Eleven
“You all right?” Caleb asks, his eyes narrowing on me. “You’ve barely touched your… mush, ” he whispers as to avoid interrupting the group’s discussion. We’re sitting around a campfire that Kieran and Henry are desperately trying to keep ablaze even though everything surrounding us is wet—the ground, our packs, our tents, our clothes—but the fire is helping. I don’t even know how they found wood dry enough to burn, but based on the thickness of the smoke wafting around us, it’s still partially damp too. Even our food packet, which I think is supposed to be some sort of rice and chicken combination, tastes wet.
“I’m fine,” I reply with a tight-lipped smile. It’s a lie. I’ve been paranoid since we arrived, second-guessing any comments or glances or conversations from Caleb’s company this morning. I try, and fail, to tell myself that he deserves the chance to talk about whatever is weighing him down. That any issues we have are his to freely discuss. That I shouldn’t care what these people think. “Promise,” I add when Caleb doesn’t look convinced.
Caleb nods slowly, then turns his attention back to Phil who’s waxing poetic about his many years spent teaching and the nefarious habits of teenagers in locker rooms that he’s had to deal with. “But have you ever deliberately sat students next to each other? To set them up?” Kieran asks, stoking the fire.
Phil’s laugh is hearty and boisterous. “I teach gym, so there isn’t a whole lot of sitting involved. And the last thing I’d want to do is sit potential couples next to one another during health class. They may never look each other in the eye after that.”
“I have,” Maggie says cheerfully. “I’ve been invited to two different weddings of students I had a hand in setting up. One couple was from my yearbook class; I kept assigning them the same projects. The other were just two frequent flyers at the library who kept checking out the same books after each other and I suggested they start a book club. It’s been one of the major perks of teaching. I love playing matchmaker.”
Caleb grins at me over his shoulder under a cast of orange light as if to affectionately say, Sounds like you. The flickers of flame play against his skin, reflect in his glasses, and illuminate all his best features. His nose casts a sharp shadow across his cheek, highlighting his cheekbones and the facial hair that he never normally allows to grow. It is so foolish of me to not spend time seeing him under all the layers of familiarity. I can’t even remember the last time I gave him an unrequited compliment.
“You’re beautiful,” I say, for his ears only.
He turns toward me, his head tilted in confusion as if I misspoke. So, I repeat myself. “You’re beautiful, ” I emphasize.
“Thank you…” he says, lips turning downward into a sentimental frown. He studies me for two long beats, his eyes creasing at the sides as he brings a thumb to my chin. I think we’re seconds away from a kiss until he swipes his thumb over something unmistakably sticky and flicks it off his fingertip. “You had a dead mosquito on your chin,” he explains.
And they say romance is dead. Clearly, they haven’t met my husband. My shoulders fall and I give him a sad sort of smirk before drifting my gaze back to the fire. “Sounds about right.”
He laughs weakly. “Sorry…I ruined the moment, didn’t I?”
“A little,” I say, matching his weary grin. “But that’s okay. I’d rather be bug-free.”
“You’re beautiful, baby. Dead bugs and all.”
A coy smile tugs at my lips. “Even when my hair smells like smoke?” I ask flirtatiously, knowing he loves the scent. When we decided to buy a house, Caleb had three requirements:
A garage so he didn’t have to clear the snow off his car every morning before work in the winter.
A shower that was big enough for two.
A wood-burning fireplace.
That last one was hard to find, but after some searching, he got all three. I asked for a bathtub, so Win would want to come stay with us, an office for Caleb, in the hopes that he’d work from home more often, and a room that could fit all my and my mother’s books. I also got all three.
Caleb leans in close and deeply inhales next to my neck, his chin brushing the strands that have broken free of my pigtail next to my ear. “Mm-hmm,” he hums. “ Especially that.”
The tiny hairs on the back of my neck rise at his proximity and the hushed, hungry tone of his voice. “I missed you today,” I whisper into his ear, tempted to plant a kiss on his soot-covered cheek and ask if he’s ready to go to bed and push the rules ever so slightly. But my anxiety breeds curiosity and I let both get the better of me. “What did you talk about with your group earlier?”
Caleb leans back, his thumb and finger pinching the tip of his nose. He drops his hand to his lap and rubs his thumb along the tendon of his opposite hand as if he’s trying to massage out a sore muscle. He glares at the fire in front of him for a while and then clears his throat. He might as well be holding up a giant, flashing neon sign that says: I talked shit about you, so please don’t ask me that.
“Got it,” I say snidely, looking up to the night sky dotted with stars.
Caleb sighs, letting his head fall backward as if he hasn’t got the energy to deal with my bullshit and the weight of his brain as he attempts to think his way out of this.
“Only good things, then,” I say sarcastically, my hurt obvious as I pick at my nail beds.
“Wasn’t that the point?” he asks, his tone indignant. “I’m sure it wasn’t exactly sunshine and rainbows over in your group either.”
No, it wasn’t…. “I actually talked about how wonderful you are,” I argue, crossing my arms. Thank god everyone is enraptured in Helen’s story about the skating pigeon that I’ve already heard and not paying attention to our hushed bickering. “I told Helen all about the day we met and what I love about you and—” I quickly come to the realization that we’re heading into full-blown argument territory and want to retreat. I can’t do this here. Not in front of all these people but also, I’m tired. It’s been a long two days and I know I’m not thinking straight.
So, I pull an emergency ripcord and pout at him exaggeratedly, in a particular way that I haven’t since we were dating. I suppose that was the last time things felt this precarious between us, before we had years of commitment and paperwork binding us together. The spoiled-princess-pout that says: I’m upset but you don’t have to take me seriously.
It makes me feel nauseous, behaving this childishly. A sick-to-my-stomach sort of embarrassment for my past and present self who finds this worthwhile.
The reality is that if Caleb did think of several negative things to say about me when I wasn’t around, it will only magnify my hurt feelings over him not being able to think of one, single positive thing to say about me when I asked him on the night of the fundraiser. He hasn’t tried to amend his nonanswer either. I’ve thought about it almost constantly since. Visualizing his silence as if it is now a third member of our marriage, sitting between us.
Caleb takes the bait, laughing softly at my petulant expression. He bumps his shoulder against mine, mimicking my features in a teasing manner as his frown turns to a grin. I hate that it worked, but I suppose old habits die hard for us both. “I’m sure you shared other things too, baby. And, for the record, I talked about how we met as well,” he says fondly. “I also said many, many positive things.”
“You did?” What I mean is: I’d like to hear them, please.
He nods. A lackluster response, but it sets me at ease enough to try and drop the subject. I don’t want to fight tonight. Not before we can talk about our ideal future and how we can get there together. So, I swallow my pride and decide to apologize. “Sorry,” I say, dropping my gaze from his. “I’m just feeling self-conscious. I don’t want people here to think I’m this…terrible person. But you have every right to share what’s on your mind.”
“You don’t need to worry about that, I promise. You’re the farthest thing from a terrible person.” He tucks a loose hair behind my ear. “And, because I forgot to say it before, I missed you today too.”
“You don’t think anyone here thinks I’m terrible?” Not even you?
“Of course not.”
“Well, I feel pretty terrible after today,” I whisper even quieter, leaning in close, resting my forehead on his chin. “Nina is eight years younger than me and has accomplished so much already. Hell, if we play our cards right, we could be friends with a future EGOT winner. Kieran owns his own store and is looking to open a second location since it’s been so successful. Maggie has been teaching and happily married for over twenty years…. I want—” I sit up to look at him. “I want to be proud of me. I want you to be proud of me.”
He nods thoughtfully, a few breaths passing between us as the rest of the group laughs and the fire continues to roar. “You know what I took away from today?” Caleb asks, smiling softly as his eyes wander around the campfire and the newly familiar faces circling it. “That everyone is a bit of a mess. Here or anywhere.” He shrugs one shoulder. “Anyone who says any differently is faking it or trying to sell something.”
“ You’re not a mess,” I say defiantly.
He pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek and breathes out a laugh. “Well, I guess I’m good at faking it then.”
“You don’t have to,” I offer, my instincts telling me that’s what he needs to hear. “Not with me,” I add.
His eyes hold on mine, filling with emotion I don’t recognize—which frightens me. It’s been a very, very long time since Caleb’s expressions were hard for me to read. I begin wondering what is worse: being overly familiar with each other or fading into strangers who used to know it all. I think it’s definitely the latter.
“Promise?” he asks, turning to straddle the log underneath us. He places his elbows on his knees and focuses on me with undivided attention, our eyes meeting as I nod cautiously.
“Yes,” I say. I desperately want to know whatever is causing that line in the center of his forehead and the tension in his jaw, under his ear, as his molars seem to grind together. Is it anger? Hurt? Worry? All the above? “I can take it,” I promise him, though I’m not sure it’s true.
The moment those words leave my mouth, it’s as if a dam breaks loose over Caleb’s tongue. He’d been waiting for that permission, it would seem.
“I’m scared,” he says, keeping his voice low. His nose twitches and nostrils flare, as if he’s holding back tears. But it appears to be something closer to anger. I wait for him to go on.
“Ever since the fundraiser it’s been like one shitty revelation after the next as to how miserable you are. I guess I’ve been na?ve,” he says, licking his lips as his eyes hold on the fire. “But it doesn’t feel like so long ago that you and I were this unbreakable, undoubtable thing. I put so much stock in that. Maybe it means I was lazy, or it means that I haven’t been paying enough attention to you but— god, Sarah— I miss feeling settled, don’t you?” he asks raggedly, a shaky breath passing through his lips. “I miss not having to overthink everything I say or do around you. You keep saying that you want things to change, that you need change, but that sounds awful to me. I liked our life. No, actually, I loved our life. I miss the comfort. I miss the assuredness. I miss being ignorant to all of these…” He pauses, wiping a hand through his hair and down his neck. “Problems,” he finishes, hanging his head between us.
“Caleb,” I say. What I mean is Look at me. He doesn’t.
“I never thought we’d have to start again.” He speaks toward the hollow space between us. “I never wanted to start again. It’s scary and frustrating and uncomfortable and to be honest…I’m fucking annoyed. I’m annoyed that we’re here. I’m annoyed that our life wasn’t good enough for you. I’m annoyed at myself for not figuring all of this out sooner, before we needed to drag our asses out into the woods.” He straightens, and I immediately notice that his eyes are wet with the hint of tears to come. “I’m second-guessing everything and…I hate it. I thought we were good, baby. I thought we were the lucky ones.”
“We are the lucky ones,” I say defensively. “But we—”
“I know,” he says, interrupting me as he scrapes the toe of his boot against the gravel. “But we’ve changed. ” The last word is shrouded in disappointment.
“No,” I say. “I don’t think we have changed…I think that’s the problem.”
“And is that so bad?” he asks, eyes searching. “What truly needs to change? What is so terrible about our life as it is?”
“Do you really want to be exactly as we are ten years from now? Twenty years? Thirty?”
Caleb’s jaw slackens, his eyebrows rising as he huffs out a forceful breath.
“Oh my god, you do…” I whisper. “You—”
“Fuck me for being happy, I guess,” he says exasperatedly, standing up in a fury. He paces as if he’s intending to walk away but turns back around to say one last thing. “This has always been enough for me, Sarah. You have always been enough. But I guess I know where I stand. I’m not enough for you. Clearly nothing ever will be.”
“I didn’t—” I say, my gaze quickly darting around to the many sets of eyes now watching us. “You’re—”
“I’m going to bed, please give me some time before you come in,” Caleb says before he’s out of sight.
I delay it as long as I can, watching Caleb’s back until he disappears into our tent and holding for a while after that too, but eventually I turn my body toward the group. I keep my head low, my shoulders hunched and tense as I try to hide my face from the other campers.
“Draa-maa,” Libby singsongs, loud enough for me to hear her on the opposite side of the circle.
“Libby!” Helen chastises. “That is not helpful.”
My throat has gone dry, but I try to speak, nevertheless. “I’m…sorry.” Still, I don’t look up, intently watching my hands wringing in my lap.
You wanted him to be mad, didn’t you? I hear that cruel part of my psyche mock once more. Well, look at you now. Got what you wanted. Just like you always do.
“Honey, what do you think we’re here for?” Maggie says, patting my thigh.
“We’ve all had our not-so-private arguments, and we all will again. No sweat,” Phil adds.
The fire cracks and sparks fly as another log breaks in two, but otherwise the awkward silence persists until Kieran speaks. “All right…” He claps his hands together, then rubs them eagerly. “Who wants a roasted marshmallow?”
I lift my head timorously, relieved to find that no one is looking at me, other than Yvonne. She’s studying me, as she so often seems to be, but this time with a softness I’ve not received before. A gentle smile that doesn’t feel particularly earned but does feel comforting.
“You packed marshmallows?” Henry asks, his tone disbelieving as he sets another log onto the fire. “What happened to only bringing the necessities?”
“Those are necessities,” Jai argues, voice slow and relaxed as he eagerly looks toward Kieran. If the faint smell on him and his frequent disappearing acts are anything to go off of, Jai has been sneaking away to smoke joints here and there. I wonder if Nina would sneak one to me if I asked nicely. I could really use it.
“Exactly.” Kieran points to Jai. “I’ll go get them,” he says as he moves to stand.
“Sarah and I will find roasting sticks,” Nina says, standing and signaling with a nod for me to do the same. I smile appreciatively at her as she makes her way over to my side of the campfire. “C’mon,” she says, looping her arm through mine as I stand. “Let’s get some air.”
We’re literally out in the open air, I think to myself. But the sentiment is kind all the same. Still, I don’t think there’s a place in this world where I won’t feel suffocated by embarrassment right now. Or by my wounded pride. Or by the deep, aching fear that I’ve hurt Caleb in an unrepairable way. Or…my increasing worry that it’s only going to get worse the more we open up to each other. Perhaps ignorance was bliss. Perhaps I’ve unraveled us beyond repair.
As Nina and I walk toward the thick grouping of trees that line the perimeter of the campsite, I notice the lantern inside of our tent turn off.
Don’t go to bed angry, my mother had told Win and me after a stupid fight we’d once had over a borrowed and then misplaced blouse. That is, unless you’re going to rip each other’s heads off, my aunt June had added. They often spoke in tandem like that, piggybacking off each other’s tidbits of advice. I wish my mother were here now to bestow some half-baked platitude. Hell, I’d even settle for some of Aunt June’s less sentimental words of wisdom.
“Do you want a hug?” Nina asks, once we’re out of sight. Her body is dimly lit by moonlight, but I find my eyes adjusting to see her as she reaches out her arms.
“Yes, please,” I answer, already moving toward her. She curls her lean, long body around me and squeezes tightly. She is a surprisingly good hugger and doesn’t rush me out of her hold until I’m ready.
“I know I don’t know you very well,” Nina says as we part. “Or like at all, really. But I can tell you and Caleb will be totally fine. You’re good people. You’re good to each other.”
I sigh, not sure of what to say. She’s right, she doesn’t know me well enough, clearly.
“You two remind me a lot of my parents,” she says sweetly. I whine, mimicking taking an arrow to the chest. “Not in age!” She shoves my shoulder lightly as she giggles. “Just that—they’ve been married for almost thirty years, and they look at each other the same way you two do. Like they’ve got the other person memorized. Inside and out.”
“That’s sweet. Thank you,” I say, diverting my eyes from her focused gaze. “We should probably find some sticks and get back.”
Nina scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Oh, no, Jai has that covered. I’ve just snuck you away so I could give you this.” She pulls a joint out of her jacket’s pocket. “But…I was hoping we could share it instead?”
I gasp, taking it from her. “Yes, please!”
“Jai might not be the best at words… or the truth…but he rolls a very good joint.”
“And what more do you really need?” I ask, taking it from her as she holds it out to me. “Seriously, thank you.”
“C’mon, there’s a good spot over here where Jai’s been hiding out,” Nina says, walking farther into the tree line.