Page 1 of Riverside Reverie

1

THE SNAP

Lux

I zipped up my new hiking bag and lifted it off my queen-size bed, dropping it on the floor beside the other supplies and gear with a tempered huff. I surveyed the pile, my anxiety growing.

At any minute my best friend, Jasmine Kade, would arrive to pick me up from my parents’ house in Guelph for our camping adventure. Although it’d been weeks since I’d last texted her, Jasmine was the first person I had reached out to after my recent heartbreak. Her solution was to get me away from the situation by inviting me on an already-planned camping trip. We were headed up north to spend the next several days camping somewhere along the French River with a handful of people that I didn’t know and had never met before. They were Jasmine’s friends she knew from college and living up north.

It had been half a year since I’d last seen her. Our post-secondary goals had taken us in different directions. I had headed to McMaster University in Hamilton, while she went north to Sudbury to study for her PhD in Human Studies and Interdisciplinarity at Laurentian University. We’d stayed in touch and met up whenever we could, but with our equally demanding course loads it wasn’t that often.

But no matter how much time passed, Jasmine and I were the kind of friends that could slip back into the easy companionship we’d always had. We rallied around each other from afar, and we were always a text or call away.

My stomach rolled with nervousness. It wasn’t the prospect of seeing Jasmine again that had me on edge—it was crashing her and her friends’ camping trip in the wilderness. Am I really doing this? I asked myself, staring at the pile of newly purchased gear on my bedroom floor.

I still couldn’t believe that she’d been successful in talking me into going, especially given the fact that we would be canoeing to the backcountry campsite.

Me, canoeing, when the prospect of camping was hard enough for me to digest.

There would be no electricity, no running water, and likely no cellphone service. Worst of all, Jasmine had cautioned me that most of the 250 backcountry campsites along the French River wouldn’t even have outhouses.

That’s right, I would be spending the next several days squatting in the woods to do my business.

I wasn’t outdoorsy, not in the slightest. It’s why my college choices had veered to bigger cities. I enjoyed the hustle and bustle, how the city was always alive with something happening. Despite my reluctance to spend the next several days in the great outdoors, I felt a burning need to do something different…to step outside of the person I’d always been.

Plus, it meant getting away from the drama. I would much rather deal with mosquitos and peeing in the woods than the situation I’d found myself stuck in.

A few weeks ago, my relationship with my high school boyfriend, Scott, had ended abruptly when my sister, Brinley, had sent me a Snap of him in bed with another woman.

Brinley was the woman in the picture.

She hadn’t sent it to me accidentally, either. She hadn’t even pretended that’s what happened. To add insult to injury, she’d posted the picture to her feed for good measure so that everyone else would see it, too.

I was heartbroken; less so over the fact that things with Scott had ended, and more so over the fact that I didn’t think I could ever forget the satisfied smile on Brinley’s face. My sister had intentionally sought to hurt me, and that knowledge cut far deeper than Scott’s betrayal.

The whole thing shouldn’t have come as a horrid surprise to me; Brinley and I had never had a very good relationship, but I honestly never expected her to go so far and take so much pleasure out of hurting me.

There was only a year between us, but my younger sister was competitive, selfish, impulsive, and very insecure. We were as dissimilar as day and night, not only in personality and morals, but our looks as well. Brinley was a carbon copy of our mother. She had golden blonde hair, deep blue eyes, and flawless skin that tanned in the sun. My sister had beauty going for her by the truckload, and I still hadn’t been able to figure out where the body dysmorphia came from. Likely, our mother.

Mom had been calorie counting and dieting since before I could remember, always seeking out the perfect body, although to her credit she never put that pressure on us girls. Just herself. Still, it was easy to see where Brinley had picked it up.

My copper waves and slate grey eyes framed by thick dark auburn lashes were like our father’s. I had his fair complexion, with freckles dotting my nose, upper cheeks, and my arms. During the winter months, my freckles were almost undetectable, but during the summer, the sun brought them out.

I was the book smart one, and my sister was the athletic one. Brinley had been the star player on the school volleyball and rugby teams, but she’d struggled with her academics. In grade eleven she’d ended up dropping out. The only thing my little sister had ever wanted was to be famous, and she’d decided that she didn’t need a high school education to pursue a career in modeling or acting.

I was on the honour roll in high school and in university. My program had been a partnership between Mohawk College and McMaster University that had allowed me to pursue two concurrent qualifications: an Ontario College Advanced Diploma in Medical Radiation Sciences through Mohawk College and the McMaster University Bachelor of Medical Radiation Sciences degree. I had come away with glowing recommendations from my professors and the program director of my clinical placement himself.

Our parents had always been proud of my academic achievements, and less thrilled with Brinley for dropping out of high school. In an unfair twist, Brinley resented me and blamed me for the disappointment my parents felt towards her, straining our relationship even more.

Which was ridiculous, as I’d always loved my sister regardless of our differences. It had never mattered to me that Brinley was better at sports and more popular in school, in fact, I used to envy her ease at socializing. It didn’t come so naturally to me. But it mattered to Brinley, because no sooner had I graduated and packed up my dorm room to come home for the summer than I’d received the picture from her. Like clockwork, it was my sister’s way of knocking me down several pegs.

I huffed out a sigh, ignoring the sting of tears while I checked my bag for the hundredth time, uncertain on exactly what I was searching for. Something to do, something to distract myself from my own thoughts. It was pointless, though. My ex’s frustrating face still popped in my head, his puppy-dog eyes begging for forgiveness and absolution.

Scott had been remorseful and apologetic. I wagered that he hadn’t expected me to find out about his raunchy romp with my little sister, but I had no interest in giving him another chance. I’d slammed that metaphorical door without a backwards glance and had no desire to open it again. But the intentional hurt caused by my own sister? That was the wound that festered.

Brinley had caused plenty of premeditated hurts over the years, but usually, those were just mean quips about me. I could brush those off easily, because what sisters didn’t get into hurtful spats every now and then? Even Jasmine butted heads with her three sisters from time to time.

Of course, none of Jasmine’s sisters had ever done such a voluntary cruel act, nor would they. Those girls had the relationship I’d always hoped for with Brinley—they could rip on each other, laugh with each other, and at the end of the day they could still count on each other.

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