Mary and I sat in silence her warm body pressed to my side as she pulled me close to her with her other arm. A thousand stories of my childhood sprang to mind, of our time wandering the desolate deserted neighborhoods and empty countryside to the south but there was only one story that I felt that I had to tell Mary, my mother’s death. The words came easily even quickly when I told her of how my mother had been infected but as we drew closer to the end I sputtered and spat the words through tears and quivering lips. I was surprised and grateful that my brother had told no one himself, but if he had perhaps Mary would have never spoken with me. I expected her to push me away when I told her of the shooting, to get up and to leave me alone in the cabin, but she simply squeezed me tighter and said nothing. When I told her of how my brother left me alone on that sandy bank to bury our mother she muttered, “What a bastard,” and looked disgusted. When I told that tale to her, letting it out of my head for the first time I felt as if I’d just taken a long hot bath and scrubbed myself from head to toe. “I’m sorry,” she said when I was finished, and I could hear the concern in her voice. For a moment my doubts and worries that I had made the wrong choice, that there had been some hope left and I’d just overlooked it were swept away and I felt lighter and younger than I had since that day. In some ways I felt as if I’d actually disgraced my mother’s memory by avoiding the human interaction that she’d loved. My long penance in the wilderness was at an end and had been a waste to begin with.
When I had finished speaking Mary squeezed me closer, whispered, “It’s not your fault,” and kissed me on the cheek. My face grew hot and I stared at my ragged sneakers as a grin rose to my face. We sat like that for a moment and then I turned and well aware of the roughness of my beard I kissed her. My hand slipped to the small of her back and pulled her closer. It was a tentative kiss, gentle and unsure. Her lips were soft and hot. My own lips felt as if they were melting into hers though my arms were ungainly and useless. When we pulled apart, I was out of breath and lightheaded. She took my hand and held it on her lap smiling at me. Mary’s face had taken on a lovely pink flush. My eyes soaked up her moist lips, her small pyramidal nose, and her dark hair falling around her shoulder. Neither of us spoke and she leaned forward and kissed me again, her hands around pulled my lips harder against hers and I couldn’t feel my body except where it joined hers; her breast pressed against my side, her hands on my back and shoulders, her thigh against mine and her lips.
I think we would have kissed all afternoon and all evening if we’d been allowed to, but despite Mary’s allure the sudden silence of a group of crunching boots just outside my shack and the shadows they cast across the doorway pulled my attention away from her. I got to my feet as the hide was pulled back and the preacher and his two sons stepped inside crowding up the small area. He took in the room in one quick glance.
“I see that you are in good hands brother. I was worried that my sermon had left you overwrought. I will not apologize for the strength of the words though, I am only the messenger and if sometimes the message is not easy to digest, well the words even soured in John’s stomach once he’d gotten them down.” One of his sons stood at the door as he spoke and the one who’d previously relayed his father’s message stood at his shoulder. His voice quieted a bit and took on an edge as he went on. “You’ve managed to fit in here well,” and looked hard at Mary. “I must confess that myself and others did not have high hopes that you would last. Many that wander into our community do not. Of course, whether or not you remain here doesn’t rest on your ability to fit in alone. There are only two paths that men take here: the straight and narrow path to eternal righteousness or the dark path to eternal damnation. The dark path will bring much suffering to you and those around you.”
I just nodded as he spoke wondering if he’d come down here just to continue the sermon that I’d run out on. Had he gone around to everyone who’d left the services early and made sure that they got the full message. His eyes had contracted into small hateful nickels that glinted as he glared at Mary who simply smiled as she sat on my cot blushing and looking at her feet. My confusion must have shown on my face because the preacher’s face began to redden as well, and
