by Lissa Kasey
“But we’ll have to carry all that stuff?” Nate wondered. Because Jamie had said a hike…
“I’ll carry most of it. Don’t worry. You’ll be fine.”
“Terrified,” Nate grumbled. “What about bugs? Are there poisonous bugs here?”
Jamie laughed. “No. We’re not New Zealand.” He headed back to the shed and returned with other things Nate couldn’t identify. Maybe he needed to go log into his computer and research camping. There had to be easy instructions somewhere, right?
“You look tired. How about you get some food and meet me in the backyard in ten minutes. There’s a picnic blanket on the shelf above the washer and sandwich fixings in the fridge,” Jamie said as he headed back to the shed. “We’ll have an early dinner and then we’ll take a little trip to the bookstore.”
“I have a Kindle you know. Books sent to my phone automatically,” Nate pointed out.
“Not why we’re going to the bookstore. But food first. Maybe some sandwiches or something?”
Having something to do, Nate complied without much thought. Though he wondered just why they would be going to a bookstore if it weren’t for books? He put together a simple spread of lettuce wrapped sandwiches, fruit, and bottled water, grabbed the blanket and headed to the backyard. Jamie met him halfway, took the blanket and headed out the opposite gate, leaving the critters in the fenced area. Nate followed silently. He was more tired than he expected to be, subdued.
Jamie spread the blanket out in a quiet but flat area between some trees far enough away from the house that they couldn’t see the gate. Nate could hear the water though and wondered how far away they were from the coast. It couldn’t have been that far, less than a mile for sure. He only heard it because there was nothing else. No cars, planes, people, or anything really, other than wind and birds.
“Sit,” Jamie said. He took the stack of food from Nate and placed it off to the side.
Nate sat, surprised at how soft the blanket was. It was one of those Mexican style ones that he’d used for yoga fairly frequently, only about four times as large. The colors were purple, blue, and white. Nate kicked off his shoes and found a comfortable spot to stretch out. The cool breeze felt nice on his skin. Not too hot, not too cold.
They both ate in silence. Oddly, it wasn’t awkward. Jamie was the first person Nate had ever been around that he’d never felt the need to fill the silence. Tension or not, they just seemed to mesh.
“How was your day?” Nate asked after he’d finished eating.
“Busy. We’ve had a rash of slobs, lately. That’s what Graham and I call them. They set up small camps and leave trash everywhere. Lots of trash in the day camps. We’ve even been picking up some of the better used hiking trails. Opened a hotline for hikers to call if they see anything shady or report a trash site. But it’s not new to any of our parks, and it happens on the mainland too. Just lately it’s been almost every night. We spend more time cleaning up than checking cameras and meters.”
Nate had to admit he didn’t really know much about what rangers did. “Doesn’t everyone have to check in to camp? Can you ban the people who are messy?”
Jamie shrugged. “Hard to tell who they are. Not everyone checks in, though they should. We’ve found abandoned four-wheelers before. Broken axels or something. People try to take off the plates, but we usually link it back. It’s harder to track beer cans and fast-food slobs. The day parks let people in only during the day and check each one out. But there’s wild land out here too, and a couple private parks. We’re going to the only state park that allows camping on the south side of the island. There’s a marine park up on the north end that is all for boaters.” He finished up his sandwich and packed the rest away. The sun was starting to set and it was gorgeous.
Nate watched with fascination. He wondered if Jamie still saw the beauty of it, or if it had just become every day ordinary to him. Nate suspected after a few more beautiful sunsets, he might just miss it if he had to move away.
And that easy the depression was back. The circle of questions, self-doubt, exhaustion, and worthlessness. What was he even doing here?
“Let me drop this stuff off inside and we can head to the bookstore,” Jamie said. He got up and headed toward the house. “Meet you at the truck.” He vanished through the gate before Nate could protest.
It took another minute or so for Nate to get up. He wanted to beg Jamie not to make him go out again. Nate wanted to go up to his room and just cry. It wouldn’t accomplish anything, might not even make him feel better, but it was a burning need at that moment.
What could possibly be necessary at the bookstore? Couldn’t they just stay home? But then he’d worry about the stupid camping trip. Nate was sure Jamie believed it would be great fun. Only Nate worried about a million things. What if he forgot his pills? What if they got lost? What if he couldn’t sleep? What if he had a panic attack and was in the middle of nowhere and Jamie had to call a helicopter or something to get them home?
He slogged his way back to the house, feeling like he weighed a thousand pounds. Jamie flashed him a wide smile when he emerged from the house. “The bookstore isn’t far.” Jamie opened the driver’s side door as Nate reached the passenger side.
Nate got in, and everything narrowed. Panic. Only instead of the shortness of breath and full-on breakdown, he just shut down. A million what-ifs ran through his mind, building scenario on scenario all ending in catastrophe.
Chapter 9
He didn’t remember the trip at all, just being startled as Jamie’s door slammed shut. It was a bit like awakening from a dream. They were in town, parked in front of a tiny row of businesses. The sign over the end one read “Tome Time.” From the big front windows, Nate could see people moving around inside, lights on, and stacks of books.
Jamie opened Nate’s door and looked up at him. “You coming?”
“Sure,” Nate grumbled, easing himself out of the truck.
The smell of books hit him first when they stepped inside. It was a musty and familiar smell, like an old library. There were new books on display by the door. Big-name authors, some who worked hard at writing, and a few who paid others to write for them. He wasn’t a fan of either really as he tended to find his favorite reads buried in the stacks, spine facing out, with little more than a title to draw him in. He missed those days of sliding his finger along the spine, searching for a good read. E-readers were convenient, but couldn’t replace some of the memories of growing up in a library. Nate’s library card had been his pass to so many other worlds. As a lonely kid, it had been his access to friends, even if they were only characters built up into imaginary friends in his head. He missed that.
A woman with short pixie-style cut blonde hair approached and offered a hand to Jamie. “Good to see you, Jameson,” she said.
“Kari,” Jamie greeted her, taking her hand and shaking it. “This is Nate.”
She turned her smile on him. Nate subconsciously took a step back. Would she see how damaged he was? “Jameson says you write,” Kari said.
“Used to,” Nate answered automatically. He hadn’t so much as looked at his writing in almost two years.
“Fiction, right?” Kari turned toward a corner of the store where there was a table set up and a bunch of people sitting with big three-ring binders open in front of them.
“Yes. Fantasy mostly. Some sci-fi. Never finished anything.” He really hoped he didn’t have to join the group. He didn’t feel like being social tonight.
Kari walked around the table and to a shelf behind it, where she picked up another binder and returned to them. “We have a book workshop group every week. This folder has tabs to help you keep your ideas organized and build a book.” She smiled at Nate. “We specialize in helping fellow writers complete their first book. Everyone at the table here started like you. How many of you are published now?” She asked the group of men and women at the table. There were eight of them. Every one of them raised their hand.
&nbs
p; “I don’t know if I could ever publish…” Nate began.
“Not the goal,” Kari said. “Finish something first. It’s one of those impossible goals we all set for ourselves. I hear it all the time. Someday I’m going to write a book. To which I ask what’s stopping you? Some never get started. Others get started but lost along the way. This…” She tapped on the binder, “is just a guide to help begin and find your way back when you get lost. Look through it. Maybe jot down some notes and think about attending our next group.”
“We don’t bite,” said someone at the table.
“And there is always snacks,” another said.
“We’re here to help if you get stuck.”
“Or nudge you when you get lazy,” another joked, and laughter erupted all around the table.
“We all need that pretty regularly,” Kari said.
Nate took the binder, not sure what else to do. He didn’t open it. Just hugged it to his chest. Jamie reached out and grabbed Nate’s free hand. “Thanks, Kari. We’ll be out in the woods this weekend, so I’ll be sure he brings it with him.” Jamie tugged Nate toward the door. They weren’t staying? Nate was so relieved he feared he’d drop into a puddle of goo at Jamie’s feet.
“Nice to meet you,” Nate said quietly, waving to all the people he didn’t know, and in that moment, couldn’t fathom finding the energy to interact with. He let Jamie drag him out the door and back to the truck, getting in without a fuss.
“I was hoping you’d wander through earlier in the day to get the binder, but I’m glad you have it,” Jamie said as he started the truck, and backed it out of the small parking lot to head for home.
Nate balanced it in his lap and opened it. Inside the first page read: Fantasy Novel, First Act, Section One: Character creation. There were easily two dozen tabs. The first was a set of character profile sheets. Nate had done them before but had never really used them in a story. He sort of just began writing and the characters emerged. He’d always been what writers called a pantser, writing by the seat of his pants, rather than with a plan. Maybe that was why he never finished.
“I have a packet of pens at home for you. Colors, ballpoint, the stuff you liked when we were at the con for taking notes. The book will give you something to do while we’re out in the woods. It’s quiet, and other than my phone, we won’t have any electronics. I do a lot of reading and hiking. Thought you might like a little writing. I figure it can’t hurt, right?” Jamie said.
“The worst that can happen is that I don’t finish again, right?” Nate pointed out.
“I think the worst would be not starting at all,” Jamie said. “Kari is brilliant when it comes to organizing. Has these folders for a dozen genres, even nonfiction. Helped me write a book to ease my grief. I finished it, and I’m not even a writer.”
Nate turned his head so fast he thought he’d get whiplash. “You wrote a book?”
“Yes,” Jamie admitted. “Not a good one.”
“How do you know?”
“It’s very dry. The group looked it over. It’s finished. I completed all the tabs. But the journey wasn’t really about the writing or the completion. It was about healing.”
“And the book helped with that?”
“I think so.” Jamie shrugged. “More the pieces I had to needle out to get each section done. Reflection, research, thought, conjecture. I think what is missing was the inspiration. I wrote it to close a chapter in my life. To put emotions in boxes, label them, and put them on shelves. Normally life isn’t so organized. But it did help me recognize what I was feeling. I still pick it up from time to time and reread certain chapters.”
“Maybe I should have gotten a nonfiction guide,” Nate muttered at the book in his lap.
“Nah,” Jamie said as he pulled the truck back into his driveway. “I think this is better. You’re not locked in by rules of reality. You can do anything you want. Start with any characters you want. Make them as real or as imaginary as you could possibly dream. The door is wide open.”
“But I need to heal too.”
“Yes,” Jamie agreed. “However, no two people have the same process of healing. I’m not the only member of the writing group who lost a spouse. Some wrote inspirational guides, some memoirs, and one wrote murder mysteries. We choose how we heal. Your imagination is so vivid; I suspect you can do magical things with it.”
“Was,” Nate corrected him.
“Is,” Jamie said. “All those doubts and crazy questions in your head? That’s part of that imagination. It’s running in the wrong direction. I thought maybe we could try focusing it in a different direction.”
Jamie put the truck in park and turned it off. Nate sat for a minute longer staring at the book and letting the words flow through his head. All good points. Even when he felt the weight of the world on his shoulders, he could tell what common sense was.
“When did you get so smart?” Nate asked.
Jamie chuckled. “Out of the truck smart-ass. You need to get to sleep so you can be ready for your first camping trip.”
“Oh God,” Nate said, remembering all the crazy fears running through his head. “I’m going to die.”
“Exactly that,” Jamie said. “All that shit going through your head? Not going to happen, but what an imagination! Write it down.” With that he got out of the truck and headed inside. Nate followed at a slower pace, gripping the binder, and wondering if maybe they were all right. Could he really finish a book?
Nate’s bed had become a cat haven sometime after he’d left because it was covered in all six of the cats. “Is there room for me?” he asked AJ, who sat sprawled across Leo and Tuck in the middle of the bed. Riley perched like a loaf of bread on one of his pillows, and the twin terrors were a little ball of conjoined looking fur at the end of the bed.
He put the binder down to find pajamas and quickly change. No one meowed at him for food, but when he went into the bathroom to brush his teeth, there were pebbles in three little bowls next to their little cat water fountain. The litter box was clean too, though Nate couldn’t remember cleaning it.
When he returned to the room, he wondered if he should scoot the cats over a bit. There was a little less than a foot left on the one side without Riley on his pillow, but the kittens were on that side. On the opposite side he had maybe a foot and a half and a free pillow, so he curved himself around them. AJ began to purr the second he ran a hand down her back.
The door opened a crack. Nate looked up to see Jamie’s profile. “Hey,” he said.
“I wondered where all the critters had gone.”
“Apparently my bed is the best thing in the world.” Nate knew he wasn’t going to be able to sleep curled up in that little corner of the bed. He might not sleep at all with the worry about the camping trip running through him.
“Let them snooze. You can sleep in my bed,” Jamie said. “It’s not like we won’t be sleeping together in a tent for the next few days.”
Nate let that idea process. Him and Jamie in a tent for a few days. Sleeping with a friend should not have been a big deal. And they had technically slept in the same bed last night while Nate had a migraine. He realized in that moment that he was still attracted to Jamie. No matter how much his brain might be broken, emotions confused and absent some days, Jamie still held a place in Nate’s heart that no one else had ever breached.
His months of emotional training taught him to question everything he felt. Was it real? He asked himself all the time. His emotions, his perceptions, was he overanalyzing it? Probably. Jamie was his friend. Had been for years. The past few days living in Jamie’s space had been the most peaceful Nate could recall in years. Why did he have to pick it apart? Why not just accept it while it lasted?
He got up and nodded, giving all the cats all a quick pet before leaving them to their claimed haven. Nate followed Jamie to his room and waited for him to pick a side of the bed. It was the third time they’d sleep together. The first time had been in Nate’s house. Not
a big deal, Nate reminded himself as he got into the bed. Did straight guys often sleep in the same bed as their straight friends? Nate didn’t think so, but he also didn’t want to analyze Jamie’s actions when his brain was already in exhaustion mode.
The pillow was soft and the blankets warm. He turned onto his stomach, face away from Jamie, and prayed for sleep. He wasn’t sure he could handle the anxiety of a first camping trip with no sleep.
Vaguely he could feel Jamie’s presence. Not touching him, but just there. Like a safety net. Nate closed his eyes and began to sing “Ninety-nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall” in his head as he counted backwards and prayed for sleep.
Chapter 10
The next morning Nate opened his eyes to find himself covered in cats and to hear Jamie moving around the house. He blinked at the clock beside the bed and realized it was after seven in the morning. None of the cats had woken him for food, but once again he was smothered in them. Leo on his chest, AJ on his arm, Riley on his pillow. Tuck was sprawled over the blankets across his legs and the twin terrors curled up on Jamie’s side of the bed.
“Pretty sure we left you guys in the other room,” Nate grumbled at them. “Gave you my whole bed.”
What time were they leaving? He carefully moved everyone around so he could get out of the bed. Nate returned to his own room to use the bathroom and brush his teeth. He wondered what he should wear. Were there special camping clothes?
He got into the shower and tried to make a plan. If he stuck close to Jamie, he’d be okay. Jamie knew his way around wildlife. If they ran into a bear or a fox or a lion or something, Jamie would know what to do. Nate wondered if he should pack his cell phone just in case of an emergency. How far out into the wilderness would they be? Did Jamie have flares? Nate had played a lot of video games in his life and that was where his limited knowledge of camping came from.