Page 190 of Camp Bliss
Except when I glance at Zach beside me as we step onto the trail, my heart seizes at the sight of him. I want him to be the one walking beside me for the rest of my life. No amount of pep talks or self-affirmations can buffer me against what losing him would do to me.
It would be like nothing I’ve overcome to date, and while I might have the strength to bear it, I don’t want to have to find out.
The trail to the clearing lets us stay side by side, but we’re quiet as we move. I have things to say, but not when I’m making sure I won’t trip on a root and fall flat on my face.
And Zach seems to be wrapped in his own silence.
I almost ask for his thoughts but chicken out when we reach the clearing.
“I’m ready to finish this,” Zach says, and I nearly jump out of my skin.
Finish this?
Us?
“W-What?” I choke.
He nods up at the poles and ropes and pulleys of the challenge course. “I would have loved to have gotten Little Miss Sunshine up on the dual catwalk and watch her sort her shit thirty feet in the air.”
The image of our Camp Bliss South guest outfitted in a harness and helmet, shaking like a leaf on the apparatus uncorks my laughter. It overflows so much, I’m practically wheezing.
“You’re… so… bad…” I gasp, wiping my eyes and shaking my head.
But I’m grateful. Because with that one comment, with that one hint of normalcy between us, Zach has chased away my nerves.
Well, half of them, anyway.
I recruit the measure of courage it gives me and reach for his hand.
And I’ll be damned if the move doesn’t surprise him.
It’s almost full dark now, the sky nothing more than a glowing of indigo. But Zach’s eyes are wide. He’s watching me, uncertain.
“Come on,” I say and gently tug him toward the deer path. It’s so narrow, we have to walk single-file, but I keep hold of Zach’s hand and lead the way.
Our footsteps crunch against fall leaves and twigs and pine needles. And as soon as the trees close in around us, I have to slip my phone out of the little pocket in my leggings and turn on the flashlight. I packed two headlamps, but they’re in the tent.
The beam of light throws everything else into darkness, and for a moment, it occurs to me that I might lose the deer path and lead us astray.
And what a metaphor.
I’m definitely taking us where we’ve never been. Into the wild, so to speak.
I glance back over my shoulder, but it’s too dark to make out Zach’s face. He’s just one shadow in a forest of shadows.
It’s spooky. Because in just a few minutes, I could find myself alone. Not in Camp Bliss. But in life. A shadow in a forest of shadows.
I pause, stopping our progress on the trail. Letting the darkness settle. Listening. Not to the sounds of the woods.
But the whispers within. Within me.
I am here.
I am whole.
And whether I walk back out of these woods alone or with Zach by my side, I will still be here. I will still be whole.
I take a deep breath and let it go.
