Deluxe Accommodations

"There's nothing here, not even plumbing." Janet stood with her arms folded in front of her, waves of disapproval billowed off her. The five-hour drive up to the cabin had been a little tense. The deeper they went into the woods, and the narrower the roads became, the darker Janet's mood seemed to grow. Now her posture and pinched expression left nothing to the imagination regarding her displeasure. Brian tried to think of something positive to say.  

"There's plumbing, it just doesn't work. The old hand-pump has been broken since I was a kid." Brian smiled to reassure her. Besides, there's a natural spring around the back of the cabin. Best water you ever tasted."  

The cabin, a two story structure, sat in the river's fork. Not really an island technically, but the river reconnected farther downstream. There was one large room downstairs with a galley kitchen, cabinets, electric oven and fridge, kitchen table, a heater, and a small couch under the stairs leading up to an open attic-loft where all the beds were.

Janet had made a very worrying face when they first forded shallow spot in the river. And once she saw the outhouse sitting at the edge of the property, her mood blackened even more.

"And the outhouse?"

"It's a little cold if you have to go in the middle of the night, I admit."

"It has a sign on it that says 'Blasting Area,' Brian."

"What did you expect? We're in a hunting cabin in the middle of Nowhere, Pennsylvania. We're lucky there's electricity."

"I want to go home."

"Hun, please just give it a chance."

She glared at him. He took a different tack.

"It's a five-hour drive and two of those are creeping along narrow roads through steep mountains. It's going to get dark soon. And it will be very dangerous driving at night with the fog. Let's just stay and settle in. The charm of the place will grow on you, I promise."

# 

Brian rummaged around in the cupboards and smiled in victory. It was still here. "Look at this." Brian held out a shiny silver object to her, as if she would immediately understand its function and the memories he had of it.  

"What?"

"It's the Toast-O-Lator Deluxe. The Aristocrat of Toasters." The toaster looked like a chrome radio on end but four inches thick, like an old dictionary, with smooth curves and lines of Art Deco styling sitting atop a five inch black Bakelite base. An old cloth cord ran from one side, and a glass viewer porthole in the center made it look like something out of a sci-fi movie.  

"Look at the slots on the sides and the little feet inside." He pointed to the small tracks inside the bottom of the rectangular opening running from one end to its duplicate on the other side. "You put the bread in the slot and the feet walk the bread past the heating elements and drops the finished toast out the other side. The slower the speed, the darker the toast. The glass window is for watching it go through." He used his sleeve to polish the rounded top. "As a kid, I loved this thing. I could run an entire loaf of bread through it and catch the toast as it dropped out the other side. Isn't it cool?"

"So, it's a toaster?"

"Yes," he said, defeated. "It's a toaster."

"Uhhhmm." She looked around unimpressed. "What's that? Looks medieval."

"That's the potbelly stove. For heat. Firewood is in the shed. I'll cut some more later."

"Why do you need to cut more?"

"So there's wood for the fire for the next person. It's just being courteous. Part of the deal sharing a cabin." Brian noticed Janet still had touched nothing in the cabin or sat down. She didn't see the charm and memories he saw in every corner of the place. He cooked for the first time on that very stove, a trout he caught by himself. After cutting wood for the first time in his life, his dad let him try his first beer at that old kitchen table. The place still held magic for him even now.

"Let's go upstairs. I'll show you where we'll sleep."

They climbed the narrow staircase to the attic. A small footpath ran the length of the cabin with beds on either side filling the space. There was barely enough room to stand between the beds. It was a very utilitarian space, meant to sleep over a dozen men on a fishing trip. From the grimace on her face, she didn't like the sleeping arrangements either.

He gestured to the hinged door set in the wall off the top of the stairs. "And this is the 'Oh-Shit-Door.' In case of a fire, you jump out the door to the grass below." He unhooked the latch and opened the door to point below.  

"You're kidding me?"

"No, it's cool. Never had to use it in an emergency, luckily. Mostly the guys just use it to pee out of in the middle of the night."

The muscles at the side of her jaw tensed. "Next vacation, I choose. Do you understand? No arguments. Nada." Her arms were crossed so tight, he imagined they must be going numb.  

He sighed, "You hate everything about this place, don't you? This place is important to me. I have fond memories of me and my dad fishing here every year as a kid, probably the only time we ever really bonded without my mom around." She softened a little at that revelation. "And don't worry, I was scared of the outhouse too at first. My first trip here, when I was seven, the outhouse scared me so bad I didn't go near it or poop for four days." He closed the distance between them physically, if not emotionally, and rubbed her shoulders. "Come on, give it a shot. For me. Please?"

"Fine, but I'm not chopping wood or anything else here. That's all on you."

"Deal."

#

Brian unloaded the car, dragged their luggage and a cooler of food inside, and began filling the fridge and settling in. He started a fire in the potbelly stove with some wood, a few pieces of coal, and old newspapers and kindling he found ready to go in the metal bucket in the corner. He would check the log book later and leave a note of thanks to whoever had last been here. After a long trip, it was nice to not have to worry about chopping wood or dealing with a mess.  

Much of the place was exactly like he remembered from when he was young. It seemed bigger then, naturally, but the memories were still vivid. He wanted to make sure Janet had fond memories of this place too. He grabbed two clean buckets and headed out the door. Janet, who was always buying bottled spring water in the city, deserved to try the real thing.  

Behind the cabin at the spring, Brian carefully removed the metal cover used to keep things from falling inside. The spring was a square of bricks set around a 20 inch deep pool of the water that bubbled up and then ran off to join the river. A fine layer of silt collected at the bottom of the pool that he knew not to disturb. If he tried to ladle water too quick, the silt would rise up in thin wisps and make the water taste gritty and muddy. But, if approached with care, it was the best tasting water he had even had. It was one lesson his dad had taught him early on that, years later, still seemed profound: 'patience, go slow or you'll muddy the water.' Considering Janet's mood, he needed that lesson all the more now.  

Brian carried two buckets of spring water from around back when he heard Janet scream. He dropped the buckets and ran out front.  

"Oh, my Gawd!' Janet came stumbling out of the outhouse with her pants still down around her ankles. "There's something alive down there." She gestured to the outhouse. "Down in the hole."

"Uh oh, must be a squirrel or raccoon,"

"What? This happens often?"

"Not often, but it does happen. Ever hear the saying 'Crazier than a shit-house rat?' That's when a rat gets trapped in the cesspool and goes mad. Might have been down there for days. I'll get a long stick so it can crawl out."

"This is so bizarre."

"I'm sure he's more scared than you. After all, you were just adding to his misery. Pull your pants up."

"Oh, yeah. I forgot."  

Brian found a long fallen branch, broke off the extra limbs, and stuck it down the hole to the cesspool below. From the tone of angry screeching sounds below, he guessed it was a raccoon. He backed away from the outhouse and pulled out a set of lawn chairs near the cabin, one for each of them, then grabbed two beers from the fridge inside. They sat. After a time, the raccoon's offal covered head poked up into the light and he looked around.

"Fresh air," Brian mimicked in a cartoon-like voice. "Oh my Gawd, it's fresh air." 

Janet snorted and laughed. "I thought I had a bad day. Poor fellow. Look how happy he looks now."

"The world looks different depending on which side of the hole you're looking at it from."

"Yeah, I guess."

"There he goes." The raccoon ran to the edge of the grass, cocked his head for a moment, chittered at them loudly, and then darted for the river.   

"You're welcome, bud," Brian said. He turned to Janet, her shoulders were no longer tense, and she seemed more relaxed. A smile touched her lips. "And now we have a memory here together. Magic, see?"

"You're selling one outhouse episode rather hard."

"Well, Chiittery McCesspool certainly appreciated the moment."

Janet scrunched her lips in mock disapproval and said, "All right, let's try that toaster you were all excited about."

"That's the Toast-O-Lator Deluxe. 'The Aristocrat of Toasters.' Right this way, madame."