ader

sunshine stolen in frost

I don't think we were searching for anyone. We were just two lost souls drawn together by circumstance. Travelers walking along the same stretch of lonely road, the well-trodden path to redemption. Looking for meaning in this meaningless life. Strangers who became more than just friends, over a bottle of vodka in a bar, sheltering from a blizzard.

The next morning we moved what little possessions we carried in our backpacks into a cabin by the frozen lake. Handing over a month's rent to the grizzled man wearing a rabbit fur hat. His eyebrow raised when we said we weren't married. Lighting a crumpled cigarette between his wrinkled lips as he pointed out the dusty furniture, dented fridge, little gas cooker, and fireplace. Walking us into the tiny bedroom and patting the bed with his giant hand, a small sneer creeping across his rugged face.

Summer smiled awkwardly. I felt my cheeks blushing red. We hadn't crossed this line yet, where kisses became so much more.

"I'll leave you two to settle in. Don't forget to prime the water pump and keep the generator topped up in case the power goes," he said in a deep voice.

We nodded like anxious children in front of a scary headmaster, trying our best to hide the fact we honestly didn't have a clue. A wave of relief sweeping over us as the old man pulled the creaky front door closed behind him.

"Left or right side?" Summer asked laughing. Her nervousness disguised with playful banter as she hopped onto the bed, making the decision for me.

The weeks passed slowly as we both slipped easily into the roles of make-believe lovers. I spent most days camped on the tatty brown sofa, head buried in a book, cooking in the evenings and only venturing away from the cabin to visit the general store in town. To withdraw cash from the ATM, pick up groceries, and buy bottles of wine. My savings account was well topped up by the sale of my apartment back in Vancouver. A place where my old life lay in ruins. Another time, a different story.

Summer was far more industrious. Waking at dawn to write on her laptop, a collection of poetry she hoped to turn into a book one day. Her way of making sense of a broken marriage, she told me. A cathartic journey taken with fingers that had spent too much time wiping away tears from her soft gray eyes. When she wasn't writing, and the sun was shining, she would be outside building snowmen. Using carrots to give them erect cocks. Laughing at my frequent eye rolls whenever I discovered a new one.

The nights we spent playing cards with an old deck we had found in a wooden chest of drawers, along with a large collection of '70s porn magazines. Not that we needed any encouragement to fuck. It became one of our regular evening activities. So much so, it caused our old bed to break, a leg suddenly snapping, sending us rolling off the mattress onto the floor. After the initial shock of landing on our bare asses, all we could do was giggle. Summer, always the resourceful one, managed to prop up the bed with a log found in the firewood pile. After that mini-disaster, we kept the bed solely for sleeping. Choosing instead to have sex everywhere else in the cabin. We even did it outside one afternoon. Up against a tree that towered above the roof and threatened to come crashing down every time a fierce storm hit.

Yet for all the physical intimacy, we were still mysteries to each other. I had tried not to bore Summer with the nitty gritty of my doomed relationship, and she was always reluctant to talk about her past. When I did once ask her about her husband, she quickly shut me down with a frosty glare and screamed, "You don't need to know, just leave it at that!" So I kept things simple, lighthearted, and wonderfully superficial.

One Friday morning I did the unforgivable. While Summer was outside ice fishing on the lake, I took a quick peek through the pile of pages she had written. Nervously peering out of the frosty window every so often, just in case I would be caught in the act. I knew what I was doing was wrong, but curiosity got the better of my decency.

There was one particular piece that jumped out at me.

Revenge

Did you feel the blade?
cold metal slicing
through butter skin,
your blood-
the color of strawberry jam,
sticky upon my fingers.

The gurgling opera of death-
such sweet notes
played on a red stage,
soft murmurings
of a cheating heart,
slowly stilled to silence,
a throat cut,
eyes rolling backward.

To think I loved you once-
my dearest dead husband,
never to rest in peace,
and when you burn,
in the fires of Hell,
think of me-
the girl whose life
you took first.

While I read the lines for a second time, little did I know just how quickly a dark serendipity would change everything in an instant.

The distant wailing of police sirens made my body jolt upright, the page falling out of my hands. My head spun back to the window. I could see the silhouette of Summer getting out of her chair and standing up on the blanket of icy white.

I felt the hairs rise on the back of my neck. My heart sinking as I raced out the front door and ran toward the lake. A couple of police cars skidded to a halt near me. I heard the noise of an ice drill starting up.

As I got closer to Summer, I could see what she was doing. Her arms vibrating as she frantically cut away at the hole in the ice, making it wider.

"Summer!" I screamed, a large cloud of breath exploding from my lips.

Summer dropped the drill and stared in my direction. A quiet smile breaking across her rosy cheeks. Behind me I could hear voices yelling. I turned around and saw the police coming, guns drawn, and a barking dog tugging at its leash, held by the old man who had rented us the place.

I looked back at Summer, panic surging through me, only to be met again by that serene smile.

"I'll never forget you." Her words reaching me before I could wrap my arms around her.

In a matter of seconds she was gone. Not even a splash of water to mark her descent into the hole, as she plunged feet first under the lake.

To be lost forever.