Chapter 11
11
Another reason Elsie would rather follow someone else’s lead than make the decisions herself: at least then she’d have someone else to blame for how much she’s sweating right now.
Who ever thought hiking was a good idea?
Elsie knows—she knows it was her! She chose this. Ginny said they could do anything Elsie wanted, and for some reason Elsie wanted to huff and puff and sweat through her clothes. She thought it’d be good to move their legs after their long travel day yesterday, thought they’d come away with an appreciation of the island’s natural beauty. Sure, it’s lovely or whatever, but the real thing she’s appreciating right now is winter in Minneapolis, when all the bugs are in hell where they belong.
“Fuck!” She coughs. That’s the third bug she’s swallowed so far.
“You good?” Ginny says.
Ginny has been walking behind her, carrying more weight on shorter legs and not issuing a single complaint. Probably because Elsie has been inhaling all the bugs before they get to Ginny.
“I’m sorry I made us do this.” The whine in her voice just makes her pout more.
“Nothing to be sorry about.”
“Don’t act like you’re not breathing just as hard as me.”
“Didn’t say I wasn’t,” Ginny says. “Still doesn’t mean you have to be sorry.”
Elsie huffs. Sometimes Ginny is so easygoing it’s annoying. She doesn’t want Ginny to be nice; she wants camaraderie in her grumpiness.
Like always, Ginny seems to read her mind.
“Okay, yes, it sucks,” they admit. “I haven’t sweated this much outside of woodworking in, like—maybe ever? But you still don’t have to be sorry. And I know we’re doing whatever you want, so we can turn back if you want, but at this point I wanna see that waterfall, and it better be serene as shit.”
A laugh bubbles out of Elsie. “Shit being known to be so serene.”
She looks over her shoulder to watch Ginny roll their eyes at her. Exasperating her best friend is one of her favorite activities. Maybe she should’ve put it on the list.
The last mile is a lot easier knowing she’s not alone in her discomfort.
She can hear the waterfall before she sees it. Well before she sees it. She keeps thinking it must be only a few steps away, surely they’ve made it by now, it’s going to appear any second, if she eats another bug before they get there she’s going to scream. Then, finally, the trees they’ve been plodding past for the last hour open up, and—
Oh.
Oh.
It was worth it, swallowing all the bugs.
Large boulders give way to a still turquoise pool. The waterfall must be thirty feet tall and about half as wide, a white cascade down rocks covered with plants so green they look like they’ve had the saturation turned up. To one side of the pool there’s a flat boulder that looks perfect for sunbathing and—that’s a penis.
That’s two penises.
Elsie can’t contain a snort of laughter, which sends the couple who had been taking advantage of the perfect sunbathing rock scrambling. They fumble their way to sitting up, hands over their crotches.
“Um,” one of them says.
“Hi,” the other one says. “Sorry. We, uh, had the place to ourselves for a bit.”
Elsie bites her lip to keep from laughing any more.
Ginny, somehow, is unfazed. “Totally understandable, dude,” they say. “Tell you what, you don’t watch while we change into our bathing suits, and we won’t watch while you change into yours.”
“Deal.”
Ginny turns their back to the pool, takes off the daypack they refused to let Elsie carry even for a moment.
Elsie giggles as Ginny hands over her suit. “Nothing like naked strangers in the morning.”
“Can you blame them?” Ginny says, moving to a little alcove on the side that provides at least a semblance of privacy. “This place is unreal.”
“Serene as shit?” Elsie asks.
“You’re goddamn right.”
Putting a bathing suit on when you’re sweaty is disgusting. Luckily Elsie brought the same one she wore yesterday—it’s mostly string ties rather than anything she has to shove her damp skin into. Ginny, on the other hand, brought their two-piece with the compression top. They’re still trying to get into it when Elsie’s done.
“I got you,” Elsie says.
“No, I’m gross. I—”
Elsie has already helped before Ginny can finish the complaint. The top had been bunched around Ginny’s ribs; Elsie got her fingers under the edge from behind and straightened it out. The skin of Ginny’s back is slick with sweat. Elsie wants to lick it, or at least lick her fingers, but she’s aware that’s stalker behavior, not best-friend behavior.
This is how it goes, most of the time. She can be fine, normal, buddies with her favorite person since before she hit double digits—and then, in a split second, she sees Ginny differently. Suddenly she’s wanton. She feels bad, usually—kinda skeevy—but it’s not like it’s her fault Ginny looks delicious in this bathing suit.
The high-necked black top flattens their chest, and the royal-purple bottoms come up just over their belly button, leaving a tantalizing strip of pale pillowy skin between. Ginny never seems to notice how amazing they look, how, every summer, Elsie has to keep her panting appreciation in check. Or maybe they do notice and just have never said anything so as not to humiliate Elsie.
“Thanks,” Ginny says quietly. Then louder, over their shoulder, “You decent?”
Bathing-suit-clad Ginny momentarily distracted Elsie from the other couple, from the entire waterfall and swimming hole itself.
“We’re good!”
When Elsie turns around, the couple is clambering off the rock, both in shorts and tank tops now. Not a penis in sight.
“We should get going, anyway. Sorry about that!”
“No worries,” Ginny says. “Have a good one.”
It’s so Minnesota nice, Elsie’s surprised they don’t tack an eh on the end.
The couple disappears down the trail, and Elsie and Ginny have the place to themselves. Ginny was right: it’s unreal.
“I have to get pictures,” Elsie says.
She digs through the daypack to find her cell phone. The oasis is not big enough for a panoramic shot, but she takes three photos at different angles to capture the whole thing.
“Can I take one of you?”
Ginny normally refuses. They’ve never particularly liked being the center of attention. Elsie, the fourth of five kids, can’t relate.
This time, though, instead of an immediate no, Ginny sighs. “Do you want to?”
Elsie beams. “Yeah.”
“Fine.”
She makes Ginny pose— Hands on your hips then Arms up over your head like you’re celebrating and eventually Blow me a kiss! She didn’t think they’d do the last one, but Ginny manages it with only the slightest roll of their eyes. Elsie giggles. She could definitely get used to this.
“Okay, selfie.”
She smushes herself against Ginny’s side at first, then slips behind them instead, almost tall enough to rest her chin on the top of their head. The waterfall doesn’t even end up in the picture, it’s just Elsie planting a kiss on one of Ginny’s cheeks, which is the cutest pink from their hike.
“You’re ridiculous,” Ginny says.
“You love me,” Elsie says.
“Whatever.”
Elsie grins as she puts the phone away and sets the daypack out of the way so they can swim. Turning back to Ginny, she says, “Tell me.”
“What?”
“I want you to tell me you love me.”
“I’m regretting telling you that you could have whatever you want.”
“Ginnifer.” It’s not even their full name—Ginny is just Ginny—but every once in a while, Elsie pulls out Ginnifer or Virginia , just so her best friend knows she’s fake serious.
“I love you, stupid,” Ginny says.
“I know,” Elsie says, and marches into the pool.
There are plenty of waterfalls in Minnesota— Land of 10,000 Lakes and also a bunch of waterfalls; there are six in the Twin Cities alone—but none of them look like this, even in the height of summer. The tropics are just different. Which makes sense, obviously—it’s not like the climates are anything alike. But this place still blows Elsie’s mind.
The water is the perfect level of cool. Enough of a chill to be refreshing after the hike without making Elsie gasp. Her hair sticks to her damp shoulders when she takes her ponytail down. She ignores how gross that is, and dives under.
Heaven might have to be a swimming hole at the bottom of a waterfall. It’s perfect. She surfaces from the dive to float on her back. A few fluffy clouds dot the bright blue sky above her. With her ears under the surface, the waterfall sounds like constant, rolling thunder. She feels weightless. This is exactly what she needed.
Suddenly she’s flailing, yanked underwater by her ankle. She comes up sputtering, blinking water out of her eyes while Ginny laughs nearby. Elsie has to bite down on a smile at the sound.
“You’re dead, Holtz.”
She hurls herself at Ginny.
Elsie maybe should’ve thought this through. Ginny spends every evening, every weekend, moving lumber. Lifting and sawing and holding in place. Elsie’s skinny enough you could see her abs, except she doesn’t have any; meanwhile, Ginny’s fat covers layers of muscle underneath. When Elsie tries to dunk them, fingers laced on top of their head and whole body trying to pull them down, Ginny laughs and leans forward until Elsie’s the one going under.
The only way Elsie has a chance is to get them into the deeper water, where Ginny’s legs aren’t long enough to touch. Getting there, though, is practically impossible, given how damn sturdy Ginny is. Plus, they won’t stop laughing at her, and their laughter makes Elsie giggle and lose focus as she tries to climb Ginny like a tree, or a jungle gym, or maybe just a big soft comfy couch—she’s doing anything she can to get the upper hand, and it does not seem to be working one bit.
Eventually they stop, both breathing hard, Ginny clutching tight to Elsie’s shoulders. She succeeded, she realizes—Ginny can’t touch the bottom. Her hands find their hips to help keep them afloat.
Elsie grew up with no personal space. Her parents had five kids in the span of eight years, raised them in a three-bedroom house. They’d had to pile together, in the car or on the couch, too many limbs and not enough space.
Elsie complained about it, but it must have affected the wiring in her brain, because when she goes too long without physical touch, her skin feels itchy. So, she and Ginny touch. They touch a lot. She doesn’t know what it is that flips something in her sometimes, that makes friendly touch suddenly heavy, meaningful. They were just all over each other, and it was fine. But the handfuls of Ginny’s hips switch something on in Elsie. It’s not friendly anymore.
Ginny’s lips are pink and full and parted, slightly. They look so soft. They’re wet—all of Ginny is wet, hair a mess, water droplets sneaking down their neck—and it makes them look glossed, shiny, begging to be kissed.
Except Ginny’s not begging at all. They’re just looking at Elsie, eyes dark. Fuck, how long was she looking at Ginny’s mouth? Elsie wishes she could read their thoughts.
This trip is supposed to be about what she wants.
She wants to kiss Ginny.
“Oh my god —Mom! Dad! It’s so cool!”
Elsie lets go of Ginny’s hips, and they go underwater up to their eyes.
“Fuck, sorry.” She grabs at them again.
“I’m good,” Ginny says.
They tread water, kicking themselves out of Elsie’s reach.
The child who broke their reverie is still shouting. “Look at this place!”
Elsie looks at the kid so she doesn’t have to analyze Ginny’s face. They’re small, and adorable, wearing a sun hat with their socks pulled up to their knees. Their parents appear, both obnoxiously not even breathing hard.
“So what’s next?” Ginny asks.
Elsie cuts her eyes to Ginny, whose face is unreadable. She swallows hard. “What do you mean?”
“You wanted to go on a hike, we’ve been on the hike. What’s next?”
Right. What’s next on the trip, not in this moment of almost kissing.
Because this trip is about what Elsie wants, but real life isn’t.
It doesn’t matter that when the hotel worker assumed Ginny was her partner, Elsie liked the idea. It doesn’t matter that she wanted to say yes when Ginny asked her to the dance sophomore year. It doesn’t matter that sometimes, watching Ginny work in their garage-turned-woodshop, when Ginny is wearing a Twins hat backward and sweating through their tank top if it’s summertime, pushing up the sleeves of their hoodie if it’s winter, Elsie wants to kiss them.
Elsie’s occasional indecent feelings for Ginny get filed away next to her ideas for the store. Interesting. Fun to think about sometimes, when she’s alone. Never gonna happen.
She lifts her feet and lets herself float once more. “Jesus, Gin, can’t we enjoy this before we’re on to the next thing?”
It’s good, she decides. It’s good they were interrupted. Elsie can’t ruin what she and Ginny have always had just because they’re in a romantic place, far from reality, and she wants to kiss them. It’s good.
She’s gonna float until she stops seeing Ginny’s lips every time she closes her eyes, and they’re gonna be fine.