Chapter 7 #3
“They’re crazy, right?” I replied. “I can definitely stargaze for a bit.” I craned my neck up at the sky.
We sat in silence looking up, both gasping in excitement when a shooting star would pass by.
“It reminds me of how the sky looks back home, though this far surpasses that even, I didn’t realize the night sky could look like this, as sad as it sounds,” he paused and scratched at his chin a bit. “In the city I’m lucky if I see a single star, and it usually winds up being an airplane.”
“You know, it sounds odd but I get scared every time I come here that the stars will have somehow disappeared and the sky will look like it does in Boston. Sad and empty.”
He nodded along, I didn’t notice right away that he had moved into the chair next to mine. His hand was resting on the arm, fingers drumming again. “How could you not want to be here all the time, Dani?”
He asked it with a sad sincerity. Him saying my name still instilled some sort of spellbinding sensation in my gut.
The truth was, I did want to be at camp all the time, but I knew if I never left it wouldn’t be my safe haven anymore. Where could I escape to if I was always here?
“I’m scared that if I do it’ll lose its magic,” I said after some brief pondering. “And honestly I need to live somewhere where I can get a decent coffee within a seventy five mile radius.” Evan chuckled at the reply and rapped the arm of his chair a bit.
“I don’t want to leave this place,” he said quietly. “I don’t want to go back to the chaos of being among the general public.”
I couldn’t even begin to empathize with what Evan must deal with on a daily basis. As much as I needed an escape, he truly needed to get off the grid for a while, that much I could sympathize with.
“I feel like I became the real version of myself once I pulled down the driveway,” he continued. “I haven’t once had to worry about constantly checking my surroundings, save for running into you, of course.”
I smiled weakly, hoping the darkness would hide my blush.
“I can’t imagine what it’s like,” I didn’t know what else to say, I was nothing more than another faceless figure in that crowd of fans.
“I probably sound so out of touch, I’m grateful for everything I’ve gotten in life, but sometimes I want to go out for coffee without having phones shoved in my face, or strangers acting like they know me,” I remained silent as he spoke, “I know it’s the trope of the sad celebrity who hates being a celebrity, but I really do hate it most days.
I wish I could do my job without the ensuing insanity, because I love my work, I just hate being…
me. Everyone is so fake and seeking out the next big thing, I don’t know if people want to be around me because they like me or only like my status. ”
A hot steel ball dropped into my gut as his words settled. How easily he said he hated being “the” Evan McLeod. Did I want to be around Evan for these same superficial reasons? I was terrified that I didn’t know the answer.
The fire had burned into embers at this point, radiating an orange and red pulsating glow.
“Sorry for all that,” he continued after taking a deep inhale. “I remember someone saying something about not wanting to spill their heart out to someone they’ve only known for thirty hours.”
“I don’t think the ‘sad celebrity’ speech counts,” I quipped, hoping it would lighten the mood. “I expected that, maybe not on the first night…”
“Oh, fuck off,” his words were tight, as was the strained laugh he let out.
The red dock jutting out on the lake below us gently bobbed up and down from the waves.
The first time Nick and I came up to camp we laid on the dock stargazing for hours, talking about nothing together.
I wanted to talk about nothing with Evan.
I didn’t trust my motivations still, but I knew that I wanted easy conversation and more banter with him.
My avoidant side told me that the fire was done, so therefore the evening was, but there wasn’t any harm in asking if he wanted to go lay out there.
He clearly needed a sounding board at the very least.
“Now that the fire’s dead, do you want to sit out at the dock?” I asked. “Once your eyes adjust it’s like you’re in your own personal planetarium.”
He turned towards me and his eyes brightened. “Let’s do it. No eight mile hikes on tomorrow’s agenda, we can live a little tonight.”
I dispersed the embers with a stick and we walked down to the dock.
Our footsteps echoed across the water as they stepped on each board.
I settled onto the wood planks and drew my knees close to my chest. The moon reflected a gentle halo at the far end of the lake.
In the distance, out of the quiet, a loon called its mournful song.
“Jesus, what was that?” Evan exclaimed, he jerked up his head from resting on his arm as he laid on his back.
I burst out laughing. “A loon, you’ve never heard one?” He gave me a look that made me feel silly for even asking. “Sue always told me a story about how the loon was a mother who lost her babies, turned into a bird, and was cursed to cry out ‘where are you’ to them.”
Almost on cue the loon called again. Sometimes the sound still gripped at my heart. As someone who spent their life unmoored, I understood the feeling of calling out to something that I wanted but could never have.
“That is incredibly depressing,” Evan replied.
“I used to cry when I was younger whenever I heard them, I wanted to reunite them with their babies and with each other.” I laid down parallel to Evan, keeping a few feet of distance between us.
My fingers began fiddling with a loose thread on my shirt. My heart rate was rising without my doing, like being in his orbit undid my nervous system entirely.
“Sue does seem like the type to casually tell traumatizing stories to unsuspecting children.”
“You don’t know the half of it, she once showed me a moose skull she found in the woods and said Bigfoot did it. I wouldn’t leave the cabin for two days.”
Evan laughed, anyone who met Sue could instantly tell that she was a character. She was so well loved by every guest who came up, she listened intently, she was odd but funny, and a warm presence that you felt safe with. She was exactly who I wanted to be in thirty or so years.
We fell back into silence, I began mapping out constellations, some real, some I had made up when she was younger.
I moved from my loose threads to mindlessly picking at the peeling paint on the dock, a habit that historically got me into trouble with Randy after I picked off a quarter of the paint and neatly placed the chips in a plastic cup.
“Dani, I know it’s been thirty hours—” he spoke softly, his voice unsure of what he was saying.
“Probably thirty three at this point,” my defensive lines assembled, new snarky jokes formed.
“Thirty three hours, but I am glad you crashed my trip. It’s been fun having you as a fellow guest.”
“Likewise” I shut my eyes for a moment, attempting to pull him from the context of how I used to know him. I was happy he was beside me right now, simple as that, “usually I’m here with old dudes on a fishing trip, this is quite the improvement.”
Evan’s hand traveled across the dock. Callused fingers dragged against my skin. An invitation. A spark of hope for something more. Alarm bells began going off all over my body. Something swelled in my stomach.
Evan wanted to hold my hand.
I snapped my arm tight against my side, a light slapping noise echoed.
My defensive line held strong, crisis averted. If this was a crisis at all. My heart felt like it was ripped from my chest after my hand clutched onto my leg.
“It’s getting late I should—” Evan pushed himself upright and stretched in an exaggerated yawn, he didn’t need to finish his sentence, he let himself trail off.
We were nothing if not an absurd mashup of tropes.
“Right, me too.” I hopped up and shivered as a breeze blew off the lake. My legs trembled a bit, the sudden rush of blood from my overrun mind threw off my limbs.
The moon illuminated our walk back to our cabins.
“Good night, Dani,” Evan said quietly as he stepped in the door.
“Night, Evan.”
As I laid in bed willing myself to fall asleep, I could hear two loons calling to each other from across the lake.