26. Nellie
TWENTY-SIX
NELLIE
I don’t know what it is about the smell of Swedish Berries, but I can feel myself relax a bit as soon as the bag is open. It relaxes me to the point where I think I can actually start a conversation with Teddy that is not based on Kevin, bathroom breaks, or destinations.
“Is it safe to ask where exactly you went?” I hate that I’m so curious about where he was instead of coming back to me.
“All over really,” he begins tentatively.
“I really am interested, unless you think it’s going to impact my driving?” I look over at him quickly.
“No, I can’t imagine it will cause an issue.” He smiles back. “I started in New Zealand. My boss here, from my summer job, got me in touch with a guy who he’d met when he was doing forestry work in BC. He’s high up in the New Zealand Ministry of Forestry.”
“Fancy.”
“His job may be, but I spent all of my time mostly doing what I’d done here, except I had to learn real quick how to get up in the trees myself. ”
“Still afraid of heights?” I look over just in time to see a look of surprise, like he’s shocked I remembered.
“Would you believe me if I said no?”
“I might. Repeated exposure is a known way to get over a fear of something. It’s how I got over my issues with blood.”
I see him turn to me out of the corner of my eye. “How much blood were you seeing?”
“Story for another time. Is that where you’ve been this whole time? Seeing New Zealand without me?” Once upon a time, we had talked about nerding out in Hobbiton together.
“No, I was only there for three years.”
“Only three years,” I repeat as if three years is nothing.
“Yeah. Then I went to the Philippines.” I can’t help it as my grip tightens on the steering wheel “Is your sister still there?”
“Mm-hmm,” I grind out. My jaw locking as he continues.
“I wasn’t there long. I spent most of my time in El Nido. No forestry work there, but I did get my PADI certification. Scuba,” he adds quickly.
“I have mine,” I say, my voice clipped with unintentional annoyance. My father had insisted on getting certified on one of our family trips. “We do it together or not at all,” he’d proclaimed, and since Sylvia was desperate, we all did it.
“Of course. Anyway, after three months, I stopped to volunteer with an elephant sanctuary in Thailand, and then I went to the Czech Republic. The forestry community is pretty tight-knit, and I was able to land places through friends of friends. I bounced around Europe for a few years doing forestry stuff and getting involved with some dog rescues before settling for a bit in Newfoundland.” I tense again. He had been back in the country for years. “I was living in the middle of nowhere, basically a glorified ranger station. But it’s where I finally realized I needed to go home.”
“What about the rest of your family?”
“I kept them in the loop occasionally in the beginning. Basically every time I landed in a new place. The embassies always knew where I was, but… well, I had my reasons, even if now they seem petty.” Reasons I’ll hopefully know soon, and reasons that hopefully won’t make me drive away and leave him in the middle of nowhere. Although out of the two of us in this car, I’m not the one most likely to do that. “Things are better now. We see each other occasionally and obviously text. I regret not being there for my dad now, but back then…” he trails off.
“Hindsight,” I say mostly to myself.
“Hindsight has been a tough lesson,” he replies, and I can see those pale eyes slide my way.
We slip back into silence, and I decide that it’s time for some music. It’s just a mix, but I put some Shinedown on the playlist, and I can’t help wondering if they’re still his favorite band. Six songs in, “I’ll Follow You” comes on and I feel those eyes on me again. When I glance over his attention is on Kevin, who remains dedicated to watching the formations of the Canadian Shield shift as we pass by.
After another three hours of driving, I’m directed to turn off the highway onto a long gravel road. I wince, hearing the stones bounce off the Airstream and the truck, and suddenly imagine the cost of fixing a million tiny dents on Bennett’s new vehicle.
“Kevin!” Teddy shrieks as Kevin pops straight off his lap into the air.
“That was a shockingly good Catherine O’Hara,” I say.
“What?” he asks, looking over after Kevin is firmly secured in his arms.
“In Home Alone when the mom realizes they left their kid behind.”
“Oh yeah, on the plane. ”
“Yeah, it was a good impression, even if it wasn’t intentional.”
Cue another long stretch of silence. In the BM times, the only time Teddy and I weren’t talking is if one of us had fallen asleep. Even if we were making out, there were words. This silence feels uncomfortably foreign and somehow like something we need to go through to repair things. The little glimpses I get of the potential are addictive, and I long for more.
There is a hut about ten minutes down the road and I pull over, assuming it’s the place I need to check in for the night. The signage isn’t exactly helpful, but sure enough, there is a greasy guy inside wearing a T-shirt with the name of the campground.
“Hey,” I say, walking over to the desk that looks like it was rescued from the side of the highway after it fell off a very tall truck.
I instantly regret wearing a tank top as his eyes trail down my body as I approach. The shiver of ick that passes through me must be visible because the guy’s eyes snap to my face. He stands quickly, straightening his shirt. Now that is the way to greet a paying customer.
“Welcome to Sleepy Pines campground. Do you have a reservation?” I’m about to answer when it dawns on me that he’s looking over my shoulder.
“You’ll have to ask her, I’m just a hitchhiker,” Teddy’s voice comes from close behind me.
I turn back to him ready to tell him off, but he’s not even looking at me; his eyes are lasered in on Jim Bob behind the desk. And if I am being honest, it’s kind of hot.
“I do have a reservation. Should be under Three Rivers University.” I look down at the old dusty computer and wonder if the thing can even be connected to the internet .
Greaseball McGee doesn’t even look it up, just hands over a pair of keys. His eyes, which are now wary, remain on Teddy. “Lot fifteen,” he squeaks out. “Three roads down on the right.”
I snatch the keys from his hand, lean into his sightline to Teddy, and smile sweetly. “Thank you so much for your help.” I turn on my heel and walk out of the hut.
Once we’re back in the truck, I look down at my top and sigh.
“I probably should have popped on a different top,” I say, pulling back onto the road.
“Why? Because you’ve got some cleavage on display? Nellie, you aren’t responsible for how someone reacts to you. He’s a grown-ass man, it’s on him for making you feel uncomfortable.”
“I wasn’t uncomfortable,” I insist.
“You stiffened like a corpse going into rigor the minute you stepped in there.”
“The whole setup caught me off guard, I wasn’t uncomfortable.”
“Sure, Nellie, whatever you say. Regardless, you wear whatever you want, and no one gets to make you feel bad about it.”
I slam on the brakes, bringing the truck to a halt and pitching us forward in our seats. “Should I feel bad about wearing a tank top?”
Teddy looks over at me, shock on his face. “No, never, that’s not…” He shakes his head, his mouth moving with unvocalized words. When he seems to have his composure back, he levels me with a look that has me rooted to the spot. “I don’t know why I said you shouldn’t feel bad, that’s not what I meant. I meant what I said about it being on him that you seemed uncomfortable. He sucks, you’re great, I’m sor—” He stops hi mself from apologizing and deflates. “I don’t know how to talk to you anymore.”
Letting go of the wheel, I sit back and just look at him. Now this is uncomfortable. I’d rather be mentally undressed by every skeezebag out there than be stuck in this moment with Teddy. It’s just a giant spotlight on what used to be and what is now.
I sigh. “I know.”
“It was so easy in the beginning.”
“There’s more emotional real estate in between us than there was then. Our reunion was confusing, we checked every box you could check, and then we closed ourselves off. And now we’re spending hours in a car together to appease friends. We can’t force ourselves to go back in time.”
I watch as he worries his lip, his thumb running over the silver of his ring before finally looking back at me. “But do you want to go forward with me in your life?” he asks, each word deliberate.
Yes , I think to myself, but also no . “I don’t know yet. I don’t know the Teddy of today yet. And frankly, you don’t know me. I don’t know if I’ve changed all that much in general, but when it comes to you…” I let out a long, exhausted sigh and glance over at him. “Your choice has had an effect on how I conduct myself in relationships.” I put the truck back into drive. “Let's just get to the site and go from there.”
For the remainder of the short drive to the campsite, I remind myself that when it’s all out, it will stop feeling like we’re going in circles.
Teddy helps me get everything hooked up. I’d had a lesson and watched countless YouTube videos, but I had visions of doing something wrong. I was grateful for his help but even more grateful that he didn’t do everything like he was teaching me .
While he takes Kevin for a walk, I start making dinner. There was no kitchen in the trailer since all but the bathroom had been converted into shelving space for books, but I’d stowed away a bag of charcoal and various utensils for making meals. I refused to spend the next month living on restaurant food, not that I expected to be in the vicinity of many restaurants. We certainly wouldn’t be stumbling across a Starbucks anytime soon.
“There’s a lake about ten minutes down that trail,” Teddy says, coming around the airstream carrying a very tired-looking Kevin.
“Ah buddy,” I coo, standing from the pot of simmering broth, “are your little legs no match for Teddy’s?”
“He did okay, considering.” Teddy chuckles, handing him over to me and going to stir the pot. “Want me to toss the noodles in?”
I look down and realize that if we wait much longer I’ll have boiled the liquid so far down that there won’t be enough left to cook the noodles. “Yeah, probably a good idea.” I set Kevin down and can’t hold back a laugh when he immediately flops onto the ground. “Should I feed him?”
“I’ll do it after we finish. If he eats too early, he’ll have me up at the crack of dawn for breakfast.”
“Don’t you usually wake up at the crack of dawn?”
He nods. “I was hoping to learn how to sleep in again on this trip. And that won’t happen if this guy thinks it’s his job to wake the world at four a.m.”
“Four a.m.? Is that the crack of dawn?”
“No, but he doesn’t know that. I thought you were a morning person?”
“I am, but I’m not a dawn person,” I clarify, sitting in one of the chairs I’d unpacked. “And even then I like to stay in bed for a solid twenty minutes after I wake up before I get up and begin my day.”
“Can’t do that when you’ve got twenty-plus dogs barking below you.” Teddy grins at me, and I have the sudden desire to see him first thing in the morning. I’d seen it once, and it had been pretty glorious. But that was twenty-two-year-old Teddy. Thirty-four-year-old Teddy is a whole other level of delicious.