Page 52 of Only One Bed: Anthology Vol. 1
I glanced across the campsite at Ryan’s stuff. It was clear that he was planning on staying there that night, which made sense since I was using half his gear. But it was also really weird to have some dude I barely knew sleeping ten feet away. I’d made peace with being murdered, but what if he snored? I’d die without getting a good night of weekend sleep first.
I was way more worried about my privacy and alone time, anyway, but when Ryan came back with Basil, he was carrying what looked like a smaller version of a hard guitar case. I resisted the urge to lean forward, instead watching him over the top of my book. I’d picked up ukulele a couple of years ago, and I couldn’t not snoop. He pulled out a mandolin, and started noodling around on it, obviously meaning to leave me alone. I watched him for a while, his fingers moving over the frets and making shadows dance across the warm, red-orange wood.
Ryan had clearly been playing for years, teasing out beautiful sounds without even paying close attention. The thought made a fraction of my annoyance return; I wasn’t consistent enough in my practice to ever be that good at ukulele. But the music was calming enough that I couldn’t muster the full anger I’d felt earlier in the day. In fact, the thought was exhausting. I turned my eyes back to my book, finally breaking away from the paragraph I’d tried to read over and over and moving on to the next one.
* * *
It turnedout that nature was super noisy first thing in the morning. It was like every bird on Earth had decided to scream at the same time, and with no apartment walls to insulate me, it sounded like they were all yelling right into my ears. I'd been having such a nice sleep, cozy in my sleeping bag, and now I had to pee.
After a quick, ice-cold shower (plus the walk to and from the bathrooms), I was pissed off, and all I wanted was a hot coffee. Instead, I pulled a cold one out of my cooler. At least I'd been smart enough to bring those. I settled into the chair Ryan had lent me to fortify myself with caffeine before I... did camping things? Hike? Something.
Ryan, I realized, was nowhere to be seen. Basil must have been with him, wherever he was. He'd apparently rolled up his sleeping bag and taken last night's beer bottles with him. He kept everything really neat, which led me to believe he was some kind of alien. Who had the energy?
For the first time since I'd shut off my GPS yesterday, I checked my email. I felt kind of guilty doing it, since I'd told myself I was doing a self-care weekend. Immediate regret. An email from work. I didn't open it, and locked my phone, dropping it into the mesh cup holder.
"Hey, Mat. You okay?" Of course, Ryan had chosen that moment to return, and of course he looked concerned.
I looked away. I had never in my life been able to fix my face, and I couldn’t stand people acting all worried about me. It always made me completely fall apart. I just couldn’t keep my mouth shut under the gentle pressure of someone caring what was happening inside my head. Ryan was turning out to be the kind of person who would care enough to shatter my shaky calm.
"I’m fine." When I glanced back up at him, I noticed he hadn't shaved, a night's worth of dark beard stubble growing on his jaw. Oh no.
"I was gonna ask if you wanted coffee but hey, you remembered your own!" Ryan said. Any positive thoughts about his scruff fled, along with the wobbly feeling of being about to cry
"I'm forgetful, not a child," I snapped. It was actually a relief to be angry again.
"I didn't mean –"
"I don't care whether you meant it."
Ryan pulled out his own bottle of cold brew and sat down across the ashes of the fire from me. Basil jumped up in his lap, trampling Ryan and generally making himself a nuisance.
"Buddy, please, I’m trying to apologize. I'm sorry, Mat. I know you're new at this, but I'm not trying to be condescending. That was rude, and I'll do better."
I glanced up at him. His cheeks were pink, probably embarrassed at being such a jerk. I could have just told him to go to hell (it wasn't like I'd ever see him again), but I had never been camping in my entire life, and having someone around to help was actually really nice.
"It's okay," I said. "I am new at this."
"Basil and I are going on a hike today. Wanna come?" Ryan asked.
"How hard is it gonna be?" I asked. I worked in a cubicle and did spin classes on the weekend. I wasn't exactly prepared for a grueling trek through the woods.
"We can do one of the short trails. It'll be a nice walk, just enough to tire Basil out."
"Hmm." I looked at Basil. Border collies seemed to have infinite energy, and Basil was no exception.
"It'll be fun."
"Sure, why not." This dude was a pro at talking me into things. It was his earnest, hopeful smile that did it. The thought of wiping that smile – which I had to admit was cute as hell – off of his face was almost worse than bursting into tears in front of him. Almost. Cuteness could only get someone so far.
We had coffee and a quick breakfast before hitting the bug spray and filling up our water bottles and heading out. It was a gorgeous day, just past the turn from summer to fall. Warm enough that I didn't need a hoodie, but cool enough that I didn't feel like I was on death's sweaty doorstep after a few miles of walking.
The woods were overrun with cardinals, red wings flashing through the trees while they talked back and forth in the same sharp chirps that woke me up that morning. I hadn’t realized how loud it would be out here, picturing more of a still and silent Rivendell situation minus the elves. Ryan was only mildly Aragorn-ish, though the stubble helped.
Eventually we came to a stream crossed by a little bridge, and Ryan put out a hand to stop me before I could cross. Basil let out a sharp yip, and Ryan hissed through his teeth. Basil quieted, but he shook with excitement at the end of his leash.
"Look," Ryan whispered. I followed his dark-eyed gaze and saw the mama deer and her two adolescent fawns. They were almost as big as she was, but their limbs were gangly and awkward. They watched us watch them for a few long seconds, so still that Ryan could have told me they were statues and I would’ve believed him. The stream burbled along its course, and Basil whined, the tension in the air thick as a down comforter.
The deer must have decided we weren’t a threat, because they went back to grazing next to the stream, picking delicately at the plants that grew in the muddy place between water and land. They were close enough that I could see individual eyelashes and the movement of muscle under skin and fur. I barely breathed, afraid that any sound or movement would scare them away, though a bird in a nearby tree called so loud that I jumped. Ryan’s hand rested on my arm, still as the thick tree trunks that stood all around us.
