Page 52 of The Spinster & the Sock

“A curse? Josephine,” I chide, lowering myself to pick her up. Her legs wrap around my torso, and I can’t resist nibbling on her neck as I walk towards her desk. I sweep everything off the surface, papers fluttering across the room and inkwells crashing to the floor as I set her in their place and start untying her boots. “I’ll admit it took a while to come to terms with everything—culture shock and all that, but,”—one boot hits the floor—“marrying you has been the greatest decision I’ve ever made. I’ll go the rest of my life wondering what I’ve done to deserve this impossible fate.” Boot number two hits the floor, but her ankle is still in my hand.

Now it’s her calf.

“You can’t possibly mean that, truly,” she whispers. I’m at her thigh.

“I’ve never meant something more in my entire life.” My voice is low, and I step closer, ignoring the puddle of ink under my foot, and push her knee with my hip so that I can stand between her legs.

Jo gasps softly, her head dropping to my shoulder. “What if you found out I was a liar and I’ve been keeping secrets?”

“Then you’re a liar, and I still mean it. You can keep your secrets as long as I can keep you.” I nip at her neck, untying her bonnet, throwing it to the side before burying my hand in her hair.

“What if…” she moans, “What if you could go home?”

“We both know I can’t, but regardless, at this point, I wouldn’t.” I really mean that, too. I miss my family, yeah, but leaving Jo?

“We don’t.” Her words come out with a cry as she melts into me.

I wait a minute for her reboot cycle to finish before asking, “We don’t what?”

“You said we both know you can’t—but that’s not true.” She grabs my wrists, pushing me back enough to jump down from the counter. “Blaze.” Her voice breaks. “I figured it out. You can go home, and I kept it from you because I’m a coward, and I’m selfish, and I don’t want you to leave me.”

“What are you talking about, wife?” I shake my head, trying to discern whether this is a bad joke or not. “I’m not leaving you.”

“But you have too. You have to at least try this one last time!” Jo starts hyperventilating, pacing in short, three-step intervals in front of me with her eyes so wide I can see more white than blue.

“What is there left to try that we haven’t already? We’ve done everything, Jo.” I can’t—won’t—leave her. “Nothing will work, Jo, and I don’t want it to.”

“The solstice, Blaze!” she sobs. “You fell through on the solstice.”

I blink.

Oh. I guess that has some merit. Myths and legends are always talking about the mysterious power surrounding solstices. Fuck, that might work.

“Are you sure? How do you know? What gave you this idea? Were you still looking for ways to get rid of me?” I vomit the questions, and now it’s my turn to pace.

“I wasn’t trying to get rid of you. I wasn’t even looking either—when you stopped searching, I stopped too because I didn’t want to find an answer anymore. It was an accident, stumbling on this. I saw the dates in your almanac.” She eases closer to me, arms wrapped tightly around herself.

My almanac.

“How long have you known this?” I ask, not that it matters, but if she figured it out when she slipped that letter in—the one I’ll never admit to finding—that was a very long time ago, and we most definitely were still trying to find ways to get me back to 2025 then.

“Recently, I swear. I’ve snuck it away a few times…I only noticed the entry on the winter solstice this last time.” Her shoulders sag and she drops her eyes to the floor. I quit walking back and forth like a zoo animal and pull her into my arms.

“I’m not mad, Jo,” I reassure her, nuzzling her forehead with mine. “I’m just confused. If you don’t want me to leave and I don’t want to leave…why are you telling me this?”

“Because the solstice is tomorrow! Because if you don’t try, I’ll regret it. I’ll regret not knowing if I could do this one thing for you after all that you’ve done for me and—and I think I’ll resent you for not trying and for making me feel guilty for not making you and I fear it will ruin us!”

I freeze. Tomorrow? Resent and ruin? My pulse quickens, and I only realize I’m holding my breath when the edges of my vision start to fade. With a shaky exhale, I ask, “Is that what you really want?”

My wife raises her head, tears now freely streaming down her lovely face, and nods. I struggle to swallow, and then nod back.

“If this is what you really want,” I murmur, “I’ll try. For you.” I feel my heart break running down my cheek, her lips quiver as she watches it drop from my jaw and then, before the next one can fall, I kiss her. I kiss her like it’s the last thing I’ll do, because it might be. I don’t stop kissing her, not until neither of us can stay awake a second longer and we fall asleep tangled together.

The Axe, The Ice, The Fucking Audacity

Josephine

Blaze’s snores drift softly through the cracked door—a haunting echo of what will soon exist only in my memories.