Thomas Prescott Superpack by Nick Pirog

throat, said, “Now it’s my turn. I believe you. I believe every word. I wish you would have told me all this ten months ago so I could have written the truth in my book. There, I’m done. Now back to the date. Where did you grow up?”
    “No, no, no, unacceptable. I went on a tirade, now it’s your turn to tirade.”
    “I don’t tirade. I get to the point. I believe you. Everything you said makes sense. Case closed. Did you have any pets growing up?”
    “You can’t play the high-and-mighty card. I threatened your life for crying out loud. This is your chance to get even.”
    Her emerald eyes penetrated mine as she said, “You were shot twice. You careened off a cliff into the Atlantic. You were in a coma for two weeks and a wheelchair for eight. Not to mention that at this very moment you’re wearing maxi-pads. Honey, I think we’re even.”
     
    Alex carried the dishes into the kitchen and left me to sit in my own abashment. On her exit she’d said, this is a verbatim quote mind you, “Well Max, do you think you can make us some after dinner drinks.”
    To which I’d piously replied, “I’ll wing it.” Guffaws all around.
    I grabbed two Bud bottles from the bar fridge. Done. Alex reappeared from the kitchen, her right arm drooping under the weight of an enormous spotlight. She walked over to the bar and grabbed the beer with her free hand. I asked, “Looking for life on Mars?”
    “Oh, this thing. This is for spotting wildlife.”
    “Like chimpanzees and elephants?”
    She shot me an appraising glance. “Are you qualified to have an adult conversation?”
    “I passed all the tests. They said my diploma was in the mail.”
    Alex shook her head as I followed her through a small stateroom and onto a small terrace overlooking a large lake feeding into thick woods. The reflection under the full moon made it hard to distinguish where the lake ended and the forest began. The tall pines afraid to move, lest they were only a reflection. There was a short gray brick wall surrounding the concrete terrace and I leaned against it for support. Alex nestled up to me and put her hand on my shoulder, “That’s Lake Wesserunsett.”
    She flipped on the spotlight and began scanning the horizon back and forth. The spotlight appeared to be a smidgen less powerful than the moon, and I said, “Are you on call if one of the lighthouses ever breaks down?”
    She laughed, then yelled, “Look.”
    Within its beam the spotlight held an imposing moose at the edge of the forest. It shook its head, thrusting its horns around like the fearful beast it was and I said, “I think it’s Rocky that likes the spotlight, not Bullwinkle.”
    She laughed and turned towards me, unintentionally blinding me with the one million watt bulb. When my sight came back, Alex had her hands around me in a rather intimate position. In hindsight she may have blinded me intentionally.
    I could feel my breath reeling off her forehead and my stomach dropped like an elevator headed for BB2.
    I slowly pushed her away and said, “I can’t.”
    I glanced around for the ventriloquist hiding behind the terrace wall, but it turns out I actually said these words. In truth, I couldn’t shake Caitlin from mind’s eye. I hadn’t given her a chance, and I had fundamentally screwed her over. I owed her another shot. Scratch that, I owed us another shot. I’d loved her, possibly still loved her, and if it wasn’t for my unrelenting stubborn streak we would still be together.
    As for Alex, she threw me an inquisitive glance that might as well have asked me if I were gay out loud. When she opened her mouth, I expected her to ask if I were into ice-skating as a young lad, but instead she said, “How did your parents die?”
    She added, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. It’s just something I stumbled on while I was doing research for the book.”
    Surprisingly, I kept my composure and said, “An airplane crash.”
    “Where?”
    “Near