Chapter Nine
“Always, and I do mean always, bring a shovel.” —Hazel Titus
August
She was pretty quiet for having to dig a hole to squat over. I almost got worried when she didn’t return for a few minutes, but when she did, she looked like she’d accomplished something. I refused to tell her that she had some dirt on her cheek. I liked the way it dirtied up her pretty skin.
Fixating on her would not make the pain of leaving Mom and Dad go away, nor would it do anything but offer the time I needed for all of us. At least I had Hazel and her many distractions, dirt included.
I smiled down at the ground and rolled the hotdogs around with the tongs. I’d decided to go with the grill since I felt bad about the shovel, and no, I didn’t actually make beans; I just wanted to scare her a bit or maybe get a reaction. These last years, helping Dad take care of Mom, giving everything up, knowing what the end result would be, I’d felt so sad, so numb to everything. Watching her every reaction kind of made me feel alive again.
I felt like one of those lame kids in school who picked on their crush just so they could see the emotion, except it was a selfish thing because mine was lacking, and she still didn’t know why I’d agreed to the trip. Why I thought it was a good idea for a grown-ass man to go on a let’s-make-peace camping trip with the girl next door like he couldn’t say no to his parents. Especially when he had his own money, a job fixing motorcycles and classic cars, a life, etcetera. The problem was, my job was only there so I stayed busy. We were Wellingtons. We worked for fun, not because we had to.
I swallowed the lump in my throat when she thrust the shovel into the air. “I did it.”
“I dig it,” I joked lamely.
She spiked the shovel into the ground by the tent and sat in one of the chairs by the fire. “This is actually nice.”
She’d think differently when she had to spend the night in the tent with me. God, I prayed she didn’t snore. “You don’t happen to have a cold, right?”
She frowned, her brown eyebrows furrowing in the cutest way. “No, why? I mean, I don’t think so. I’m feeling good.”
“Just checking. It’s a scientific fact that bears are attracted to loud noises, and I don’t want to get mauled over your mouth-breathing.” I grinned. “Hungry?”
She rolled her eyes. “I can’t tell if I like you or want to punch you in the face, but yes, thanks for cooking while I dug us a hole. Wait, we aren’t sharing the hole, right? I did make two. You’re on the right, and I’m the left. I’ll dig more in the morning. And why in the hell am I talking about bathrooms in nature while staring at a hotdog?”
I shrugged. “Just one of life’s many mysteries.”
I handed her one of the paper plates and used the tongs to grab a hotdog for her, placing it on the bun.
She got up and put on an ungodly amount of relish and mustard.
I stared.
Stared harder.
She was going to eat it like that?
“No ketchup?” I pointed at her with the tongs.
She had the hotdog halfway to her mouth and then frowned. “Dude, all you need is mustard and relish. Trust me on this. Great-Grandma passed down the secret.”
“I doubt you and her.” I was still pointing the tongs.
She jumped up with her plate and kneeled in front of me, holding her hotdog up to my lips. “Then take a bite, big guy.”
Shit.
Just. Shit.
I had to sleep with her in the same area, and she was holding a hotdog up to my mouth after telling me how good she blew on things.
Should I just walk into the cold ocean now and breathe in saltwater?
“Um…” Damn it. The dirt was still on her cheek.
Look away.
Puppies. Hurricanes. Earthquakes. Aliens. Think of anything but her mouth. Anything.
My lips parted as she shoved the hotdog in. I had to admit, I’d rather eat her, but instead, I was getting schooled in how to doctor up my food.
Frowning, I kept chewing and nodded. “That’s good.”
She patted me on the head.
She rarely touched me.
I froze.
She froze.
I stopped chewing.
Suddenly, she stood and went back to her chair. “See, I can be right.”
“You can.” I saluted her. “I bow down to your amazing hotdog recipe. I tragically lack the skill.”
“But you did cook.” She pointed her hotdog at me. “And they’re juicy, really good, nice.”
I coughed out a thanks and made my own food. By the time we were done eating, it was time to sleep, and I was forced to put everything away with her in an effort to avoid the smallest tent I’d ever packed in my entire life.
I stared down at it. There was nothing left to do. I stared harder.
She walked up next to me. “Okay, all the food is secure in the cooler inside the Jeep. Here are the keys, just in case.” She slammed them into my hand. “And I put some water near the tent in case you wake up and—”
She touched her stomach.
“And?” I prompted.
“Um.” Her eyes went wide as she looked behind me, then at the tent, then stared down at the shovel like it was her ending. “Um, I suddenly really have to go to the bathroom. Number one, not number two.”
“You’re an adult. You can tell me if you need to take a piss, Hazel. Just go around the tent and—“ Immediately, a rustling sounded, then I heard what might have been a growl.
She jumped against me, plastering her face to my chest. “It’s probably the raccoon again,” I said.
“I can’t pee with it watching me.”
“It has no feelings.”
“I do, though.” She wrapped her arms around my waist. “Plus, I can’t see. How am I going to see?”
“Okay, at the risk of getting too detailed here, do you really need to watch when you wipe, or can you just pop a squat, do a little shake, use a square, toss it into a bag, and move on your merry way?”
“I’m not a boy. I don’t have a dick that I can just shake in the wind.”
“Right,” I said slowly as I hugged her. “Because that is exactly what we do. We face the wind and shake—not too hard, though, because that’s something else completely.”
She elbowed me in the ribs. “I’m serious. What do I do?”
“You pee proudly—into the wind, apparently.”
“Be serious.”
“Hazel, do you want me to take you to the hole?”
She squirmed against my chest. “You’ll close your eyes?”
“I don’t need that kind of free show, Hazel.”
She moaned and then pulled back, taking a deep breath. “I drank a lot of water.”
“As humans should.”
“And I just need to get rid of it.”
“So you don’t die. Yes, human nature, I encourage that.” I was nearly shaking from trying not to laugh at her. “Let’s walk behind the tent. I’ll hold the flashlight and look the other way, I’ll even hum for you while you pee. Just promise me you make it in the hole, okay?”
She nodded. “Fine, yes, thank you. Okay, I’m sorry.”
“For going to the bathroom?” I grabbed her hand and reached for the flashlight, not even really thinking because it felt natural to guide her to our makeshift outhouse. I didn’t have time to overanalyze too much as we grabbed a bag, the TP, and the shovel and went to the back of the tent and our bathroom area.
“Nice holes.” I nodded.
“Not the time,” she snapped.
I grinned and handed her a bag. “Sorry, I always feel like compliments make people more at ease.”
Her glare said otherwise.
“Okay, then.” I guided her toward the hole, turned on my flashlight, and pointed it at her, then turned around. “Good luck.”
“Good luck?” Did she call me an idiot after that? Or was it the wind? “I’m just going to squat like it’s a workout I hate and go.”
“Yup.”
“Good.”
“Perfect.” I stared out at the ocean. “At least, it’s loud.”
“I can’t,” she whimpered a minute later. “I can’t.”
“Can’t squat?”
“I can’t pee. It’s stuck.”
My heavy sigh probably didn’t help. “Okay, just take a deep breath and release.”
“A deep breath and release? Release what? The Kraken? I can’t just release.”
“Stop panicking!” I didn’t mean to yell. “Sorry. Just a few deep breaths, count to ten.” I shivered; it really was getting cold. “And exhale.”
“Okay.”
“One.”
“Didn’t need you to actually do it out loud.”
“I misunderstood.”
I tried not to laugh and had to bite my bottom lip. “Okay, just count to three, then inhale, count to six, exhale, and free the water.”
“Not water,” she huffed. “I mean, it was water. It is. Son of a bitch. Why is this so hard?”
I sighed and started mumbling, “Row, row, row your boat—”
“That is in no way helpful.”
I paused then. “Gently down the stream.”
“Merrily,” she joined in, “merrily, merrily, life is but a dream.” We finished in sync.
I cleared my throat. “The harmony could use some work.”
“I was under duress,” she snapped. “Okay, done. I’m done. Thank you. I’m sorry, this is just…like what is it, even? Never mind. I’m grabbing the shovel.”
“And that, kids…” I still hadn’t turned around. “…is how I met your mother.”
“Pardon?”
“It was a joke.”
“Hear the laughter?”
Crickets, all I heard was crickets—both figuratively and literally. “I’m going to have to say no.”
The sound of shoveling filled the air. “Okay. I think I put enough sand on it.”
I looked over my shoulder. It took an insurmountable level of self-control not to laugh. “So, you made a shrine?”
She pointed with the shovel in the cutest way possible at the giant mound of sand piled higher than the Sahara after a storm. “I wanted to make sure.”
“That your pee was worshiped? Because I gotta say, nobody is going to miss this, bears included. You may as well have put a sign on the sand that said: I peed here, honor me. Somewhere in there, I feel like there could be a very strategic OnlyFans account. I mean, if a girl can sell her farts, think of the possibilities.”
“Shut up.” Her smile was everything; it spread wide and free across her face. I took the shovel and poked it into the ground.
“I’m proud,” she said.
“That you were able to go to the bathroom?”
“No, that I dug a hole, crouched without pulling a muscle, and didn’t die of embarrassment, all within five minutes.”
I frowned. “Why be embarrassed? It’s just me.”
Her gaze flickered away from mine. Finding something interesting on the sand, maybe? “I know, it’s just…peeing in a hole isn’t like…attractive. And I think I’ve spent my whole life being that person, the one everyone thinks is too tall, too gangly, too different. It doesn’t help that I prefer books to people, but—”
“Stop.” I leaned down and touched her right shoulder. My fingers met warm skin, even through her sweatshirt. “You’re beautiful, and anyone who tells you differently is both an idiot and an asshole we should feed to that rabid raccoon we met earlier, all right?”
Her head slowly lifted, and her eyes met mine.
Hazel’s parted lips were a temptation I couldn’t afford. They beckoned, made me want to brush my thumb across them, and tell her just how stunning she really was. But the words died in my throat. I shouldn’t. I couldn’t. I wasn’t even sorry for all the above reasons. I’d be messing with her emotions, and she’d be leaving anyway. What good was it to tell her I was attracted to her or that she had way more value than she could ever possibly know? Hell, half my friends had been in love with her in high school. It was the girls who had been the issue, the jealousy, the constant putting her down. And it didn’t help that my popularity had been more important to me than almost anything at the time. Before Mom got sick, I’d been such a selfish prick. I didn’t blame Hazel for hating me; I would have hated me, too.
There were so many conversations and words that should have taken place with that girl and her parted lips and large brown eyes, but I’d buried them. Ha. Ironic since we’d just done that, and I had a shovel by my foot.
“I, um…” She pointed behind her. “I should go get some hand sanitizer and clean up the campsite before it starts raining harder.”
“Yeah.” I nodded. “Last thing we need is for you to get wet.”
She tripped over a rock and almost faceplanted into the tent.
“You okay?” I reached for her, but she was already up dusting the sand from her leggings.
“Totally!”
“Why are you yelling?”
“Rain. The rain.” She sniffled. There was no thunder, no lightning, only a light drizzle that wasn’t at all loud. “It threw me off.”
I nodded slowly. “Yes, I can see how the storm could do that to a person.”
“Right?” She moved around the campsite, organizing the rest of our belongings while I stoked the fire and went into the Jeep to grab some extra blankets.
Damn. It was going to be tight in that little tent, and it was starting to rain harder. Maybe staying in the vehicle would be smarter, but it would be so uncomfortable and not warm at all. Besides, I could stoke the fire a bit longer and we could feed off that heat.
“All right.” I cleared my throat and awkwardly pointed at the tent with both hands as if to say, “Your honeymoon suite awaits.”
All I needed was a tux and a rose dangling out of my mouth like an idiot. And why the hell was I still pointing with both hands? Where did I even put my hands? In my pockets? I imagined if you were watching me on TV, you’d be like…that poor, pathetic bastard.
“Yeah.” She bit her lower lip again. Stop it, damn it. Stop it. Stop it right now. “I’ll just follow your lead.”
Why did she use those words? Why, God? Why?
“Sure,” I agreed. “I’m just going to kick off my shoes and hop in. The fire should be good for the next hour or so, but I’ll check on it if it really starts to get cold. Though the rain might end up putting out.” Her eyes widened. “Putting it out. I meant putting it out.”
“Oh, I know,” she said quickly. “Because it’s wet.”
Has there ever been a more awkward campfire moment? Tough to say, honestly, tough to say. There was that one time I ran around in my underwear when I was ten and hit a tree.
Pretty sure I would claim that over this moment any day.
Becoming one with bark.
“So…” I gulped. Why was I suddenly so awkward? “I’ll just get in there.”
God, please, someone tell me to stop talking. Why did everything feel like a sexual innuendo?
“I’m ready,” she answered brightly.
Maybe next time, we’d just use hand signals and save ourselves from the awkward misery of our own inability to speak.
“Yup.” Just going in. I crept inside the small tent and kicked off my boots, putting them right outside in case I needed to tend to the fire or go to my hole, which sounded off even in my brain.
She sat down just inside and took off her tennis shoes, setting them next to my boots, then scooted in, socks still on. I had the extra blankets on her side, the one pillow in the middle, and the sleeping bag open. It would be impossible to zip it, so we’d just have to pile on the blankets and lie down.
Together.
We had maybe three feet across at best and around eight feet to stretch out in.
I used the flashlight and quickly zipped up the tent right when the rain started to pour onto us so loudly that it made Hazel jump closer to me and grab on. “Downpour?”
“It’s not going to hit us super hard since we’re under the tree.”
“Okay.” She looked down and pulled her hands free from my sweatshirt. “Sorry. I didn’t realize, and it’s hard to see.”
“It’s okay,” I rasped. “Just try to get some sleep. Can you toss me one of the blankets or two? I’ll pull them over us.”
“Yeah.” She grabbed both down blankets and abruptly turned toward me, nailing me in the head with her chin. “Ouch!”
“Wow.” I stretched my face. “Strong chin.”
“It’s dark.”
“It’s the mountains.” I rubbed the side of my head and pulled the blankets over us, then reclined on the pillow. She slowly stretched out next to me.
I put the flashlight between us, casting a glow on her face. “You know something?”
“What?” She tucked her hands under her head.
I didn’t touch her, but I wanted to. “You’re pretty.”
Her eyes widened, but I chose to turn off the light, just like I turned off all temptation.
I wasn’t sure how much more space my heart could make for someone in this world, knowing that they could be taken, too. It wasn’t something people really thought about until they were faced with it.
Loss.
You can’t just replace what’s been lost. You can make room for more, but why take that risk? And I genuinely—despite what almost everyone thought—liked Hazel.
She’d probably marry a rock star or something.
Someone totally against the grain.
I smiled to myself as she started to snore softly next to me. Yeah, she’d be the pain in the ass who brought home a guy with long hair and an obsession with guitars, drumsticks, and weed.
I almost burst out laughing. Her dad would shit a brick.
My smile fell as my brain continued stupidly functioning in that little scenario: her getting married and taking pictures by her tree.
Maybe wearing something from her great-grandma.
And me, alone, next door, while Dad traveled to keep himself busy.
Me in an empty house, keeping my grief at bay.
Me fixing a motorcycle and finally finishing college, going to a boring job, just because that’s what you did.
Dating but not feeling it.
But why wouldn’t I?
I liked sex.
I liked women.
I liked the thrill of it all. So when did I lose interest in all of that, and why was picturing Hazel getting married and moving on with her life as she should so depressing?
In an effort toget close to her, I’d made fun of her once. And then it was just…gone. I graduated, she stayed, then I stayed, and she left for college. Why would that even matter?
“I want that for you,” Mom had said when I was in high school.
“What?” I looked next door where she pointed.
Sure enough, Great-Grandma Nadine was sneaking out of the house, cane and all, and walking down the street toward her lover’s house. And just like clockwork, Mr. Casbon looked out his blinds like a peeping Tom and hurriedly opened the door as he escorted her in.
She was carrying a bottle of wine.
And he was wearing one of his notorious Hawaiian shirts.
One time, I’d asked him if he’d ever been, and he just laughed and said he experienced it through his lover.
Aka, Great-Grandma Nadine.
Another time, I asked him where he kept buying them, and he said she bought them for him when she went or when she shopped because each and every one meant she was thinking of him. It was all the vacation he needed.
“Yeah,” I’d said to Mom. “They’re sneaking around like teenagers.”
“It’s fun,” she said. “Fun. Relationships should be fun.”
I didn’t get it at the time, but maybe now that’s what I got. A girl with a shovel, a giant hill, snoring, and awkward pranks.
Love maybe shouldn’t be safe but a hazard to your health.
I flipped back over. Though I didn’t need a flashlight to see her shine, even though it was pitch-black.
I pressed my palm to her cheek and fell asleep.