It had been years since Mitch pulled onto the old dirt and gravel road that wound on and on to reach the house. When he was a kid, he swore that it was several kilometers long, but realistically it was only a hundred meters from end to end. They passed through an overgrown patch of big bluestem grass, and the tips brushed against the windows and doors of the car. He pulled into the carport with a solar panel on its roof, a recent addition to the property he noted.

“Is that a fire pit?!” Jodie excitedly pointed to the round concrete structure and wooden Adirondack chairs that surrounded it. She launched herself out of the car and conducted an examination before taking a seat in a chair. Meanwhile Mitch collected bags of groceries from the back seat.

“Yeah, that was put in a while back,” Mitch explained, guilt needling under his skin for not inviting her here while he was with Calvin. Not that he’d been around much, either; Calvin detested anything rural and the cell signal was abysmal, so the log cabin was effectively not an option. “Roland told me about it when it was getting done,” he continued. “He and Marie give their best, by the way.”

“Oh, tell them I said ‘hi’!” She was all smiles, relaxed and aglow in a way that he hadn’t seen her in forever. “We should definitely have a fire tonight.”

“Sure,” Mitch agreed, and he tilted his head towards the full firewood rack that was attached to the house. “Looks like we got plenty of wood, so we don’t have to run to town for a bundle.”

“Fuckin’ sweet,” Jodie remarked, then languidly stood back up and returned to the car for the remainder of the grocery bags, as well as her luggage. While she did that, Mitch fished through his pockets and sought out the key to the house, then inserted it into the lock once he found it. Catching up to him before he got the door open, Jodie said, “I’m surprised that you didn’t bring the guitar.”

“I’m not gonna be the Wonderwall guy, you know that.” His face twisted in disgust. “Especially if a new person’s around. That’s the worst first impression.”

“Yeah, but maybe Avi wanted to play for her,” Jodie pointed out, and Mitch instinctively bristled; however, he caught himself and was mindful about his vow of refusal to dislike someone that he hadn’t even met. He was going to give her an honest shot, because she was probably wonderful if Avi loved her.

Hell, if all went well they were going to become best friends, until one day -years later- over glasses of wine he would confess that he wanted her man the entire time. She’d be outraged by the betrayal (despite always suspecting it), and demand that he leave her house. For whatever reason, he imagined this would all take place at a villa in Martha’s Vineyard. The ocean would be raging, for a storm would be rolling in, and he would be forced to wander the streets in a downpour.

That fantasy seemed plausible and definitely not deranged at all.

“Avi’s not quite there yet,” he lied. Avi was competent enough that he could manage something simple like ‘Love Me Do’ by The Beatles, if he prepared in advance. Unlike Mitch with his stretches, Avi actually practiced every day in his spare time.

“If you say so,” Jodie brushed him off, likely suspecting that the statement was bullshit. “I’m gonna go snoop around and see what’s changed here.” With that declaration, she left him to put away the rest of the groceries. Typical.

“It’s mostly the same, from what I’ve been told” Mitch called out.

“Love this. It’s like a fuckin’ LL Bean catalogue,” she responded. “When I think ‘white people that vacation in Vermont’, it’s this place for sure.”

“That’s probably where Marie got most of her inspiration.” Mitch checked the tags of the plaid curtain and valence set that adorned the window above the sink, which confirmed this to be was the case. He then resumed putting the rest of the perishables in the fridge and basked in nostalgia brought on by the log cabin’s white pine interior’s smell and feel, appreciative that not much changed. On the farmhouse table was a piece stationary with a moose illustration as a header, and the cursive handwriting on it distinctly belonged to his aunt. It was a greeting, along with a few small updates to the property. Apparently, a black bear was spotted a few times, so they needed to be careful with the outdoor trash bins.

Another trip was taken back to the car so that he could gather his luggage. He unzipped his overnight bag to double check if he packed his camera, and was relieved that it was nestled between layers of clothing. Hopefully, his interest in photography would be rekindled by the setting.

As he pulled the zipper close, he spotted a dark purple knit hat underneath the camera. Jodie made it for him as a Christmas gift years back, and he unearthed it when he was going through his belongings, deciding to bring it along since the nights were bound to be cold. He put it on then resumed closing the bag and brought it inside. Dropping it off at the bottom of the stairs, he went to find where Jodie wandered off to. The search wasn’t a long one, because as he suspected, she was on the three season porch that faced the lake.

“This is so beautiful,” she commented when Mitch joined her at the window. The lake was tranquil, its only disturbance was a pair of loons that paddled across the otherwise glassy surface. All around it were firey swamp maples and yellow birches, framed by the bright blue sky above. Their eyes met in the reflection of the window, and she sighed heavily. “I wish coming here wasn’t such a, iunno, thing for me.”

“Just don’t post anything on Instagram until we’re gone?” suggested Mitch. “Or wherever she’s stalking you now.”

“I’m not gonna, but…” she trailed off and frowned, then rubbed the side of her face. “Wish she’d stop trying to contact me, y’know? It’s exhausting to be so vigilant. But like, also this trip ain’t about her.”

“Right,” Mitch nodded.

“Don’t let me bitch about it the whole time, OK?” she requested. “I’m here to enjoy myself, not gripe.”

“I mean, you can gripe if you want-” he started to say, but she shot him a look and he shut up. Sighing, he slung an arm around her shoulders and pulled her in close. “Shitty mom club for life, right?”

“You know it, brother,” she leaned in and laughed.