Free Not Looking for Love: Episode 4 by Lena Bourne

with the full force of gravity behind it.  
    Any other Thanksgiving break, I'd be sitting at the kitchen counter, making plans with my mom, deciding what stores we'd go to for the Black Friday sales, what movies we'd watch. I'm seeing it all so clearly, I can almost hear her voice. But I'm alone in the house and I'll never spend Thanksgiving with my mom again.
    My phone rings, and I run up the stairs, taking two at a time. But it's Gran.
    "You said you would visit me, Gail," she says without even a hello.
    "I messed up, I'm sorry," I whisper back. "I'll come tomorrow."
    "Don't bother," she says, a steely edge in her voice. "It's Bingo night tomorrow."
    "On Tuesday then," I offer.
    "I'll see you on Thursday anyway, at your aunt's," she says and I murmur agreement, not brave enough to tell her I'd already called my aunt and told her I had other plans. Call waiting is beeping in my ear.
    "I'll see you soon, then," I say, tapping my foot against the floor, hoping she won't want to talk more, which luckily she doesn't.
    I call Scott back as soon as she hangs up.
    "Do you want me to come over now?" I ask.
    He doesn't say anything right away, and the silence is deafening.  
    "You don't," I conclude on my own, wrapping my arm around my stomach, which is cramping up like I'm about to have the worst period. Only I won't, since I just started a new box of birth control pills this morning, having just finished the last.  
    "I do want you to come over, Gail," he finally says, but his voice is distant, like the entire world lies between us. There's a but in there somewhere and I'm holding my breath, waiting for it to come. Only he's silent again, like he's not even there anymore.
    "I'll be right over," I say once I'm certain he's done talking.
    When I arrive, he's leaning against the wall by the entrance to the alleyway that leads to his house.
    "Wanna go get a drink?" he asks walking toward me as I exit my car.
    "Sure," I say. "Somewhere casual though, and close by."  
    I'm wearing my winter jacket but the cold is seeping right through it. He's only got his windbreaker on, so he must be freezing. I hand him my car keys and walk over to the passenger side.  
      A few minutes later we're parked by the beach, moonlight reflecting off the rippling black water. This is the beach with the broken pier, the one where I accosted him that first night. It's the one I've been seeing when I imagine my baby drowning. Why would he bring me here? As a reminder?
    "Want to walk to the pier?" I ask through gritted teeth.
    He looks at me, his eyes narrowed. "No. I just want to get a drink. Do you want to walk to the pier?"
    I take a deep breath, hoping to chase away the anger. "No, I don't."
    "We can if you want?"
    I wrap my arm around his and pull him toward the boardwalk. Soft music is playing in the only place that's open. There's hardly any people inside, most of them sitting by the bar, watching a game. I lead him to one of the tables in the back.  
    "This is very casual," I say, scanning the menu. All they got is beer, pretty much, and hard liqueur. I order a glass of wine when the waitress comes over, Scott has a scotch.
    "I wish we could go to that cabin of yours," he says, after finishing off half his glass in one long gulp. "It sounds like a nice place."
    "It is," I say, trying to meet his eyes. But he's not letting me. "We could still go."
    "Tell me what it's like," he says, finishing off his drink, and waving to the waitress for another.  
    "Well, it's out in the middle of nowhere, the only neighbor like a mile away, and it's right under a mountain. There are pine trees growing all around it, so you can hardly see the house from the main road. My grandfather bought it, because he wanted a place in the country. But then he hardly ever went there. We'd spend Christmas there sometime, me and my parents, when I was younger. It's a great place to just do nothing but watch movies all day."
    I'm seeing it all so clearly, me and Scott, under a