Alice couldn’t remember her dream, but the thought that lingered after waking shook her. She had nothing to give him.

She had fallen asleep on the couch, not easily or accidentally, had forced herself to sleep, exhausted herself with praying and reciting the memorized routes that would take them to their new home. She pictured the highlighted maps from AAA with her eyes closed,  stacked in the glove compartment in the order they would need them.

There were still pieces of the dream, but she disregarded them.... It was still so early that her young siblings had not yet jumped out of bed to come raid the stockings or shake the presents that they would open after breakfast.

Her mother said, before going to bed, “Probably, he didn’t want to drive in the storm.” And “Likely he’ll come in the morning.” Did her mother believe that?

Alice didn’t, though she wanted to. The storm wouldn’t have stopped him.  It’d nearly blown itself out before they even packed up the leftovers of the dinner he hadn’t shown up for. And he’d always told her, “Where there’s a will there’s a way.”

And Alice had will, no doubt about it. She had completed her forestry degree in three and a half years, though it had meant cutting vacations short. She had bought the used car with her savings from the lunchroom and learned how to change her own oil. She had applied to every state park that employed on-site rangers, in every state, with nothing more than good grades and lots of energy to recommend her.

It would be different once they were in the woods. Like it was when they grew up hiding and seeking in the pines and making forts of the broken branches. Before she had gone, and he had stayed.

Many girls at college lost their high school sweethearts the first year. Some intentionally and some with howling and sobbing. She had consoled these girls and conjured brighter futures. She had said little about Grant. Maybe because she was quiet in general, or because she didn’t want to rub their faces in her own happiness or because a little part of her wondered if even her lifelong best friend, fiancé technically once he could afford a ring, could change too, could choose someone else.

School breaks were short, and he’d moved to town before she came home for the first summer. If he wasn’t quite the same that first year, she didn’t question it. His affection hadn’t waivered. They still talked about the same things, the same plans and dreams. He was just tired he said, building houses in the day and working at the restaurant at night. And he was tired, his head dropped down and he’d be asleep so quickly sometimes that it scared her.

That next summer, someone had told her. Some twit from school whose name she had already forgotten when they ran into each other at the market. “Well, now that you’re home, let’s hope he gets off that hard shit.”

She’d asked him. They were hiking one of their favorite trails and she’d brought a lunch, even a full pie carefully wrapped in halves to fit in the backpack. He wouldn’t eat. He wouldn’t look at her. He wouldn’t let the tears that gathered fall down onto his face.

It will be okay. He told her. It will be like we planned.

And when she dropped him off that day, “Don’t give up on me.”

How could she give up on someone like that? Someone who asked her not to.

So, the rush to graduate, to find the job, to leave the town where his money went to getting high instead of fixing his car or getting her ring. All along he promised, when it was time, he would come with her, no matter where she found work.

What would Wyoming be like? Neither of them could even picture it. It would take five days they figured, to drive there. He would come for Christmas and then they’d set out on the adventure they’d been dreaming up since they were old enough to realize there were states they’d never been too.

“You are my favorite person to be quiet with,” he had told her once, around the time they drifted from best friends to couple. That had made sense to her, had been important.

In the night, she’d made deals with God. These deals started with, as long as he’s alive... She didn’t want to be petty, to talk about her own future in these prayers, to bring to God’s attention how hard she’d worked, how much she loved him, how many times he had promised...but her thoughts kept swirling, and now – as she threw the covers off – she wasn’t sure if she even remembered all of the things she had promised in exchange for his safe return. And with the light of the sun about to find the horizon, she reminded herself that God helps those who help themselves. All this, yet she was never really sure about God at all, would have maybe stopped believing at all if it weren’t for the grandeur of pine forests.

The tree was there. The little plastic lights still shining. How had she forgotten to get him a gift? She was tired. The couch had been too soft for sleeping and she ached. She tried to dismiss it as a nightmare. Like a dream about learning about a final exam for a class you thought you had dropped, even though you have never dropped a class. She could tell which boxes were hers. Their wrapping paper bought from the drug store near campus. She remembered the puzzles for her sister and art supplies for her brother. A necklace that she had paid off on layaway for their mother. The same slippers that her father always wanted.

Usually she found the right gift for Grant so easily. She knew what he had, what he wanted. It was easy when they were together all the time. She’d never had to ask for a list of things he’d like. She’d find things and put them away until his birthday or Christmas or their anniversary.  Offbeat books. Fossils. Plaques and bumper stickers which made no sense to either of them.  Could she have something stashed in her old room? She didn’t want to wake her sister to find out. Or in the two boxes of her college things which she had left in the car to go with them?

 They used to sleep by the tree the night it was put up each year, and as Christmas drew near, they would explore the boxes, have serious discussions about the likely contents. She remembered the year they got the walkie-talkies they have wanted but found they had jiggled the box so many times in contemplation that they never worked reliably. Or maybe the distance between their houses was a little too great. But sometimes her set would come alive, his voice leaping into her room, keeping her giggling past bedtime with his impressions of their schoolmates or wild stories about adventures neither of them would ever come near having.

She started the coffee and stood next to the maker, listening to it gurgle. If only he would pull into the driveway now. They’d share the coffee and look out at the snowy yard in the morning light. She wanted to make him materialize, to transport him in an instant from wherever he really was. It would take forty minutes to get to her house from town. She willed him to have left forty minutes ago. And he would forgive the missing gift, of course, they’d have years to get each other gifts. To laugh about the year she forgot. Wouldn’t they?

The coffee was done, the first cup poured into her mug. Her parents would be up soon. Her boots were cold, having sat near the drafty old door all night. She pulled a thick sweater on and then her coat. It wouldn’t matter anyway. She would miss the gifts this year.

The snow crunched. A white Christmas but a stale one. The same snow had been on the ground the whole week she’d been home, and as she turned at the end of their road onto Rt. 10, it started to look dirty, the edges frayed with dirt and salt. There were no other cars on the road, and she was glad because this was something she had to do alone.

And it would make it easy, to spot him, if she passed him going the other way.

The sun came up behind her. The road shone with possible ice. She passed the gas station, open, two cars at the pump, one filled with packages. Her own tank was still full, ready for their departure. The car was finally warm.

Everything was closed on Main St. Even the diner and the pharmacy.

She hadn’t liked learning the route to his new house. He belonged in the little house down the hill from her own. He belonged next to her. But she knew the turns now, didn’t have to think about it.

His truck wasn’t in the drive. There were other vehicles, for the other apartments. Had he sold his truck? Was he already at the house wondering where she was?

The door was locked. There should be a key, he’d shown her where it was, but it wasn’t there, or the little metal box with the lid that slid off. Gone. She looked around for other hiding spots. There was a package to the left of the door. With someone else’s name, but his address. There were Christmas lights, a wreath on the door. It wasn’t his. None of it was his. He was gone.

She hurried off the porch. Startled by how she had tried to turn the knob and walk in, without noticing the changes. Was she on the wrong porch? She looked up and down the street, none of the other houses had the same porch, the bench built in to the side where they had sat and watched fireflies. And she knew that address, from their letters. There was the number, on the mailbox and the door jam. The numbers and the bench and parking lot, but not him.

Where could he be? Why hadn’t he told her he had moved? He’d been at her house two days ago. He existed, she told herself, because the lack of him made her dizzy, disoriented. Like that feeling when you wake up from a dream, and it takes a minute to realize that it hasn’t happened. He was somewhere and once she found him they could begin – their journey, their life.

He was somewhere, probably somewhere nearby. He had just moved out, saved December’s rent. He had forgotten to tell her. Well, no. She couldn’t go that far. He had not wanted her to know.

There was a time when they had told each other everything. Even the awkward things – the worries they had as their bodies changed, the crushes, the grudges. She wanted to excuse the things he had been keeping from her. He was ashamed. It was temporary. It didn’t matter so much, since they would be together soon and far away. No one to get drugs from. Their own little place.

But she had never kept anything from him. Had never needed to.

Where would he go? Who was he still close with? He didn’t talk about his friends from high school anymore...she thought about the days when they used to all tumble out of the school bus, the town kids first. But did those kids still live in those places? Who had gone off to school? Who had moved out but not away?

She guided her car over the crunchy snow of the parking lot and back to the main road. She went slowly. At least the truck was distinctive, that’s what she would focus on, finding his truck. She turned south. There wasn’t a whole lot of town left.

Someone was walking a dog. They had one of those thin but warm coats on with the hood pulled up tight around their head. But the dog was familiar. Joel’s mountain dog. So he still lived at home, or was visiting.

She rolled the window down. He’d already seen her and raised his hand in greeting.

“Home for the holidays?” he asked, and then without waiting for a reply, “How’s school going?”

“I’m done. Just finished up last week.” She wished she could remember what his plans had been after graduation. Community college? Not the military, she noted the long shaggy  hair escaping from his hood. She wanted to say something friendly. She didn’t want to ask about Grant, but she had too. “Listen,” she started and then thought, that’s dumb, obviously he is listening, “Grant was supposed to come to my parent’s last night. We are moving, you know...”

The dog continued to spin and hop and grin, poking its nose into the snow in delight. But Joel’s face changed. There was worry there. She didn’t like it.

“He didn’t show up? For your plans?” Joel looked around, as though she’d told him she dropped a glove in the snow. As though scanning a crowd, but it was only the two of them, and the dog. She was stopped on the main road, and he was standing in the on-coming lane. No one else was driving by anyway.

She thought of lies, of saying I forgot the address of his new place or he told me who he’s been staying with... “I went by his apartment. He’s not there. I mean, he’s moved out or something. Someone else is there.”

He came closer to the window. The dog jumped up, its big paws in the open window. “Here,” Joel gestured to the side of the road. “Can you park and walk with me a bit?”

“I’ve got to keep looking.” She didn’t want to hear what he’d say. “My family is expecting us. We need to get ready for our trip.”

“It’s about that.” He crossed the road to the sidewalk and waited for her to park.

History. That was it, he’d gone to the state college to study history. And he would come back and teach at the high school where his mother was the PE teacher. How had she forgotten that? She pulled her coat back on and zipped it as she got out.

She walked beside him, not asking. At the next side street she looked up and down for Grant’s truck.

Joel sighed. He shook his head. “You’ve been away.”

“Three years,” she said. “And a half.”

“Things are changing. I come back a lot. On weekends and stuff. I help out at the grange when they have events, and I’m doing my senior project...but anyway, what I mean is...you know...”

Maybe she should tell him that she does know, she thought. It was unlike him to be this awkward. Does she know?

“I mean, there are always people who party...too much sometimes, of course. And I, I’ve had my share of nights at Tucker’s barn or a few too many at the river.  But, now, there are some kids, well, we aren’t kids anymore I guess...”

She agreed.

“There are drugs here now, not pot, but real drugs that are really messing people up.”

“He told me,” she said. It was just easier than trying to conjure the name of that girl in the drug store. He had told her, at least, he hadn’t denied it. She listened for the burly sound of the truck. This was taking too long. What would Grant think if he saw her standing here with Joel who was reaching for her arm, who Grant knew she kissed once when they were ten and playing spin the bottle and even knew she liked that kiss. Joel’s hand gripped her upper arm.

“It’s been hard for him. That shit is really addictive. I’m sure he didn’t want it to be like...however it is. I’m sure he wanted to be with you today.” He looked back up the road, toward his house. He rubbed his hands together and then sunk them into his coat. “I mean, it was always you guys. That was always important to him.”

She wondered what he felt when he grasped her arm like that. She hoped that her arm felt strong. The arm of a Wyoming park ranger. She was strong, but could he feel that through her bulky winter coat?  She lifted her hand and rubbed her arm where his hand had been.

“I think that he’s been living in his truck, a couple months now. I mean, usually he probably stays...with people, people who get high with him I guess.”

A car went by and she thought she heard a Christmas song playing inside it.

“God, I hope he’s okay,” Joel said.

It hit her, what he meant. But she didn’t really take it in.  Grant was not dead. It wouldn’t be possible to lose him without even knowing it. All night she prayed, worried. But now it was morning and it didn’t seem possible.

“Okay. You know where I live right ? Well, my parent’s place, you know.”

She nodded.

“We will be doing the whole holiday bit but...if you don’t find him...come get me. I’ll help you look.”

They walked back toward her car. A bit of cold water had found its way through one of her boots. The warmth of the car was gone, she’d forgotten to roll the window up. At the end of town, she turned as though heading to the high school.

And there it was. The red truck with the gray door, the rusty dent on the back. Parked at a house she’d gone past her whole life without considering who lived there. A small, shabby house like all the other’s on that road.

There were totes in the back of the truck, a bag of rock salt and a snow shovel. The “for sale” sign was still there in the windshield. Was it a decent hour now? The right time to knock on a stranger’s door, to go inside to take her boyfriend back?

Her fiancé, she’d often called him, to people who didn’t know her well, to the person who had hired her over the phone for Wyoming. But he wasn’t, was he? There was no ring. She’d said that didn’t matter, but it did. Not because she needed a ring, but because he could have, he should have, found a way to get her something.

The screen door didn’t fit well. She had to yank it open. Then she knocked.

“It’s open you asshole!” someone yelled from inside, close inside. The voice was annoyed, and belonged to a woman.

“Oh, God...” she whispered. She leaned her forehead against the frigid door. No turning back. But she doubted she was the asshole this person was expecting, wondered if Grant was. She couldn’t just walk in.

She knocked again.

“Fuck’s sake! You forget how a door works or something?” the same voice asked. There was a whirring noise. No footsteps. The door opened.

The woman behind the door was beautiful. Older by maybe ten years, no makeup on, and truly beautiful. The look on her face melted from anger to something else, near caring. She used a knob on her electric wheelchair to draw back from the door.

“Well, come in. It’s hell freezing out there.”

Alice noted the quilt tucked around the woman’s legs, which must be thin underneath. Cold air was rushing past her, taking warmth from the room. She came inside and shut the door.

“Well then. Herself, in the flesh, huh?”

“What?” Alice asked.

“Alice, right? You must be Alice that I hear about all the time. The Alice who does well in college, gets the good job, looks so cute in a bathing suit...”

She stood there. She wished she could take her coat off. It was too warm inside.

“St. Alice, I call you. But he says not to.”

“I’m sorry...”

“Did something happen?”

They were both quiet.

“Is Grant...okay?” this new person asked.

“Yes, of course...well, actually, I don’t really know.” It would be embarrassing to cry in front of this stranger. “But I don’t, he didn’t tell me about you. I just saw his truck in your driveway. And he was supposed to be at my mom’s, and then we would leave from there. For Wyoming, you know?”

“Well, no bad news then...” She moved the chair toward the living room, down a long gradual ramp.

“But I mean, he didn’t come, for Christmas and I’ve been looking for him.”

“He went out, late last night. I let him take my van because that truck, well it’s no wonder that no one will buy it, the thing hardly runs.”

“He was here? Last night? So, he’s okay?”

“Sure, he was last night.”

“But then why didn’t he...”

“He said something about a gift.”

“But I don’t want a gift, I mean, he doesn’t have to do that.”

The woman shrugged, as though to imply that what Alice wanted or didn’t might be irrelevant.

“And, I am really sorry, but...who are you?”

“He really hasn’t told you about me?” She laughed. “Well...Maria.” She held out her hand and Alice rushed to take it, noting the effort, the concentration it took. “Pleased to finally meet you St. Alice, should we have some coffee?”

“Sure,” Alice said, then thought what an imposition that could be and wondered if she should offer to make it. Or would that be offensive?

Maria whirred toward the kitchen and Alice took a few steps to follow her. Maria went to a low cabinet. The drawer pulls were modified to help her open them.

“You are in for a treat. I do make the best coffee. Why don’t you just have a seat in the den and I’ll bring it in?”

Alice wondered if she had been staring. She perched on the couch. It felt like a long time before Maria was back with the coffee, a little tray was folded down from the arm of the chair out to the side with two steaming mugs.

“You should drink it black, if you can. It is exceptionally good coffee.”

Alice never drank her coffee black. At school she’d pour milk into a cup during her dinner in the cafeteria and bring it up to her room for her next day’s coffee. But she didn’t want to impose. She lifted the mug up. The coffee smelled strong and almost spicy. She sipped the steam into her mouth, not letting the boiling liquid touch her. It was a bit like how you should drink wine, swirling it and smelling it. She rarely drank wine and never savored it when she did.

“Have you known Grant long?” Alice asked.

“A couple of years now.”

There was awkward quiet for a couple of minutes. Alice contemplated her next question. How had Maria met Grant? That was the kind of thing you ask a friend with a new boyfriend – not someone who – what? She felt betrayed, although she wasn’t sure exactly what the betrayal was.

“Does Grant...stay here? Lately?” she asked.

“I encourage it, yeah. At least here he won’t get robbed and I can keep an eye on him.” Maria looked around her own house. “It’s not much...but it’s better than some of those places he goes. Safer I’m sure, probably cleaner too. Though I’ve never been much of a housekeeper, even when I was,” she looked down at her lap with an ironic smile...“younger.”

The house is somewhere comfortably between dirty and clean, not too much of either. Alice takes her first real sip of coffee. “It’s probably better than the ranger cabin in Wyoming.” It sounds a little bit like a fairy tale, this thing she’s been striving for, a land far, far away.

“You like the coffee,” Maria said. “Good. That’s how my mama used to make it.”

“We just use the store brand, at my mom’s I mean.” What will the store brand be in Wyoming? Is that what she will buy? How far will the store be? Would Grand want her to make coffee like this – exceptionally good coffee?

Maria’s cup was only half full, but it still worried Alice, the hot liquid, the trembling hand.

“Want to know my secret?” Maria asked with a small smile.

Alice was tired of secrets but nodded.

“Salt.”

“Salt?”

“In the coffee. Just a tiny bit and that keeps it from getting too like...tangy.”

“It’s very good. I never heard of that, with the salt.”

“Guess they don’t teach everything in college.”

Alice nodded. She stared into the coffee.

“I can’t imagine, living somewhere that you can’t make your own coffee. That you get some assembly line coffee with your strained peas and creamed corn.  They’ll have to wait until I can’t speak my mind to put me in a place like that, until I can’t throw a coffee mug either.”

Alice had thought she was talking about college cafeteria food and was about to defend it when she realized what Maria was actually thinking about. A future that should have been distant at her age but was being hastened by whatever it was weakening her legs and shaking her hands.

The coffee really was excellent, and just what she needed. She hoped it was okay to be quiet while she sipped it.

“So, tell me about the perfect Weaver Christmas plans.”

Alice gave her a look which was meant to say, I’m here, it’s not perfect.

But Maria continued. “The tree with just the right number of lights, and no one cares if an ornament gets broken...the turkey coming out of the oven with the crisp skin and still moist meat...all those perfect presents heaped up under the tree...”

“My mom is a good cook. And our ornaments are all from the dollar store so who cares? We just like being together.”

Maria used two hands to set her coffee down. She smiled, but there was still something, a mocking in her eyes. Her eyes were really quite beautiful. She didn’t like the idea of Grant looking into those eyes while they talked about her and her family.

“You probably think that sounds corny – but it is the truth. And Grant...he is supposed to be there. We have plans...”

“Wyoming,” Maria said with exaggerated dreaminess.

“Yes, but Christmas too. We were expecting him.”

Maria closed her eyes. “Expectations.” She leaned her head back against her chair. “It is hard, sometimes, to know what to expect from people. You think that people should act in a certain way to get the things they want in life, but then they do different things, things that move them in the wrong direction.”

What was Maria trying to tell her?

“A lot of the time people just do whatever is easiest in the moment, whatever is going to feel best in five minutes. And then they start to agree with everyone else that they are a loser who should have made better choices.”

“You mean the drugs,” Alice said. Hoping that’s all she meant.

“For Grant, drugs, for other people – sex, food, driving fast, mean talking, over-spending...” Maria opened her eyes and looked around, as though for more examples. “And then there’s people like you...who seem able to always make the best long-term choices.”

“And that’s bad?” Alice asked, because that was the tone of how Maria had said it.

“It’s hard, for those of us who are imperfect, that’s all.”

“Listen...I’m not perfect...”

Maria raised her eyebrows. “How so?”

“Nobody is! That’s ridiculous. I don’t try to act like I’m perfect. I mean, I’m a park ranger, not a movie star or something. I had to study animal droppings. I...I can’t list for you all of the ways that I’m not perfect.”

“You are not glamorous. True.”

Alice shrank a little into herself, though she would have said the same. Maria did seem glamorous somehow.

“But that doesn’t mean you aren’t perfect.” She set her coffee down and pulled at a blanket bunched up behind her. Alice saw her hand slip twice. She jumped up to help, so easy for her to pull the blanket up. To slide her hand so quickly down Maria’s back to smooth it.

Maria settled back and sighed. “Perfect.”

Alice opened her mouth to protest, maybe even say something cutting, but she didn’t quite know what.

Maria stretched out her hand, before Alice sat down or figured out what to say. And Alice took her hand, cold despite the coffee.  She wondered why Maria had reached for her like that. “I am sorry. I tease too much. I know. Instead of coming right to the point. Of course, you aren’t perfect. No one is and that’s a fact. But to Grant – you are.” She withdrew her hand. “Can you imagine that? I can’t. He’s known you practically his whole life and he still thinks that. I’ve had one-night stands that illusion didn’t even last through. On either end, I’m sure.”

“If he really cared that much about me...wouldn’t he be here? Or I mean...not here. Wouldn’t he have shown up like he was supposed to?”

“He’s so imperfect. That’s all.”

“Well, I love him.” She couldn’t in good faith say that she loved him just the way he is. She loved him just the way he was, before the drugs, before him not showing up to Christmas.

“He’s quite lovable,” Maria said, casually.

Alice felt a wave swell within her, in a part of her that wasn’t physical but that her whole body felt. She had thought, the way Maria let her in, the way they talked about him...she had been confused, but she hadn’t thought... And Maria looked so indifferent to what she had just said. Like Alice was supposed to just accept the possibility that they loved the same man. In fact, Maria had turned her head toward the window; it was snowing again.

“Do you mean...?” Alice swallowed hard. Her voice came out like it was being chased by a wild animal, fast and strained. “Are you...?”

Maria looked back quickly. “Oh God no, honey. No, no, no.” She laughed, shaking her head and excusing her laughter. “Not my type. And by that I mean, he completely lacks a vagina. I meant lovable in a friend sense, just a friend.”

Alice thought about how she was just holding Maria’s hand, about sliding her hand down her back along the blanket. She felt a little differently about it now, but also that it shouldn’t matter.

“But I don’t have many of those left, really. Friends. Everyone means to stop by, you know. That’s what I tell myself. But he’s one of the only people who does. And maybe that’s only because I share my pills with him. Horrible shits those pills. Can’t think in a line at all with them. I’d just as soon dump them down the drain.”

Alice felt a new type of resentment. “You give him drugs?”

“We trade, really. Because what really helps me get through the day is pot, which is easy for him to get. But of course, can’t get that from the doctor, though he does say lots of his patients use it. Plus, he built these ramps and modified the cabinets and put the handles up in the bathroom... I mean, we don’t make any formal deals, but we share with each other what we need.”

“But...he doesn’t need it. It’s bad for him.”

“He needs it and it’s bad for him. Both.” Maria moved closer, but kept her hands on the rails of the wheels, like she might retreat. “Look, I get that maybe you feel pissed off at me for that. But these pills are safe. At least, that’s what the doctors tell me. They are much less addictive and they are clean, no wondering if there’s some crap in there that will kill you. No guessing about the dose you are getting. And when I get him to stay here, then I know someone’s watching over him. I don’t know about some of those other places he goes.”

Alice was silent. The room seemed to get colder. She was not actually pissed off, not at Maria at least.

“I should have been watching over him. I should have known. I guess I just thought he would stay the same while I went off to school. I thought I was doing the right thing for both of us.”

Maria narrowed her eyes. “You’ve got to watch out for that shit. You can’t take responsibility for his choices. You can’t be mad at yourself for something you have no control over.”

“I could have stayed here, studied something else.”

“You could have spent your whole life wondering whether you would have been happier following your dreams...that’s not fair for either of you. Besides...how the hell could you know this was going to happen?”

“But once I did know, I could have...done more. I could have taken a break from school, come home.”

“And done what? Told him every day that drugs are bad for him? Tied him to a chair?”

Alice didn’t know, of course, what she could have done. Maybe if she had known she would have done it. “Maybe...get him help or...I just think, if I were home, maybe he would be happier and want to spend time with me instead...” She set her jaw hard, ready for Maria to tell her that wouldn’t have been enough.

“If you want to be pissed off, maybe you should be pissed off at Grant.”

“But he...”

“He what? He has things in his life which didn’t go right? And that somehow makes him innocent of his own choices?”

“Are you pissed off at him?”

“I’m kind of beyond that I think. I seem to attract these messed up people. I mean, a survey of my love life would make you think that all lesbians are addicts or batshit crazy. I almost don’t miss it...all the drama. I’ve tried being pissed at myself, pissed at them...now, just...people make their choices, I make mine. Life goes on until it doesn’t. Why waste time on anger?”

“But you think I should be mad with him?” There was some anger brewing in her, but it felt like it was going to land on Maria.

“There are stages...that’s what they say...it’s better than blaming yourself.” She took a minute to sip her coffee and put it carefully back down. “Still pretty useless though, really.”

“So basically you think anything I do or feel about this is going to be useless?” She tried to keep her voice polite, or at least to keep the hostility out.

Maria waited. She looked so composed that it was almost infuriating. She took a cigarette case, one of those old-school metal ones that flip open like a book when you push the clasp. Inside both sides were lined with neatly rolled thin joints. She removed one and used a Zippo to light it and take a couple puffs, then offered it to Alice.

She waved it away. “I have to get home soon.”

“I don’t know who’s going to roll these for me, if he goes to Wyoming with you. I have a nurse that comes in, but she can’t roll a joint to save her life. I tried to talk her through it...” She laughed, took another puff and stubbed it out.

“You wish he would stay?”

Maria shrugged. “Nah...I’ll miss him. But I hope he goes. I hope this works for you guys.”

“Do you think he can do it?”

“Leave all this behind?” Maria sweeps her hand to indicate the humble living room. It really is, she’s sure, much nicer than the ranger cabin.

“Leave the drugs, come with me.”

“If he comes with you, maybe. If he stays here. No. He’s tied in here. He can get sober for a couple of days but then some other addict comes itching along to find him. Everyone knows him here. Wyoming could be a fresh start.”

“There won’t be drugs there. I mean...I’m sure in the towns. But we will be literally in the woods. No one there.”

Maria directed her chair to the edge of the room and took a carved wooden box from a bookshelf. She picked out a prescription bottle and fumbled with the lid. “Childproof. Those idiots at the pharmacy. What would I do if I really did need one of these?”

She came back to the couch, closer this time. She scrutinized Alice’s face. Oddly, Alice felt relief. She didn’t generally like to be looked at that closely. But now she knew that Maria would see all her imperfections – the scar by her lip from a dog bite, the acne at the corners of her mouth, the little wisps of hair that always refused to stay swept back with the rest. These things she didn’t usually like people seeing about her. It relieved her that Maria would see her flaws, her imperfectness.

“Open this.” Maria held the bottle out. Her hands weren’t shaking and Alice wondered if the pot really did help her, which she had doubted at first.

She stayed near while Alice opened the bottle.

“How many inside?”

Alice had to pour them out into her hand to count. They looked innocent enough. Small white pills. She would have taken one for a headache if someone told her to, and not thought much of it. This seemed different to her than the drugs she heard about Grant using – things that were – well, she had to admit that it wasn’t clear about the drugs or how he used them.

“Ten.” She tried to hand them back to Maria.

She didn’t reach out to take them. “Merry Christmas.”

“I don’t want these!”

“You might need them. On the way. You can’t just come off that shit and be normal right away. He’s going to be sick. He’s going to feel like an absolute ass – and I don’t mean the good kind of ass.”

“You think he’ll come with me?” Alice was surprised that she was even brave enough to ask it.

“Will you go without him?”

For several weeks, since getting the letter offering her the job, since the long-distance call to accept, she had pictures of a cabin with lots of windows and a view of nothing but trees. A wood stove. Bundling up in the mornings, letting Grant  sleep in. Hauling in logs for the day. Whole days doing nothing but surviving and monitoring the forest. They’d play cards and talk and make up for all of the time they’d missed while she’d been away. They’d remember to tell each other things, little things, from those years that they’d somehow missed. There would be a cozy bed, hours upon hours in each other’s arms.

Now she thought about doing it alone. She had made a promise to go. Could she? Could she spend all of those hours, not with the man who had been her best friend and become her boyfriend, but by herself?

“Yes,” she told Maria. “I’ll go. I have to, for now. But...”

“Then he’ll go. Yes, he’ll go then. He can act real stupid, but he’s not a fool. So you pack these up and when he starts to fall apart, you give him one. Try to make it longer between each one, by at least an hour.”

“Thank you. Are you sure? Don’t you need them?”

“Nah, plenty more where those came from. What I’ll need is to set up a new trade agreement. Now anyone else who has good pot they’d want to trade for some pills or a place to stay?”

“I hardly know anyone anymore, around here. I mean, it’s the same people obviously. But everyone’s different now...”

“Don’t worry. I’ll find someone. The pills will find someone for me. There will be word on the street, someone will see Grant drive out of town with you and know there’s a vacancy. I’ll write you a letter and tell you about it. Maybe I’ll try one of those dating websites and find the woman of my dreams.”

“What would she be like?”

“She’d be able to roll a good joint. And not mind a few – accommodations – in the bedroom.”

Alice wondered some things. In fact, there were some things she had wondered about women having sex with each other, and in this day and age, it was silly not to know. But she definitely wasn’t going to ask.

“I used to really shine in the boudoir... I bet I still could too. Just need someone willing to work with me.”

Alice was quiet. She looked down at her hands.

“Am I grossing you out? I mean, you asked about my perfect woman...I’m just telling you.”

“When we were like, I don’t know, eleven...Grant found a magazine...his dad’s. It was in his dresser, under the folded sweaters and we would have to be so careful when we took it out – because neither of us was good at folding sweaters, if we messed them up.” Alice laughed to herself. “We would rush home from school and have about, maybe fifteen minutes before the elementary school bus would drop off my brother and sister. So we’d only get a few minutes to look. We would pick one picture. It was always a woman. You know, naked and sexy.”

“He never told me about that.”

Alice was glad.  It felt like it was hers to tell or not. Boys looking at those pictures was normal. No one would have flinched, not even Grant’s dad probably. The secret was that they looked together, that she looked at all.

“They had names – not their real names, I’m sure, but names in florescent sloppy kind of letters – it was the 80s. Like Babette or Ambrosia. There was one we really liked – Tiffany. We would work them into conversations at school to amuse each other. Like – if you talk to Tiffany tell her she’ll need a better bathing suit for the pool party at your grandma’s.”

Maria laughed. She was still sitting very close from when she had handed the pill bottle.

“God, the other kids must have thought we were crazy. I mean, there’s like what 3,000 people in this town, and we all know none of them are named Tiffany.”

“Maybe they thought you were pretending to know the singer.”

“Yeah, we always got a kick out of that, when they’d say something about her on the radio. But it didn’t really matter. I mean, all the kids were crazy, and everyone was always talking about some special code word or nickname to keep a bunch of secrets about who had a crush on who.”

“I think we’re alone now,” Maria sang. She had a nice voice. “There doesn’t seem to be anyone around.”

Alice laughed, she found it funnier, in that moment than it had really been at the time. “It was like she was talking to us – ‘children behave, that’s what they say when we’re together.’” Her singing was weak and she did it quietly.

When they stopped laughing, they were very quiet.

“Maybe you are tired,” Maria said. “If you want to lie down while you wait for Grant...”

She was exhausted. Why hadn’t she realized it before Maria said it? She was used to skipping a few hours of sleep here and there for school, but the lack of sleep the night before had been different. The worry seemed to have burned up everything she had.

“But when Grant comes...”

“Then we can wake you up.”

“Do you think I should go look for him?”

“Where would you look?”

Alice looked closely at Maria. Did she know where Grant was likely to be? She imagined them, Maria and he, talking about the places he went, the people he got high with. The whole time she’d known Grant they’d shared their secrets and insights and dreams. It was them against the world, although there had been very little in the world against them at all. Now, he kept things back, to himself – not only the drug deals and that stuff, but his friendship with Maria, the things he helped her with. And they talked about her. They talked about her being too perfect. Just the thought of that made her want to renew her protests. I sometimes wear slippers to the dining hall, she wanted to say, I use a computer program to write my bibliographies, I tell my dentist that I floss but I really hardly ever do. But that would be weird, of course. They weren’t talking about that anymore. And she really was exhausted.

“I have no idea.” The very thought of knocking on another door, finding another set of revelations on the other side, another side of Grant that she didn’t know. No, she was lucky to have found Maria – not some...the words were mean – junkie, crazed addict, fiend. Not words that she would even think of Grant, but the other ones – the bad ones who tricked him into – she was aware of the vicarious hypocrisy – and aware that the way she chose to think of it, the way which was easy, had nothing to do with anything he’d ever led her to believe.

“Stay here. He’ll come back. He’ll say goodbye. He’ll get the few things he packed up.”

“You think he will, come with me?”

“He’d be crazy not to. And he’s not crazy.” Maria reached out and pushed a curl back which had sprung from Alice’s ponytail. It took effort, so Alice couldn’t pretend it was meaningless. “Are you sure? It won’t be easy, not at first. And you’ll be out there on your own.”

“He’s my best friend.”

“And more than that, I hope.”

“Yes. Of course. Lots more.”

Maria gave a knowing smile, but what she knew, if anything, she kept to herself.

“What if he went to my house? While I’ve been here?”

“You could call – there’s a phone by the bed. If you want to lie down. Or on the table, in the kitchen.”

Alice realized how tired she must be when she thought for a moment that Maria was offering her the kitchen table to take a nap on.

“I should call...” They could be worried about her. Or could be waiting for her to do Christmas. She hadn’t worn a watch, and the clock on the wall had read 3:20 every time she glanced at it. She stood and stretched. Her body was slow and heavy. The thought of a nap was delicious – especially one that ended in knowing where Grant was, in being able to bring him back with her to the house.

Maria led her to the room.

Alice looked at the phone on the nightstand. It was one of those cordless ones with the digital display that seemed to offer more options than a phone really needed – there were buttons for redial and volume. There was a button for flash whatever that was and one that offered a menu. It also reminded her that it was 12/25 and suggested it might be 11:42 a.m. – but that seemed impossible – it didn’t seem that long since she had woken in the dark and started this journey.

“Is it really 11:42?”

“Yes. Are you hungry? I could make us some lunch...”

“No, thank you. It just...I didn’t think it was this late.” She wondered what they had done without her – were the stockings empty now, the gifts opened and the paper tidied away? She hoped they had not waited for her. She was reaching for the phone when she realized that she wouldn’t tell her mother the truth. How could she? For one, it wasn’t hers to tell – was it? But mostly, it would worry her mother – about her today, but more so about their move. She needed her mother to see her off – hopeful, excited to watch them drive away toward this dream they’d had for so long. It might break her, to say good-bye and know her mother was worried.

“But his truck’s here. I mean, he couldn’t be at my house without his truck...”

“Unless he got a ride.” Alice picked the phone from the little stand and pressed a button which caused a friendly little beep and a glow from the screen.

The phone would ring. Her mother would wipe her hands on the dishtowel she always hung from her apron string when she was cooking, anticipating moments like this, when her attention, her hands, would be diverted. She would be quick, hoping to hear Alice’s voice – maybe worried about the things mothers worry about – accidents and such.

“What will I say?”

Maria’s eyes were steady and kind. She didn’t answer. The dial tone hummed from the phone, anticipating, prompting her.

“I don’t want to...”

“Tell her the truth?”

“Worry her.”

“But I can’t...”

“Lie?”

Alice nodded and looked away to miss the small smile she anticipated on Maria’s face, the little teasing of it. She dialed.

She was surprised that Maria stayed as she pressed the numbers, as she listened to the phone ring. It was her youngest sister who answered.

“Allie?” her sister asked instead of saying hello.

“Sweets,” she used her sister’s pet name.

“Mom, mom – it is Allie. I told you it was.” There were some muffled noises. She hoped that didn’t mean their mother was taking over. It would be much easier to blur the details with her sister.

“Sweets, look, I don’t have much time to explain but...”

“Allie you are safe. Good.”

“Yes sweets, I am safe but...I’m borrowing someone’s phone. I’ll be home later. I just wanted to say Merry Christmas and I’m okay.”

People were talking in the background.

“Are you with Grant?” Alice remembered when her sister was younger and had trouble saying Grant’s name. It would come out like two syllables as she tried to add the “t” at the end. It would sound like “Gran-it” or “Granted.” But her sister had always known who Grant was. He had been practically part of the family her whole life.

“No, it’s...there was a miscommunication about the plan.” Kind of true. “So I am at a friend’s house – waiting for him to meet me here. Then we will come home. But don’t wait dinner on us, okay? I’m not sure what time we’ll get there.”

“You are safe Allie.” Her sister’s voice glowed through the phone. “Allie is safe!” she announced to whoever was in the room with her. “Come back soon, Allie. We have your favorite pie for dessert!”

She wanted to apologize for worrying them, but she didn’t know what to say, or how to justify it without explaining what was really going on. She wanted desperately to be there with them right then as she heard her siblings’ bubbly voices, maybe someone singing a Christmas song, before the call disconnected. She knew she would never be able to tell them the full truth about this day, but also knew that they wouldn’t really hold that against her.

She had stood, for the call, but now she sat. She felt shaky, from fatigue or the strong feelings of the day, she couldn’t tell.

“Lie down,” Maria told her.

She realized she would, felt suddenly that she had to. She reached down and undid her snow boots. Maria watched her and Alice felt embarrassed, thinking Maria might envy the way her fingers so quickly tackled the knot and eased the laces apart. If she could have apologized for having an able body, for things being easier for her, she would have – but of course, she didn’t, she understood that people didn’t do that. But, at the same time, people didn’t usually watch each other like Maria was watching her. She realized one of her socks was still damp and she pulled them off, maybe making it seem a little more difficult than it was.

The bed was similar to one her grandmother had in the nursing home, the top sloped gently up, but there were none of those rails that swung up like a little gate. A bar that looked like a stair railing or a ballet bar ran along the wall at the head of the bed and along the other side. Alice worried briefly that the bed would smell like the nursing home bed, but it didn’t. It had a clean, fresh smell, maybe lavender.

Maria scooped a throw blanket from the end of the bed and held it out to her.

“Would you mind – if you don’t – could I join you?” Maria asked.

“To sleep?” Alice asked, because for the first time Maria seemed unsure of what she had just said.

“If you are okay with it, I mean if you want – or if you don’t want...” Maria stopped and took a deep breath. “I do sometimes nap around this time but, I know it’s strange, but it would be nice just to sleep next to someone again...I mean, it wouldn’t mean anything. I get that it’s not like that.”

Alice was silent. She wasn’t sure how she wanted to respond.

“I know it can’t be like that,” Maria said.

Alice looked at the bed, there would be, maybe, just enough room for them to lie next to each other comfortably without touching. She met Maria’s gaze. “OK.”

There was nothing intimidating about it. There was no need to clarify the terms by repeating that it was “not like that.” Maria guided her chair to the other side of the bed and lifted herself, relying on the railing, onto the bed. She sat on the edge, as through gathering strength to lift her legs.

Alice found it so easy to pull Maria squarely onto the bed. One arm on her waist and the other scooping under her knees. And then they were lying there, like they were having a sleep-over party, like they should talk about boys or school or periods. But instead, Maria shifted toward her. Their faces now inches apart, Maria looked closely at her. And for just a second, she started to smile that little ironic smile, and Alice worried that she would call her perfect again or compliment her.

She leaned forward and kissed Maria. Their lips met and then Maria took over, moving the kiss, maybe, into something more intimate.

It was different. She missed the warmth and love of kissing Grant. And it was quite separate from the few kisses she’d experienced before she and Grant started making promises to each other. There was nothing hasty about it, no hands pushing and pulling at her to try to get more from her. It was only a few seconds probably. It was just something beautiful and shiny and enough all on its own.

***

She was alone in the bed when she woke to voices. She had slept deeply with no dreams bothering her. Despite waking in an unfamiliar place, she felt no disorientation. She knew both voices and could easily picture the scene on the other side of the bedroom door, which was pulled forward, not all the way closed.

He was there.

He was there. He was okay.

She would go to him. They would start their journey. Soon.

She stayed in the warm bed. She let the voices clarify, picking up the rhythms and then the words coming from the living room.

“...worried her.” Maria’s voice.

“...got it for her.” Grant’s voice.

“Maybe she’d rather have had you there with her, for the Weaver Christmas feast.”

Grant’s reply was indistinct.

Maria laughed, “And they’ll feast on Who pudding and rare Who roast beast.”

“You’re a scrooge.”

“That’s the Grinch.”

“What’s the Grinch? What’s the difference?”

“The Grinch takes the gifts, but then gives them back. Scrooge is just a tightwad who’s afraid to be alone at the end.”

Alice sat up and moved the covers off herself. In a minute, she would go to them, let them know she was awake. Those would be the first steps of a journey that she’d been planning for most of her life, but it was already something different and unclear.

“I hope you won’t be lonely,” Grant said.

“You act like you are such great company...” Maria laughed at him. “Don’t worry about me.”

“But you deserve better. You’ve helped me so much. I mean – obviously I’m still a fuck- up, but I’d have been worse without you to give me a decent place to stay once in a while.”

“I’ll give you a swift kick in the ass if you even think about delaying this move on my account.”

“Yeah, how will you manage that?”

“I’ll figure it out – even if I need to pay someone to do it for me. You are seriously scaring all the babes away. And besides, this is too good a chance to pass up.”

“So, you did like her. I really thought you would.”

“I’m afraid I was right all along – she is too perfect for you.”

Alice was hot with embarrassment. She felt sure Maria had kept their kiss a secret. But she wondered what she should do. She had never kept a secret from Grant. He had always been the first one she ran with her secrets. But this she felt like keeping all for herself.

She waited until they shifted the conversation onto what to do with the truck and then started to put her socks and boots back on. They were still wet though, and now cold so she carried them with her out into the living room.

When she saw Grant, she felt the rush of relief. The long night, the worries that she had lost him were finally over. As he stood and walked toward her, she noted that he’d lost even more weight. He wore sweat pants, the kind with the string to adjust the waist, instead of his usual jeans or carpenter pants. But he was there and they would be leaving soon. On their own in the wilderness, almost like they had always pictured.

He moved toward her. He was almost in front of her. He hesitated, he seemed to stumble, or crumble since he wasn’t walking when he did it, until he was somehow kneeling in front of her. He took her hand, the one that wasn’t holding her snow boots and dirty, wet socks.

“Alice.”

He kissed her hand. “I’m so sorry. I’m going to do better. Everything will be like we planned. Better.”

She wanted him to get out of her way so she could sit down. She wondered if Maria would offer them more coffee before they left, hoped she would. But Grant was doing something strange. He had something in his hand.

It was a ring. There was no box opened with a flourish, no searching in pockets. The metal slid onto her finger. It was a little loose, but she could feel it was warm, that he had been holding it while waiting for her.

She waited for him to say something.

“I’ve owed you this for too long,” he said. “I know you have already agreed to marry me, and I’m not going to ask you again right now. I’m going to prove to you that I’m worth it first.”

When he let go of her hand, she raised it to see the ring. It had been a couple of years since they’d discussed rings, but she was surprised that he hadn’t remembered what she’d wanted, a simple band with their names inscribed. This ring had a small raised sparkle that she suspected was a diamond surrounded by four light green translucent gems shaped vaguely like dogwood leaves. It looked strange on her hand. She would have to be careful not to lose it pulling off a glove or clearing paths.

“Beautiful,” Maria said, meeting Alice’s eyes.

“I know that it’s not quite what you wanted. I’ll get that soon. This is just...I traded for it, but for now... Once we get out there. This is just for now, okay?”

“Yes,” she said. “Okay. Of course.”

She looked out the front window. The light was already fading. How long she had slept? It was snowing.

“I cleared your car off,” Grant said. “I packed my things. I think we are ready to go.”