Counting Clouds

Meryn sighed, her chest heavy with sadness. The clouds matched her mood: grey and gloomy, as though even the Earth understood the unfairness of life. The weather was funny that way, sometimes. Meryn’s car was cold and breezy, chilling her to the bone. She’d been sitting in uncomfortable silence for far too long. She could have spoken, but her voice would falter.

It had been a long day. Out Meryn’s window, the sun was beginning to set, casting a pinkish-orange glow across the sky. She missed home. More than this, she missed youth. She shifted in her seat, grateful to be the passenger instead of the driver. Meryn could drive herself. In all the years of her last relationship, she had rarely had to do it.

“Can you stop sighing so loudly?”

Jago’s voice ripped through the silence like a knife, startling Meryn. He wasn’t a short-tempered person - or at least, he never used to be. In the past several months, it seemed Jago was irritated by everything Meryn did. She had asked for explanations. None had ever come. She’d planned a trip for them in a desperate attempt to rekindle some spark they used to have; it had been a good trip until they’d argued terribly.

She frowned. “I’m not even sighing that much. Why are you so grumpy?”

There was a storm in the air. Soon they would be home, where Meryn could curl up underneath a warm blanket. The threat of lightning put her on edge; she’d always been frightened by it. Jago swerved, and then swore. He was tired. Meryn was tired, too. As a low rumble of thunder rolled across the sky, the car spluttered, coming to an abrupt halt on the dark gravel road.

There were no other cars for miles. Country roads did not have street-lights, and Meryn was unsure how much road was left to travel. She glanced at Jago, who rummaged noisily through his backpack. “Did the car just break down?”

He spoke into the bag. “No, I just thought this would be a good place to stop and hang out for a while. Where the hell did I put my flashlight?”

It had begun to rain. Meryn fumbled for her phone; it was nearly dead, and had no reception. “I’d call someone for help,” she said sheepishly, “but I don’t have cell service. I don’t know what else to do.” She wasn’t a girl who knew a ton about cars.

Jago looked up. Flashlight in hand, he unlocked his door. “Stay here,” he said, glancing quickly at Meryn, “I’m going to go find help.”

Thunder rumbled, louder than before. Rain sprinkled the windshield, leaving grey streaks where it touched. Meryn didn’t fear the dark - but she was a woman who dare not risk being alone on a dark road. Jago had begun to walk away already, taking with him the light. Meryn was not dressed for the rain. She scurried after the man, her feet pounding on the surface of the road. There was only road and trees, as far as she could see.

“You were really just going to leave me alone in the car!”

It was dark. Aside from the thin light shining from Jago’s flashlight, Meryn saw only the dark outlines of trees. Gravel crunched under her feet. A flash of lightning startled her; she lurched, grabbing Jago’s arm. He wasn’t a physically affectionate man. This had been a point of contention for many months. “Sorry,” Meryn muttered, stepping back. She wore only a tee shirt and jeans; this was not suitable attire for a rainstorm.

There was a forest near the road. The trees might offer a cover from the rain, Meryn thought. There was no way of knowing when the skies would clear.

“You’re scared of thunderstorms.” Jago’s soft voice was almost drowned out by the storm. He walked swiftly, keeping Meryn close.

“I’m more scared of being left alone in the dark. Now where are we going?" Meryn shivered. She could never admit she was cold. Jago had told her to bring a jacket in case of rain. Meryn, in her stubbornness, had refused.

“I’m looking for cell reception,” he said, as another lightning bolt struck down. “Maybe there’s someone around here that can help us.”

It was nobody's idea of a good time: wandering lost at night during a thunderstorm. Meryn held Jago’s arm as they walked. “I don’t think we’re going to find anyone helpful in the middle of the woods.”

There was a glade ahead: illuminated softly by the lights of a cabin. It was a sharp contrast to the storm: bright and open, a river flowing in the distance. Jago cast Meryn a backward glance. “What were you saying?”

The rain had picked up quickly. It now pounded the ground and the forest, drenching Meryn. Still, her stubbornness persisted. “I was saying I’ve watched enough movies to know better than to approach a random cabin in the words.”

"Do you have any better ideas?"

Their flashlight flickered. Both walked quickly, though Jago walked in front. Meryn had always known him to be a decisive man. He rapped loudly on the cabin door, and then stepped back. Meryn wasn’t fond of this decision. Maybe no one lived here. Maybe someone did, and it was someone you’d never want to be alone with. Maybe Meryn watched too many horror movies.

Nothing happened for a moment. A gust of wind swooped, and the cabin door swung open. An old woman stood before them. The air smelled like vanilla.

Jago had always been the more confident of the two. He jumped into adventure without thinking twice about it, more than happy to take a risk for the thrill of it. Meryn was not this way. She was a calm, practical voice of reason. “Hello,” said Jago to the woman, adjusting the backpack on his shoulders, “sorry to bother you. Our car broke down on the way home. We were wondering if you had a phone we could borrow to call for help.”

There was silence. The woman stood in the doorway, examining the two. Maybe the forest was a dangerous place for an old woman to live alone. Maybe the woman didn’t live here at all. Maybe it was a summer cabin, where the woman went to take a break from everyday life. When Meryn was a child, her grandparents had built themselves a cabin just like it. She nudged Jago. They had interrupted. They had disturbed a woman trying to have some peace.

The woman smiled brightly; it brought life to her face. “You kids must be freezing!” She had a gruff voice that scratched Meryn’s ears as she waved them both inside. “Come in and warm up, hurry now. I’ll start a fire. You can have a freshly baked cinnamon bun.” Meryn hesitated. She knew better than to blindly trust even the kindest-seeming people. Jago, ever the risk-taker, bounded inside.

Thunder rattled the cabin. Its interior was small and tidy, with only a few rooms. Some people were perfectly content to spend their lives alone. Meryn suspected she was not one of these people. A living room inside the door contained only one small sofa, a wooden bookshelf, and a fireplace, in which a fire blazed and crackled. The storm showed no signs of letting up before sunrise. Meryn wanted to be home before then.

The old woman locked the cabin door. “Please make yourselves at home. I don’t want you wandering around outside in this weather.” She held out a plate of cinnamon buns, offering one in turn to Jago and Meryn. “My name is Agatha. No need to be nervous. I’m a harmless old woman who lives alone.”

Brief introductions were made. Polite small talk was had. Agatha spoke of her grandchildren, and her old life in the city, and her late husband. Some did not mind growing old alone. Meryn was comforted by the presence of other people.

It was becoming unlikely that help would arrive tonight. Although Agatha had a phone, she was certain that the heavy rain and fog would make travel difficult. When the woman retreated to her bedroom with a book, Meryn sat by the fire to warm herself. Jago sat next to her in silence, watching the flames dance for a very long time.

“I do love you, you know.”

Meryn looked up. “What?”

Relationships were complicated. Two people could speak the same language and still completely fail to understand each other. Meryn was clear and direct. Jago spoke in sarcasm and riddles. They argued about silly things like movies and dinner. They were both always determined to be right.

The air was heavy. The sky was black and cloudy. “You said I don’t love you because I’ve never said it, or I don’t want to hold your hand in public, or I don’t buy you flowers on special occasions.” Jago knelt on the floor, warming his hands in front of the flames. He didn’t look at Meryn. “I want to hang out with you, and you say you’re too busy.”

It had been too long since the two had a conversation. They spoke all the time. Speaking did no good if no one was listening.

“I guess I never considered that.”

Sometimes, it was difficult for Meryn to find the right things to say in conversation. Sometimes the difficulty lay in attempting to find words to describe her thoughts. “I can put more effort into finding fun things to do together.”

The sofa was plaid and scratchy. Jago sat close to Meryn, placing his palm on her leg. He hadn’t done this in months. It made her feel seen. “I can try to be more affectionate.”

The fire warmed Meryn’s whole body. She rested her head on Jago’s arm; he was warm and comforting. Both sat in peaceful quiet, watching the fire dance.