Through the Cold

I've searched everywhere for her. The house, the yard, the woods surrounding the house. I'm sick to my stomach. I walk to the stream near the house to smoke a cigarette. Lily doesn't like for me to smoke but it's a habit I've yet to break over the years. I stand at the water's edge, smoking, staring at the tadpoles in the water. I ash my cigarette into the water, startling the tadpoles. I crouch down, taking a closer look at the little creatures that inhabit this old stream. I see my reflection in the ripples. I feel nothing but numbness. I stare at my reflection as I take another drag from my cigarette. I see a familiar reflection behind me. "Lily!" I dropped my cigarette butt and turned around quickly, relieved to see her. But she isn't there. My heart starts racing again. I glance back down at the water. My cigarette butt now slowly floating down the ripples of the stream, the tadpoles startled by the polluted intruder of their home. I pulled another cigarette out of my pocket. The smell of tobacco lingers beneath my nose, and I place the filter to my lips. Before I can light it, a hand touches my shoulder. A familiar touch. I place my hand on top of hers for a few seconds before looking over my shoulder to see her. She looks tired, her eyes puffy from crying. "I've been looking for you! I was so worried! Where have you been?" She sounded exhausted. "I've been wandering around looking for you," I say in a whisper, the words carrying a quiet edge of frustration. My voice cracks slightly, and I realize just how exhausted I am. Her worried expression deepens as she looks me over, her gaze dropping from my face to the rest of me. "Adam..." she starts slowly, "where are your pants?" I blink at her, caught off guard. "What?" She gestures vaguely at me, her voice tinged with incredulity. "Your pants. You're...not wearing any." I glance down at myself, feeling the cool air against my bare legs for the first time. Sure enough, I'm standing there in nothing but my shirt, a pair of plaid boxers, and my beat-up hiking boots. I frown, the memory slowly surfacing. "I threw them in the washer," I mutter to myself, trying to piece together the missing moments. "With some detergent." The thought feels distant, like it belongs to someone else. We sit in silence for a moment, the air between us heavy and unmoving. I'm frozen, my thoughts stuck somewhere between confusion and disbelief. My hands rest on my knees, gripping tightly as if to anchor myself to the present, though my mind feels miles away. Lily's voice breaks through, soft and soothing, yet tinged with concern. "My love, I've not seen you since you walked to the shed yesterday to get the tools to fix the shelf." "Yesterday? It's only been a few minutes, an hour at best." Her eyes scan my face, her brow furrowing deeper with every second. She takes a step back, her arms folding tightly across her chest like she's trying to steady herself. "No," she says, her voice quieter now but laced with urgency. "You've been missing for over a day now." "Has it really been over a day? It can't be! I swear it's only been a short while." I clutch the sides of my head, trying to piece it together, but the memories don't add up. The shed, the rabbit... Lily... it all blurs into fragments, slipping away the harder I try to focus. My chest tightens as panic sets in. Where the hell did the time go? "Lily, I don't know what to say. I went to the shed, smelled something awful, found a weird dead rabbit head, walked inside to find you, searched everywhere, and came to the creek to smoke. That's it." Her face went pale, her lips moving silently as if reciting something. I couldn't catch the words, but they sent a shiver down my spine. She quickly walked back to the cabin without saying a word. "Lily? What is going on?" My stomach felt queasy again. I ran inside right behind her. The washing machine is open and the pants are inside, yet they're not dirty like they once were. She looks at me, her eyes narrowing as her expression shifts into something unfamiliar—an unsettling mix of worry and fear. We walk down the hallway and through the basement door. The dizziness hits me again, and I can barely walk straight. "Are you okay?" Her voice is sharp with worry as my knees buckle, sending me tumbling the rest of the way down the stairs. I can hear her voice, but it sounds so far away. ✽✽✽ I feel water hitting my face though it doesn't smell like water. I can smell that putrid odor again. I start to panic. I can feel the sticky black rabbit tar. It's rolling down my cheeks as I start to gain consciousness. Why is she rubbing that nasty shit on my face? I grabbed her wrist hard, pulling her hand away from my face. "What the fuck are you doing to me?" She looks scared now, her brown eyes wide open, frozen. "Let my hand go, Adam. What's wrong with you? It's just water!" I rub my hand across my face, expecting to see black tar on it. She's right. It's just water. "I was washing your face, trying to wake you back up. You fell down the stairs. I'm really worried about you." "I smelled it again, the dead rabbit. I felt it on me, on my face." "It's just water infused with bay leaves. It'll help you clear your mind." "I don't need your goddam herbs, Lily. I need to know what the fuck is going on with me." The words leave my mouth like venom and I immediately hate the sound of them. She gets up without a word and walks to her indoor herb garden, the silence between us sharp and cold. I can't believe how quickly I lost my patience with her. That's not like me. My mind replays the moment I grabbed her wrist, the way her eyes widened, not just with surprise, but with fear. It sticks in my brain like a thorn, sharp and unrelenting. Lily's never looked at me like that before, and I hate that I'm the reason she did. "Lily, I didn't mean that. I'm just --" "You're just tired. You need to rest. Go lay down, I'll be up in a few minutes with something to eat. You haven't eaten in over a day now. You're delirious." "Maybe you're right. I must have bumped my head when I fell off that crate in the shed." I rubbed my head, noting that I did have a knot on the back of it. I must have hit it on the cobblestone. I stood up, still a little dizzy. I walk up to Lily and hug her from behind. "I love you." "I love you too. Now, go rest." I walk up the stairs, holding on tight to the railing. Still dizzy. I walk to the fridge to get a cold glass of ice water. While filling up the glass I glance outside. It's getting dark already. This early? I look at the clock. 6:49PM. She steps beside me, her fingers brushing gently along my arm. "I thought I told you to rest! The stew is almost done," she says, her tone soft but insistent. "I'll bring it to you in bed." "Stew?" I take a deep whiff of the air around me. I can smell the potatoes and carrots. "How long have I been standing here?" "I'm not sure. I put on the stew and went back to the basement to make you some herbal tea to help you sleep. Are you okay? You're starting to scare me." I can feel my heart pounding. What's wrong with me? Why am I losing entire blocks of time? Lily gently grasps my hand, guiding me to the sanctuary of our bedroom, urging me to rest. She brings me stew and tea and tucks me in. She lays her cold hand against my forehead. "You're burning up with fever." She looks worried. Her worry makes me worry even more. Lily, typically devoid of worry, entrusts her herbs to bear the weight of such burdens. Before I can even take a bite of my stew, I drift to sleep. I wake abruptly, as if someone snatched me right out of sleep. It's dark, I move my hands around the bed, feeling for her. She never came to bed. "Lily! You coming to bed, love?" Nothing. I yell a little louder for her, "Lily!" Nothing. She must still be in the basement. I glance at my watch: 3:04 a.m. She should have come to bed hours ago. A knot tightens in my stomach as I ease out of bed, slipping on my house slippers and throwing my robe over my clothes. The cold hits me immediately, sharp and unnatural, seeping into my skin. It's far too cold for this time of year. I step into the hallway, the air so frigid I can see my breath swirling faintly in front of me. The silence presses down like a weight, heavier with each step. It's so quiet I can hear the blood rushing in my ears, a muffled rhythm that only makes the stillness more oppressive. My feet carry me toward the basement door, the shadows in the hallway stretching unnaturally as I move. Adam I heard my name whispered softly. "Lil?" I feel some relief. It calls me again. "Lily, this isn't funny, love. I'm really not feeling well." My name pierces through the air like broken glass: Adam! The scream tears through the silence, so loud and sharp it feels like knives driving into my ears. I clutch my head, staggering back as a wave of pain explodes behind my eyes. It's not just sound—it's something deeper, something alive. It doesn't stop at my ears; it sinks into me, twisting around my chest like barbed wire, squeezing the air out of my lungs. The walls seem to vibrate with the force of it, the shadows stretching and writhing as if they've been startled awake. My knees buckle, and for a moment, I swear the floor is pulsing beneath me, like the house itself is breathing. The voice, if I can even call it that, echoes in my skull, not fading but lingering. I stand in the dark for a few seconds, listening. Listening for footsteps, noise, anything. I make my way to the basement door. The handle is ice cold. I slowly ease it open. Careful not to startle Lily if she's down there. "Lily?" "Adam, what are you doing out of bed?" "What am I doing out of bed? Why aren't you in bed? It's 3am." "I'm working on something that may help you feel a little better," she says softly, her hands moving gracefully over the counter as she mixes something in a small bowl. The faint aroma of chamomile and lavender hangs in the air, soothing yet out of place in the cold, oppressive house. It lingers like a fragile barrier against the unease creeping through me. I pause, watching her for a moment. The soft light of the basement light casts a glow on her skin, making her look almost ethereal. She's wearing her nightgown, the simple fabric clinging gently to her figure, and for a second, the sight of her takes my breath away. She looks so effortlessly beautiful, so calm. But then I notice the tension in her shoulders, the slight tremor in her hands as she stirs. It's subtle, almost imperceptible, but it's there. And it makes the unease claw its way back into my chest. "I think I may still have a fever, it's freezing cold upstairs."She walks to me and lays her soft, warm hand against my forehead. "It feels like your fever is broken, actually. Let's get you back to bed. You may just be feeling a little wonky because you're dehydrated. Let's get you some water and tuck you back into bed. I'll make you some tea with honey. I know it's your favorite." "You really know how to make a man feel loved. I don't know what I'd do without you." I take her hand from my forehead, holding it gently as I press a kiss to her knuckles. Her skin is warm and soft, a comforting contrast to the cold that seems to seep from the walls around us. For a moment, I let myself linger there, her touch grounding me, pulling me back from the edge of whatever spiral I've been falling into. She gives me a small, crooked smile, her cheeks flushing faintly. "Well now you just sound delirious. You really need some sleep." We both chuckled. Walking up the stairs from the basement felt like climbing Mt. Everest. Each step I took got colder and colder. "Lil, was there a cold snap coming through or something. There's no way the house should be this cold, even with a fever. I can see my breath." She tilts her head, frowning slightly, but her eyes dart toward the shadows in the hallway for just a second before meeting mine again. "I'm not sure why you're feeling so cold, but it feels fine in here to me." "I'm really not feeling well." I can feel myself start sweating, my shirt now sticking to my hot skin. "If you're not feeling better by sunrise, I'll give the doctor a call and set an appointment for you. You know they don't like making house calls this far into the mountains." "Tell me again why your family decided to build this cabin in the middle of bumfuck backwoods Georgia?" Lily rolls her eyes at me. She takes off my robe and tugs at the bottom of my shirt. "Take this off and I'll grab you a fresh shirt out of the dryer. You might feel more comfortable with some fresh clothes before lying down." I take my shirt off and toss it onto the floor. I hate for her to have to touch my sweat-soaked shirt but I am too exhausted to take it to the laundry room. I take the fresh shirt from her, the scent of Snapdragons wafting up as I slip it on. Lily loves to make her own soap, gathering flowers and turning them into things that always smell like her, like home. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Trying to make sense of the days. Something feels off. I just can't put my finger on it. Was it something I ate? A cold? Infection? Lily arrives just in time, interrupting my obsessive rumination. I could smell the Chamomile from a mile away. I take a few sips, giving her the "orgasm" eyes, rolling them around in my head. She smiles a cheeky smile and her blushes. I reach out, gently taking her arm and pulling it toward me. Her skin is warm, grounding me in a way I didn't realize I needed. I look up at her, managing a faint smile. "Thank you, love. Now climb in bed with me so I can sleep properly." She climbs into the bed and lays her head on my chest as I sip the last of my tea. The tea has a bitter edge tonight, a taste I can't quite place. I trust Lily's concoctions implicitly, though. She always knows what I need, even when I don't. I place the cup down on the bedside table, wrap my arms around her, and my eyes slam shut like they weigh a thousand pounds each.