Chapter 5
Pen
Present Time
Bear leads his big sporty SUV down a gravel road. We cut through the forest. It's dark here except for the car lights, and the warm glow of the campground ahead of us.
Our constant chatter quiets as we approach our destination. It's like the beauty of the place took our breath away, and we're too busy admiring what's in front of us.
Bear parks his car in a small terrace made of flagstone and packed sand.
"Wow," I sigh.
Bear turns off the engine and silence envelops us instantly.
Whoever the groundkeepers are, they know what they're doing.
The place looks idyllic. Among the trees on a wooden platform, the futuristic structure of the geodesic cabin stands out, with its large glass side overlooking the lake.
From the top of what looks like a glass door in the middle of it, several rows of string lights connect the structure to surrounding trees— they cast a warm shadow onto the platform, the stairs coming down to it onto a terrace, and the few Adirondack chairs surrounding a firepit.
Beyond it, the dark lake. If it wasn't for the moon shining above the scene, sparkling on what seems like deep, moving shadows, it would be easy to believe you found a spot where Earth forgot to exist.
Without conscious decision, I put my hand on Bear's arm. It's an instinctual move— there's always comfort and connection whenever one of us seeks little moments of touch like that. And his arm is close to me, tempting me, when his hand rests on the gearshift like this.
He gazes at me.
I grin. "This is amazing. Thank you."
It doesn't escape me that he must have gone to great lengths to find a place like this.
I can see it in my mind's eye. Bear looking online for great camping places, asking his network for advice, and making a couple of lists to make sure he didn't forget anything.
He's always been thoughtful like that. A dedicated friend. Sweet to no end.
He cocks his head. "What do you want more than anything else in the world?"
"What kind of question is that? You know the answer."
"I know you would love to see your dad doing well. I know you want to make your dad happy, and that you will in any capacity you can. I also know you will struggle with not giving him everything he wants. So play along for a sec. What do you want for yourself?"
I arch an eyebrow. He mirrors me. In his case, it's a challenge. He really wants my answer.
I give in. "What I really want is to feel alive.
That's the whole point of being here on this planet, isn't it?
So that's what I want more than anything.
To have a great life despite the horrors, despite the terrible romantic experiences I had, despite all the existential things that come with being a human in the world. "
His smirk stretches into a small smile. "Let's make that happen.
I know you're stressed about your dad. That's so much to carry, especially when you're already burnt out from work.
If we find a way to make you feel alive, you'll have something to look forward to.
And when your dad worries about your happiness, he can remember you're living your best life. "
I soften inside. It's the effect of his words, and the warmth radiating from the center of my chest, now that his words nestle there.
Ugh, I'm so lucky we're friends. Leon has always been amazing like that. From the moment I stood with my parents at his doorstep and he gazed at me with curiosity and a hint of suspicion, I knew I'd want him in my life. Nearly twenty years later, I haven't regretted it once.
"What are you thinking?" I ask.
"Let's start with a bucket list." A small wrinkle appears between his thick, dark eyebrows. "Not just a few things you'd like to do before you die. An actual list of things we'll do in the next year."
I search his eyes, trying to connect the dots.
"You mean it," I say.
"I am very serious. You've always been… cool."
"Cool?" I laugh.
"Doing what you enjoyed regardless of what everyone else thought. But, ever since you swore off romance five years ago, it's like you did it more. From those flying lessons you took one summer to the tattoos you practiced on me—"
"Not the prettiest ones you have, but my work inked on your skin—" I make a gesture like my mind is blown.
There's an infinity symbol, and an eye that looks like a simple caricature, and a small musical note that I got to put on his skin. Even the constellations on his left hand. Those are all mine.
He continues as if I hadn't interrupted. "To that one Christmas when you gifted everyone a sweater you made yourself. I know you've probably done most things you wanted to do, but I also know there must be things you haven't gotten to yet."
"Yeah. Of course, but… "
"Let's take the next year to do a few things that will make you happy. On purpose. For you, but also to tell your dad we're going on adventures. Your parents would love it. It doesn't have to be a big list. It will help."
I chew the inside of my lip. Temptation coats my mouth, but I'm not ready to jump.
"Are you doing a bucket list with me?" I ask.
"My list would be one item long, so no. I'll just help you with yours. That will make me happy, too."
I sigh. "I guess all you're missing is romance."
I stare out to the lights, the empty fire pit, and the black expanse of the lake behind it.
What Bear is placing at my feet is a taste of freedom.
I know him well enough to expect he has a plan and is slowly pulling me into it.
Anticipation and excitement entwine in my stomach, giving me a dizzying feeling like I'm about to drop on a rollercoaster.
"Pen," he whispers. "What do you want the most?"
I lick my bottom lip. I'm fully burnt out at work, trapped between wanting to help the community and being unable to truly make things better for anyone.
I'm sad for my dad. The fragility of life appears front and center.
On my rough days, I wonder how long I can count on Bear to always be there the way he has been.
Will my life feel the same when he meets the one person who can fulfill his grand, mystery checklist, and he finally falls head-over-heels in love?
When he's having his best, married, dad life one day?
Yeah, a bucket list of things that will make my life better sounds about right.
It will give me something to focus on. Little achievable goals that will help me have fun and remember the purpose of being alive.
A way to balance things out, while I figure out how to help my parents through all of this as much as possible.
I nod. "I want to be swarmed by puppies. I want a piggy back ride. I want to be at a pipe organ concert where I feel like the building is singing to me. I want to do stuff that feels dangerous— like bungee jumping."
"Done. But bungee jumping? A piggy back ride?"
"Don't judge me!" I laugh.
He shakes his head like he doesn't fully understand me but is trying to accept my quirks.
"All right. Stay here." He goes around the car and opens my door. "Let's start right now. Stand on the side of the car and hang on."
He gives me his back. The car is a big half-tank, large enough to accommodate his height and size. His round butt is right in front of me and I have to fight the intrusive thought of giving it a slap. Maybe even a playful squeeze.
I shake my head. "Are you serious?"
"I'm not standing here with my back to you for no reason, Pen."
"You're giving me a piggy back ride."
Doubt is hidden in my tone, coated in disbelief. Bear is huge and solid and soft in so many wonderful ways. I wouldn't be surprised if he could do it, but I've never let myself think about it.
"All the way to the firepit." He turns half way, just enough to speak more easily with me and give me his version of a stern look. "Then we're going to bring our stuff in, then make a fire. We're going to have a nice evening."
I smirk to hide a smile. "Anything else, Papa Bear?"
"And you're going to enjoy every second of it." His voice is full of authority.
I ignore the thrill that runs down my spine.
"Yes, sir." I salute him like he's given me my marching orders. "Now scoot. I need a bit more room here."
It takes some maneuvering, but I find a position on the running board that brings me closer to his height. Man, Bear has always been a big guy but, right now, his back seems like a wall. I place my hands on his shoulders for leverage, but my palms and fingers barely cover the square footage.
"So…" I lick my bottom lip. "Do I just… jump?"
"Come on. Don't stall."
"I'm not stalling!"
I'm fighting the certainty that our friends would get a kick out of the situation, and make more than a couple of jokes about how I'm about to climb him like a tree.
"Then get on me," he orders.
I ignore that too.
"Fine!" I put one foot on the seat behind me and leverage myself up.
I surround his thick neck with my arms. His beard tickles my skin. The smell of his hair— clean and fresh and delicious— attacks my senses.
He takes my weight like it's nothing. It's an impressive feat, considering I'm no small woman. All he does is grab my thighs.
His fingers splay and keep me in place. "Hold on."
I squeal. He chuckles and strolls toward the firepit.
"Bear!" I giggle. "Am I strangling you?"
He doesn't seem to be in any rush.
"I've been strangled worse," he says like this is a walk in the park.
"And never for fun reasons?" I laugh.
"I never said that."
"Hey!" I hang on harder with one arm and, fuck it, he's getting the slap.
My hand connects with the fleshy bits of his hip.
"Is that all you got?" he asks.
I make a high-pitched sound, as if I'm offended by the challenge, and slap him again.
"Slap me some more and I won't drop you gently," he says.
Another slap. "Lies. I know you too well."
"Want to test it?"
"Every time!" I laugh. "I'll test you every time!"
"Yes, yes. You like testing me."
"Bear!"