Chapter Fifteen
Curtis
It took us about an hour to reach the park, then another hour to make the trek from check-in to our campsite. We left the truck in a small parking lot near the river and continued on foot down a long dirt path that wound for a couple of miles through dense brush.
It was the hottest part of the afternoon. The sun had reached its zenith and was already lowering, but it wouldn’t begin to get cool for another couple of hours. Allie was carrying what looked like her full weight slung across her shoulder in her brown duffel bag, but she never complained as we made our way over a low channel filled with swarming midge-nymphs.
“This is just like Lord of the Rings,” she said, turning around and spreading her arms wide as if to take in the whole landscape at once. “I went to bed last night listening to the Hobbits theme, and I haven’t been able to get it out of my head all day.”
“I haven’t seen those movies since they were in theaters,” I said. “I remember me and Zach went to see the last one when I was in high school. He dressed up as Gandalf and had this huge-ass beard.”
“It was Saruman, actually,” said Zach.
“Whatever. It was one of those guys,” I said impatiently. “Everybody in the theater was standin’ up and hollering when that chick killed the ring-wraith. God, it’s been so long since I’ve seen that.”
Allie leaped in front of me, her mouth half-open. “You mean you’ve never seen the extended cuts?”
“You mean the, like, ten-hour version?” I said, smiling at her shock and enthusiasm. “No, but I’m pretty sure Darren has. He owns all of ‘em.”
“We have to watch them!” said Allie, her face sweaty with heat and intensity. “I’ve taken the whole week off, so I’m free whenever you are. I’m sure your brother won’t mind if we borrow them.”
“Hell, he’d probably join us,” said Zach. “Matter of fact, I wouldn’t mind watching ‘em myself, it’s been so long. They remind me of being home.”
Before I could object, Allie had planned out the entire next day. We’d get back from our trip around nine or ten in the morning. Then Darren would come over around noon, bringing the discs with him. (Of course, he wouldn’t be working; he was never working.) We’d watch those until nightfall.
“I’m excited!” said Allie, nearly backing into a canyon wren seated on a mossy log. The wren twittered angrily and flew off. “It’s been years!”
Her enthusiasm buoyed us the rest of the way to the campsite. For someone who had never been camping in the sweltering heat of a Texas summer, she was remarkably good at it, carrying her heavy bag like a leaf that had blown onto her shirt. There was something beautiful, too, in the serene shine of her face after she’d been sweating for an hour. She was wearing a pair of tiny gray athletic shorts and a green and gray spaghetti strap top; by the time we arrived at the clearing, the shirt was so thoroughly soaked that she asked me if she could change it.
“We ain’t got the tents set up yet,” I said. “Where are you gonna change at?”
“I know how to change a shirt without being seen,” said Allie in a mysterious tone. “I’ve done it before. I’ll be quick as a wink.” And she disappeared into the undergrowth carrying her duffel bag in tow.
“You gonna hit that?” asked Zach when she had gone.
“Should I?” I asked. Not because I thought I shouldn’t, but because I wanted to hear his answer.
“You’d be a damned fool if you didn’t,” he said. “Shit, man, if I lived here, I’d be all over that.”
“You and Darren both. What is it about this chick that seemingly every boy in our family wants to get in her pants?”
Zach scoffed and motioned to the woods where, presumably, she was pulling off her sweat-stained shirt. “Have you seen her? One, she’s cute. Two, she’s perky as all-get-out, and three”—he raised his hands in front of his chest—“those tits are to die for!”
This was all true, though I wasn’t sure how I felt hearing it from my own brother. A second later, Allie came tripping back into the clearing, and we both became intensely focused on unpacking our bags.
We spent most of the next hour quietly pitching and loading up our tents. At one point, I came over and asked Allie if she needed a hand. But, true to form, she said she had been pitching her own tents since the age of five. “One summer, my parents drove out to Yosemite, and we spent the day there. Around nightfall, my dad offered to show me how to throw up a tent, and I wouldn’t let him. I said I could do it myself. Nobody believed me, but I did it.” She beamed, as if still savoring the triumph of proving her dad wrong.
As we sat around the campfire that night eating greasy bowls of ground beef and macaroni with smoked sausages, Zach told stories of living in the Pacific Northwest and his death-defying encounters with wolves and bears.
“Once when I was hiking in Oregon,” he said, “I came across a couple of coyotes late at night. All I had for protection was the staff I was carrying. But by that point, I had already gone through basic training, and my muscle memory must have kicked in as they were inching towards me. I honestly don’t remember what happened next. All I know is, I looked down and there was blood on my hands, and two coyotes lay dead on the ground at my feet.”
This story, which would have been eerie in any context, became positively chilling when spoken in Zach’s matter-of-fact, no-nonsense voice. An owl gave a low hoot in a tree overhead, and Allie shivered. “It’s getting awfully cold out here,” she said.
“Is Zach scaring you?” I asked, only half-kidding. “Do you want me to make him stop?”
“It’s alright; I think I’m just tired. It’s been a long day. I think I might go to bed early.” She stretched her whole back, looking bone-weary.
“Well, I’ll be right here if you need anything,” I told her as she rose from the log and headed off toward her tent. “I won’t let any bears get you.”
“I won’t let them get you,” said Allie, and she disappeared into her tent.
Zach and I sat there in silence for a few minutes, finishing our macaroni and sausages. Hot and humid summer weather always made me crave Mama’s blue lemonade, so it was unfortunate (or perhaps fortunate) that we hadn’t brought any. That stuff would cling to my teeth and get stuck there for days.
“For real, though,” Zach said quietly, “I think it’s great that you’ve found someone. You were so broken up after what happened last year, I began to worry you’d given up on dating.”
“Well, I’m still not entirely sure what we are. We’re in that weird in-between place where we’re more than friends, but not official. Pretty soon, I need to ask her about it.”
“Well, there’s no better place,” said Zach, setting down his bowl and stretching his arms. “Here in the wilderness, with all the stars of the Texas sky crowded around you like a choir of angels.”
I supposed there was something to be said for that. Maybe when we went hiking tomorrow, I would take her aside and talk to her.
Zach retired for the night while I went out into the woods to pee and brush my teeth. By the light of the full moon, I could barely make out the ferns and bushes directly ahead of me without the aid of a flashlight. A field mouse crept noiselessly past me in the half-light. There was a loud screech, and a barn owl came floating eerily down out of the darkness, its legs lowering like those of a plane on the runway. The mouse skittered away into the underbrush, unharmed, and the owl flew on its way.
I climbed into my tent and settled into my sleeping bag, feeling like a caterpillar in its cocoon. I lay there for about an hour thinking about the talk Zach and I had had earlier. I wasn’t looking forward to the talk I knew I would have to have, and soon, with Allie. But I knew it was better that we get it out of the way now, so I didn’t spend weeks thinking there was something there when there wasn’t. Perhaps it was all in my head. It didn’t seem real that a girl like her could like a guy like me. She was too intelligent, too classy for that. She could have her pick of any guy she wanted, and in what universe would she choose me over all other guys?
I was still pondering this mystery as I drifted off to sleep. It might have been a minute, or it might have been an hour later when I heard a light knock on the door of my tent.
At first, I ignored it, thinking maybe a branch had fallen. But then it happened again, louder and more insistent. And then I heard it: a voice in the darkness.
“Curtis!” she said. “It’s me!”
It felt like a fever dream I was having. My whole body was sweaty, whether from the heat or the thought of her being near me. Being with me. Slowly, I got up out of my sleeping bag and unzipped the tent.
“What’s going on?” I asked. I was fully awake now.
Her eyes were like two lamps in the darkness. “I can’t sleep,” she said in a soft and quiet voice. “Do you mind if I come in?”
“Go right ahead.” Without any further prompting, she clambered inside on her hands and knees, and I zipped up the bag behind her.