by Rae Agatha
The woods were beautiful. It was the middle of spring, there were young leaves rustling on the trees, they had that very fresh green color that can be spotted only just after they unfold from the buds. The air felt wonderful, it smelled of moist litter, they could hear woodpeckers knocking on the tree trunks far above them. Single rays of sunlight were reaching them through the branches and twigs. They were walking for over half an hour, in complete silence, focused on watching their steps and on experiencing the nature around them.
“Where is the group?” Matylda asked.
“We’re almost there. Don’t worry.”
“No, I told my parents we were going with fifteen other people, and that was one of the conditions under which they allowed me to go, if anything’s different, I feel like I’ve lied to them.”
“Matylda, your parents aren’t here, relax. Trust me, we’re almost there, we’ll just need to climb a bit now.”
They were walking up on a slight hill for about half an hour when they finally came up to a small glade.
“Here we are. Our campsite,” Dorota panted out, took her backpack off and put it aside. Matylda was mesmerized. The glade was situated two or three hundred yards above the sea level, the view over the forest and mountains standing proudly in the distance, was breathtaking. Below them there was a green carpet of trees, moving along with the slight wind, making it look as if the area was breathing. In the middle of the glade there was a circle made of stones filled with burned brown, wooden campfire remains. Matylda took off her backpack, too and looked at Dorota.
“Do you like it?” She asked.
“I love it,” Matylda whispered. “It’s beautiful here.”
“I’m very glad you think so,” Dorota replied and opened her backpack. She took out two cans of beer from it and gave one to Matylda.
“What are you doing?” She asked surprised.
“Well, I thought we might have a toast for our two days of freedom,” Dorota smiled.
“But – can we? What if other people come?”
“There are no other people, it’s just you and me,” Dorota said.
“What?! You’re kidding!” Matylda shouted.
“No, I’m not,” Dorota laughed.
Matylda was shocked. She had no idea if she was more happy or worried. It felt great they were there, on their own for the whole two days, but then again, the promise she made to her parents kept on nagging her.
“So,” she said while taking the beer from Dorota, “you mean we’re here all alone for two days?”
“Yes.”
“With no scouts, no Jesus friends, no control?” Matylda asked smiling broadly.
“No,” Dorota replied.
“No prayer before meal, after meal, before going to sleep, after waking up, before brushing our teeth and while taking out the garbage?” She laughed.
“Not if you don’t feel like it.”
“And nobody knows it’s only us?” Matylda couldn’t believe it.
“Nobody,” Dorota smiled back.
“Oh my God!” Matylda was incredibly thrilled. “Why didn’t you tell me it was going to be like that?”
“So you could be more credible while talking to your parents,” Dorota replied.
“Smart, really smart,” Matylda said and opened her beer can. Dorota opened hers too, and they clinked.
“To freedom,” she said.
“To freedom,” Matylda replied and they started drinking.
They were sitting on two big rocks, one of those that were surrounding the campfire area. They took off their jackets; the day was becoming warmer with every hour. They had books, Scrabble board, some magazines, but they both felt they preferred to just talk or even not to say anything at all, just to enjoy the freedom, the silence, cherish the minimum independence they were able to tear out for themselves.
“I’ve got something for you,” Dorota said and handed Matylda a small wooden box decorated by a thin red ribbon.
“What is it?”
“Open it, you’ll see.”
Matylda took the ribbon off and opened the gift. Inside the box, in an elegant case there was a Swiss Army Knife. It was shiny and had a slightly ornamented handle.
“How is it?” Dorota asked seeing Matylda’s reaction; the girl was stunned.
“It’s beautiful,” she said quietly and gently took it out. It felt quite heavy in her hand, but its weight made it easier to hold it firmer. “It’s really for me?”
“What do you think?” Dorota smiled. “You deserve it, trust me.”
“Thank you so much,” Matylda said. She was deeply touched and hugged her friend. “I’ve never gotten anything so – so valuable,” she said and looked at the knife once again. “How were you able to find it? There’s no shop in our town with similar things.”
“Some of my scout friends have helped me. Here, check this out,” Dorota said, put her beer aside, took the knife from her and started opening it. “Look how many different functions it has. It’s a top quality survival equipment. You’ve got a corkscrew, a tin and a bottle opener – that’s for the soul,” she laughed and continued, “then there’s a magnifying glass, a screwdriver, a small hook, a compass, two blades, sharp like hell, so be careful, a hex key, tweezers and a gimlet – that’s for the body. Do you like it?”
“so love it. It’s beautiful.”
“It sure is, it’s also really useful and will serve you for years. It’s an almost 5-inch long Wenger, top thickness. It won’t give up easily no matter what you do with it,” Dorota handed the knife back to Matylda, still speechless, carefully took it in her hands.
“Just don’t lose it,” Dorota winked.
“No, of course not,” Matylda said and embraced Dorota. She was incredibly grateful for the gift, for meeting her, for the fact she wasn’t alone anymore ever since they got that work-in-pairs assignment over a year ago. Dorota hugged her back and they were sitting like that, embraced, and cuddled up for some time, happy that they were alone that nobody would disturb them.
“Well, it’s almost noon,” Dorota said and looked at the sky. “How about eating some lunch?”
“Good idea,” Matylda replied and opened her backpack. “What should we eat? I’ve got some canned beans, canned soups, canned meat, and canned fish.”
“Wow, with a choice like that, I think I’ll go with bean,” Dorota said while she was making a fire. The dried and burned wood that was still there in the circle surrounded by the stones was still useful. “We’ll need to look for some wood before evening comes, those bits and pieces we’re having here will barely allow us to heat up the lunch.”
“What is this place, anyway?” Matylda asked as she was opening the cans. She took a small pot out of her backpack and poured two portions of Heinz baked beans into it. At the same time single, a bit shy flames appeared from under Dorota’s hands and she was enhancing them blowing carefully in their direction.
“It’s a place where I used to come camping as a scout when I was little. I used to come here two, three times a year, with the whole team. Later on, when I left the scouts, I would just come here sometimes by myself. Not for a night, just to sit here for a few hours, read something, to relax.”
“But it’s a long weekend, isn’t it possible the scouts would come?”
“No, I’ve checked it. They did go camping but in a completely different area. Relax, Matylda, nobody’s coming here, hardly anyone goes so far up the forest. It’d be a really huge coincidence if anyone appeared. No worries.”
Matylda built a small wooden construction over the fire. She made it with some twigs she found around the hearth, it looked like a mini tepee, and hung the pot on it so it was now delicately licked by the flames. It was a matter of minutes until the beans would be ready. She took some bread, two spoons and two metal plates out of her backpack.
“I only hope the weather is fine,” Dorota said looking up. “What kind of clouds are those, Matylda?” she asked and pointed at the sky.
; “Altocumulus.”
“Precisely. And what does it mean?”
“That it’s going to get colder,” Matylda replied and looked at Dorota who nodded.
“Yes, so, I think tomorrow the weather will change. Do you have some warm clothes? And a sleeping bag?”
“Of course. You?”
“Naturally.”
Matylda looked at the sky again. The weather change was a bit disappointing prognosis, but she had a feeling, she knew, that there was nothing that would spoil that weekend for her. About half an hour later they were eating their beans, looking ahead at the gorgeous view.
“It’s like having the best, top rooms in a hotel without paying for it, don’t you just love it?” Matylda asked.
“Yes, that is why I adore this place so much. It’s so beautiful, so tranquil.”
Matylda thought about her parents and her brother. On the one hand she felt sorry she couldn’t share it with them, the view, and the scenery. As she was getting older it was becoming more and more obvious for her she never really had any real parents-child relationship with them; and that she had never felt free around them. They expected her to be obedient, to be disciplined, not to run around the house, not to scream, not to listen to the music too loud. Their favorite way of spending free time with their kids was to study Bible, something that always ended with them warning Adam and Matylda against the world and express their expectations that both of them would always love Jesus above everything else.
Matylda remembered how one time, when she was about ten years old, she went to church with her parents, and the priest said that God wanted people to love him above everything; that he wanted to be the most important thing in their lives, more important than parents, than siblings, than friends. The priest said that if God was to ask each and every one of them, the believers, to choose between him and their loved ones, they should always choose him, otherwise they would be condemned. It was terrifying.
That night she had a dream in which God was asking her to make a choice between him and her parents and Adam. She was standing on some kind of a wooden bridge; on her left there was her family and on the right there was God. He wanted her to choose, to make the decision fast and she was so scared, because she couldn’t imagine living without her mom, her dad, without Adam, but was also very much afraid of the condemnation; didn’t want to go to hell. She was crying, asking God not to make her choose, but he only kept on saying she needed to make her decision and that he would be very much offended if she was to make a wrong one. Matylda had that dream regularly for a few years, it always scared her. She never talked about it with her parents, not even during the first moments after the priest’s sermon, because her mom would always say that whatever is said and taught in church, is holy and should never be undermined, no matter how difficult or inconvenient it might be.
Matylda didn’t know why she thought of that particular thing then, while eating beans and looking at the forests and mountains. She assumed it was because she regretted her parents couldn’t see it all, but at the same time she didn’t feel like sharing it with them, she felt it was something that was hers only. Matylda held a grudge against her parents for all those years of fear, of not-talking, of silence, of misery, of talking about sin, about condemnation, about blasphemy, of warning her and Adam against the almighty God who only waited for people to make a mistake so he could smite them, but was loving his children unconditionally at the same time when all she wanted to talk about was a new Barbie doll she would dream of but never get (it looked far too provoking for her parents’ taste), or a three-day-long school trip, or for them to buy her some comic books. Those were her needs when she was a child, needs that had always been neglected as her parents would always take care of everyone’s souls first. To be fair, Adam had exactly the same kind of childhood. It was more and more painful for Matylda to know he was out there, free, that he could do whatever he wanted and she was stuck with them. It was becoming obvious for her she would leave, too. It was only a matter of time.
***
Matylda and Dorota spent the rest of the day walking around the forest, looking for dry wood to build a new campfire for the evening, talking and laughing. They both felt relaxed and carefree. They put up the tent, big enough for at least three people to feel comfortable in, and in the evening they were sitting by the fire, baking some potatoes and sausages and drinking beer. The sky cleared a bit and there were hundreds of stars shining on them on a deeply black sky.
That night, Matylda thought that she would never trust anyone as much as she trusted Dorota, that she would never open up to anyone as much as she did for her. She was the only person around whom Matylda felt she could be herself. They were sitting there, covered up with sleeping bags, leaning on each other and were having the best evening in their lives.
VI
The next day looked very much alike. The weather indeed got worse, it was colder and quite windy, which was even more perceptible since their campsite was exposed, situated on the glade, so high up. Dorota and Matylda dressed up warmly and walked out of the tent around noon. After breakfast, they both decided to read something and not to move away from the campsite; they were worried the wind might become stronger and perhaps blow away their things.
In the evening it started raining. Big drops were banging on the tent, splashing and leaving moist traces on it. They were sitting inside with their flashlights on, talking and laughing. On the next day they were supposed to go back to their homes, but they both felt they had no slightest will to do so. It felt good being there in those woods together, leaving their problems behind, enjoying every minute they were spending together.
In the middle of the night Dorota’s flashlight went dead. She had no extra batteries so their only source of light was Matylda’s equipment. They both decided to turn it off to save the energy. It was dark, but they both felt safe. The moist air was filling their lungs, the swoosh of rain and trees delicately woven by the wind was making them calm. Matylda felt she was getting tired, and, yawning, she turned on her side and closed her eyes. A moment later, Dorota lay behind her and embraced her. Matylda put her hand on her friend’s arm. Dorota brushed Matylda’s hair from her cheek and she delicately kissed it. She was caressing it, gently stroking it with her lips. Matylda opened her eyes when Dorota was kissing her ear and the back of her neck. Matylda turned on her back and looked at her. She felt her heart was pounding, had a feeling it was beating so loud that its sound was filling up the whole space in the tent.
“What are you doing?” She asked surprised.
“If you want me to stop, I will,” Dorota replied looking straight into her eyes. No, Matylda didn’t want her to stop, but a stream of thoughts was running through her head. She felt she wanted to be kissed and touched by her, but, at the same time, was thinking that it wasn’t right, that it was sinful, shameful.
Dorota stroke her forehead and kissed her lips. It was a deep, sensual kiss, which Matylda reciprocated with pleasure.
“Isn’t it – wrong what we’re doing?” She asked looking at her.
“Says who?” Dorota asked and started kissing her friend’s neck. Matylda instinctively arched it so it was more accessible and closed her eyes.
“I don’t know,” she whispered.
“Do you think we’re doing something wrong?” Dorota asked quietly as she was slowly unzipping Matylda’s jacket.
“No,” she replied. It was true, she felt she wanted it with every cell of her body, and that if something felt so good, was so wonderful, it couldn’t be wrong, couldn’t be bad. She put her arms around Dorota and gently pulled her closer. Smelling her hair she felt she was being overwhelmed by something entirely new to her on the one hand, but on the other something that she had been waiting for, had been ready for a long time. She felt dizzy.
That was the very first sexual experience for both of them and as they were lying under an unzipped sleeping bag, having their fingers intertwined and feeling so happy it was impossi
ble to articulate, they both knew they did absolutely nothing wrong. They both were calm, smiling, holding each other closely. The rain kept on banging on the tent.
VII
Knowing their camping was to be over within a few hours, they spent a tender morning in the tent and it wasn’t until 2 p.m. when they finally started packing. Over an hour later they were walking down the hill, holding hands, heading toward the bus stop. They both knew that what happened during the previous night was to be their secret, that nobody could ever know about it because nobody would understand them.
Not in their community. It made Matylda a bit sad, because it was a very strange and hurtful feeling to be so happy and yet to hide it from everyone. She felt she wanted to scream from the top of her lungs, to make sure everyone would know how glad she was, she wanted the world to find out that Matylda Nowak was finally happy, but it was impossible. It didn’t matter, though, the most important thing was they were together.
They both came back home in the afternoon. Matylda’s parents weren’t home, they were in church. It was May, a Marian month, there was a rosary service every evening. Matylda did not take her keys, so she just sat on the porch and looked ahead. She looked at the small yard in front of the house, at fields on the other side of the road that was close to their house and asked herself if she would have any regrets leaving the place. She could honestly say that no. None.
***
During the next year, Matylda and Dorota went camping almost every month. They visited their place on the hill even in November, when it was really cold, but none of them wanted to face the reality of spending the long winter months without their trysts. Of course they saw each other often between those trips, but it was there, on that hill, in their tent that they felt they were able to be together to the fullest, without being scared or worried that someone would see and judge them.