CHAPTER FIFTEEN
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2021
I was certain I'd never been colder in my life.
Even though it was still November and there was an entire month to go before the official start of winter, I couldn't, for the life of me, stop shaking. My teeth were chattering uncontrollably, slamming against each other so badly I feared one or two would chip, and I gripped the steering wheel so tightly I wondered if it would ever shatter in my hands. The weather was abysmal, making me drive up the highway with little to no visibility, and the heating system in my car and my heavy coat and scarf did next to nothing to keep me warm. I'd been warned about the weather forecast and the impending snowstorm that would make driving around an actual living hell, and yet, there I was.
I found some solace in the promise of a warm drink and a warm cabin as soon as I arrived upstate, not to mention Chase would probably already be there by that time. It wasn't an ideal plan, seeing as I wouldn't be able to park right outside the cabin for the sake of secrecy and keeping the appearances, meaning I'd still have to walk there and subject myself to the frost outside, but, in my head, the ends somehow justified the means. I was dreading it like a weary Monday, though, barely able to feel my hands under my gloves inside the car.
Even if I wanted to start bawling, I wouldn't be able to. The minute I stepped out of the car, a harsh gust of wind slammed right into my chest, knocking me back against my rearview mirror. It dug into my spine, shooting electricity up my nerves, and I stumbled to the side, landing into the piles of snow my feet had sunk into, and didn't find the strength to get back up. I felt utterly pathetic, curled against the car in an attempt to conserve the slightest bit of heat, with the rest of my body so unbearably frozen it was crystallizing, despite knowing the longer I stayed, the higher the likelihood of me never leaving this place. I didn't want to leave Chase hanging, either.
Supporting myself on my luggage, I slowly rose from the frozen ground and steadied my feet. It took every ounce of strength in energy left in me to do so, but, somehow, I'd put myself back together in no time. I couldn't waste any precious time patting myself on the back for doing the bare minimum, however, and used the sudden rush of adrenaline to gather my bags and push through the snowstorm.
I'd parked the car in a communal parking lot, so I wasn't the only person there, but I'd been the only one stupid enough to stay outside during a storm, which explained why no one had popped up around the corner to help me. No one should be outside under this weather, not even me, but I knew this was what I had to do, and the end result would justify everything. I'd only have to put up with this for a few more months, with graduation peeking right at me, and I was already reaching out for it like my life depended on it. Soon, this would all be over.
The wind was brutal, making the hike to the cabin a lot more strenuous than it should be, and I couldn't even walk with my arms closed because of all the bags I was carrying. I was probably carrying a lot more stuff than I'd need for the holidays, and it wasn't like we'd ever go anywhere with the weather like this—or ever, really—and there was no way in hell I'd need that many clothes, but I'd packed my bags in a rush, terrified Ingrid and Savannah would see it and start asking questions I couldn't answer. Had they not been in a hurry to leave before the storm hit, I knew I wouldn't have gotten away with things as smoothly as I had; hell, Ingrid might have even wanted to tag along with me.
I could hardly believe my eyes when I finally spotted the cabin, with the lights inside turned on, and the warmth it already seemed to radiate. Chase had probably lit up the fireplace, in an attempt to bring in some heat to a place he never set foot in during most of the year, and I trudged through the snow with progressively stronger, faster steps. The front door materialized itself in front of me as though it was magic, an enchanted land from all those books I'd been reading, from all those movies my degree had made me watch, and I pressed a finger against the doorbell, fearing Chase wouldn't hear it if I knocked. He'd closed the curtains on the front side of the house, probably to hide me from view, but there wasn't anyone else outside and there probably wouldn't be until the storm subsided. However, I wouldn't be the one to complain; I was already pushing my luck by having been invited to stay here for the holidays, after all.
"Jesus," he murmured, pulling me inside by an arm. Had I not seen him do it, I wouldn't have felt a thing. "What happened to you?"
"Snowstorm," I barely croaked out. "I fell outside and couldn't get up."
"You could have called me."
"Like you would've showed up. If I had to park so far from the cabin, it was for a reason. Picking me up and driving or walking me all the way back here would have made all of that mean nothing." He briefly stiffened, his grip tightening around my wrist for the tiniest of moments as he helped me pull up my bags after I nearly dropped them. "It was nothing. I got here fine."
"Keeping things secret doesn't mean you had to nearly freeze to death."
"Yeah. Sorry for bothering you." I rushed past him, tossing my coat to the back of a couch. "I'm going to take a shower to warm up, if that's okay."
He didn't insist, but still let me kiss him before I disappeared into the bathroom with a pile of dry, warm clothes I could change into. I wasn't about to start an argument in my first five minutes inside the cabin, especially over something neither of us could have fixed, but I had nowhere else to go, nowhere else to pour my frustrations into, and it was quite exhausting to have no one to talk to but myself. I'd grown sick and tired of myself a long time ago, and I wasn't sure how long I could go on like this, permanently stuck in my own head.
My skin was so cold it released steam as soon as the hot water from the shower hit me, and, somehow, my body temperature was even lower than the wall I leaned my back against. It was one of the rarest moments I had for and with myself that didn't make me want to spontaneously combust, a moment I could use to catch my breath, regain my strength, and remember why I had gone through all of that. I was warmer now, calmer, and, though this cabin wasn't home, the man in the living room was. In spite of it all, he was the one steady element in my life.
When I returned to the living room, Chase was stoking the fire before the flames dimmed, immersing the cabin in cold darkness. I hadn't bothered drying my hair, knowing it would do it by itself in no time if I stayed inside, sheltered from the storm blowing outside, I'd only put on some concealer to mask the dark circles underneath my eyes, and my clothes weren't what I'd usually choose to wear around him—leggings, a knit sweater, Converse sneakers—but, objectively, we were way past the stage when all of that mattered. I still had a terrible obsession with keeping him happy, satisfied, and part of me still felt the need to impress him, something that was considerably difficult to do in my current position.
I was barely a part of his world, so young and inexperienced when compared to someone with a PhD, and there was virtually nothing new I could bring to his life except drama, complications, and plenty of stress he didn't need. Even when I tried to convince myself this would all be worth it one day, that the suffering wouldn't last forever, I still had to add in an extra reminder that I had chosen this life out of my own free will. I hadn't been coerced into doing anything I hadn't wanted to do, and it felt unfair to blame him for anything bad that happened to me. I'd been the architect and the engineer of my own destruction, but, overall, I was happy. There was no reason for me not to be.
"Did the shower help?" Chase asked, reaching out for his scarf, resting by my coat, and carefully wrapped it around my neck. Then, his hands cupped me by the jaw to gently tilt my head up. "You have some color in your face now."
"That's probably not just because of the warmth." One of the corners of his mouth rose in amusement before he leaned forward to bring his mouth to mine. Suddenly, the entire world vanished. "I'm feeling better now, thanks."
"Good. It's brutal out there." I hummed, snuggling closer to him. My pathetic state outside was slowly fading away into a hazy memory, one I was more than willing to forget had ever happened. "Listen, I know it's Thanksgiving break, but I'm swamped with work. I was just about to start grading papers when you got here."
I sighed, leaning my forehead against his jaw. "I know."
"Feel free to watch some TV or open some wine in the meantime. This shouldn't take much of my day."
I'd brought my laptop along for good measure, knowing how much work my professors had assigned for the break, but I hadn't really expected to use it much. I'd figured Chase really wanted a break from work, including reminders of an environment that did everything it could to smother us and prevent us from living our lives the way we wanted to, but that would be wishful thinking. He'd never drop it, being the workaholic that he was, but part of me still selfishly hoped I'd come first for once.
He chose the wine, opened it, then we both dove into work, as if the other wasn't even present. He sat at the table in the living room, as per usual, and I'd settled into the couch near the fireplace, carefully placing a coaster underneath my cup to avoid staining the wooden low table. I was feeling much better now, even if I wasn't feeling okay, and decided it was good enough for the time being. I could get used to these routines, moments of quiet we spent working in the same room, which served as reminders of the things we did have in common and not the ones that kept us apart.
I'd started to brainstorm some ideas for my senior project, the one thing that ensured I'd graduate and break free from all these restraints, but there were other things I needed to work on, including things with much faster approaching deadlines. My Women Filmmakers essay was one of them, due the following week, and I'd only written an introductory paragraph, unable to sit down and focus for long. My mind was still reeling from that awkward encounter and subsequent conversation with Marco from earlier that month, as though I had nothing better and more important to stress and obsess over, and I couldn't shake off the gnawing fear of there being something more to it. I couldn't trust these people—I couldn't even trust Savannah's judgment and taste in friends back in freshman year—and didn't want to give them any indicators I was open for conversation.
My phone pinged with two sudden new notifications, two text messages one after the other, an unusual occurrence. I rarely ever left the sound on my phone on, as the vibration alone was more than enough to alert me for anything that happened, and I was permanently glued to the device, so I was left momentarily startled by it. Whenever Savannah and/or Ingrid were in the same room as me, leaving the sound on would be a death sentence, as evidenced by that one situation in October, the one that helped convince them I was seeing Marco despite the lack of any confirmation. Neither of them needed to know when or if I was being contacted, and I certainly didn't need them hovering around me any more than they already were, especially Ingrid.
"Sorry," I mumbled, scrambling out of the couch. Chase briefly looked up at me from behind his laptop, but didn't pay much attention to me otherwise. If I sat perfectly immobile and silent, it was like I wasn't even in the room. "I forgot I left the sound on."
INGRID, 5:33 PM: ladies!!!! Just remembered how much I hate Thanksgiving but my parents told me to "not get political" at the table, so no one is being slapped in the face with the reality of colonialism and genocide before I have more wine
INGRID, 5:34 PM: if we're meant to be thankful for anything, I'm thankful for you two incredible women. Love you forever
SAVANNAH, 5:34 PM: LOVE YOU!!!!!
SAVANNAH, 5:34 PM: (girl, open that wine. I swear I had that exact conversation ten minutes ago)
I almost smiled at the exchange, and almost replied to the conversation, but remembered neither of them would be too thankful for my presence in their lives if they ever found out how much and what I'd been hiding from them for the past three years, not to mention everything I'd done up until this point. Savannah would never forgive me if she discovered I was the reason why she wasn't part of the Steele 5, the super exclusive club of advisees it was being advertised as. I'd pretty much ruined her future for the time being, even though she'd gotten her own adviser at this point, and it all had been to protect my own selfishness. I couldn't let her get close to Chase and run the risk of having her find out about us. It was either her future and senior year of college, or my future and the literal rest of my life.
My first mistake was not replying to my friends. My second mistake was opening social media when I should be working.
A large portion of the film student population followed Chase on Instagram, along with other majors, and he was pretty popular, so my name was one that would easily go by unnoticed in his followers list. He'd only followed back those who had been taking Film Theory since freshman year, the ones who had tagged alongside him for the longest, but we'd agreed I'd be treated like everyone else on social media as well, so there were no private conversations or special interactions. I didn't follow a lot of people, and the algorithm certainly seemed to favor his posts, so it was no wonder that his most recent post was one of the first that popped up when I started scrolling.
I was well aware he had a life outside of our relationship, unlike me, who lived exclusively for any moments I'd get to have with him, so it should come as no surprise to see him document some of it. However, that didn't help ease the aching feeling in my chest, the sinking of my stomach, or the tightening of my throat as I kept swiping the photos to the side. It was lamentable that his social life and the friends I wouldn't get to meet for a long time were bringing me to tears, and I wasn't the type of person to get jealous, knowing very well he wasn't that kind of guy.
I was the problem here—me, my crippling self-doubt, and poor self-esteem.
He'd gone out with his friends from college, people who had stood where I currently did, people I could certainly learn a lot from, and the photos showed the happiest version of Chase I'd ever set my sight on. My jealousy came from the fact that I'd never managed to make him smile or laugh like that—I was far from being a funny person—and the nagging feeling and fear I'd never quite be enough for him or what he wanted. That was the life he wanted to have and the one he deserved, keeping a strong distance from me and all the problems I'd caused and the ones I could trigger, and, once again, I was reminded of how much I was holding him back. It wasn't even about the girl—the woman—with an arm wrapped around his shoulders.
"She's a friend," Chase said, shattering the silence, and I couldn't bear to look at him. I hadn't said a word, but he'd heard the phone ping, so he must have glanced my way when it happened, finding my furrowed brows and frowning lips. I set my phone aside, already blocked, and attempted to blink those stubborn tears away to stop them from obstructing my vision. Everything around me blurred, everything but him. "They know I'm not interested in dating."
"But they don't know you're not single."
"No. I've told them plenty of times that I'm pretty much married to my job." I clenched my hands into fists. His job would always, always come first, and I plainly refused to get in the way of that—stupid, naive, little me held so much power in her hands, the power to ruin his life and career, and I was beginning to think he either feared or resented me for it. "I am not cheating on you, Penn. I take my commitments very seriously."
"I didn't say you were."
"I saw the look on your face." He raised his phone. "I got the like notification."
"That's not what this is about."
"Isn't it? What else would it be about? You know I can't tell them I'm seeing someone; they'd immediately try to figure out who it is, and we don't need more people suspecting anything." I gritted my teeth. It would always come back to this—our fears, people's suspicions, Ingrid, Marco—and I didn't know what else to do. I was doing my best, but it, much like everything else I did, would never be enough. I wanted it to be enough with everything I had, with every fiber of my being, and I would continue doing so. "I didn't say a thing about that Marco kid flirting with you, but suddenly a photo of a friend is a big deal—"
"He wasn't flirting with me."
"It sure sounded like it."
I exhaled through my mouth, releasing a shaky breath. "Even if he was, it doesn't matter. I told him I'm not interested."
"What if he insists?"
"Wouldn't be the first time a man wouldn't take no for an answer, would it?" His eyes narrowed. "If you want me to, I'll tell him to back off, but I think I was pretty convincing. You don't need to be worried—"
"I'm not jealous. If anything, I'm stressed over people prying."
Arguing with him was exhausting because I knew he was right and trying to prove my point would be a winless fight. I didn't need to push the subject while knowing I was in the wrong, as it wouldn't be beneficial for any of the parties involved, and it would only make it worse. I didn't want to ruin this break for any of us, especially for him, and I was no longer sure what he wanted me to do. I couldn't stop people from talking, and I couldn't threaten Marco with violence if he didn't stay away from me, especially because that would get around and people would start talking.
Thus, I forced myself to swallow my pride and make one more sacrifice, because what was one more after all we'd been through?
Standing up, I walked up to him, and said, "If anything, I'm jealous of all of them, not that girl. It kills me to look at those photos and know there's no way I could ever make you as happy as those people do." His eyes softened ever so slightly, just enough to encourage me to stay and continue. "I understand why I can't be there, and I know you're doing everything in your power to ensure one day I'll be there with you, but it's not fair to think I'm assuming you're cheating on me based on . . . circumstantial evidence. I don't think you're cheating. I'm just upset because I've never made you smile the way your friends have, and I don't know how to make it go away. Our relationship isn't like most out there and I know just how much extra effort we have to put into it to make it work, but I hate feeling this way. I hate feeling like I don't matter." My hand timidly brushed against his. "All I want is for you to be happy, but I don't think I can do that. It's been eating me alive all this time."
"You weren't supposed to be feeling that way."
I wiped my cheeks with my free hand. "I know. But I am. It's very loud."
"Penn." He sighed, patiently, then stood from his chair without ever dropping my hand. When he was like this, he was my Chase, my love, my man, and reminded me of what I was fighting for. Even if I thought I wasn't making him happy, if he truly was unhappy, he would have already left instead of attempting to spare my feelings by acting like everything was okay until it all blew up on our faces. "These are two separate parts of my life that require different amounts of effort. Just because I have to hide things from my friends, including you, it doesn't mean it makes me unhappy."
"Are you happy?"
"Yeah." He laced his fingers through mine, leaning forward to rest his forehead against mine. I took a deep breath. "This break was meant for us to decompress, not for us to argue about little things that won't matter in the long run."
Personally, I'd initially thought my concerns weren't that superficial, running much deeper than a relationship, but perhaps I'd really blown things out of proportion. One day, in just a few months, none of this would matter, and maybe I'd get a laugh or two about how stupid I was being. Had he ever given me any reasons to doubt myself?
"I'm sorry for overreacting," I murmured. "We're constantly doing this."
"Go lie down for a bit. You're exhausted from walking in the middle of a snowstorm." Exhausted was an understatement, but I didn't want to voice it out loud out of fear it would be yet another exaggeration coming out of my mouth. "I'll join you in a bit."
So, that was the end of it. That was what I was most thankful for—him, always him.