HUM by Dan Hawley (chromebook ebook reader TXT) 📕

ok. Jason had his own office space, and she did her own thing. But then, at some point, it stopped feeling like a vacation and started feeling like a prison.

“You used to come out of your office every now and then and say hi and kiss me,” she grumbled. “Now your door is shut most of the day, and I have no idea what you’re doing in there!”

“I’m working,” Jason said.

His teeth grated against each other as he replied. “Are you? It seems pretty quiet in there most of the time. I put my ear against the door the other day and heard only silence. At the start of this thing, all I heard all day was the clicking of your damn keyboard. Now I wonder if you’re even alive in there!” Samantha’s voice became more shrill as the conversation progressed.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jason said.

His fingers dug into the steering wheel that was now acting as a stress ball.

“And Jesus, you’re moody!”

Samantha’s almond eyes began to well up until they reached capacity. Tears began to fall down her cheeks.

“It’s like I’m walking on eggshells around my own place because I don’t know what kind of mood you’ll be in at any given time. You come out of your office looking like a zombie, and you haven’t touched me in weeks!”

Jason’s jaw clenched, and his knuckles turned white from the pressure of squeezing the wheel. He took a deep breath and held it a moment. The SUV rolled down the road to the soundtrack of quiet music and gentle sobs.

After a few minutes, Sam’s tears ceased, and her breathing became more even and regular. Her expression turned blank as the scenery rushed by her window—vast swaths of coniferous forest, cut by long, meandering driveways that disappeared into its depths. Small patches of houses and fields sat lonely at the foot of lush, green hills.

Jason’s scowl had now softened. His hands relaxed on the wheel as his eyes transitioned from angry little beads to tired, baggy lumps. He looked over at Samantha.

“I’m sorry, Sam. I just haven’t been myself lately. I dunno what to say.” Remorse colored his words. “I’ll be better. I promise.”

Jason reached his arm out and placed his hand on Sam’s lap. She pulled her gaze from the window and looked at Jason with a deep, fortifying breath. She offered him a half smile.

She placed her delicate hand on his and squeezed lightly. The signs from an increasing number of motels and inns beckoned the couple to come and stay, offering free breakfast and scenic views. But the view they were after was just ahead, past the park entrance.

Jason slowed down and stopped behind a sleek, red sports car next in line to pay the fee. Mount Rainier was not typically busy in early spring, and with the pandemic, it was even quieter.

When it was their turn, Jason pulled up to the visitor center window. The once open window was now blocked by plexiglass with one small hole for talking and one semi-circle for payment. The masked park attendant provided a list of what roads and trails were open and which ones were closed. She also told them that many shops and inns were closed or operating on a massively reduced capacity due to COVID-19. Jason said that they were only planning on spending the day hiking anyway and had packed a lunch, so that didn’t bother them much.

The couple pulled away and continued onward towards their destination. The road twisted through the pines at a steady incline. After a few minutes, the trees suddenly broke, and they saw that they had ascended part-way up the mountain range. The road carved out of the side of the mountain was smooth and paved. The odd black line sharply contrasted with the grey rock as it wove its way up and out of sight.

Sam was in awe of the magnitude of it all. They were so tiny compared to the massive rocky formation. The barren peaks and the wild valleys were quiet reminders that life was dangerous. This was easy to forget as people lounged in their climate-controlled homes, rooms full of manufactured furniture, bellies full of imported delicacies.

Out here, though, it was resoundingly clear to Samantha that one wrong step could cost you your life.

“It’s beautiful, huh?” Jason said.

“Terrifyingly so,” Sam responded.

She cracked the window down, and it whistled. She pointed her nose to the breeze and inhaled a lungful of fresh, mountain air. She exhaled and smiled, allowing the emotions from the earlier conversation to melt away. Samantha sat in bliss, eyes closed, swaying with the road.

Her meditation was interrupted by a shift in speed. Jason slowed down, pulled the vehicle into the parking lot, and stopped. Sam opened her eyes, and with a renewed sense of vigor, collected her things and opened the door.

“We picked a perfect day,” Jason said.

He stretched, opened the back, and grabbed his pack. He threw it over his shoulders as Sam rounded the corner. They paused and looked at each other. Jason extended his arms, and Samantha fell into his embrace. They squeezed each other tight and just stood there in the sunlight.

“Ok,” Sam said, “let’s go see what all the fuss is about.”

From their vehicle, Samantha and Jason could see the lake, but it wasn’t until they dropped down off the parking lot and onto the trail that the true beauty of the lake struck them.

“Wow,” Samantha said.

She paused for a moment to take it in, halting Jason behind her.

“Gorgeous.”

She lingered a moment longer, then continued further towards the lake.

Even though there had been a few other vehicles in the lot, there was only one other couple down by the water—a middle-aged woman and her dog. The golden retriever was hard at work, discovering this scent and that, making sure to sniff every stone, log, and clump of grass. Its tail joyfully waved back and forth in the air, stopping only when the animal concentrated on a particularly interesting smell.

Jason and Samantha