Page 9 of Riverside Reverie

Shaken, I dropped my gaze and smiled tightly, gripping onto the side of the canoe as I climbed the rest of the way in. The exchange had taken but seconds, a moment suspended in time that was as arresting as it was fleeting. A moment that seemed more significant than most others; permanently etched in time. But before I could ponder too much on it, Jasmine began to paddle. She gave me instructions on how to do it, and I did my best to listen.

It wasn’t so bad—in fact the way the paddle cut through the water was soothing, although I knew Jasmine was doing most of the work. I tried, but my arms were slow and cumbersome.

Plus…I was a little distracted. Under the guise of taking in the rather beautiful surroundings, I turned my head and was blessed with the sight of Theo cutting through the water gracefully, his muscles working with each powerful stroke as he paddled alongside Desmond. He said something to the bearded man that made them both laugh.

Even Theo’s laugh was enticing—rich and free.

His eyes caught mine, and his smile grew, calling out to something inside me. My lips twitched, and I gave him the tiniest smile back. I felt silly for having been caught staring yet again. I forced my gaze forward instead, refocusing my attention on the sights ahead of me.

We’d already paddled beneath a large bridge and through a channel of rocky cliffs that lined the river. We passed some cottages with wooden steps leading to old, rickety docks, and an abandoned picnic table dangled precariously on a rocky bluff.

It was breathtaking. The air up north felt different from the air down south; clearer, somehow, and everything seemed brighter, even behind my sunglasses. The energy around me was mellow. The group I travelled with wasn’t boisterous, but they chatted merrily amongst themselves with a familiarity that both calmed and entertained me.

It also made me painfully aware that I’d let things like friendships and connections fall to the wayside in recent years, I had been so focused on finishing school. I used an old relationship as a security blanket, letting it put a buffer between me and my new classmates. I’d refuse invites out because I had a boyfriend, and eventually the invitations had come less and less. My peers realized I wasn’t going to take time off studying to join them.

Looking at the friendships Jasmine now had with people she’d met throughout college, I regretted not taking the time to make any new lasting friendships of my own.

But I had been so outside of my comfort zone, that the only way to press forward had been to wrap myself up in what was comfortable and familiar. Studying, schoolwork—that was familiar, I could do that. So was remaining in a relationship I wasn’t even happy with, simply because it was all I’d known for so long.

I’d stumbled across a quote by George Santayana recently, about how familiarity breeds contempt only when it breeds inattention. It made me realize that inattention had killed my relationship with Scott long before my sister had taken him to bed.

About an hour into paddling, my arms began to ache. “Can we stop for a minute? I need to put sunscreen on,” I asked. Jasmine nodded and set her paddle over her lap. She reached beneath her feet and grabbed a bottle of sunscreen, tossing it to me.

I miraculously caught it and began to apply it. My fair skin always burned, so I’d become an expert at applying sunscreen I was done within seconds and went to toss the bottle back.

“Keep it up there,” Jasmine grinned, grabbing her paddle again. “We’re almost at the campsite. Besides, you have shitty aim.”

“I do not,” I frowned, rubbing gingerly at my biceps.

“Have you forgotten the incident with Trina?” she snorted, and I stuck my tongue out at her over my shoulder. Trina had been a girl at our high school. I’d broken her nose in grade ten—accidentally of course. We’d been forced to play volleyball in gym class, and when it was my turn to serve, the ball took an unscheduled journey of its own and smashed into Trina’s face. I’d felt so terrible, I’d cried more than she did.

Jas was right, though. My aim wasn’t the greatest, and the sunscreen would end up in the water if I attempted it, but it was a relief to hear we were nearly there. I picked up the paddle again, bringing it through the water with a determined—albeit painful—steady stroke.

Theo and Desmond had passed us some time ago, and were up ahead with Talia, leading the group in their kayaks, which seemed to cut faster through the water. Kai and Zoey were a little way ahead of us, seemingly in their own little world. Her occasional laughter at something he’d said would drift back over the water.

Jasmine and I were lagging, held back due to my inexperience. I wasn’t as precise with the paddle as she was. My arms weren’t used to the vigorous workout, but never-the-less I persisted, too stubborn to quit, pushing my aching biceps until we reached a segment in the river divided by rocky cliffs. We stayed to the left of the river, paddling past three of the large rocks.

More glaciated rock cliffs lined the river, sloping downward to the forested area in behind. At the top of one steep-walled gorge, two people stood: a lean, tall man wearing swim trunks and a small, pixie-like woman with long blonde hair holding a camera that obscured most of her face. A large brown and white dog stood beside the woman, his tail wagging. The couple waved, and the dog barked—although the wind carried the sound of it away.

“That’d be Baz and Rhiannon! You’ll love them.” Jasmine reassured me. “Rhiannon is a photographer—don’t mind the camera. She brings it everywhere.”

Unease settled in my stomach. “Great. I hope she doesn’t plan on taking any of me.”

Jasmine sent a sympathetic look my way. She knew I could be weird about photos. That little quirk of mine could be traced back to my mother, and her obsession with the perfect photo. Mom was used to modelling, so being in front of the camera felt natural to her the way it felt natural to Brinley. Dad and I were awkward, one of us always blinking or smiling not quite right. Christmas portraits were always a feat and a half, and Mom never seemed satisfied with the end result.

It was silly, but things like that had put a lot of pressure on me. Pressure to be perfect and happy, even if I wasn’t feeling that. It’d set Brinley on a path of self-destruction, too, as she vied with other influencers for likes and attention.

Although I had social media accounts, I didn’t frequently post to them or check them. They were locked down and private, I didn’t care for likes or views. I mostly had them to peek in on what my friends and family were up to. It was a convenient way of keeping up with everybody’s lives when I was too busy with school to make calls. In fact, the last photo I’d posted had been taken with Jasmine when we were at the Eaton Centre in December.

I watched as the three kayaks disappeared around the side of the latest cliff. A few minutes later, Kai and Zoey followed suit. Finally, a sandy beach came into view. From what I could see, beyond the sandy beach there was a lot of pine covered hills and rocky cliffs.

“We’re here!” Jasmine declared.

“Really?” I arched a brow, wondering where we were going to set up our tent. Didn’t you need flat ground for setting up tents? The hills looked far too steep, and the beach too sandy, the rocks too…rocky. But I bit back my questions, forcing myself to release some of my tedious need for control. Jasmine and her friends knew what they were doing, I just had to trust them.

“This is the best campsite on the river. I wasn’t sure it would be available, but I’m glad it is! It’s a good thing Baz and Rhiannon got here early enough to snag it for us. You’re going to love it,” she promised, steering the canoe toward the beach. “There’s even a thunderbox!”

“What’s a thunderbox?” I asked, glancing at her over my shoulder.

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