Girl off the Grid

by Jillian Dodd

  I huff to myself as my boots stick into the mud each time I take a step, then make a popping sound as the mud oozes. I’m directly behind Nacho, and Adam is behind me. Flying over me is a beautiful blue bird, and I’m thrilled when it perches on a nearby tree. Finally something remotely pretty. I get out my camera to take a photo of it, but it’s too far away. So I move closer.

  “Hey, where are you going?” Adam asks.

  “It’s fine. I just want a picture of this beautiful bird,” I say, when all of a sudden my foot drops two feet down into the mud. Ewww!

  “Now look what you’ve gotten yourself into. I have to get a photo of this!” He laughs out loud.

  “Seriously?” I shoot a mean glare over my shoulder. “This is not the least bit funny!” I try to pull my foot up, but it’s stuck. I start to panic, wondering if it’s like quicksand and I’m going to be sucked into the mud and die. Please, don’t let me die in a stinky place like this. My mother would be horrified.

  “Oh, this isn’t good,” I hear Nacho say to Adam. “It’s going to be hard for her to get her foot out now that it’s stuck.”

  I’m close to tears. Where is my knight in shining armor when I need one? I glance back at Adam, hoping he’s up for the challenge, but he’s practically doubled over with laughter.

  Nacho treads very carefully, getting closer to me. “Grab ahold of my arm,” he instructs. “Then I want you to pull your leg up as hard as you can, using me for support.”

  With this new development, Adam has stopped laughing and is clicking photos of me. I can’t help but flip him the bird. This is not at all funny. Nor should he be taking photos of me when I am clearly in distress.

  I take a deep breath, cling to Nacho’s arm for dear life, and wriggle my leg back and forth.

  After what feels like ten minutes but was probably only a few seconds, my foot comes loose. I pull it up and out of the mud, but my boot stays stuck down in the stinking hole.

  “Adam! Will you please stop taking your stupid pictures and help?” I lash out. “I need you to reach down and grab my boot. I can’t step anywhere without it.”

  “Oh, fine,” he says, slinging his camera around his back while he reaches down and retrieves it. Then his face turns green and he starts coughing. “Bloody hell, what is that smell?” He starts gagging, then dry heaving.

  Finally, he holds out my boot. “Oh my. That smell is you,” he says. My eyes get huge. I’m mortified and angrily rip my mud-covered boot out of his hand.

  “It’s not me, you jerk, it’s the mud! And look at your arm, it’s on you, too.” Now I am ready to cry. Is there anything more humiliating than this?

  Nacho plugs his nose. “Actually, Camille is correct. It is the mud. The mud around mangroves is made up of silt and mud and because it is so dense it is oxygen poor. Bacteria thrives in this environment and, unfortunately, the resulting smell is similar to rotting eggs.”

  “Whatever,” Adam says. “It stinks.”

  I steady myself and slip my boot back on, but Adam’s right, the smell is horrible. I start to feel a little queasy, too, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to let myself get sick in front of him. Serves him right for laughing at me. And I’m definitely going to have to be sure to delete those photos from his camera.

  Nacho helps get me back onto the path.

  Adam has the bottom of his shirt pulled up over his nose, allowing me a glimpse of his trim torso. I will admit, he has nice abs. He’s lean but well-defined.

  “You really smell,” he says through the shirt, causing me to want to smack him. But it’s true. Even though we’ve moved away from where my foot made the hole, the putrid scent follows me because my entire leg is still covered in mud.

  “Shut up!” I yell at him. “Your arm is muddy and smelly, too.”

  “Only because I had to rescue your boot,” he huffs.

  “Well, that was a fun little twist of events,” Nacho says, trying to lighten the mood.

  I cross my arms in front of my chest and ignore Adam. I’ll just pretend he and his abs don’t even exist.

  We follow Nacho in silence until he stops and says, “Here we are.” He points to a watery area next to us. “See these little things? They are mangrove seeds. We are going to take some and plant them.” He grabs a handful and shows them to us. They look kind of like green beans, but are half red.

  Adam stops coughing and dry heaving long enough to take a photo of the seeds in Nacho’s outstretched hands.

  “The seeds normally fall from the tree into the water and then go down into the mud. But we are going to move them out further to a different area to expand their growth.” He bends down and grabs a few more handfuls then leads us to a sunny clearing.

  When I walk out into the sunlight, I instantly feel better. It is still hot, but it’s not so muggy and dark. The ground is harder, and the mud isn’t as slippery as it was in the swamp. Ahead of us there are rows of sprouting plants.

  Nacho leads us to the end of the row. “All we have to do is place the seeds here, and they will grow into large mangroves one day. Camille, would you like to do the honors?” I notice he’s breathing through his mouth.

  “Yes, since you are now one with the mangroves,” Adam teases. I give him a mad glare.

  “I would be honored, Nacho,” I reply, praying that the nature Karma gods will see this as a gesture of goodwill. I get down on my knees, dig a little hole with my hands, and drop in some of the seeds.

  “Hold up the seeds and smile,” Adam says, pointing his camera toward me.

  I hold up the seeds as instructed, but I’ll be damned if I will smile.

  “Great job,” Nacho encourages. “Hopefully they will all sprout and we will be on our way to growing a larger mangrove forest. Maybe someday you can come back and see the trees you planted.”

  “Uh, sure,” I say, not wanting to be rude but, at this point, I couldn’t care less if I ever see a mangrove tree again.

  But then I see more pretty birds flitting around one of the larger mangroves to my left and feel bad for thinking that. Mangroves really are amazing with all they do for the environment, and if helping those birds have homes means I stink, then so be it. Really, it wasn’t the mangroves’ fault. It was the mud that was stinky. And it’s amazing to think about how these tiny seeds will sprout into trees, and those trees will come together to create a whole ecosystem.

  Nacho points to a row of trees. “Our canoe is docked up on the other side of this field. Let’s head there. You can rinse your leg off, so it won’t smell so bad.”

  Oh! And here I thought Nacho was on my side.

  Adam giggles like a school girl behind me.

  Jerk.

  But then Nacho says to him, “You’ll want to rinse off your arm as well.”

  When we get to the river, Nacho takes a bucket from the canoe and drags it through the murky river water. He splashes it on my calf while I use my hand to scrub the muck off, not even caring that my boots are now soaking wet. I finish up then get in the canoe, plopping down and crossing my arms in front of my chest. Adam sits down next to me, even though there is barely room for him.

  “You’re not mad at me, are you?”

  I don’t reply, giving him a glare instead.

  “Oh, come on,” he says. “You have to admit, it was pretty funny.”

  “It was not funny. It was mortifying, not to mention dangerous.”

  “Dangerous?” he asks, looking at me like I’m crazy.

  “Yes! That mud felt like it was going to pull me under and swallow me up. And you did nothing to help.”

  “You should learn to listen to instructions,” he counters. “Nacho told you to stay on the path.”

  “Oh, really? You’re the one who told me you have to go off the beaten path to find the good stuff in life.”

  “Off the beaten path, yes, but not off the mangrove path, apparently.” He slaps his leg, and he and Nacho howl with laughter. If I wasn’t the butt of the joke, I’d be laughing too. But e
ven though I washed the mud off, the scent of failure still clings to me.

  I turn my head away from Adam and pretend to be interested in nature. I immediately smile, remembering a shirt that Lexington has that says, I’m an outdoor girl. I like drinking champagne on the patio. Before this trip, that was me to a T, but as I look at the wetlands surrounding me, the array of sounds and beautifully colored birds and butterflies, I realize being an outdoor girl is much more than that. Mud and all—it’s kind of growing on me.

  I can feel Adam staring at me, but I refuse to look at him. And it’s really hard not to—like an itch you know you shouldn’t scratch. Fortunately, I don’t have to ignore the urge for long. Nacho has us across the river quickly and pulls up to another dock.

  As I get out of the little boat he says, “I hope besides the mud, you had a good time and learned something new about the mangroves and all they do for our environment.”

  “It was wonderful meeting you,” I say, giving him a hug. At least he helped me in my time of need. “Thank you so much for the tour and for getting me out of the mud.”

  Adam also thanks him and shakes his hand. While they are saying their goodbyes, Diego shows up.

  “Camille, why are you all wet? Did Adam push you in the river?” he asks with a laugh.

  “No, she fell into the mangrove mud!” Adam yells so loud I’m sure every camper in the area heard him. “And she smelled so bad, I thought I was going to puke!”

  I hang my head and mutter, “I was trying to get a picture of a pretty bird.”

  Diego wraps an arm around me. “An admirable cause,” he says, making me feel better. “Why don’t I show you the campsite?”

  We walk up a little path from the river and discover a clearing with multiple tents. One large tent appears to be set up as an outdoor kitchen with long folding tables, coolers, and a portable grill. Just outside of it is a ring of folding chairs surrounding a stack of wood ready to be lit. A man and woman are in the kitchen area doing some kind of food prep. There is the sound of laughter coming from further up the trail.

  “This is our makeshift kitchen,” Diego says. “We’ll be camping here tonight with another group. They are led by Carlos, who I work with.” He leads us past the kitchen and stops where there are sheets hanging between two trees. He pulls one of the sheets aside. “This is where you will go to the restroom. Make sure if you go at night you take a flashlight with you.”

  I swallow hard. There is no way I can go to the bathroom there. It’s literally a porcelain toilet on top of a hole in the ground, surrounded by sheets for privacy. Next to it is a stake holding a roll of toilet paper.

  “Um, so this isn’t the only bathroom, is it?” I ask Diego.

  “Yeah, this is it. No showers or anything like that, but we won’t need it with only being here for the night. Come on, I’ll show you to your tents, and you can get settled before dinner.”

  I barely notice what he says next. All I can think about is how badly I have to pee. How I can’t go in a hole in the ground. I’m trying not to lose it. But I am about to. What more could happen to me today—stinky mud, making a cute guy gag because you smell so bad, and now this toilet? I’m really not sure I can do this. Not only that, there are no showers. I’m hot and sweaty and covered in sticky bug spray—and I still smell.

  “Here’s your tent, Camille,” Diego says then points to the one next to it. “And this is yours, Adam.” I can’t say anything. I just nod. “My tent is over there on the far left side. I’m staying in one next to Carlos.” He points across the open field.

  “Do you know Carlos pretty well from work?” Adam asks.

  “Yeah, our families are close. My wife and I are his son’s godparents.”

  “You get a sort of guy’s camping night, I guess,” Adam says.

  “I suppose we do. So, I would recommend you stay in your clothes for dinner.” Diego stops and looks me up and down, his nostrils flaring. “Actually, Camille, you should probably change. Just be sure to wear long sleeves and pants, or make sure you have on bug spray. I don’t want you getting bitten up tonight.”

  I give him a nod even though I didn’t bring a long-sleeved shirt.

  “You two get settled and be back down to the kitchen in about thirty minutes. The food should be ready by then.”

  A group of kids is walking around laughing, and I can’t help wonder why. Why do they sound like they are having fun? I can’t think of one single thing about this that’s going to be fun. I close my eyes to calm myself. I can do this. I can be a camper.

  But I have to pee. After Adam goes into his tent, I make sure no one is around then run over to the bathroom, place the red flag outside so no one will barge in on me, then take a deep breath and walk inside. I have a stare-down with the toilet.

  The toilet wins.

  I look away in shame then move to position myself over it, tug down my pants, close my eyes and pretend I’m in my parents’ marble bathroom, quickly relieving myself. I use the toilet tissue, pull up my pants, and sneak back to my tent.

  I unzip it, kick off my boots, and crawl inside. The floor is clean, and there is a newer looking sleeping bag on the floor. Maybe it won’t be that bad. Besides, I just have to get through this night. I’ll eat dinner, sit by the fire, then go to bed. That’s it. Tomorrow we’ll be at a hotel where I can shower and forget any of this ever happened. I go into a corner and shimmy out of my still damp pants and slip on a pair of leggings. Ahh. Much better.

  I hear Adam call my name from outside my tent.

  I throw on my clean sneakers and unzip it. “What?”

  “I was wondering if you’d like to come over to my tent, maybe play some cards before dinner?” he asks, shrugging in an adorable way. “Look, I’m sorry I laughed. I know it wasn’t funny to you. Don’t be mad.”

  “Fine,” I say, rolling my eyes.

  When we get to his tent, he unzips the doorway, and I’m surprised when, being a gentleman, he lets me go in first.

  “You smell better,” he says, smirking as we sit facing each other on his sleeping bag.

  “I’m going to kick your butt at cards, just so you know.”

  He smiles broadly, and it makes my heart swell a little. He didn’t like that I was mad at him.

  “Challenge accepted. What do you want to play?” he asks, holding up the cards. “How about speed?”

  “Sure, why not,” I try to say casually. I’m so good at speed. I always beat my dad.

  But apparently I don’t have a very good poker face because he says, “I take it you are good at this game? It’s funny. You don’t strike me as the competitive type, but something just flashed in your eyes. You’re out for blood.”

  This makes me laugh. “Well, I am the reigning card champion at my house. My family loves playing cards. We have a lot of fun, but take it seriously.”

  “My family plays a lot, too. Mostly to pass the time on trips. It’s a fun way to spend time together.”

  “What do you know?” I hold my hand to my heart in pretend shock. “We actually have something in common besides a love for manatees.”

  He grins at me while he shuffles, and before I know it the cards are flying out of my hands.

  I slam my last card down.

  “Yes!” I screech, throwing my hands up in the air. “I won. I won. I won!”

  “We’ll have to have a rematch later. I think you were just lucky this time,” he counters, not wanting to admit defeat. “Come on, I think dinner is probably about ready.” He puts the cards away, and we both exit the tent as the sun is starting to set.

  “Wow, it’s gorgeous. I can’t believe with all the trees there is just this random spot of open land. It’s kind of cool,” I admit as Adam zips up the tent.

  “I agree,” he says, looking around. “It is beautiful. Hey, do you have a jacket or bug spray? I think you’re going to want it for dinner.”

  “No, I don’t. I mean, I do have bug spray. But I really don’t want to put any on. I’m already
a disgusting, sticky mess, and it didn’t even do anything.” I show him the bites on my arm.

  “Hmm. I have an extra long-sleeved shirt if you want to throw that on, so you have a little more protection,” he offers.

  “That would be great. Thank you. It will be so nice to get out of this dirty shirt.”

  Adam opens his tent back up and digs through his bag, pulling out a grey long-sleeved t-shirt and what looks like makeup remover wipes.

  “Here,” he says, handing them to me. “These are body wipes. Since we don’t have showers, these are the next best thing.”

  “Oh my goodness! You’re a life saver,” I say, jumping into his arms to give him a hug. I walk back into his tent, drop the flaps shut, then take off my shirt.

  “I’ll just, uh, be out here,” he says awkwardly.

  “Alright. Hey, can you grab my water and camera from my tent? They’re in my backpack,” I yell out to him. I wipe down my arms, chest, and back. I never thought of bringing something like this. It was such a good idea on Adam’s part.

  Feeling refreshed, I pull on his shirt and exit the tent. “Well, how do I look?” I ask, doing a little twirl.

  “The shirt is a little big, but you look good,” he says, grinning. “Let’s go get dinner.”

  Adam

  When we get to the kitchen area, people are already there in line. I let Camille stand in front of me as we wait to get our plates filled with rice and cooked vegetables.