"So, Christian, tell us more about your lucky shot," Little John says, gleefully changing the subject.
"Well, first I had a mug or two too much to drink," I say with a grin. The gang, especially Friar Tuck, cheers. "And then I hit two bull's-eyes with my eyes closed. I still have no idea how. Lucky, I guess."
I proceed to relate the whole tale: the competition, my mis—or perfectly!—aimed arrow, our subsequent escape from Nottingham Castle. The men hang on my every word, cheering and toasting every narrow escape. I'm probably embellishing the tale a bit too much, but I don't think anyone minds.
Through it all, Robin sits on the outskirts, whittling a stick with his knife, looking sad and contemplative. Half of me wants to run over and throw my arms around him, pulling him into a warm hug and letting him know everything will be okay. Part of me wants to strangle him for not being able to forget Marian.
I'm exhausted, and the men suggest I take a nap while they clean up from the meal. I've been through a lot today, after all. Thankful, I crawl into my tent and pass out almost instantly, and I don't wake up until the sun has set.
I scan the camp for Robin. I want to talk to him about what went on today—apologize for my jealousy as well, especially since it nearly got us killed.
The whistling of an arrow overhead interrupts my search—the signal that someone is entering the camp. The men scramble to their feet, drawing swords or grabbing bows. Robin motions for them to be silent as he steps forward.
"Who goes there?" he calls.
"Robin?"
The men gasp at the female voice addressing their leader, at its high-pitched Betty Boop-like tone. What the…?
The speaker steps from out of the shadows and into the illumination of the fire.
Oh no.
You've got to be kidding me.
Maid Marian.
She's dressed in a pale blue silk gown with a darker blue cloak covering her head. Her eyes catch the firelight and sparkle like a cat's.
What the heck is she doing here?
She steps forward again, nodding at Robin and then giving him a low curtsy. He's just staring at her, dumbfounded. And I thought the drool this morning was bad. Now, here in the camp, he looks like he's gone into cardiac arrest.
Oh, this is just great.
"Where… I mean…how? What…?" he stumbles, the cocky, often smooth-tongued man seemingly unable to form a sentence.
She laughs, and to my annoyance it sounds like Christmas bells tinkling in the breeze. Of freaking course.
"You left without your prize," she says, giggling a little as she reaches into a bag. She pulls out the arrow. The men all exhale a gasp, though I'm not sure if it's because of the sight of the arrow or the cleavage she revealed as she bent over to retrieve it.
The arrow gleams in the firelight, silver shaft flashing with an almost unearthly light. I try to remind myself how good it is that she brought it here. That it will feed many poor families who have nothing and how that's more important than my petty jealousy.
"Thank you, milady," Robin says, bowing low before accepting the gift. "'Tis most kind of you to travel all this way."
Okay, cool. Arrow delivered. Now she goes home, right? After all, we've got that "no girls allowed at camp" rule, right?
"Would you like to stay the night?" Robin asks. "'Tis not a safe place, this forest, for a lady."
What? What? I squeeze my fists together in fury. Now he's suddenly okay with women in camp? Oh, look, my long lost love shows up, so throw all the rules out the window. Sure, it's fine for Chrissie to pretend she's an effing eunuch indefinitely. But now that Marian's here? Oh, she's a lady, and the boys better understand.
Marian smiles graciously. "Thank you, Robin. 'Twas a long trip, and my horse would be much appreciative of the rest."
I glower. Long trip my butt. She just wants to hang with my outlaw.
"How did you find this place, lady?" Robin asks as he escorts her to the fire and brushes off a log for her to sit on.
"One of your guards assisted me," she says with a smile. "When I told him of my mission: to present the arrow to its rightful winner—the true champion, Robin Hood of Sherwood Forest."
"He should not have done that," Robin says but not in the I'm going to kill the guy type of way. If anything, he sounds slightly amused. "At least, not without a blindfold. The way to this place is secret, for many wish to do us harm."
"I am afraid 'tis my fault. I told him I have very sensitive eyes," Marian explains, batting the peepers in question. "He took pity on me."
"Ah," Robin says, taking a seat right next to her.
Uh, hello? Has everyone here developed hysterical blindness all of a sudden? Woman. In camp. Am I the only one here who remembers that this is supposed to be totally against the rules? The sacred oath? I wait for one of the men to jump in. To remind Robin he's breaking his own rule. But no one speaks up. Except Marian.
"Why did you not come back for me after the Crusades?" she asks. Her voice is disgustingly soft and sweet, like sugar covered with chocolate covered with honey. I secretly hope that ants show up and stream down her throat. Where are those Sherwood ants? You can never find good ants when you need them.
Robin sighs. "I did. I…saw you in the arms of another man. I thought perhaps you had forgotten me."
Marian pauses, seemingly shocked. Then she laughs. "Another man? You must have seen me with my uncle!"
What? That's the oldest excuse in the book! That's, like, what a politician says when he's sneaking his intern into a function. Robin's not going to buy it, is he?
He is.
I look around, desperate for backup. Amazingly, it seems all the Merry Men have vanished. I feel a nudge at my arm and turn around. It's Little John. "Come, Christian," he urges. "These two have much to talk about. Let us give them some time alone."
"What?" I cry. "You guys are just going to turn a blind eye to all of this? What about your sacred oath? No women allowed!"
John looks surprised. "She's not moving in, lad. She merely wishes a few moments with our Robin. Considering he has been suffering over the lass for near a year, I think 'tis only right for us to be understanding." He pulls on my arm. "Come. Let us take a walk. Give him a chance to win back his chosen bride."
I take one more look at the cuddly couple. They're talking softly, faces only a few inches apart. I wrench my arm from John's grasp and run into the forest, not feeling the branches as they whip at my face, my legs. All I care about is getting away. Far, far away.
I can't believe she came back! What does she want from him? Will they fall back in love? Did he ever stop loving her in the first place?
I run and run and run until I realize I've come to the hideaway, the love nest that Robin built for us. Just looking at the structure fills me with fury, and I kick and kick it until the roof gives way and collapses inward. I've destroyed the place where we shared that sweet night in each other's arms.
But that was just a lie, I remind myself. Me just fooling myself into thinking he actually loved me. That he actually cared about me. That I wasn't second place.
Selfish jerk. I can't believe he made me pretend I was a guy all this time, made me live a lie for him. All so he could keep his job. His dignity. And for what? When Marian showed up, his men seemed totally cool with him hooking up with her. If they only knew what a jerk he was.
I stop and look at the destroyed nest, now a blatant symbol of our shattered love. We shared so much. I told him things I haven't told anyone. And what am I left with? Nothing. Just like with Danny.
I collapse to my knees and let sobs overtake me. They wrack my body, stealing my breath. How am I going to learn to live without him? Whoever made up that crap about it being better to have loved and lost should get his head examined.
I hear my cell phone ring, followed by a crashing in the bushes as unseen animals flee the futuristic sound effects—they're clearly spooked by a sound they never should have heard in their short 12th-century lifetimes.
Sorry, Arcade Fire. I really need to put the thing on vibrate.
I look down at the phone. At first I'm tempted to not answer. What do I have to say to Kat, anyway? Beautiful, vapid Kat who goes back in time and wins the legendary knight Lancelot without a care in the world. I bet Lance never lied to her, never cast even the remotest glance at Guenevere once she was in the picture.
But the phone keeps ringing, and I realize if I don't talk to someone I'll probably go insane. So I reluctantly push the button and put the phone to my ear.
"Hello?" I croak. She's definitely going to know that I've been bawling like a baby.
"Chrissie? Is that you?" Kat's voice demands. "It doesn't sound like you. If you're some bad medieval person who stole Chrissie's phone, well, you'd better return it to her, or I'll so time travel back there and kick your butt."
I start laughing. I can't help it. Kat's just so…so…well, Kat.
"No, Kat, it's me. Sorry. I've just been… I mean, I think I have allergies. Living out in the woods can wreak havoc on your sinuses."
"That doesn't sound like an allergy to me, girl," Kat says. "That sounds like you've been crying. So spill. What's going on out there in Sherwood Forest?"
Realizing she's the only person I have to talk to, I start spilling my story. The silver arrow. The contest. The accidental "I shot the sheriff " moment.
And, of course, Marian.
"That wench!" Kat squeals over the phone, so loudly I have to pull it away from my ear for a moment. "How dare she try to steal your guy?"
"Well, honestly, I don't think she has any clue he's my guy. If he even is." I shrug. "She hasn't seen him in years."
"Uh, ye-ah. 'Cause she left him. Duh. She's got absolutely no right to show up now and try to take him back. That little Sherwood slut."
"Well, I mean, I don't even know if that's her goal," I protest, not having any idea why I'm suddenly defending Marian. "She came to the camp to bring Robin the silver arrow."
"Yeah and the kiss she never got to give him, right?"
"You're not helping."
"Sorry. You're right. I'm sure it's fine. You just have to trust your man."
"Easy for you to say. You have the most loyal knight in the history of knights. And you haven't seen how Robin looks at Marian. It's like he's some lovesick cocker spaniel."
"Are you sure? Or are you just imagining it 'cause you're being insecure?"
"I'm sure." Am I? Am I really sure? Or have I been projecting? I try to think back to Robin at the tournament. No, I've got to be right.
"Have you talked to him about it?" Kat presses. "I mean, I totally accused Lance of cheating on me with Guenevere. They went to this cottage in the woods together and everything! But it turns out he was just protecting her out of a sense of duty. He never even thought of her in that way."
"But my situation is different. Robin and Marian were lovers."
"Uh, yeah, like a billion years ago. We all have exes, Chris. Even you. How do you think you'd react if Danny showed up at the camp?"
Ugh. She's got a point. How would I act if Danny had been the arrow delivery boy? Would I immediately tell him to eff off? Or would I want to spend a few moments alone with him to talk?
Whoever thought Kat Jones would be the voice of reason?
"You're right," I relent. "Maybe he just wants to get some closure or something, find out why she jilted him like she did. Who knows, maybe he's dying of boredom back at camp as she titters on and on. Maybe he realizes what a self-absorbed wench she was all along and doesn't remember what he used to see in her."
"Yeah. Sometimes that's all it takes," Kat says. "I know when someone dumps me, I always end up putting them on this stupid pedestal in my mind. Every time I think of them, they get more god-like and grandiose. And why? Not because they were anything special. I mean, you should see the losers I dated before Lance. Can we say, 'Living at home in their parents' basement playing video games all day 'cause they're too lazy to find employment' much? But because they rejected me, I immediately filed them in the Better Than Me category in my brain. And then, when I finally run into them again, I'm like, what the heck was I thinking? This guy's a total dork. He has no power over me."
I wonder briefly if I'll think that about Danny when I see him again. Have I built up our relationship as something more special than it was just because he betrayed me? How much did we really have together? Sure, we dated since high school, but we barely saw each other the four years I was in college. And when we moved in together after graduation my day shift and his night shift completely conflicted.
With Danny there were no long talks, no shared emotional or intellectual ties. We had great sex, and he made me laugh, and together we were able to cohabitate. But did he ever take the time to know the real me? Did he even care about my hopes and dreams? Did I ever care about his?
Maybe Kat's right. Maybe it's the same with Robin. One talk with Marian and he'll realize he outgrew his childhood crush long ago. That now he wants to be with someone who he can really connect with. Who won't leave him for a jeweled necklace. What Robin and I share is special. We have long, deep discussions. We bond on a higher plane than I ever did with Danny. Surely he feels that way about me as well.
I hope.
"So, uh, I guess I shouldn't even bother asking about King Richie, then," Kat says, bringing me back to the conversation.
"Uh, oh, sorry," I apologize, realizing I've been lost in thought. "No, no sign of the guy."
"Totally lame. But okay. Well, we'll keep hanging here in the 22nd century, I guess."
"Sorry."
"Meh, it's not all bad. I've gotten this great job as a fashion designer for this really amazing company. I'm bringing back a little 21st century to the masses. And trust me, they need it! These people think acid-washed jeans are the latest in couture."
I laugh. "Sounds like you've got your work cut out for you."
"You too, babe. But don't give up on Hood Boy just yet. I'm telling you. From what you say, he sounds pretty special. You don't want to let something like that go."
"Thanks, Kat," I say, almost reluctant to let her off the phone. It's so odd how this adventure has totally bonded me to a girl I used to hate. But she's different now. Or maybe I'm just finally giving her a chance.
We say our good-byes, and much cheered, I head back to camp. I can't wait to see Robin. To tell him how much I care about him. How I'm excited about our relationship and I want to make it work. How I totally understand why he'd need some closure with Marian.
But when I get back to the camp, I'm dismayed to see that they are still talking. Eesh. How much closure does this guy need? From the outskirts I watch as they whisper, nearly face to face, in low voices. Then, to my shock and horror, Marian leans forward and plants a small kiss on Robin's lips. Worse, he doesn't get mad or pull away or anything remotely smart and deserving of my love like that.
Instead, he pulls her into an embrace.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I stare at the two hugging figures for a second, wanting to pull out every hair in my head—or preferably every hair in Marian's perfect mane.
Obviously, Kat was wrong about the closure thing. On the contrary, these two look like they're about to totally hook up. Maybe they made peace with each other. Maybe Marian apologized or made some stupid excuse as to why she's ignored him this past year. Maybe the idiot actually accepted her apology.
Maybe they're back together.
Maybe Robin and I are done, forever.
Tears blur my vision, and I rush back into the woods, unable to watch the scene a moment longer. I knew it! I knew he still had feelings for her. He was just using me until she came back.
I should have known this would happen the second he suggested we keep our relationship a secret. I mean, hello? He was too ashamed to even tell anyone that we were dating! That's so got to be one of the golden He's Just Not That Into You rules. If he really loved me, if he really wanted our relationship to last, he would have sung it f
rom the rooftops like Ewan McGregor in Moulin Rouge, despite the potential consequences.
Unfortunately, knowing this in my head doesn't make my stomach hurt any less. Or my heart, for that matter. As the song says, "love bites."
I run and run and run, not looking or caring where I'm going or what I'm going to do once I get there. As long as I'm away—out of proximity of the lovebirds—I'll hopefully be able to breathe again. That, in and of itself, seems like it will be a major accomplishment at this point.
The forest thins, and I step out into a darkened meadow. A full moon illuminates the landscape, casting stark, frightening shadows at every bend. I look around warily, feeling like I've just stepped into some cheesy slasher flick. The home audience is screaming at me, begging me not to go off alone into the night. Not leave the safety of the camp, while Jason Voorhees, Freddy Kruger, Michael Myers, and Leatherface all lie in wait, having joined forces to participate in my ultimate demise.
Um, yeah. Imagination running wild, I know. But sadly, it's almost more comforting at the moment to dwell on potential psycho axe-wielding killers than rerun my mental YouTube video of Marian kissing Robin for the ten-thousandth time in my brain.
I try to catch my breath, hands on my knees. What now? Where do I go? What do I do? I certainly can't go back to the camp. Not now and probably not ever. After all, it would be way too torturous to sit around and watch Robin and Marian falling deeper and deeper in love as each day passes. To sit and listen to his trite apologies. His excuses.
It's not you. It's me. Can't we just be friends? I need some space…
Yeah, I'd pretty much rather pull out my own toenails one by one than listen to that load of bull.
Problem is, if not back to camp, where do I go? I'm now stuck in the same situation I was in when I first arrived in the 12th century. Out of time. Trapped in medieval England until King Richard returns, and who the heck knows when that may be?
I shiver under my thin tunic. It's cold out here on the moors, and in my haste to get out of Sherwood Forest all I grabbed was my camera bag instead of a much more practical warm cloak. At the same time, it's too dark to wander far. What if I tripped on a branch or slipped on moss or fell in a hole and hit my head on a rock? I'd be totally SOL.
Mojitos with Merry Men Page 16