Page 7 of Aim for Love

The people who visit our town specifically to “have adventures” tend to be looking for adrenaline. They want to ride that high that comes from speed and a little danger. I don’t get that vibe from Mollie.

“What’s something adventurous you’ve done in the last year?” I ask her, softly enough that Tom, who is greeting people we pass, might not hear.

She looks at me like I’ve asked her what color her underwear is.

“Anything,” I prompt gently. “The first thing that comes to mind.”

“I drove down to visit a hot spring in New Mexico by myself last month,” she says, after a long moment in which I’m not sure she’ll answer me. “I’m scouting out locations for Sophie’s bridal shower.”

Mollie clicks into place for me. She does things for others, not herself. Like this tour. She’s clearly here for her friends.

“Anything you’re looking forward to on this tour?” I ask.

“This prep day,” she admits, looking down at the coffee and not at me. “I’m really glad we’re going to learn more about what we’re doing before we do it.”

“I’m glad you feel that way, because I think a lot of people are going to skip it. At least I’ll have one eager student.”

“Skip it?” She looks bewildered. “But why?”

Before I can explain about the lack of adrenaline, Tom is hurrying us along as if we were the ones pausing to talk to everyone we passed.

In the lobby of the adventure center, less than a dozen people are slouched on our collection of pre-loved furniture sourced from garage sales and donations. They include the family I taught last night, three 20-something men I’d quickly labeled the Trouble Trio, the skinny teenage boy from another family—apparently here on his own—and Mollie. Two other guides have shown up, as required, but Scott is nowhere to be seen. Scott is Tom’s real favorite, so he can get away with this.

We pass around coffee, Mollie helping with the organization by setting out cups for me to pour.

I stay close to her, wanting to ensure she has a good experience. She’s curvy, and it’s important that she be fitted for a bag that sits at her hips, not where it will chafe and make her uncomfortable. My hope is always that people will walk away from these trips with a newfound hobby that they keep doing. Pain is a deterrent to that goal.

Plus, there’s something about Mollie that tells me she needs a fun experience—and doesn’t expect it. She’s gritting her teeth through this tour. But I designed it to speak to people’s souls and I know it can do that for her, too.

She listens intently to my spiel about safety, staying on trails, and speaking up about raw skin, which can form blisters that become difficult to deal with on the trail. We’ve only scheduled a one-night backpacking trip for this tour—all activities were planned with beginners in mind—but I don’t want a night ruined dealing with first aid that could have been prevented.

I sidle up to her after, when a few people are getting that second cup of coffee, and let her in on the secret: “I’ll be repeating all that later, probably more than once, for the benefit of people who weren’t here or forgot everything.”

“Oh, of course,” she says, tucking away the phone I saw her clearly using to take notes.

“Are you nervous?”

“No! Well, yes. But this isn’t as scary as…” She catches herself. “Some things.”

Now I’m concerned. Mollie is already struggling; if this isn’t the worst of it, I’d better find out what is. “What part of the trip are you most nervous about?”

She shakes her head and bites her lip, one plump bit of flesh turning white. I want to lecture her about raw skin again, watching this. I manage to hold it in.

“If you tell me, I may be able to help,” I shamelessly wheedle.

She smiles a little and I can tell I’ve got her. Mollie is the kind of person who hates to disappoint you, and I feel a little bad for taking advantage of that.

“The mountain biking,” she admits. “After we signed up, I started getting all these videos of crashes on my social feed.”

“Ah.” I nod. I’m not on social media, but I’ve seen some pretty gnarly real-life crashes in my time. Scott nearly broke his arm last week on a rock feature. “I won’t make you do anything technical. Or anything you don’t want to try. I’m here to help make trying something new safe for you.”

One of the 20-something dudes standing nearby decides to intervene for no reason. “That’s the whole point of these guys, to keep us idiots from doing something idiotic.”

Nodding along, I step back to let our circle grow. I immediately miss speaking one-to-one with Mollie. Still, half the point of these tours is to foster friendship. Among the participants,notbetween them and the tour guides. We’re here to smooth the way, not be part of the adventure. Despite Scott’s best efforts.

It’s never been this difficult to remind myself of that reality.

The other two guys from the Trouble Trio overtake the circle a bit, nudging me to the outside as they home in on Mollie. I watch her, looking overwhelmed but nice about it.

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