Chapter 4 #2
"My mom used to say that grief and love are the same animal," I say. "You can't have one without inviting the other."
"Smart woman."
"The smartest." My throat tightens, and I take a long drink of coffee to push past it. "Kenzie got that from her. The wisdom. I got the restlessness."
"And the canoe."
"And the canoe."
We drive after lunch, heading northwest along the Lake Superior shoreline. The highway hugs the coast here, cliffs on one side, water on the other, and the scale of the lake is absurd. It looks like an ocean. Massive, grey-blue, waves breaking against rock in white lines.
Elise puts her phone down. Watches the water. Doesn't reach for her laptop or her planner or her itinerary.
"Have you ever seen anything this big?" she says.
"A few times. Icefields in Iceland. The Sahara, from a ridge in Morocco. Lake Baikal in Siberia, but that was frozen."
"You've been to all those places."
"I've photographed all those places."
She turns from the window. "Is there a difference?"
The question catches me off guard, because nobody's ever asked it. People see the portfolio and assume I've experienced the world. But experiencing and feeling are different things.
"Yeah," I say. "There is."
"Which do you do more?"
The highway curves and Superior fills the windshield, steel-coloured under clouds. "Photograph."
She nods once, then looks back at the water. "I organize events I never enjoy. I coordinate other people's happiest days. Build itineraries for trips I'm too busy working to actually take." A pause. "So I get it."
"The doing-but-not-living thing?"
"Yeah. That."
A moose appears on the shoulder of the highway, massive and unconcerned. My foot lifts off the gas, and we slow to a crawl as it surveys us with an expression of pure indifference before wandering into the trees.
Elise is gripping her laptop bag again, eyes wide.
"Was that a moose?"
"That was a moose."
"It was the size of a car."
"Welcome to northern Ontario."
Her exhale is shaky. "Add it to the itinerary. Day five. Canoe capsize, Tim Hortons blizzard story, existential crisis, moose encounter."
"Busy day."
"The busiest." Her voice drops. "And none of it was scheduled."
The rental tonight is a basement suite in a house outside Wawa. One bedroom, pull-out couch, a kitchen with a toaster and a microwave. The owners left a note on the counter.
Welcome! Enjoy the fresh air. WiFi password is MooseCountry22. Please don't feed the bears.
"Please don't feed the bears?" Elise reads, voice flat.
"Standard northern Ontario hospitality."
"I'm locking every window."
"Bears can't open windows."
"I'm locking them anyway."
She disappears into the bedroom with her suitcase, and I set up the pull-out couch. The mattress is thin but serviceable. My sleeping bag goes on top. Phone on the floor. Camera bag beside it.
Through the door, I can hear Elise on the phone. Fragments of a call with Sloane.
"... the canoe flipped, Sloane. In a lake. In northern Ontario."
A pause. Then: "No, I don't want to talk about why I got in the canoe."
Another pause, longer. Then, quieter: "Because he asked. And I said yes. And I don't know when I started saying yes to things."
My chest does the thing again. The tightening. The warmth that spreads through my ribs when she says something unguarded, something the version of Elise who laminated an itinerary would never admit out loud.
Kenzie's number glows on my phone screen. We haven't talked in four days, which is a long stretch for us.
Hey Kenz. driving through superior country. it's gorgeous up here
omg are you actually enjoying Canada instead of just photographing it
Funny
mom would be proud. she always said you needed to stop looking through the lens and start looking with your eyes. her actual words btw
I know
so who's the girl
Three dots. Delete. Three dots again.
What girl
Jax you've texted me about the scenery three times this week. you NEVER text about scenery. you just post it. something's different. who is she
she's a passenger. friend of a friend. I’m driving her to Calgary
And?
and nothing. she's organized and opinionated and she reviewed me on socials before she agreed to get in my truck
I love her already
you don't know her
I know she made you notice the scenery instead of just shooting it. that's enough. call me when you figure out what's scaring you
nothing's scaring me
sure bro. love you. say hi to the moose
My phone goes dark. The basement suite is quiet except for the water heater clicking somewhere behind the wall.
Through the bedroom door, Elise has gone quiet too.
Probably writing in her planner, colour-coding tomorrow's schedule.
Probably filing the moose under M and the canoe under C and whatever she's feeling under a tab she hasn't labelled yet.
Kenzie's wrong. Nothing's scaring me.
Except the possibility that in nine more days, this truck is going to pull into Calgary, and Elise Boyd is going to get out, and I'm going to have to figure out what my life looks like without the woman who brings order to my chaos and fights a soggy tomato with the intensity of a litigator.
Except that.
The dream catcher swings gently on the rearview mirror when the wind comes through the window. Blue and white threads. Mom's favourite colours.
What do you think, Mom? Am I in trouble?
The wind picks up.
Yeah. I'm in trouble.