(CONTEMPORARY) WOODS-WESTERN-MOUNTAIN-APPALACHIAN
OCTOBER 2018
THE VISITOR
MAUREEN SHERBONDY
THE VISITOR
MAUREEN SHERBONDY
Everyone told Tevin that it would be difficult to meet women in his chosen profession. Not so much because of the job itself, but where he might live as a result of being a forest ranger. He’d hoped to get a job in the Pine Barrens or somewhere else in his own state. In a crowded place like New Jersey, even if he lived on-site in the Pine Barrens, women were just a few Parkway exits away. But there were no openings in New Jersey, Pennsylvania, or Connecticut the year he graduated from Rutgers. So here he was in upstate New York, miles and miles from civilization.
Tevin’s small cabin in Robert Treman State Park was lovely, with a wood-burning stove and a fireplace. It had one bedroom and a bathroom with a shower that on occasion provided warm water. The cabin was surrounded by 1,100 acres of trees and land in the Finger Lakes region. He enjoyed the waterfall that flowed through the park, and spent time rescuing swimmers, boaters, and fishing enthusiasts there. Summer and spring were not so bad because he could meet up with dates in Enfield and Ithaca, but winter months dragged on long and lonely.
In October, he’d been dumped by Hilda Weinstein, a Manhattan woman lecturing at Cornell. She’d ended up falling for a Russian professor twenty years her senior. Tevin made some Lolita references, since Nabokov had once taught in that same department decades earlier.
“I see no future for us,” Hilda said when she came to his cabin to deliver the news. She coughed when the wood stove spewed smoke in the kitchen. “This,” she said, waving her arms about the musty cabin, “is not how I imagined my future.”
“But imagine how great it would be to raise kids here,” Tevin said. “All this land and nature. It would be like living in a biology classroom.”
“Here?” She surveyed the dirty floor and the two old pans hanging from a hook in the kitchen cubicle. “I’m a city girl. Going back to teach at City College next fall. The professor is retiring there.”
Her designer heels clicked against the wooden floor and dust filled the air as she shut the door on her way out.
By November, Tevin was scouring the online dating sites again. There’d been back-and- forth texts with an artist from Ithaca. She’d cancelled two meet-ups due to mood issues. “Seasonal affective disorder” is how she’d phrased it. December came along with a proposed date to see an art show at a coffee shop in Enfield, but a blizzard had prevented Tevin from leaving the park. She then vanished completely, her entire profile deleted from the dating site.
On Christmas, he’d hoped to drive home to North Brunswick and visit his mom, dad, and younger brother. But daily storms dumped four feet of snow in the park, and once again he was stranded. Tevin roasted a small turkey and sweet potatoes and was about to take his first bite of the meal when someone knocked on the door. Only lost hikers had ever come to his door before. What would hikers be doing out in this weather on Christmas?
Tevin dropped his fork and answered the door. A pretty redhead in high hiking boots and a heavy coat stood shivering. Pointing to her right ankle, the woman said, “Thank goodness you’re here!” She extended her ungloved hand. “Jennifer. Atlanta, Georgia.” She dropped her backpack and limped inside without an invitation.
Tevin froze at the door for a long minute, scratching his head.
“Well, close that door. It’s cold out there!” She stood over the still-warm oven and rubbed her hands together. “Nice place you have here. Kind of cozy.”
He shut the door, suddenly like a stranger in his own house. He looked at the uneaten food on the table.
“Oh, Sugar, go ahead and eat. Don’t mind me. I just need to warm up a bit.”
“I’ll make you a plate. There’s plenty.”
“Awful sweet of you. Is that part of your job? I saw the ranger sign in front of the house.”
Tevin retrieved the only other plate in the oak cabinet. It was white with deer around the edges, a gift from his mom. She’d also sent utensils and two pans.
Jennifer limped over to the other rickety chair and placed her nose right near the food. Smoke swirled up. “Looks delicious.”
“So, Jennifer, why are you out here on Christmas?” Tevin chewed and swallowed, then added some salt to his chicken.
“Why are you here on Christmas?” she asked back.
“My mother does that. Answers a question with a question.”
“Does she?” Jennifer laughed.
“Oh, a jokester. That’s good. Humor, I mean. But really, why were you hiking out here? Did your car break down or something?”
“Or something.” She finished the food quickly, as if she hadn’t eaten in days, then wandered into the bedroom. No one had entered that room since Hilda. He followed her and then stood in the doorway, his hands sweating. He wiped them on his long-sleeved shirt.
Jennifer picked up the books one by one that were set neatly in a stack on the bedside table.
“Northern Birds. Trees of New York. Grisham?”
“I like legal thrillers. I thought about becoming an environmental lawyer at one time.” Tevin fidgeted, picking at his nails. Why did he tell her this? What was she doing touching his things?
She hobbled out of the bedroom, then sat back at the small square dinner table.
“Guess I should rest this ankle. I twisted it when…” She stared at the red and orange flames in the fireplace as if viewing something else. “Just clumsy I guess. I’ll head back after a rest. That okay?”
Tevin walked to the window and noticed the last daylight fading. Soon it would be completely black except for the sliver of the overhead moon.
“Part of my job is to ensure your safety. I can call for help if you need it. Is there someone you can call?”
She shook her head. “I just need to rest.”
She moved over to the beige loveseat. Tevin went to retrieve a blanket. By the time he returned, her eyes were closed and low snores rose from the couch. Her wavy red hair flowed over the cushion, nearly touched the wood floor. Tevin’s pulse raced. After covering her up with a soft blanket, he quietly cleaned the dishes. Sleep didn’t come easily. Every few hours he woke to check on her.
At seven a.m., Tevin rolled over and pulled the cover off. Something touched his arm. He sat up. Jennifer’s scantily clad body lay beside him.
“Haven’t you ever seen a girl sleeping before?”
Tevin jumped out of bed and quickly left the room. Why was this stranger in his bed? Trouble—that’s what his dad would call Jennifer. He heard his dad’s voice in his head: Get rid of her. Mom was the soft-hearted one, Dad the tough-love parent.
He started the coffee maker, hoping the morning routine would stop both hands from shaking. He adjusted his boxers, then turned around when he heard footsteps.
“Oh, good! Coffee. Nothing better than that first cup of Joe,” she said, grabbing a deer-decorated mug from the cabinet.
“Jennifer. I think you need to leave as soon as that cup is done.”
“Sorry if I scared you. It’s just that the couch is lumpy and I couldn’t sleep. My ankle was acting up. Didn’t think you’d mind.”
“How’s your ankle today?” he asked. She wore short, lacy bottoms. Her legs were long and lean. “I don’t see any bruising or swelling.”
“Well, it’s inside. The bone or something.”
“I can drop you at the urgent care in Ithaca.”
“No need for that. You can just take me to town. But maybe I can keep you company for the holiday.”
“I don’t mean to pry, but are you in a bad spot?”
“Spot?”
“Like a bad place. You’re from Atlanta. Why are you here in the middle of winter?”
“Doesn’t much matter. All those silly details. Let’s just say I can be a bit impulsive. I jumped before I thought it through. Mama says I’ve always done that—jumped before looking. This time it involved a man and quitting my job in customer service. I was used and tossed away. Dumped on the side of the road like an old dog. Let’s leave it at that.”
Tevin had a soft spot for lost causes. It had gotten him in trouble before. His mom was a social worker and there’d been times during his adolescence when she brought strays home—foster kids between homes.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t like dating much myself. There’s some crazies for sure.”
“Could I stay here for a few days? A week or so maybe? I have some money, not much but some. I can pay you in trade—clean the place up, do the dishes, laundry?”
“A week or so. But you have to sleep on the couch, lumps and all. If it’s that uncomfortable, I’ll take the couch and you take the bed.”
Jennifer rinsed out her coffee cup. “You won’t be sorry,” she said.
Tevin looked out the window and saw snow falling. The footprints from yesterday were filling up. Some people could see the tracks they made in the snow, yet were still lost. Jennifer seemed like this. Lost. She was in the bedroom whistling an upbeat tune he’d never heard before. It seemed like she was going to help out to earn her keep. It would only be a week or so. Just a week. Soon after the New Year he’d take her to town, buy her a bus ticket back to Atlanta. It would all work out. He watched the flakes fall bigger and harder, piling up on footprints that he could no longer see.
Tevin’s small cabin in Robert Treman State Park was lovely, with a wood-burning stove and a fireplace. It had one bedroom and a bathroom with a shower that on occasion provided warm water. The cabin was surrounded by 1,100 acres of trees and land in the Finger Lakes region. He enjoyed the waterfall that flowed through the park, and spent time rescuing swimmers, boaters, and fishing enthusiasts there. Summer and spring were not so bad because he could meet up with dates in Enfield and Ithaca, but winter months dragged on long and lonely.
In October, he’d been dumped by Hilda Weinstein, a Manhattan woman lecturing at Cornell. She’d ended up falling for a Russian professor twenty years her senior. Tevin made some Lolita references, since Nabokov had once taught in that same department decades earlier.
“I see no future for us,” Hilda said when she came to his cabin to deliver the news. She coughed when the wood stove spewed smoke in the kitchen. “This,” she said, waving her arms about the musty cabin, “is not how I imagined my future.”
“But imagine how great it would be to raise kids here,” Tevin said. “All this land and nature. It would be like living in a biology classroom.”
“Here?” She surveyed the dirty floor and the two old pans hanging from a hook in the kitchen cubicle. “I’m a city girl. Going back to teach at City College next fall. The professor is retiring there.”
Her designer heels clicked against the wooden floor and dust filled the air as she shut the door on her way out.
By November, Tevin was scouring the online dating sites again. There’d been back-and- forth texts with an artist from Ithaca. She’d cancelled two meet-ups due to mood issues. “Seasonal affective disorder” is how she’d phrased it. December came along with a proposed date to see an art show at a coffee shop in Enfield, but a blizzard had prevented Tevin from leaving the park. She then vanished completely, her entire profile deleted from the dating site.
On Christmas, he’d hoped to drive home to North Brunswick and visit his mom, dad, and younger brother. But daily storms dumped four feet of snow in the park, and once again he was stranded. Tevin roasted a small turkey and sweet potatoes and was about to take his first bite of the meal when someone knocked on the door. Only lost hikers had ever come to his door before. What would hikers be doing out in this weather on Christmas?
Tevin dropped his fork and answered the door. A pretty redhead in high hiking boots and a heavy coat stood shivering. Pointing to her right ankle, the woman said, “Thank goodness you’re here!” She extended her ungloved hand. “Jennifer. Atlanta, Georgia.” She dropped her backpack and limped inside without an invitation.
Tevin froze at the door for a long minute, scratching his head.
“Well, close that door. It’s cold out there!” She stood over the still-warm oven and rubbed her hands together. “Nice place you have here. Kind of cozy.”
He shut the door, suddenly like a stranger in his own house. He looked at the uneaten food on the table.
“Oh, Sugar, go ahead and eat. Don’t mind me. I just need to warm up a bit.”
“I’ll make you a plate. There’s plenty.”
“Awful sweet of you. Is that part of your job? I saw the ranger sign in front of the house.”
Tevin retrieved the only other plate in the oak cabinet. It was white with deer around the edges, a gift from his mom. She’d also sent utensils and two pans.
Jennifer limped over to the other rickety chair and placed her nose right near the food. Smoke swirled up. “Looks delicious.”
“So, Jennifer, why are you out here on Christmas?” Tevin chewed and swallowed, then added some salt to his chicken.
“Why are you here on Christmas?” she asked back.
“My mother does that. Answers a question with a question.”
“Does she?” Jennifer laughed.
“Oh, a jokester. That’s good. Humor, I mean. But really, why were you hiking out here? Did your car break down or something?”
“Or something.” She finished the food quickly, as if she hadn’t eaten in days, then wandered into the bedroom. No one had entered that room since Hilda. He followed her and then stood in the doorway, his hands sweating. He wiped them on his long-sleeved shirt.
Jennifer picked up the books one by one that were set neatly in a stack on the bedside table.
“Northern Birds. Trees of New York. Grisham?”
“I like legal thrillers. I thought about becoming an environmental lawyer at one time.” Tevin fidgeted, picking at his nails. Why did he tell her this? What was she doing touching his things?
She hobbled out of the bedroom, then sat back at the small square dinner table.
“Guess I should rest this ankle. I twisted it when…” She stared at the red and orange flames in the fireplace as if viewing something else. “Just clumsy I guess. I’ll head back after a rest. That okay?”
Tevin walked to the window and noticed the last daylight fading. Soon it would be completely black except for the sliver of the overhead moon.
“Part of my job is to ensure your safety. I can call for help if you need it. Is there someone you can call?”
She shook her head. “I just need to rest.”
She moved over to the beige loveseat. Tevin went to retrieve a blanket. By the time he returned, her eyes were closed and low snores rose from the couch. Her wavy red hair flowed over the cushion, nearly touched the wood floor. Tevin’s pulse raced. After covering her up with a soft blanket, he quietly cleaned the dishes. Sleep didn’t come easily. Every few hours he woke to check on her.
At seven a.m., Tevin rolled over and pulled the cover off. Something touched his arm. He sat up. Jennifer’s scantily clad body lay beside him.
“Haven’t you ever seen a girl sleeping before?”
Tevin jumped out of bed and quickly left the room. Why was this stranger in his bed? Trouble—that’s what his dad would call Jennifer. He heard his dad’s voice in his head: Get rid of her. Mom was the soft-hearted one, Dad the tough-love parent.
He started the coffee maker, hoping the morning routine would stop both hands from shaking. He adjusted his boxers, then turned around when he heard footsteps.
“Oh, good! Coffee. Nothing better than that first cup of Joe,” she said, grabbing a deer-decorated mug from the cabinet.
“Jennifer. I think you need to leave as soon as that cup is done.”
“Sorry if I scared you. It’s just that the couch is lumpy and I couldn’t sleep. My ankle was acting up. Didn’t think you’d mind.”
“How’s your ankle today?” he asked. She wore short, lacy bottoms. Her legs were long and lean. “I don’t see any bruising or swelling.”
“Well, it’s inside. The bone or something.”
“I can drop you at the urgent care in Ithaca.”
“No need for that. You can just take me to town. But maybe I can keep you company for the holiday.”
“I don’t mean to pry, but are you in a bad spot?”
“Spot?”
“Like a bad place. You’re from Atlanta. Why are you here in the middle of winter?”
“Doesn’t much matter. All those silly details. Let’s just say I can be a bit impulsive. I jumped before I thought it through. Mama says I’ve always done that—jumped before looking. This time it involved a man and quitting my job in customer service. I was used and tossed away. Dumped on the side of the road like an old dog. Let’s leave it at that.”
Tevin had a soft spot for lost causes. It had gotten him in trouble before. His mom was a social worker and there’d been times during his adolescence when she brought strays home—foster kids between homes.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t like dating much myself. There’s some crazies for sure.”
“Could I stay here for a few days? A week or so maybe? I have some money, not much but some. I can pay you in trade—clean the place up, do the dishes, laundry?”
“A week or so. But you have to sleep on the couch, lumps and all. If it’s that uncomfortable, I’ll take the couch and you take the bed.”
Jennifer rinsed out her coffee cup. “You won’t be sorry,” she said.
Tevin looked out the window and saw snow falling. The footprints from yesterday were filling up. Some people could see the tracks they made in the snow, yet were still lost. Jennifer seemed like this. Lost. She was in the bedroom whistling an upbeat tune he’d never heard before. It seemed like she was going to help out to earn her keep. It would only be a week or so. Just a week. Soon after the New Year he’d take her to town, buy her a bus ticket back to Atlanta. It would all work out. He watched the flakes fall bigger and harder, piling up on footprints that he could no longer see.
Maureen Sherbondy's most recent poetry book is Belongings. She has also published a short story collection and eight other poetry collections. Maureen teaches English at Alamance Community College in Graham, NC.