carey shrugs noncommittally. “Yeah. Maybe.”
Augusta has a feeling it’s going to be a very long day.
▪️▪️▪️
Augusta is making coffee in the kitchen when Luana and Sam make an appearance. They’re about five minutes behind Sailor, who has been sitting on the floor beside Augusta, staring up at her with big, begging eyes, as if Augusta is going to give her coffee grinds or something. It’s a valiant effort, but Augusta isn’t an easy mark.
“Where’s Carey?” Sam asks, walking into the kitchen ahead of his girlfriend.
“On a run,” Augusta says, pouring coffee into a ceramic mug. She’d imagine most cottages have kitchy, eclectic assortments of mugs, gathered over the years. Not this one. They’re all matching glazed pottery, umber in colouring. “Luana, do you want coffee?”
“Please,” Luana says. “Thanks, Gus.”
Augusta’s spine shivers at the use of the nickname. It still sounds so strange coming from Luana’s mouth.
“On a run?” Sam repeats.
“Yes,” Augusta repeats, grabbing Luana a mug. “He should be back soon.”
“He went without me?” Sam asks.
Augusta thought that was fairly self-evident, but she’ll answer nevertheless.
“Yeah,” she says. “I think he’s still upset.”
It’s more than she should probably say. She doesn’t need to be the one to bring it up. But really, is Sam stupid? Of course Carey is still upset.
Luana sucks in a sharp breath.
Sam’s cheeks redden. “I-I know. I just thought maybe he’d wait for me, so we could talk about it.”
Augusta feels a pang of sympathy for him. She heard him last night. He’d been really upset. And she knows why. She knows. She doesn’t want to feel bad for him; it’s not her job to have sympathy in this situation.
As Augusta finishes pouring Luana’s coffee and passing her the mug, Sam looks anxiously out the kitchen window, as if Carey will magically appear outside, cheerful and forgiving. Good luck with that. Augusta grabs her book off the counter and heads to the living room, intent on trying to ignore the smoke-thick tension in the air.
Eventually, a little past nine, Sam’s torture is ended. Carey walks through the door, sweaty and red-faced. There’s a small yellowing leaf caught in his curls, like it floated down from a tree and landed gently atop his head. Augusta puts her book down and begins to shift to greet him, but Sam beats her to the chase.
“Hey,” he says. “Carey. How was your run?”
Augusta and Luana both freeze to watch the interaction. Like they’re waiting for Carey to snap.
He doesn’t.
“Great,” Carey replies, smile tight. “Not too hot out there yet.”
“Cool,” Sam nods awkwardly.
“You guys eat yet?” Carey asks, looking past Sam at Carey and Luana. “I could make pancakes after I shower.”
Luana shoots Augusta a nervous glance. She, too, knows this isn’t right. That Carey isn’t behaving the way they’d expect him to. He’s usually one to wear his feelings pretty plainly.
“Uh,” Augusta mumbles. “Sure. Pancakes sound great.”
“Great!” Carey enthuses, then heads towards the stairs.
“Uh, hey,” Sam takes a step towards Carey, making him pause. “Can we talk?”
Sam’s request is sheepish. Already apologetic.
Carey turns square to him. He straightens his posture. He’s standing almost like a soldier.
“Sure, man,” he replies easily. “What’s up?”
Sam looks taken aback, despite the positive response to his request. Augusta can see why. Carey knows exactly what’s up.
“Uh, can we go somewhere private?” He asks.
“Well, I’m a little busy,” Carey says. “I need to shower, make breakfast… You know.”
God.
Augusta sighs. She has to hold herself back from groaning. What happened to it’s up to Sam to make this right? Did he forget about that on his run? Because Sam is trying. He’s obviously trying to talk about what happened last night.
“Busy,” Sam echoes. He’s clearly as baffled as Augusta.
“Mhm,” Carey nods. “But, if there’s something you need to get off your chest, go ahead.”
Is he insane? Is Carey actually insane? He wants Sam to do this in front of Augusta and Luana? Why the hell would he want that?
Luana looks at Augusta. Her eyes are like a distress beacon. Augusta can see too much of the whites of them. SOS. Our boyfriends are about to lose their shit again.
Augusta’s not sure she’s of any use right now. She can’t stop this train from running off the tracks.
Sam sighs. “Look, uh… I just wanted to say I’m sorry about last night. My reaction. I was just surprised. I’m happy for you, though. Seriously.”
He doesn’t sound happy. And Carey isn’t stupid. He might not know why Sam is reacting the way he is, but he knows there’s something off. He can probably feel it. Hell, Augusta hardly knows Sam, but even if she didn’t suspect the truth, she thinks she could read it on his expression. She can see it in the set of his lips. The crease of his forehead. All the secrets are weighing too heavily on him. She wonders if Carey will ask. If he’ll pry.
“Don’t worry about it,” he shrugs, instead. Like it was nothing. Like he wasn’t heartbroken last night.
Sam seems to know it wasn’t nothing, either. He frowns.
“Okay?” He replies, eyebrows creased. “I mean, I’d get if you were mad.”
“I’m not,” Carey says quickly. “Blueberry or chocolate chip pancakes? What do you think would be better?”
Sam just stares at him blankly.
Carey looks around him, at Luana. “Which would you prefer?”
Luana blinks. “Um, chocolate. Please. Chocolate chip sounds great.”
Carey nods curtly. “Chocolate chip it is.”
Then he turns and walks up the stairs, presumably off to have a shower.
Sam turns slowly to look at Luana and Augusta.
“Maybe he’s just…” Luana starts quietly. “Uh, really understanding?”
Yeah, that’s not it.
Sam looks at Augusta for reassurance. She has none to give.
Read the next chapter here.
Keep them coming!
I love how you are keeping the tension going.