2. Chapter 2 - Mimi
Mimi
"Oh god, oh god, ew, ew! Go, you monster!" I scream as the spider gets too close to my folding chair. I stomp my feet, hoping the vibrations will convince it to leave me the fuck alone, but it takes one tentative step forward and then starts toward me again at full charge.
I jump up, moving my chair to the other side of the tent.
" I am bigger than you, asshole!"
Should I have brought spider spray? That wasn't on the suggested list, and probably goes against the whole take only memories, leave only footprints camping motto.
Damn it. I'm not going to be able to sleep imagining the tiny fangs and eighty million eyes staring at me. I shudder when I picture its soft little legs crawling all over me.
My phone buzzes with an incoming text, and I sigh in relief. Civilization! Cell reception is spotty here, which was part of my plan, but now I'm wishing I'd chosen a spot closer to town. I've been here three hours, but it's felt like days already.
Pierce
Please send me a picture of you camping. I have to see this.
I glare at my phone. He is enjoying this way too much.
No. rolling eyes emoji
Pretty please? Dante doesn't believe me.
I snort out a laugh. My best friend Pierce and I are costume designers.
We met on a gig with one of the popular musicals in the city two years ago.
As freelancers, we work on projects for a few days or weeks at a time, depending on whether it's theatre or television.
We kept getting hired for the same productions and clicked.
Pierce just landed a full-time designer position on a new television series for a major network, and he's trying to bring me on with him.
It would be nice to have steady work for a bit.
laughing emoji
I strike a pose, finding the best angle to minimize my chin and maximize my curves. Satisfied, I snap a selfie, making sure to get my little pink pop-up tent in the background. I send it to my friend so he can provide proof of my insanity to his boyfriend. I don't blame Dante. What am I doing here?
OMG. Gorgeous. A pink tent? Adorable.
BTW—you're wasting a great hair day on the woods.
I know. It's falling perfectly today, and nobody is going to see it but you.
Important question, Mimmsie.
I roll my eyes at Pierce's ridiculous nickname for me. Mama would be appalled. He never called me that around her.
Are you going for the movie or the book experience?
Hmm. Good question. A popular book came out years ago about a woman dealing with trauma, so she trekked out into nature.
It was made into a film a few years later.
But I'm not even using the original source material because I got the idea from a TV character who wanted to recreate the experience for herself.
I know it's bad, but part of me was hoping to have the Lorelai Gilmore experience, which didn't actually result in any camping whatsoever.
And yet, somehow, I made it out of the car, into the woods, and got my tent set up without anybody talking sense into me or stopping me for a permit. Which, I do have. Somewhere.
Neither. I'm hoping to make it one night. I'll be back tomorrow.
Don't rush. Spend some time in Festival Valley. That place is crawling with rich mountain men. Celebrities have homes there.
I snort. Pierce is the person to go to for celebrity gossip, so I trust his intel.
A grumpy diner owner in plaid is more my style. baseball cap emoji
Honey, whoever you choose, I'm in full support. As long as he can make you water emoji over and over and over. And, over. pie emoji
I roll my eyes, cringing from his imagery.
When he found out I've never had a date, let alone a boyfriend, he choked on his mojito and has been on Mission Cherry Pie for ages now.
His label, not mine. Although, it's part of the reason why I'm here.
Not to lose my virginity, but to make a plan and build some confidence to get myself out on the dating scene.
However, I don't need a reminder of my inexperience, especially at my age.
I'm a thirty-year-old virgin for god's sake, and while it's not forty, it could be if I don't get my act together.
It's not for lack of wanting. I am quite talented at taking care of business myself; thank you very much.
I wasn't saving myself on purpose or anything.
Mom got sick my last year of high school, and I've spent the past eleven years either at work or taking care of her. She passed away six months ago. In some ways, it feels like my life is only now starting. My eyes tear up. I wouldn't trade that time with my mom for anything, though.
It's getting cloudy. My reception is a little spotty. I'll text you when I get back to my car in the morning.
Remember, don't feed the bears. Unless it's warning you about starting forest fires. Then, feed him your pie, 'cause Smokey is hot.
laughing emoji Bears. Beets. Battlestar Galactica.
Kisses, my love. And remember, if you do see a bear. Don't run.
Unless it's black. Or brown. I can't remember which one, but you are not supposed to run from one of those.
Well, that's fucking helpful. I start to look up bear facts, but my phone refuses to connect.
Great.
I tuck it into the front of my backpack, pulling the flannel blanket tighter around me as I glance warily at the trees. I'm on edge already, and it's only the middle of the afternoon. Maybe I should go to bed now and skip the whole contemplation of trauma and dealing with my feelings part.
I've been grieving for half a year now. My friend Kiera, who I met through Pierce, gives me free therapy sessions, and I'm so grateful to her.
I know that grief is a process, and it never fully goes away.
Some days, I don't shed a single tear, and I can think about happy memories without it triggering a waterfall, but other days, the idea that she's gone forever punches me in the gut so hard, I'm physically winded.
And then it's a full-on snot-fest of tears and sadness.
Kiera assures me this is part of a healthy grieving process.
She says to lean in when those moments hit and honor her memory.
I keep getting little signs that remind me of my mom, and I like to think she's trying to guide me to happiness.
"Go out. Meet people, Mimi. I'll still be here when you get back," she'd say, and I always ignored her, because I knew that one day she wouldn't be there anymore. The sharp prick of tears stings my eyes. It's all she cared about. My happiness.
Three weeks ago, I turned on the TV and tried to watch a murder documentary, but the remote wasn't working right and the only thing I could navigate to was a series we used to watch together.
Low and behold, the episode I put on was the one where the main character decided to take to the great outdoors and finally mourned her father's death.
It felt like a sign. I had a break between gigs and thought, okay, lead me to happiness, Mama .
So here I am. Lonelier than I've ever felt in my life and wondering if I should instead contemplate why I'm so impulsive.
The trees rustle with a burst of wind. Is it getting colder? I pull out my phone to check the weather app again, but it won't turn on at all now. Shit. I should have turned it off to save the battery. Ugh. I should not be alone in the woods without cell service.
Suddenly, the bushes to my right lean forward as if they're coming at me, and a large, hairy mass barrels down, pitching to the ground with a growl in a pile of leaves and pine needles.
I scream, jumping up from my chair, but my foot gets caught.
I land heavily on my hands and knees. More growling and grunting ensues, the branches bow and dip as the creature tries to free itself.
I flail around, reaching desperately for my heavy metal mug I scattered in my haste.
I whip it behind me, trying to buy time as I get my leg unhooked and jump to my feet.
"Owww! Shit!"
I freeze, turning slowly to stare at the intruder, who I realize now is actually a man. The sexiest man I've ever seen in person to be accurate. And I measure pants on celebrities, so I’ve seen sexy men.
Even as he scrambles to disengage himself from the bush, I can tell he's tall.
Like, really tall, with mouthwatering muscles.
His fitted jeans and flannel shirt hug a chiseled body.
His chin-length blond hair is pulled up in a half ponytail, and the man looks like he lifts weights for a living.
I let out a little gasp when his bright blue eyes find me.
They're the color of the glaciers Mama and I saw on her bucket list cruise to Alaska a few years ago, and I remember thinking it was the most beautiful color nature could make.
And yet, here it is, replicated in the man standing in front of me.
He rears back a little, looking startled to see me, and I suddenly remember to close my mouth. That's when I notice his forehead and gasp.
"Holy shit! You're bleeding!"