6. Elouise Age 30 #2
I might be a touch salty about this whole experience, but I love my kids and it’ll be fun to spend time with them outside the constraints of the classroom.
Joining the crowd, I listen to Mr. Olson as he explains the outline for the next few days. Tonight is a dinner of sub sandwiches, brought by one of the parents, but the rest of the evening is just for us to settle in and get comfortable.
I almost snort at that comment.
Comfortable indeed.
Tomorrow we’ll loosely gather for breakfast, then an outdoors expert is coming to teach us about different survival techniques.
Clearly I’m the only one who didn’t read the itinerary because no one else seems surprised by this.
I’m not sure what an Outdoors Expert is, but that might be interesting.
Then we’ll have dinner around a bonfire…
And - wash, rinse, repeat - the same plan for the next day.
And then, god willing, we leave here alive.
I didn’t prepare properly for most of this, but I did bring a phone backup charger, so I might freeze to death at night, but I’ll still be able to text Maddie to tell her to wipe the browser history on my laptop.
“Hi.”
The deep voice startles me so bad I jump.
Trying to keep my heart inside my rib cage, my hand presses against my chest. Turning my head in the direction of the voice, and I find a man standing way too close.
He takes a small step back and puts his hands up, “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”
I vaguely recognize him. He’s a few inches taller than me. Black hair cut short. Clean shaven face. And blue eyes that are just a little bit… wild.
His smile is friendly, but a prickle of something runs up my arms.
I shake my head at myself. I can’t be acting this jumpy, or I’ll give myself a heart attack before the trip is over. “It’s okay, I was just zoned out there.”
“I noticed.” He holds his hand out, “I’m Adam, Ross’s dad.”
“Oh, right!” I shake his hand, my memory coming back. “Nice to see you again.”
Ross was a student in my class last year. He was a good kid - a little quiet, and very bright.
Adam’s grip tightens around my fingers for a half second before he lets go, “So, how’ve you been?”
“Oh, um… good.” I resist the sudden urge to wipe my palm off and tuck my hands into my coat pockets. The only thing that could make me enjoy tonight less, is small talk. But I still force out, “Yourself?”
I’m sure he’s a fine person, but I don’t really care. What I do care about is crawling headfirst into my sleeping bag and pretending I’m not here.
“Good. Good,” He hooks his thumbs in his belt loops and rocks back on his heels. “I’m doing alright. Got a divorce last summer.”
My mouth opens, then closes.
What the hell am I supposed to say to that?
“Oh, um, sorry to hear that,” I glance around, hoping for a rescue.
“No need, it was for the best,” the smile hasn’t left his face and it’s making me feel all sorts of weird.
“Okay, well…” I plaster on my best smile, “I’ll see you tomorrow!”
My exit is awkward as fuck, but I’m not in the right head space right now to talk to some guy about his divorce.
Not waiting for a reply, I turn and head to the path that leads to the bathrooms. I don’t really need to go, but I did need to get away from whatever-the-hell that was.
I’m stopped by three more people before I make it out of the camp site. Then Imake a quick stop back at my tent to grab my toothbrush and run through my ablutions as quickly as possible.
Thankfully, by the time I find myself zipped into my tent, I’m yawning and ready to pass out. I don’t typically have trouble sleeping, but I was worried that the drastic change in setting would keep me wide awake.
I haven’t seen Rebecca since Mr. Olson called us all together, but she definitely made a pit-stop here because she left a battery-operated lantern on, filling the tent with light.
It’s a little weird not having a way to lock the entrance flap, but the thin tent walls make it easy to hear if anyone is approaching.
Not hearing any footsteps nearby, I quickly strip down and change into my sweatpants, fuzzy socks, and a soft cotton long-sleeved shirt that’ll be serving as my pajamas for the next few nights.
Once I’ve shimmied myself into my sleeping bag, I reach out and turn off the lamp.
Darkness consumes the space around me.
Blinking into the dark, I force my body to relax.
Ten minutes later, I pry an arm free from my too small sleeping bag and reach across the tent for Rebecca’s furry throw blanket.
With as few movements as possible, I get it laid out over me. The extra layer immediately adds a little warmth and I already don’t want to give it back.
I try to roll my shoulders. My sad little blanket mattress does nothing to soften the nearly frozen ground beneath me.
Okay, go to sleep.
I close my eyes and focus on my breathing.
An hour of shivering later, when it’s clear that Rebecca’s spending the night elsewhere, I snag her empty sleeping bag, unzip it and drape it over my prone form, pulling the edge all the way up and over my nose.
I wait for two seconds, then I slip my arm out from under the pile, dig my bottle of vodka out of my bag, and sit up just enough to take the world’s quickest drink.
Grimacing, I screw the top back on, shove it back in the bag, then pull the blankets back up to my face.
Fuck this hard ground.
Fuck this cold.
Fuck everything about this trip.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I will myself to sleep.