6. Noah
noah
. . .
C amping deep in the woods of Mt. Hood, was my dad’s idea. He set this trip up months ago, and the timing of it couldn’t be more perfect. With Peyton in Los Angeles, I’m a nervous wreck. If this trip hadn’t been planned, I would be there with her right now.
After stepping into the clearing, I pause and take a deep breath. The crisp mountain air of Oregon is one of my favorite things about living here. Within an hour I can be at the beach. Head the other direction and I’m in the mountains.
The first time I brought my dad out here, we sat for hours on a boulder, watching the water rush over the rocks like a battering ram. The sheer force that the run-off creates, coming off the mountain, is a remarkable sight. Each time he visits, in the offseason, I take him somewhere new. It’s my way of filling the void I feel when it comes to him.
Our campsite is isolated from the road, but not other campers. On each side of us, tents are set up, with fires burning in the cylinder pits, and the smell of campfire wafts through the air. The only drawback to camping is that my clothes will smell, and after a while, it can be bothersome.
Harrison pulls out a collapsible broom, extending the handle until it’s full height. “What are you doing?” Quinn asks before I can get the words to come out. Harrison looks confused by his son’s question.
“Sweeping the ground.”
Sweeping the ground? Does he not realize that we’re under pine and evergreen trees and that anything he clears away now will only resurface later? We’re in the middle of the forest. Surely, he understands this.
Quinn runs his hand over his beanie and looks at me. I shrug. I can’t help him where his father’s cleanliness habits are concerned. I can see the wheels turning in Quinn’s mind. He looks back at his dad and asks, “Um, why?”
I want to laugh, but I don’t. Truth is, I’m tempted to know the answer as well.
“So the ground is clean.”
“Aren’t the pine needles supposed to give us a barrier, maybe some kind of comfort?”
Quinn has a point, but I stay silent as Harrison stops and looks at all of us. After a long beat, Harrison throws his hands up in the air, the broom goes flying, and loudly proclaims, “I don’t know. I’m only doing what Katelyn suggested.”
We laugh. All three of us. Harrison looks a bit put off. He waves us off and retrieves his broom and puts it back in his bag.
Did you ever hear the joke about the three musicians and the quarterback who went camping deep into the woods without any cell reception? No? Me neither, but I’m hoping these few days don’t turn out to be a nightmare.
“Let’s get our tent set up.” I tap Quinn on the arm who’s still watching his dad’s every move. There’s definitely a bit of tension between them. It’s not something I’ve ever sensed before, which is probably why it’s noticeable. Quinn’s the quiet type though, otherwise, I’d totally ask him what’s going on. I just know that if I wait, he’ll tell me when he’s ready.
Together, we work to get our tent laid out, making sure that when we wake up, we’re looking at the river and not our fathers. The dads follow suit, and once we’re done, we string a couple of tarps up to help keep us dry in the event of rain.
Watching Quinn, I realize that I’m definitely going to ask him to be my best man. When I first met him, I hated him, for no other reason than he got to spend his life with my dad. My dad was there when he came to live with Harrison as a baby, there for all of Quinn’s birthdays, holidays, and everything else in between. They have childhood memories together, and I was jealous. Still am to this day, even though I’ve long gotten over the hatred I’ve felt. There are times when I want to ask Quinn what my dad was like back then, but deep down I don’t want to know. I don’t want to hear about women, drugs, drinking, or any of those things because I only truly know my dad when he’s been with my mom. The image I have of my father is one that I don’t want to change, and I fear if Quinn and I delve into the past, it could alter my view of my dad. So, I stay quiet and leave my thoughts in my head because, in the end, Quinn has been nothing but a brother to me, even when I didn’t deserve his friendship.
I know we left our fishing poles in the car and motion for Quinn to follow me. I’m not looking forward to hiking two miles back to the car, but it’ll give us some privacy. Not only am I asking him to stand next to me, but I’m asking him to do it while I’m marrying his sister. When you think about it, we’re that cliché of the best friend falling for the sister, and I’ve never once considered his feelings on the matter. Not that I can change what’s happening now. I’m going to marry Peyton, no matter what.
“What’d you forget?” he asks, halfway up the path.
“Just going to grab the fishing poles,” I tell him. I can’t recall a time he and I have ever fished together, not that we would’ve. Camping isn’t exactly a thing in our families. Give us the beach, surfboards and we’re happy, especially if we’re all together.
The whole way to the car and back to the campsite, I chicken out asking Quinn the all-important question. I swear, asking Peyton to marry me, was much easier. Still, by the time we get back, I haven’t been able to find the words and I’m kicking myself.
Our dads have started a fire, cracked open a few beers and look completely relaxed, which is the whole point of this trip.
“You kids hungry?” my dad asks as soon as Quinn and I put our gear down.
“We’re not kids anymore, Dad,” I point out. I search through the cooler and toss a pre-made sandwich to Quinn. I made my dad stop at this corner deli that I love so much and stock up on their fresh bread, pickles, lunchmeat, and cheese. I also ordered us a few sandwiches to get us started with. I hand Quinn a soda. I probably should’ve asked if he wanted a beer, but I selfishly didn’t because I can’t have one. I only have a few weeks before training starts and I want to be in the best shape possible when I take the field.
“So, what’s the plan for these four days?” Quinn asks.
“Absolutely nothing,” Harrison says. “We’re here to rest, relax, recoup, and reenergize.” Harrison stares hard at Quinn, which to me only drives home the fact that I think there’s something amiss between the two of them, and really making me wish Peyton was here so I could ask her.
I sit down next to Quinn and start to inhale my sandwich. I’ve gotten into the habit of eating fast when I’m around other guys. I don’t know if it’s because I’m always in a rush to go watch game film or head back to the practice field or if I’m worried that one of my linemen is going to steal my food.
The sharp jab that Quinn gives my ribs pulls me away from the sub I’m trying to devour in no time flat. “Dude, this isn’t jail. You don’t have five minutes to eat.”
I swallow what’s in my mouth and laugh. “How would you know what jail is like?”
“Fine, this isn’t your locker room where some three-hundred-pound linebacker is waiting for you to turn your head.”
I reach over and give him a fist bump. “That’s more like it.”
“Are you ready for the season?” Harrison asks. I glance over my shoulder and nod.
“I am. I think this will be our year.”
“It’s definitely your year,” my dad adds. “Your mom is itching to start planning a wedding.”
“You know it’s not up to me, Dad. We wanted Peyton to finish school first and now that she has, I’m sure she’ll start planning our wedding. Besides, it’s something she’ll do with her mom, not mine.” I don’t know if Peyton has told her parents that she picked out flowers, so I stay quiet there. She told me what they were, but didn’t show me pictures. I have no doubt they’re gorgeous but will pale in comparison to her on our wedding day.
Quinn starts to choke, which quickly turns to laughter, so does Harrison and my dad. I frown at them all. “You do know that both moms are going to be heavily involved, right?” he states.
I shake my head. The last thing I want to do is add pressure to Peyton. If she wants my mom involved, she’ll ask her. Otherwise, Josie Westbury is just going to have to stand on the sidelines. “My mom’s just gonna have to wait for Paige to get married.”
“She’s never getting married,” my dad blurts out.
“Unless it’s to Mack,” Harrison says. My eyes go wide. He has no idea of the conversation that took place at the water tower with Nick and Mack. Everything moves in slow motion, even the rushing rapids have seemed to calm down right now.
“Oh shit,” I say as Harrison is chuckling. My dad’s head turns slowly, he inhales deeply as his hand, which is holding a can of beer, cocks back. He lets go. The can torpedoes toward Harrison. The thunk from the can hitting Harrison square in the chest can likely be heard by the neighboring campsites. Harrison covers his chest and groans.
“You forget your daughter is marrying my son,” my dad seethes. It really should be Harrison reminding my dad of this, since it’s my father who has just assaulted my soon-to-be-father-in-law. But that’s not how our families work.
“If it were anyone but Noah, I’d have a problem with it,” Harrison says raggedly. I have a feeling my dad’s canon of a throw has left a mark on Harrison’s chest.
“Do I get to call you dad?” I ask, trying to lighten the mood. I don’t think Harrison realizes the severity of his comment about Mack. My dad is already wanting to send Betty Paige to boarding school because of this boy.
Harrison glares at me. “Mr. James will work.”
Mr. James? Is he serious?
Quinn spits out the contents of his mouth out and starts choking.
“You okay, son?” Harrison asks.
“Good, good,” Quinn answers. “I just didn’t expect you to answer like that.”
I look straight at Harrison, trying to determine if he’s bullshitting me or not. “Are you serious?”
He doubles over, laughing uncontrollably. My dad and Quinn start in as well, as if this is some sort of joke to them. “I’m just kidding,” Harrison says. “Don’t you think it’d be a bit odd if I made you call me Mr. James?”
“Yes,” I tell him.
“And the dad part,” Harrison shrugs. “If it’s fitting, I don’t care really.”
The rest of our evening is spent talking about nothing in particular. In fact, most of the time we’re quiet and listening to the people next to us, waiting for any sign that they’ve figured out who is actually on this campsite.
By the time we head into our tent, I’m certain I’m going to ask Quinn tomorrow. Maybe take him out fishing or for another hike. Either way, I want to ask him in private, away from our dads, so he’s not pressured to give me an answer he’s not comfortable with.