Page 8 of Becoming Ben

“All ready?” I ask brightly.

“Ready if you are,” Trey says.

I whistle for the girls, and they come bounding to me, jumping over themselves in their excitement. “Come on, girls, we’re going for a hike!” I tell them, and they race toward the front door and back again, clearly wondering what’s taking me so long to open the door and let us get on with it. They whine when Trey and I stop to put on our hiking boots, clearly excited to be going. I don’t think it would matter how many times we went outside in a day; they’d probably be this excited every time.

I let the dogs and Trey out ahead of me and lock up, and one out of the three of them waits for me. I laugh as Trey watches them bound away, shaking his head. “They haven’t been out hiking enough,” I say by way of explanation. “Work has been busy this month. It’s good to be busy, but we’re all a little cooped up.”

“I know what you mean. I haven’t been able to exercise as much as I normally like to either, and I can tell.”

We start out at a good, steady pace, the dogs racing back to check on us every fifty feet. They won’t go too far ahead, and they’ll come right back to me if they see another human or animal. I spent time training them to do just that when they were young, so I don’t worry about them too much, and they can be off-leash on the trails without worry that they will scare anyone or harass wildlife. Trey laughs when they come bounding back repeatedly, tongues lolling.

“I think they think we’re slow pokes,” he observes.

I laugh, too. “They always do. I bet they probably think we’re slow because we only have two legs instead of four.”

“Poor silly, slow humans. But!” He holds up one finger. “We have thumbs.”

I look at him, puzzled, and then I get it. Trey is referencing the Beggin’ Strips dog treat commercial. I chuckle. “True, we are the dispensers of snacks and treats.”

“As God intended,” Trey says. “It’s a beautiful day, though, isn’t it? Thanks for asking me along. I’ve been wanting to hike up here, but I’m trying to throw one hundred and ten percent at both my job and the internship—”

“And probably succeeding admirably,” I interject, watching surprise morph into a pleased smile in response.

“I’m doing my best,” Trey says. “Not to mention the shelter.”

“You’re definitely burning the candle at both ends,” I say. “That’s why I wanted to invite you along today. You need a little R&R.” That wasn’t the entire reason I had asked, but close enough.

Trey grins. “Thanks. It’s so gorgeous here, I’m really grateful that you’re letting me stay the summer. It means a lot to me.”

“It’s nothing, really,” I say. “It’s nice having you.”

He ducks his head for a second, then glances up and points. “Look at him,” he says, pointing toward a tree. Perched on a limb is a prairie falcon, its sharp eyes scanning for the area for a snack.

“Her,” I say after I study it for a minute. “The females are larger than the males, and that’s a pretty big one.”

Trey studies the bird for a little longer. She’s beautiful, with her sharp beak and large eyes. She looks at us briefly, but we aren’t on her menu, so she goes back to scanning the ground in short order. “Look at her; she looks like she knows she’s at the top of the food chain.”

“She does,” I say. “But there are plenty of things in the mountains that are on the top of the food chain.”

Trey glances around, looking nervous, then looks at me and laughs. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

I raise one eyebrow. “Maybe.” Then I shrug, then I smile and reassure him. “The girls make so much noise that anything we might need to worry about will probably decide we’re too loud to mess with.”

He gives me a relieved smile back, and we keep on pointing out this or that to each other. The dogs have settled now, and they stay within a few feet of us, occasionally stopping to smell and then running to catch up. We spot several hummingbirds flying around a stand of Rocky Mountain Penstemon, the delicate blue-purple spiky flowers waving in the breeze while the tiny birds flit from bloom to bloom, and a while later, we see another hawk swooping toward the ground, then pulling back up to the sky, something small and furry clutched in its taloned feet.

Trey watches it all with avid interest. “I’m definitely a city boy,” he says absently at one point. “The city is teeming with its own life, including wildlife, but it’s nothing compared to this. This is amazing.”

I nod. “I’ve never enjoyed city life, so I stayed out of it as much as possible. It’s too big, too impersonal, toofast.I went to college at U of N Lincoln since I grew up outside of Omaha, and then we lived in the suburbs of Omaha until Mandy told us she was going to college in Fort Collins. I lived on my college campus until Sherri and I got married, and then we rented an apartment in Lincoln until we finished with our degrees. We got out of the city as soon as we could.”

“And now you have the house here.” Trey smiles.

“And now I have the house here. I haven’t been here for very long, but I think I love it the most out of all the places I’ve lived.”And I love it even more now that you’re living with me.I have the sense to not say the last part out loud. It makes me feel confused and a little sad because I know he won’t be there forever.

“I think your house might be my favorite, too,” Trey says. “It’s certainly the prettiest place I’ve ever lived.”

“I’m glad you like it.”Oh, am I.

The conversation lapses then, partly because the terrain is getting harder. The exertion feels good, though, even with the day heating up, and sweat begins to trickle down my back. Trey’s shirt starts to stick to his back, getting a little bit see-through in spots, and I have to work hard to keep my eyes off it. How is he so muscular, and why is it so hard not to look?

---