An adventure and a chance encounter.
The Cabin in the Woods
My new boyfriend and I arrive at the cabin.
“I’ll get the bags,” he says, “You get the door unlocked and air out the place.”
The forest is dense and dark; I’m scared and cold, but I follow the path to the rustic cabin, flashlight in hand.
I look under the mat, under the flowerpot, and even in the spider-webbed mailbox, but I find no key.
Carl comes up behind me. “Cindy? What are you doing standing out here?”
“Freezing my butt off!”
“I told you where the key’s hidden.”
“I can’t find it!”
“It’s got to be here somewhere!”
He checks out the same places, except the mailbox.
“I told you, Carl!”
“Shut up, Cindy!” he says as he jiggles the knob and pushes on the unyielding door.
He disappears behind the cabin.
The front door opens; Carl reappears. “I remembered the bedroom window is easy to unlock.”
“Isn’t that breaking and entering?”
“Not if my parents own the cabin,” he says and locks the door behind us.
Within ten minutes, we are settled in, sipping Sauvignon Blanc compliments of Mom and Dad.
I hear a key in the lock.
“They don’t own a cabin! I have no idea who it is!”
What follows happens blindingly fast: the door opens, Carl jumps up and runs to the bedroom. He crawls out the window and disappears into the dark woods without so much as a whimper.
I stay to face the consequences.
Standing before me is the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.
“Want some of your own wine?” I murmur as I offer him a glass.
“Sure,” he says and sits down beside me.
He smiles; I melt. He takes hold of my hand; I tremble. It’s like we’ve been together forever.