Out of the Woods

Chapter Eight

Eight

My legs are simultaneously numb and aching, somehow. Once I had my fill of the gorgeous selection of meats, cheeses, crackers, fruits, and crudites, I’d fully intended to stand up, fetch some water to filter before bed, and tuck myself in for the night. But, it would seem, standing is not in the cards. I nearly buckled and face-planted trying to get up, and while I think no one witnessed it the first time, I may not be so lucky if I attempt it again.

Since I am too proud to admit my weak thighs are keeping me here, I am giving Nina a run for her money and putting on an Oscar-worthy acting performance, reacting to each of Helen’s stories like they’re pure fucking gold.

“No!” I cry out, though I’ve honestly lost track of this particular story’s plotline and why Helen is nodding, smiling as if to say, can you believe it? “Seriously!” I add.

Caleb snickers next to me, his chin tucked against his chest as he uses Kieran’s knife to whittle down a piece of wood. He’s been in nature for two seconds and is crafting a weapon as if he’s Bear Grylls himself. I’m oddly proud.

“Really!” Helen says, punctuated by a resigned laugh. “I couldn’t believe it.” She glances at the leftover scraps on the table. “Ah, well, we better get this all cleaned up. Big day tomorrow.”

Shit, no, I’m not ready! “Well, while I have you both…” I say. Helen settles back against her cushion and Yvonne tilts her head toward me—her owl-like eyes unnervingly close. “What is happening tomorrow?”

“They went over all of that at dinner,” Caleb reminds me, whisper quiet. Reminding me, of course, because I was most certainly listening. I was definitely paying attention and not gorging myself and singing a cheese-themed parody of “Sweet Dreams Are Made of This” by the Eurythmics in my head.

Sweet dreams are made of cheese, who am I to diss-a-brie.

“Sarah?” Helen says, getting my attention. I can tell it wasn’t the first time she attempted to, based on the obvious concern in her tone.

“Sorry, I think I’m just a bit tired.” I shake myself. “Caleb will fill me in later, sorry.”

“Of course, don’t apologize,” she says warmly, reaching across the table and patting my arm. “I’m surprised you’re even vertical right now…. Go, get some rest and we’ll tidy up.”

I look at Caleb with pleading eyes. “I can’t feel my legs,” I say behind gritted teeth as Phil and Maggie pass by, saying their goodnights to us all. “Have a good sleep!” I reply, totally cavalier. Yvonne walks toward them, sharing some hushed conversation as Helen disappears from the table to grab a trash bag.

Caleb leans in close. “What do you want me to do about it? Roll you?”

“Roll me to our tent?” I scoff. “You thought of rolling me before carrying me?”

“Carrying you would be a little obvious,” he says, shrugging. “If you don’t want people to notice.”

“But rolling me wouldn’t?!” I shriek, somehow still in a whisper. It’s a great skill, the whisper-yell. I think I have perfected it.

“I don’t know if I can, regardless. My back is wrecked after today. I’m sore all over and—”

“Okay, well…” I look between where I’m sitting and our little orange tent that Caleb set up earlier while I was listening to a story about a figure-skating competition that Helen once judged where a stray pigeon found its way onto the ice. That story, actually, was quite memorable. That little bird was on the ice for ten minutes before they rounded him up. When the pigeon was done, the judges all held up a perfect score. From then on, they called a perfect score a “pigeon.”

“Sar?”

It’s cute to imagine, a pigeon captivating everyone’s attention like that. For some reason in my imagination, he has a top hat and a monocle….

“Earth to Sarah!”

“Shit, sorry. I am…I am really tired.”

“You look like you’re about to fall asleep…. It’s like twenty feet, surely you can make it if I help you up.”

“I can’t.”

“You probably could.”

Probably. “Just leave me here to die,” I whine, throwing myself back onto the hard ground, my bum still nicely cushioned on the pillows set up around the table.

“Baby…” Caleb sighs. “C’mon.” He stands up.

“Drag me,” I beg.

“Seriously?” A low laugh escapes him as he looks down at me, shaking his head.

“It’s that or you bring me my sleeping bag and I take my chances with the elements.” My husband looks thoughtfully at the tent, seemingly weighing his options. “Seriously? You’re considering that? There could be bears!”

“Fine.” He steps around to the top of my head. I present my arms to him, and he grabs onto my wrists as I cling onto the fabric on his forearm. “Sit up so you don’t bump your head, at least.” I do as told, lifting slightly. “These leggings are going to be wrecked,” he says, beginning to pull me in the direction of our tent.

“Ow, my butt!” I say, as a twig scrapes my left cheek.

“This was your idea,” he points out.

“Only because you wouldn’t carry me.”

“I really hope no one sees this,” he says, navigating me indelicately around a larger rock. “It looks very questionable.”

I let my head hang back, staring up at him adoringly.

“What?” he asks, his tone suspicious.

“I forgot my water bottle at the table.” I smile sweetly up at him, batting my eyelashes for good measure.

“I’ll go back for it,” he says with as much attitude as he can muster. But I see the hint of a smile forming. “Seriously though, this is very primitive.” Caleb readjusts his grip. “Me-man. Drag pretty wo-man to cave.”

“Aww, you think I’m pretty?” I ask, pitching my voice higher. We stop outside the tent, and Caleb drops his hold before turning to unzip the entrance. “I can take it from here,” I say, rolling onto my stomach and army-crawling in.

“So…so pretty,” Caleb says slowly, his voice laced with sarcasm.

“This really does it for you, huh?” I ask, maneuvering my top half into the tent.

“Take those off before you get into bed.” I turn to waggle my eyebrows suggestively at him, then continue to crawl. “You’re going to let all the bugs in.” Before I can respond, Caleb’s left to fetch my water bottle.

“Sarah, are you quite all right?” Yvonne asks from somewhere nearby.

“Oh, you know…” I say, not even bothering to look in the direction of her voice. Caleb’s footfalls return just as I scoot myself all the way inside of the tent. “Thriving,” I add with effort, though she may have walked away by now. I roll onto my back, squeezing myself into the narrow space between our sleeping mats.

Caleb lowers himself to one knee at the door of the tent and wordlessly begins untying my boots. He pulls one off, then the other, and places them outside before tearing off my socks, taking some blistered skin with it.

“Fuuuuck,” I cry out.

“Shit,” he hisses. “Sorry, baby.”

“Not your fault,” I grunt, grimacing as I let the wave of searing pain pass.

“I put some medical stuff in your kit. We’ll let these breathe tonight but wrap you up before tomorrow’s hike.” He lowers my feet to the ground, scoots inside the tent, and zips it shut. “Do you need help taking off your pants?”

I nod pathetically. “And, yes, speaking of tomorrow…Can you fill me in? I zoned out.”

Caleb begins tugging at my leggings as I prop myself up onto my elbows, bracing my weight on my forearms. “Camp is silent before seven. They expect everyone up and torn down before breakfast. After breakfast we clean up and clear out. Tomorrow’s hike is less than two hours, depending on how many breaks we’ll need. We’re camping in that spot for two nights.” He finishes, balling up my leggings into his fist. “Will you ever want to wear these again?”

“No, I’m pretty sure I peed on them earlier while squatting behind a tree. Plus, they’re ripped now.”

“One less item to carry,” he says, forcing optimism. I mumble my agreement as I roll onto my mat and sit up to zip myself in for the night. I threw on a sweater earlier, so at least my top half will be warm.

“Did they mention anything about therapy? Journaling? The inner work ?” I add a dramatic flair to those last words.

“Just that they’ll make time for individual sessions tomorrow and go from there.”

“Go from there,” I repeat. “Ominous.”

“This was your idea,” he grumbles, undressing down to his boxers from a lying-down position.

“Oh my god it reeks in here,” he says, scrunching up his face as he tears off his socks.

“It’s my feet and your pits,” I say, giggling. “Our smells melding together, as one,” I add dramatically as I put my hands up in the air, interlocking my fingers. “Just like we will be after this.”

Caleb shakes his head, laughing. “You’re so weird.”

“Can’t you feel it? We’re bonding.”

“Oh, definitely, ” he says, pulling on basketball shorts and a sweater and collapsing onto his mat with a groan. “Your turn to drag me to bed tomorrow, okay?”

“That sore?” I ask, turning onto my side, my hip a far less successful layer between me and the rocky ground beneath my mat than my butt was. “How are your feet?”

“My feet are fine, but my back is fucked,” he answers. “I hope we feel better by tomorrow or else we may have to get Phil and Jai to carry us.”

“I’ll let you have Jai.”

“Kind of you,” he says through a yawn as his eyes drift closed.

“All right…Well…Get some sleep,” I say, fidgeting inside of my sleeping bag.

“Didn’t you say you were tired?” He adorably opens only one eye to peer over at me.

“I think I’m a bit excited, is all. For tomorrow. To see what’s next. Maybe it’s the endorphins from today’s hike. Exercise gives you those, I’ve heard.”

Caleb yawns again. “Do you want your e-reader?”

“I didn’t pack it. It would’ve only lasted a few days before the battery gave out anyways.”

Caleb smiles knowingly, his face still tilted up to the ceiling. “I brought it and a solar charger. I didn’t want you to lose your reading streak. Downloaded a couple of extra books too.” I gasp. I actually, audibly gasp. I would have never admitted such a thing out loud, but I was devastated that upon our return my eBook reading streak would’ve been back to zero. “You’re at what…a thousand days of reading all in a row?”

“One thousand, nine hundred and eighty-nine, but who’s counting…” I say, my voice verging on tears. “Caleb, that’s very, very thoughtful of you. Thank you.”

“Want me to grab it? It’s just in the outer pocket of—”

“No, I’ve got it,” I say, unzipping my sleeping bag before crab-walking over to his bag.

“ Now her legs work,” Caleb mutters under his breath.

“I’m going to let that comment slide because this,” I say, pulling out the e-reader from his pack and holding it to my chest, “is a very sweet gesture.”

“Enjoy your smut,” he says, yawning once more. “Turn out the lantern when you’re…” he doesn’t finish his sentence, his voice drifting off as he falls asleep. I’ve always envied Caleb’s ability to pass out the instant his head hits a pillow as if there’s no ruminating thoughts keeping him awake. Seemingly he has no regrets or embarrassing memories his psyche would like him to replay time and time again. No distractions are necessary for him to just blissfully stroll into the land of Nod.

But tonight, when his ferocious snoring begins, instead of lying bitterly awake and contemplating suffocating him, I feel happy that he’s getting some much-needed rest. While I lie cozily tucked into my brand-new sleeping bag with crickets and the sounds of nature that I would normally have to play from an app surrounding me, and Caleb’s sweet gesture in hand—in the form of a spicy second chance, best-friend’s-brother vacation romance—I feel the most content I have in a while.

And, when sleep comes, giving relief to my tired body, I feel as if I’ve earned it.