Through the Woods

Scott was scrawling away when the bell on the cafe door jangled. He was surprised to see the girl from the stationery shop step in. She scanned the room as her eyes adjusted from the summer brightness outside. The moment she saw him her face lit up and she strode to his table.

"Eager to get started, huh?" She hovered, clasping her forearms. "I love a man who gets straight to things."

"Uh, yes, miss. Just ducked in here to get out of the heat and get the hang of this pen."

Scott rose and offered her a seat. A polite wave at the cafe owner behind the counter was all it took for the girl to get an iced tea.

"I never introduced myself before, did I?" she said. "My name's Larissa. Lara."

He shook her soft hand. "Scott. And actually, miss, you wrote your name on the back of the receipt."

"Did I? Oh, dear. That's against store policy." She shrugged, flashing a coy smile. "Guess I just wanted you to have help if you needed it. Like I said, fountain pens can be tricky."

Earlier that afternoon, she had popped up again and again while he browsed the stationery store, asking if he needed help finding anything. When Scott asked about fountain pens, she spent 10 minutes trying to convince him he didn't need one, then another 20 getting him to try every other type of pen in the shop.

But Scott was stubborn: if a fountain pen was good enough for his Pa, it was good enough for him. He left with a starter pen, ink cartridges, and a journal that had an elastic strap to keep it closed.

She was pretty. Loose curly hair cut into some sophisticated bob, fine features and piercing dark eyes.

Back at the shop, he wasn't sure she had been flirting—he could never tell with city girls—but he was damn sure now with the way she was gazing at him.

She leaned over to peer at his journal, the gap in her silken blouse exposing a good view of medium-sized braless breasts. Scott forced his eyes North. It was rude to look if it wasn't offered.

"You're doing well," she said. "First time I tried, I leaked ink through the first five pages."

"I've been careful," said Scott. "But I get what you said about the hand." He held up his left hand, the outside edge stained blue from mid-pinky to wrist.

"Told you," she said, holding up her own left hand to reveal the same stains. She leaned to his ear then whispered, "We lefties are the creative ones, you know." The closeness of her body and her voice made him shiver. Faint perfume teased his senses.

Lara took his hand, turning it over, studying. "You might be pressing too hard. When you come to the shop next time, I'll get you some of the fast-dry waterproof ink." She massaged his palm with her thumb. "Wow. Strong hands." Then she squeezed his forearm. "Strong everything, from the looks of you."

"Farm work," he said.

"Oh, so you're just visiting the city?"

"No, I mean I grew up on a farm. I work in town now."

Lara smiled. Sitting back in her seat, she said, "I know a farm joke. Want to hear it? Why do cows have hooves instead of feet? Because they lactose!" She grinned. "Get it? Lack toes?"

"It wasn't that hard," Scott said, giving her his best polite smile. He wondered if she was trying to be cute, or if she was always that way?

"I'd better write that down." From her bag, Lara produced her own worn journal.

"I've been journaling forever," she said. "It's therapy for me. You look too sturdy to need therapy, though."

"Uh, well guess I kinda do. They said to write stuff down to sort things out. But damned if I know what."

"Anything!" said Lara. "The weather, what you did today. Doesn't matter. Just write. The words will come. Here, look."

She moved her chair beside his and flopped open her journal. Every page held dense cursive. Stickers, stamp marks, doodles, and strips of decorative tape filled every gap. She flipped the pages too fast for Scott to make out many words, but some places looked water-smudged or stained.

"That's real—uh, very pretty," he said. "Don't think I need all the doodads, though. Just writing is hard enough. How do you know what to say?"

"It's not a test," said Lara. "Look, let me see what you've written so far." She grinned. "I've shown you mine, now show me yours."

With a sideways look, Scott said, "You're not that shy, are you?"

Lara looked startled then looked away, redding. "Oh, uh, I am shy, actually. But sometimes I forget. Sorry."

Scott smiled. "You forget you're shy? That's some trick."

"Yes, well, only sometimes. With some people. So, anyway, write about growing up on your farm, or what you do now. What do you do, exactly?"

"I install solar."

"Wow... how do you go from farming to solar power?"

Scott explained. As crop and livestock profits dropped, his family installed solar panels on the worst of their land. As it became profitable selling power back to the grid, they installed more until most of the property became a solar farm.

Lara was leaning forward, chin on her hand as he spoke. Scott fought to ignore the view down her blouse.

"We were one of the first to do it," he said. "Learned lots, and now we make more money for a lot less work and help others do it. I've got a farmer joke too: know how to make a small fortune in farming?"

"Start with a large one?"

"Yeah. Heard that one, eh? Anyway, now I'm doing solar consulting and installations here in town."

"Amazing," Lara said. "So then you've got lots to write about. Saving the world. How many photons you've converted to electrons, barrels of oil not burned or whatever. Do it every day the minute you get home from work."

"Guess I could try that, but—"

"Roommates? Or do you live alone? Do you have a house? Apartment? Some quiet place to write?"

"Well, uh—"

"Am I being nosy? I am, aren't I? Well, just tell me to butt out. I won't get offended. People tell me to butt out all the time. Go on... try it."

Scott studied her then said, "Okay. Butt out, Lara."

She crinkled her nose as she grinned. Scott's heart skipped a beat.

"See? Not offended at all," she said. Lara flipped through more pages of her journal. "So anyway, write whatever you want. Or doodle. Things will come. It helps me relax and think about things."

"Just from scribbling random junk? When I need to relax, I get outside. Go for a walk in the woods."

"Like hiking? In a forest? You find that relaxing? What if you get lost or run into a bear or..."

A crashing bang from outside shook the cafe. Outside, Scott saw a cement truck shudder and halt as it hit a pothole.

"...or a wolf or..."

A second cement truck hit the same pothole, one wheel after the other, the banging even louder.

Color drained from Lara's face. Her breath quickened as she gripped the edge of the table.

"Miss? Lara? You okay."

Lara's eyes were darting, her shoulders high and rigid. A sheen of sweat appeared on her forehead. She looked like she would either bolt or curl into a ball.

The wiry cafe owner was at their table in a flash. She scooped an ice cube from a glass and closed Lara's hand around it.

"Breathe, Lara," she said. "Breathe. Close your eyes. Focus on the cold. That's it. You're okay. Everything's okay. Just a truck outside. What a racket. I keep asking the city to fill in that damn pothole. Now let's breathe and count... in 1, 2, out, 3, 4... 1, 2, 3, 4. You remember. You've got it."

"Ma'am," Scott whispered. "What can I do? Shouldn't we call someone?"

"Just stay put, if you don't mind. She'll be okay in a sec."

Scott sat feeling useless watching the older woman reassure Lara and coach her through obviously practiced steps. Lara was breathing like she'd run a marathon, eyes alternating between being squinted shut and stretched wide, looking everywhere.

Over many minutes, Lara relaxed. Her color returned, and she looked around as her short gasping breaths returned to normal.

Finally, she sagged in her chair. "Thanks, Megan," she said to the owner.

Flicking a glance at Scott, she pursed her lips then swept her journal into her bag and stood, wobbling the glasses on the table. Looking somewhere past Scott's left ear, she said, "Whelp, nice talking to you. Gotta go."

By the time Scott got to his feet, she had fled out the door.

The cafe owner picked up Lara's glass and wiped the table.

"What just happened?" Scott asked.

The owner gave an apologetic shrug. "Better ask Lara that. But look... we look out for her around here. She's a great girl. Give her a chance, will you?"

~~~~

The next afternoon, the stationery store was crowded. Scott tried getting Lara's attention, declining help from other staff, but she avoided him.

He caught her when she went behind the counter.

"Someone else can help you," she scolded. "I'm getting something for a customer."

"Sorry to bother you, miss," he said, "but these ink cartridges you sold me yesterday don't seem to fit. Maybe they're the wrong type?"

Without looking at Scott or the package, Lara yanked a different pack from the display behind her and flipped it onto the counter.

"Those are the right ones," she said, not looking at him. "Same price. No need to ring in the exchange. Anything else... sir?"

Thanking her, Scott grabbed the package and fled.

~~~~

When Lara stepped into the cafe, Scott felt wary. She saw him immediately but chose another table and sat facing away.

When she got settled, he walked over.

"Excuse me, miss. I'm sorry to bother you, but—"

Lara said, "You want to know why I freaked out yesterday."

"Uh, no, miss. That's none of my business. Glad to see you're all right, though. It's just I still can't get this ink cartridge into the damn pen."

Lara blew out a breath and plucked the pen from his fingers. Unscrewing it, she said, "This model is a little tricky. You have to turn it while forcing it in hard. Keep doing it until it stops so the needle thing punctures the plastic all the way." After a moment's work, she put the pen together and handed it back.

Scott scrawled a few lines in his journal. "Hey, it works! Thanks. I'm not good with fiddly things."

Lara hunched over her cup, arms crossed and hair hanging over her face.

Scott said, "Uh, just one more thing and I'll let you be. Just curious—why did you sell me the wrong ink in the first place?"

Lara stiffened and looked up. "You think it was on purpose?"

"Well, sure. You never even looked at what I brought back. Just handed me the right ones. So you knew it was wrong from the start."

Lara raised her eyebrows.

"I only look dumb," he said. "And sound dumb too, I guess."

Failing to suppress a smile, Lara said, "Okay, you got me. It was so you'd have to come back to the store."

"Me?"

Lara shrugged. "We don't get many cute guys."

Scott grinned and shook his head. City girls. Back home when a girl liked you, you knew it. None of this playing around.

"So, can a 'cute guy' sit with you?"

Lara huddled into herself again. "Sure you want to?"

He pulled up a chair. "Never pass up a chance to talk to a pretty girl."

"Okay," said Lara, "but if you call me 'miss' one more time I'll throw my tea at you."

Before Scott even adjusted his chair, the cafe owner set two glasses of iced tea and a plate of oatcakes in front of them.

"On the house," she said, then hurried away.

"That's Megan," said Lara. "She's great." She cupped a hand to her mouth and called, "Though a little too motherly!" Megan grinned back at her from behind the counter.

Lara regarded Scott for a moment, then said, "It's called panic disorder."

Scott raised a palm. "None of my beeswax. Just glad you're okay now." He paused. "Did scare the shit outta me, though."

Lara nodded. "Yeah, I bet. Sorry."

"Did I do it? Something I said?"

"What? No! It wasn't your fault. Well, I mean, I was a little keyed up with you talking to me and us sitting so close and everything. Then that fucking truck went by."

Lara stared at the table. "Noise sets me off sometimes. Or crowds. Flashing lights. A lot of the time it's nothing; it just happens. Things build up then kaboom."

Scott nodded. "I had a friend in school. Lights set him off too, sometimes. Epilepsy. Usually he'd just go all blank for a few seconds. Then once, it was the whole jerking around on the ground thing, you know? We were running around, didn't know what to do. Funny thing was, afterwards he said he didn't remember a thing."

Looking up, Lara said, "Lucky guy. I get to experience it all: fear, like something horrible is about to happen. Feeling like I'm going to die. Feeling like I want to die. Or hide. Or run."

"That's a hell of a thing. And a royal pain in the ass from the sound of it. So did something happen? I mean, to make you that way?" Scott frowned. "Shit, sorry. That's me being nosy this time."

"It's okay," she said. "No, nothing happened. I was always a little nervous growing up. Shy. And as I got older, these panic things started. The first time, I was certain it was a heart attack."

"That bad?" Scott said. "Well, not like it's the same or anything, but I get wound up too sometimes. Being in the city too long gets to me. Then I go walk in the woods."

"Oh, right," said Lara. "Hope you take a gun."

"Nothing but squirrels and deer out there. I found an old trail about 30 minutes out. Never see anyone on it. It's peaceful. Stay out there all day if I could."

Lara said, "Sounds great. I'd still bring a gun." Another pause. "You know, you don't have to keep talking to me. Guys always run when they see what a mess I am."

"Everyone has something going on," said Scott. "Oh. Or did you mean I'm bugging you? I do that sometimes. If you want to be let alone, just tell me to get lost. Go on... try it. I won't get offended."

Chucking, Lara touched his hand. "You are not bugging me."

The two shared a smile, then Lara said, "So tell me about solar. I know it's getting big, but I don't know anything about it, really."

"It's boring."

"Boring as working in a stationery store?"

"You don't like it?"

"Actually, I do. I've always liked pens and fancy papers, the cool things for organizing everything, stuff like that. And it's a great place when you need to curl into a ball in the back of the stockroom for an hour. Megan's sister owns it. She's so great about it."

Scott tried not to bore her with power ratings, azimuth angles, inverters and net metering, but Lara's eyes never glazed over once. She asked questions and joked, her dark eyes sparkling. He relaxed enough to stop talking like city folk. Lara didn't call him a redneck even once.

Megan supplied them with drinks and snacks as they talked. Both could hardly believe it when at last looking up they saw that outside the traffic had died and it was getting dark.

"Walk me home?" Lara asked.

~~~~

Lara's heart thumped as Scott walked with her. He was gorgeous, in a stocky, unassuming kind of way, easy to talk to, and seemed to just accept the meltdown he witnessed the day before.

Every time, if a guy didn't bolt right away, they turned distant and polite, and then bolted a few days later. Who could blame them?

Lara knew better than to hope too much. At best, Scott might stick around a month or two. She vowed to do her meditation and everything else to keep major attacks away as long as possible.

She wanted the walk to last forever, but the four blocks to the door of her tiny apartment seemed to take no time.

"This is me," she said. "Thanks for walking me, Scott. Do you... do you want to come up?"

Scott grinned. "I'm still waiting to see this shy side you keep saying you have."

"Grab chances when you can," said Lara.

Scott studied the ground. "I better not. Things might happen."

Lara blinked. "I'm not completely psycho, you know. I'm not going to freak out and try to murder you."

Scott avoided her eyes. "No. I mean, other things might happen."

What century was this guy born in, Lara wondered. "You mean like we'd talk, make out, and then maybe sleep together? Yeah, maybe that might happen. Hope so." She grinned.

Scott nodded and rubbed his neck. "Yeah. Thing is, I like you, Lara. A lot. Other times I've liked someone and we hopped into the sack right away it kinda ruined things."

"Oh," said Lara. She had heard that excuse before. She pursed her lips and nodded. "That's... okay. I get it. Well, nice talking to you. See ya later."

She turned to open the door and hide her face.

Scott said, "So are you working Saturday? Want to come hiking with me?"

Lara spun around so fast she nearly broke her key off in the lock.

"You... hiking? Saturday? Uh, no, I'm not working. I can go. I'd love to go."

Scott's face lit up, making her want to grab him and pull him inside.

"Okay. Great!" he said. "You'll like it. Can you be ready by around nine?"

~~~~

"Hi Scott, it's Lara. It's 9:30. Sorry for calling. I texted, but you didn't reply. Thought you'd be here by now. Can't wait to see your truck. Should've known you'd drive a pickup. Let me know when you'll be here, okay?"

"Scott, I'm still ready. Packed us a lunch like I promised. Are you still coming by? I sent you a few more texts. Let me know."

"Lara again. It's 1:00pm now. You said we should hit the trail early, so I'm wondering what's up. Just text me."

"3:00pm now. Guess you got held up. It's okay. Just let me know you're alive. I'm free tomorrow too, if you are."

"It's a little after 5. Way too late to go now, right? Okay, I get it. I really do. I'm a freak. I'm a mess. Just never thought you'd ghost me. You seemed like an okay guy for once. Shows what I know. Well, see you never. Asshole."

~~~~

Lara wrote the date in the upper corner of a fresh page of her journal. One week since Scott vanished.

She should follow Megan's advice and go other places after work, she thought. Places where tea and oatcakes weren't the main attraction.

When Scott walked in and started scanning the room, her first instinct was to hide. But why should she? He ghosted her, not the other way around.

She watched him trudge to her table.

"Fuck right off," Lara said as he hovered beside her. She spied Megan watching intently from behind the counter, poised to either cut Scott's throat with a bread knife or to deliver iced tea.

"Lara," he said, "You're fit to be tied and you have every right. So I'll just say sorry and get outta your hair."

Lara shot him a withering look. "You couldn't just send me a text? Oh, that's right. Apparently, you forgot how."

"It's not right to say sorry in a text. Has to be in person."

"Riiight. But it is okay to wreck my Saturday and not bother to say why?"

"I, uh, I couldn't." Scott swabbed his neck, looking away. "I'm sorry I let you down."

Lara stared. "That's it? That's all you're going to say? So why couldn't you? Forget to pay your cell phone bill? Dropped it in the toilet? Or... oh, I got one: the ladder fell when you were installing a solar panel. You've been stuck on someone's roof all week."

Scott took a breath. "I got depression."

"You couldn't text me because you were sad?"

Looking around, Scott ran his fingers through his hair then pulled up a chair, perching nervously on the edge.

Bending close, he said, "No. It's depression depression. The kind you hear about? Most of the time it's no big deal, but last week... hit me like a ton of bricks."

Lara scowled at him in silence, then said, "Well, nice try, but I get depression too. Anxiety and depression are best buds, you know? Feels like being underwater wearing a concrete coat. But I can still work my thumbs."

"Yeah? I could barely get out of bed. Couldn't leave my place. Sure couldn't talk to anyone. And knowing I'd wrecked my chances with you made it worse." He looked up at Lara sheepishly. "It's me who's a mess. Not you. Guess I shoulda told you about it the other day."