Page 42 of Forever is the Sweetest Con
Natasha turns to Kei. “Kei, as the only Canadian in the group, do you think you have a natural advantage?”
He laughs, shaking his head. “Yes, every year in Vancouver, rightafter we build our igloos, we go into Stanley Park and get our maple syrup for the winter.”
“Not fair!” Giovanni exclaims, clearly not picking up on Kei’s sarcasm.
“He’s joking, G. Chill,” Damian says.
“But that’s not all,” Natasha says, arching an eyebrow. “You’ll be led into the woods blindfolded, and the first couple to find their way out, with a quart of maple syrup, will win the challenge.”
“Y’all are doing too much,” Sue-Ellen moans.
Moments later, as I’m stumbling through the woods, I can’t help but agree with Sue-Ellen.
“Oh my god, this is so creepy.” I squeeze Kei’s hand, and he squeezes back. I shuffle my feet along the forest floor, looking for some feedback to prevent me from tumbling over and taking Kei with me.
“What, you don’t enjoy being blindfolded and led into the woods by a virtual stranger?”
“I really don’t. Ouch!” My cheek stings after being whipped by something—a tree branch, I presume, unless corporal punishment is part of this challenge.
“Oops, sorry.” The deep voice belongs to Teddy, a new cameraman. “We’re almost there.”
Teddy’s job is to deposit us in the middle of the forest, and film us as we fend for ourselves to get back. Presumably, he has a map or a GPS or something, though who can be sure?
In any case, I’m not loving this. It’s givingBlair Witch Project.
We’ve been walking for a while, long enough to be hot and sticky. The mosquitoes are in full force, and I’m tired and itchy and disoriented, but I dare not complain. On the plus side, there have been lots of opportunities to make physical contact with Kei.
“I think this is good.” Teddy puts his hands on my arms and twirls me around a few times. “You can take your blindfold off.”
When I pull my blindfold down, I almost laugh out loud. We could be in any forest, anywhere in the world. It’s just trees and dirt and bugs and more trees and dirt.
Teddy hands Kei a bucket containing our drill, a hammer, and a small white plastic spout.
Kei looks at the contents, then at me. “I’m sorry, I’m a bad Canadian. I’ve never actually tapped maple syrup before.”
“Well, you’re lucky I have.”
“I didn’t know there are maple trees in the desert.”
I give him a playful shove. “There are plenty of maple trees in Quebec, where my dad is from.”
“So you’re half Canadian.”
“HalfFrenchCanadian.”
“An important distinction.”
“Absolutely. Now, let’s find a suitable tree.”
Kei pulls on a low-hanging branch of a nearby tree to inspect the leaves. “This one looks just like the flag.”
I examine the leaf. It has five lobes. I remember my dad touching his finger to the point of each lobe, and then into each of my five fingers so I’d remember how to identify the leaves.
“That’s a sugar maple, but it’s too small. We could damage the tree.” I scan the trees in the area, then march over to a larger maple and wrap my arms around it. I press my face into the bark and inhale its resinous scent.
“I never took you for a tree hugger,” Kei says.
“This is how you know if it’s big enough.”
