Page 63 of Falling Slowly
“And here are some trees we can use to attach the hammock to.”
He directed the phone light on the edge of the woods, removed his backpack, and got into work attaching the hammock. I’d never actually seen it in working order, only lying across the floor. I couldn’t say I was seeing much of it now, given the dim light, but it looked a lot bigger than I remembered, and puffy like a sleeping bag.
“It has great insulation,” he explained as I stepped closer to investigate the material. “Should be good all the way to down to 28 degrees, but we’ll see.”
“What do you mean, all the way down? I think we’re there already.” I folded my arms, trying to keep my core temperaturefrom dropping. “Charlie, if this product doesn’t work as advertised, we can easily die from hypothermia.”
“You won’t. I will, if I fail at my fire guarding duties. In that case, take my phone and walk as long as you need to find a signal, then call my dad. He’ll send a rescue helicopter.”
“Not funny!” My teeth clattered. “Are you not freezing? How are you able to move your fingers?”
He was wearing gloves and had pulled up the hood of his thermal jacket, which obviously made him better prepared, but the temperature had dropped significantly since sunset.
“Can you help me pick up some sticks for the fire? I have another pair of gloves for you. Mine have this removable lining…”
He peeled off his gloves and gave me the outer shells. They looked like the size ice hockey goalies wore.
I shook my head. “Give me the inner ones, they’re smaller.”
We swapped gloves and I went off to search the ground. The moon had risen over the tree line, casting an eerie glow over the landscape. Even the stars seemed brighter up here, helping me navigate across the grass. After a while, I found a fallen tree with its branches sticking up. They were dry and brittle and I began snapping them, collecting a pile of kindling. Using my body weight, I managed to break up a couple of larger branches as well, dragging them all to Charlie’s feet like a good dog fetching its owner’s slippers. I half expected him to pat me on the head.
“Great work!” I heard the smile in his voice.
The hammock now hung between two trees, and next to it, he’d laid a ring of rocks as a base for the fire. After an agonizingly freezing ten minutes, we had the start of a fire. I’d shredded my shoebox to use as kindling, and Charlie sacrificed the printout of the retreat program he found in his pocket.
We watched in awe as the sheet of paper caught the flame, transferring it onto the cardboard and eventually the dry sticks.Gradually, the larger bits of branch caught fire, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Sitting on a log next to Charlie, as close to the open flame as I dared, I held my hands in its glow. “Oh, God. I’m so frozen this actually hurts.”
He reached to take my hand, closing it inside his huge, surprisingly warm palms. “I’m so sorry, Bess. This is not what I had in mind.”
“What did you have in mind?”
“I just wanted you to see the elk, I didn’t even think. I was irresponsible and I’m sorry.”
I nodded. “I was, too. I shouldn’t have followed you.”
Somehow, that part was harder to swallow. Because Charlie was Charlie. Charming, disarming, flighty and irresponsible. But I was me. Blindly following him into the forest to see woodland creatures mating was so off-brand for me I was questioning my sanity.
“You regret it,” he said quietly.
It wasn’t a question, so I didn’t answer. Instead, I accepted the bag of trail mix he handed me, zeroing my focus on fishing out the pieces of chocolate and shoving them into my mouth like it was my last meal. Gradually, the hollow fear relaxed its grip and warmth flooded my belly, slowly making its way down to the extremities.
I didn’t really regret anything. Not in that moment. Not when I felt borderline safe again. If I could only close my eyes and transport us back to the retreat, it’d be a wonderful story to tell my daughter.
“I hate that I can’t call home,” I said between bites of chocolate. “I call every night before Celia’s bedtime. She’ll be expecting it. My mom will try to call, and she’ll freak out when I don’t answer the phone.”
He dipped his hand in the bag and carefully selected only nuts, no chocolate. “She can call the retreat and they’ll tell her we’re lost.”
I hadn’t even thought about what the retreat staff would do.
“Do you think they’ll call the police? Send out a search party?”
“I don’t know. They might. But it’ll be difficult in the dark. They might have to wait until morning.” He raised his chin, casting me a regretful look. “But they might also assume we’re staying at the hunting cabin if they turned around at the fallen tree. I heard Harry and Matthew talking about how romantic it is.”
“And everyone thinks we’re madly in love,” I finished for him, my gut twisting. “Oh my God! They’ll tell that to my mom if she calls.”
“You can explain later that it’s one-sided.”
My stomach lurched. “Oh, come on, Charlie. We’ve been faking this thing.” I tried to laugh, but no sound came out.
