The Last Trip

Roger fumbled with the loose dial, trying to find a station that would tune in fully. Everything came in as static but he knew eventually he would find a solid signal. He had never bothered to buy tapes, and now God knew they were almost impossible to come by an obsolescence kept alive only by old car stereos, because he loved the hopefulness of the radio. It was mostly all terrible but you never knew what was going to come on next and sometimes, if you listened long enough, you were rewarded by that one perfect foot stomping, thigh slapping, stick in your head nostalgia ride song. With tapes, no matter how good each song was, you always knew what to expect and after one listen you were condemned to live an endless loop. It was the same reason he loved his job driving truck. No matter how shitty each town or truck stop was, there was always the hope that the next one would be better, that the coffee would be hotter, the people friendlier. Without movement, hope died. Finally, the shoo bop of some 50’s doo wop group filled the cab and Roger put both hands back on the wheel.
The rain was coming down pretty heavily now and the sweep of the wipers against the blackness of the night road was starting to hypnotize him. It had been straight road for a while with very little traffic. It was time to pull off before he fell asleep at the wheel and kept driving forever. He spotted a green exit sign, blurry in the heavy rain, and cranked the wheel to the right. His shoulder howled in protest, a reminder that as much as he loved moving, his approaching retirement was long overdue. He dreaded the prospect. The cab of his truck was far more of a home than the dismal apartment he rented over the hardware store, but his company was forcing his hand. This was his last haul for them.
The truck stop was small, not one of the chains, but nonetheless familiar. He had stopped here before on a few runs. Even on the radio it was inevitable that eventually you’d hear the same song twice. He pulled the truck into an empty space and hopped out to stretch. His whole body creaked and groaned. He glanced at the diner. Coffee would be good but then he wouldn’t sleep for hours. Maybe pie. He shook the rain out of his graying hair and pushed open the glass door. “Hey hun” the woman called perfunctorily as he plopped himself at the counter. “What can I get for you?” He looked at the pie in the case. It was deflated and leaking gelatinous grey filling that he imagined must be apple. “Just coffee,” he sighed. She filled the white cup to the mustard yellow line, a line he had seen a thousand times in a thousand other diners. The coffee was hot but bitter and no amount of sugar changed that fact.
There was a paper on the counter and Roger scanned it idly. He didn’t bother checking the date; the news was pretty much the same every day and in every city and always equally irrelevant. But it was also comforting, a constant marker on the endless roads. He yawned. He might be able to sleep despite the coffee. The sounds of the rain would help. He threw some change down on the counter, figuring it had to be more than enough for one shitty cup of joe and headed back to his home on the road.
Back in the cab, he stuck the keys back in the ignition and turned them half way so he could listen to the radio. He peeled off his damp faded jeans right in the passenger seat, hoping no one walked past as he wrestled them down his bony hips. His shoulder groaned again. The music cut out and an announcer’s voice filled the air, thanking the listeners for tuning in to some combination of letters and numbers. Roger reached over to change the station when the announcer’s voice was replaced by a staticky silence. There was a hum and then another voice, deep and raspy, filled the airwaves. “Suffering from aches and pains? No longer able to move like you once were? Trust the power of Hathway mineral springs. Come visit us off the I 23.” Roger shook his head. His ex Sheryl had been big on this new age bull shit but he could never take it seriously, part of the reason they’d never been able to make a proper go of it. You’re not willing to believe in anything you can’t see, including feelings, she’d complained. He hadn’t argued. He turned off the radio and climbed into the sleeper.
In the morning, he woke as stiff as the bed slats. It took him a few minutes and several curses just to haul himself out of the narrow bed. He fried up some eggs and bacon on the electric griddle, filling the cab with the smell of grease. He ate breakfast right off the griddle. Everything swam in a layer of fat. Thank goodness cholesterol isn’t visible to the naked eye, he thought.
Back on the road, the station changed from sugary 50’s hits to a country station without too much distortion in the process. Roger hadn’t been a fan of country until he’s started driving truck but somehow there was something so right about flying down the road listening to Johnny Cash or Willie Guthrie. He didn’t care too much for the new crop of pop country but fortunately the station didn’t seem to be playing too much of that.
God he was sore though and now he had to piss. Sometimes he just used a bottle he kept especially for that occasion. He’d gotten pretty skilled at holding it while driving one handed, but lately between the stiffness of his body and the temperament of his prostate, that had proved to be messier than he cared to experience. It wasn’t always easy finding a place. With 18 wheels under you, it wasn’t like you could just pull off the side of the road and take a leak on the shoulder. The pressure in his bladder was getting worse. With great relief he spotted an exit sign and pulled off, cringing as his shoulder sang out in pain.
The rest area was deserted save for a family that was eating a packed lunch at one of the picnic tables. Roger wondered if this was their final destination or if they were on their way somewhere more exciting. He hoped for the latter. The rest are was a pretty depressing place for a family trip. He was reminded that soon his apartment would be a permanent final destination. With a deep sigh he forced a hot jet of urine into the urinal and shook the last few drops free.
When he got back to his truck, there was a folded flyer tucked under the wipers. He looked around, wondering who could have left it. The family was still deep in their egg salad and watermelon slices. The parking lot was vacant. He pulled it out ready to toss it aside but the bold letters caught his eye. It was an advert for Hathway springs, the same place he’d heard advertised on the radio the other day. He supposed it wasn’t that strange of a coincidence but still he was compelled to unfold the yellow flyer. He chuckled thinking of Sheryl watching over his shoulder. The flyer had a small map of the area with a giant star indicating the location of the spa. There was a bunch of mumbo jumbo about healing properties but the word FREE in capital letters caught his attention. He thought of his stiff body. Magical healing properties or no a soak in a hot spring would be nice, he thought. He glanced at the log book in the cab. Fuck it, he was on his own time now, this was his last trip, what were they going to do, fire him?
Having made the decision to go, Roger was strangely gleeful. It wasn’t the thought of the spa, he had no expectations of miracles, but rather the prospect of shirking his responsibilities, something he had never done in his 35 years as a driver. He peeled out of the parking lot and headed off in the direction of the giant star on the map. At the first turn, he pulled on to a dirt road and realized there was no way his truck was going to make it there. He looked at the map again. It was stupid but now that he had decided to go he was unwilling to give up the plan. If map on the flyer was to scale, the spa might be within walking distance. He contemplated a moment, letting the engine idle. He would walk for 30 minutes, he decided, and if he was not yet at the spa or at the very least noticeably near, he would head back to the truck. With some difficulty, he maneuvered his truck to the side of the dirt road. He would have to back up on to the main road on the way back but he would worry about that later. Besides, he knew how to handle his rig.
The ground was still damp from the night before but the air was warm and smelled of spring. Birds chirped. A squirrel darted across the road, which was becoming narrower by the step. Roger grinned. He had forgotten how peaceful it could be without the soft roar of wheels turning underneath. The way was flat and he was able to walk without paying too much attention to his steps. He paused every few minutes to consult the map and his watch. After about 20 minutes, he came to a wooden sign. It was caked in lichen and shaped like an arrow. It pointed to a smaller path and read “Hathway Springs”. Roger chuckled. Looks like its meant to be, he thought.
On the narrower path it was much darker as the trees hung over the sky blocking the sun. The air smelled of rich earth and decaying wood. The air was colder here and Roger shivered under his light jacket. Soon though the trees opened up again and he reached a clearing. In the near distance stood a well-maintained cabin that looked intentionally rustic. He shook his head. Got to play the part I suppose. There didn’t appear to be anyone around. He hadn’t spotted any cars at the foot of the path and there didn’t seem to be any access point here. Maybe they’re closed for the season, he thought, but then why the flyer?
He climbed up the steps onto the wrap around veranda and, without knocking, opened what he imagined was the front door. Inside was a high wooden front desk of the sort often found in quaint hotels. He peered around the darkened space. “Hello, anybody here?” he called. A back door opened and a beautiful raven haired woman carrying a load of towels appeared. “Oh hi,” she said surprised. Even in the dim light Roger was struck by the intensity of her gold-green eyes and the sharpness of her dark cheekbones. “Sorry, it’s been a bit slow lately. I haven’t really been expecting anyone. Guess maybe I shouldn’t mention that” she finished laughing. Roger smiled and shuffled in from where he was hovering in the doorway. “So, can I offer you a list of our services?” she enquired, adopting a more professional tone. “I was just mostly hoping to soak in the springs” Roger answered. “I got this flyer on my windshield. Says the first time’s free.” She maintained her smile but it tightened. She was obviously disappointed he wasn’t going to be a paying customer. Roger wanted her real smile to return. “Course I’d be happy to take a look at your other services.” Her smile became more genuine and she handed him a glossy brochure. “I recommend the massages. But of course I would seeing as how I give them,” she teased. Roger glanced at the price list. Definitely out of his budget. He looked back up. Her smile was hopeful and her breasts were phenomenal. “Sure, I’ll take an uhhh half hour…” he looked at her breasts again “uh make that an hour massage.” Her smile became huge and she clapped her hands excitedly. “Great. I just need to set up the room so go ahead and take a soak in the springs, they’re just out the back, and I’ll come get you when we’re all set.” Roger cleared his throat. “I uh…didn’t pack any swimming trunks.” He was rewarded with a playful smile. “Well, seeing as you’re our only guest at the moment, feel free to wear as little as you like. There are robes available to cover yourself as you get in and out.” Roger nodded his head, hoping the water would be cloudy enough to mask the massive hard on he was now sporting.
The view from the springs was astonishing. Mountains in one direction and forest in the other. As he eased himself into the hot water, Roger thought he might have found heaven. Leaning back on the smooth rock walls, Roger was amazed by how weightless he felt. He rotated his shoulders. There was a dull ache, but it was far away and impotent, like a phone ringing at the bottom of an overstuffed purse. He sighed with pleasure and slid down even further into the water. Above him, an eagle soared.
He must have fallen asleep because he was awoken by the sounds of footsteps. “The room’s ready” a voice called and he turned to see the beauty from the front desk standing behind him holding a robe open for him. “I promise I won’t look” she said turning her head. “Nothing but old man to see anyway” he replied a bit wistfully as he stepped out of the spring. She led him to a hut behind the main cabin. Inside, a massage table was set up. On the walls and counters around the bed was an assortment of incense holders, crystals, candles and stones. Just the sort of stuff Sheryl would have liked, he thought with more tenderness than he had felt in a while. The black haired beauty began to speak. “Ok, I’m going to leave the room for a moment,” she said “and you’re going to arrange yourself under the sheets on the table face down. Make yourself nice and comfortable.” He nodded. “But before you do that” she continued “You need to do something really important for me.” She handed him a small dark blue bottle with a stopper on top. “You need to put a few drops of under your nose and inhale deeply” she said very seriously. “This part is really important. It’s a fantastic essential oil. Really helps you relax so please promise you’ll do that first.” “I promise,” he said. He didn’t believe in that aromatherapy garbage but right now he would have promised just about anything to have this beautiful woman touch his old body.

* * *
White. Everything was white. His hands were white. They were amazing. The walls too. How were they so clean? The voices sounded white too. He looked to his right. They were white. The two women all in white. What were they saying?
“He’s a real special case that one. Hikers found him wandering in the woods almost completely naked. Seems someone slipped him some kind of psychotropic drug. Made him lose his will. They emptied out his bank account and turned him lose, probably hoping the elements would get to him. Poor soul can’t remember a thing. Cops only figured out who he was because they found his truck abandoned on the side of the road. But he seems happy enough. Everything surprises him. He’ll marvel at a pencil all day long if you let him.”
Poor guy, he thought. He looked at the wall again. Really it was so very white. You could put anything you wanted on that wall; it was so very full of hope.

Last Summer

They are racing down the hill, hair flying, brambles scratching their bare legs, breathing hard, searching for the green ball that has escaped into the salal bushes at the bottom of the hill. “You’ll never be able to whack it back up” Simon calls over when Hilary finally locates the ball tucked behind a rock. Hilary shakes her head and looks up at Eli who has scampered deftly back up the hill. “Simon’s ball is right here” he calls down indicating a spot near his right leg. “Whack him out.” Simon scowls. “No fair, why me?” he mutters. Hilary swings her mallet at his ankles but slowly so he can jump out of the way. “Alright” she calls up to Eli, “watch out.” She swings hard, almost losing her balance on the uneven ground, and sends the green ball rocketing up the hill, hopping and skipping along the exposed roots and brambles and careening off rocks. The ball makes it the whole way up the hill, coming to a stop a few feet past Eli. “Not bad” he calls down. “You’re in a good spot for your next turn.” Hilary and Simon race back up the hill to inspect their positions. Simon makes it first. Panting and red, he sticks out his tongue. “Are you guys almost done?” Isabelle asks from the tree where she is perched half watching the game. “I’m bored.” “Well you should have played with us” Simon says grumpily, and then, half under his breath so only Hilary can hear, “Why does she have to do everything with us?” “She’s your sister,” Hilary replies with a shrug. She is actually enjoying having Isabelle, a female ally, around. It is already the sixth year of this camping trip which has become an annual tradition but it is the first year Hilary has felt that she is not just one of the guys.
It has only been five days but already the four of them have been infected by the wildness of the land. Their hair is snarled and unkempt, their skins brown from the sun and dirt and caked in a layer of salt from the sea and their own sweat. Their feet and hands have grown calloused from climbing the barnacle encrusted rocks. Watches have been discarded, time marked only by the growl of bellies and the position of the sun, Most of the pre-packaged food has been eaten in a fit of hunger after a long swim or hike and so they have started collecting berries and catching fish to supplement the weak supply of goods found in the cooler and storage bin. In the past this layer of wilderness had felt safe, a barrier against the rules of the city, no one telling them when to brush their teeth or go to bed, but now there was an underlying animalness to the freedom that made Hilary vaguely uneasy.
“What’s taking so long?” Eli asked raising his arms in mock exasperation. Hilary glimpsed the pale white of his belly as his shirt rode up. The line of his hips bones descending sharply into his shorts made her feel sick to her stomach. He had not yet filled out yet but he was a full foot taller than last summer. All of his limbs were too long and swung exaggeratedly from his core. Nothing seemed to fit right.
Simon took a wild swing at his ball and it hurtled through the hoop knocking into Eli’s. “Take that” he huffed and raced over to where Eli stood. Simon had not had a growth spurt yet, or at least not a vertical one, and he appeared squat and overly solid next to Eli’s gangly frame. Still, there was definitely something older about him, an odour of hunger Hilary had not sensed last summer.
“Come on, hurry it up,” Isabelle called down from her tree as she began pitching twigs at the players’ heads. “I’m hungry,” she finished. “You are seriously annoying” Simon yelled back hurling a pebble at her. It bounced off her arm and she screeched as if she’s been shot. “Oh, knock it off faker” Simon hissed. The game was only halfway through but Isabelle’s screams were too disconcerting to be ignored. Always the peacemaker, Eli spoke up. “Yeah, I’m hungry too. Let’s see what’s left back at the site.” Isabelle immediately fell silent, scampered down the tree and with a grin began skipping back along the path. Hilary shrugged and followed suit, Eli close behind. Simon pouted for a moment but when his stomach let out a loud gurgle he sighed and joined the group as they went off in search of food.
Back at the site, Henry, then honorary adult in charge, was nowhere to be found, but that was fairly normal. His main job was to assuage the fears of the other absent parents but mostly he left the kids to their own devices, assuming animal instinct would keep them alive and safe. When the camping tradition had started, all the parents had come to the island, looking forward to re-uniting with the other families that lived all over the province. But, as the years went by, the ties became weaker, jobs became harder to leave and a week without running water became less and less appealing until finally Henry, who had summers off and didn’t use running water much even in the city, was the only adult left. He loved his time away from the city as much as his charges did but in reality, his presence probably caused more harm than good. Without him, the gang of kids might have been a bit more cautious but with Henry around they felt safe to explore the entire island with abandon. Fortunately, so far, the children had suffered little more than scraped knees and sunburns. One year, Simon had slipped on a rock and sliced his hand open, a cut deep enough that it should probably have had stitches, but he had survived and now bore the small white scar proudly.
After lunch, peanut butter smeared on crackers, canned mandarin slices, tuna, chocolate and salal berries, the boys decided they wanted to build a raft. Hilary feigned enthusiasm but the boys’ seriousness put her off. She felt in the way when she tried to help them bring the logs down the beach and her knots kept slipping loose, so she gave into Isabelle’s whines and the two of the perched on an overlooking rock and played a game of crazy eights. The boys worked steadfastly and within an hour they had assembled a decent raft. It was big enough for all four of them to lie on it without touching.
The boys were proud of their accomplishment and immediately called the girls down to try out the raft. “Don’t go,” Isabelle said. “It’s just a trick. They want to push us into the water.”
“I don’t think so. They probably just want to show off.”
“Well maybe to you, yeah, but not me. I’m just Simon’s bratty little sister.”
Hilary hadn’t really thought about the difference between her and Isabelle. The boys had always treated Isabelle a bit differently but only because she was Simon’s little sister and a few years younger than the rest of them. Now, Hilary sensed there was something more to the difference. She thought of Eli’s hip bones again and shook her head. “Well, I’m going down. Stay here if you want but don’t complain that you’re bored.” Isabelle frowned and threw down the cards. “Fine.”
Puffed by their success, Eli and Simon were surprisingly gallant, helping Isabelle and Hilary onto the raft. Isabelle, one arm supported by Eli, made it aboard with a graceful jump but as Hilary stepped on the craft a wave hit the side and the swell caused her to careen forward onto Simon who was holding her arm. “Oof,” he exclaimed as she knocked him over. “You’re heavy.” Hilary flushed. “Thanks,” she replied sarcastically. “Look who’s talking.” Simon turned crimson. “Whatever, I’ll grow into it” he growled as he turned away embarrassed. Hilary chose to ignore him and sat facing the other way, knees curled to her chest. “Ready?” Eli asked pushing the raft away from the rocks with a long piece of driftwood he had grabbed for just that purpose. When no one responded, he launched into a non-sensical speech. “Welcome aboard the Queen of Nanaimo. All passengers are reminded to keep their hands and legs inside the craft at all times. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a game of island croquet.” Hilary and Simon both burst out laughing and turned to face each other again. For a few moments, the only sounds were the waves lapping against the side of the raft and the occasional squawk of seagulls up above. Hilary chewed absent mindedly on the end of her hair, enjoying the gentleness of the waves. The peacefulness was interrupted by Simon clearing his throat. “So, when did you start wearing a bra?” he asked. “You’re so gross” Isabelle screeched. “Why are you asking her that?”
“I dunno. I’m curious.”
Hilary looked down at her chest. “Is it that obvious?” She hadn’t thought anybody would be able to tell. She didn’t really need it. She was just wearing it to stop the girls in her class from teasing her.
“No, not at all. I just saw it in your bag this morning.”
“Why were you looking in my bag?”
“I wasn’t. It was open. I could see stuff.”
“Well it’s none of your business. What, do you want to know about my period too?”
“Gross. No way.”
Eli started dangled his legs over the edge of the raft and started kicking feverishly, drenching them all in sea water and officially ending the conversation.
They spent almost two hours on the raft, docking only briefly so Hilary could squat behind a rock. “Just pee off the raft like I did” Simon suggested. “We’ll all turn around so no one can see.” Hilary and Isabelle shook their heads. “Simon, it’s not quite the same for girls,” Hilary commented. “We’ll dock,” Eli said firmly. By the time they got back to the camp site, they were all sunburned and dehydrated. The air was cooling off and the hairs on Hilary’s arms and legs stood straight on end. Fortunately, Henry was back from his expedition and had started a fire.
Soon they were all bundled up and toasting marshmallows. “I’m glad you came back when you did,” Henry said. “I was almost starting to get worried. The tide can be unpredictable. I could see a little dot way out there and I thought it was you guys but I wasn’t sure. Oh well. I guess it all ended fine.” The group nodded but the mood became somber. None of them had considered the potential danger of the ocean trip. Henry seemed to sense the shift and tried to lighten the mood with a terrible rendition of the cat came back but the smoke from the fire was especially thick and no amount of “white rabbits” seemed to drive it away. After a bad coughing fit, Isabelle announced that she was going to read in the tent. “Yeah, this blows,” Simon seconded. “Eli, let’s go collect some firewood.” “It can wait.” Eli answered. “It’s pretty dark.”
“That’s why God invented flashlights. How about you Hilary? You coming?”
Hilary shook her head.
“Fine, you suck.”
“Watch out for bears,” Henry called as Simon lumbered into the darkness. They heard a distinctive pfff of annoyance. They all knew there were no bears on the island.

Henry, Eli and Hilary sat around the fire for a few more minutes, ducking and weaving to avoid the smoke. Without warning, Henry leapt up. “Oh man” he groaned, sounding ill, “nature calls,” and with that he dashed into the woods without even pausing to flick on his flashlight. Eli and Hilary chuckled but their laughter soon turned to coughing. “Come here” Eli suggested, patting the log next to him. “The smoke’s not as bad on this side of the fire.” Hilary crossed over and sat on the log next to Eli. Their hands were almost touching. The light from the fire was just faint enough that Hilary felt safe stealing glances at Eli out of the corner of her eye. Again, her stomach felt strange, like she was in an elevator that had taken a sudden drop. Despite the lack of smoke, breathing seemed challenging. Light and air had been swallowed by the blanket of the sky and the crackle of the fire.
An ember leapt out of the fire and landed on Hilary’s leg. She jerked instinctively and her leg struck Eli’s. He didn’t move away and their legs stayed touching. She felt the roughness of his jeans against her bare leg. His fingers crawled towards her on the log. She thought she might throw up. Their fingers touched momentarily, just the pinkies, just the very outside of the tips. The fire was so hot she thought her face might melt off but her back was a sheet of goose bumps. She shivered. Eli moved closer. She wanted to turn and look at him but her body refused. She could feel his eyes. Just when the moment had stretched so long it felt like it might snap, there was a crashing sound in the trees and Henry appeared, dashing through the clearing like a maniac. “Holy shit” he cried, “Literally. My crap is blue. Turned on the flashlight to bury the sucker and hello steaming blue turd. Must be all the salal.” Hilary coughed. Eli scooted away from her. “Oh sorry,” Henry panted sitting down. “Too graphic? I just had to share.” Then, there were some curses from the woods and Simon appeared with an armful of logs. “Thanks so much for helping guys” he said, setting down the bundle safely away from the leaping embers. “What’s all this about salal berry poo? That’s so sick.” “I’m trying to sleep here” Isabelle yelled from inside the tent. “Can you guys stop yelling about shit?” “Yeah, I think I’m going to go t sleep too,” Eli muttered, standing up from the log and sauntering over to the tent. Hilary looked at Henry and Simon and decided that sleep was the best option. The fire was dying down a smoky death. “Me three” she said and ran after Eli. “Lame” she heard Simon mutter over the unzipping of the tent flap.
Inside the tent, Isabelle had already set up the mattresses and unrolled the sleeping bags. Eli’s was on the far side while Hilary’s was curled right under the entrance, next to Isabelle and then Simon. Without looking at Hilary, Eli hopped over to his space and began flattening the lumps in his foam pad. “Good night” Hilary whispered across the space. “Shhh” Isabelle hissed. Eli looked up from his bedding and flashed Hilary a smile and a wave that she just barely caught in the grey blue light of the tent. Hilary smiled into her sleeping bag as she awkwardly changed into her pajamas in its cocoon. She fell asleep to the sounds of communal breathing and the distant rumble of Simon and Henry’s shit talk.
A while later, Hilary woke briefly when Simon unzipped the tent flap, letting in a blast of cold air. She groaned and turned as he clumsily stepped in her foot space. “Sorry, he mumbled, leaning right over her to steady himself on her shoulder. She smelled his sticky breath and felt it’s warmth on her neck. She pretended to be deep asleep. “Move over,” he said to Isabelle, trying to roll her over so he could squeeze into the space between the two girls. Even in her sleep, Isabelle’s responses were quick and vicious and she kicked Simon forcefully in the shins with both of her sleeping bag encased feet. Simon groaned, rubbed his shins and slunk over to where his sleeping stuff had already been laid out. Hilary watched him through the fringe of her eyelashes. It was almost pitch black in the tent now but she knew he was looking at her as he hunkered down in his spot. She turned around and squeezed her eyes tightly shut, now glad that Isabelle had pre-arranged the sleeping places.
When Hilary woke in the morning, the tent smelled of old farts, stale breath and un-showered bodies. Thank goodness Henry chose to sleep in the camper. Everyone was still asleep, or at least faking it convincingly, so after a quick stretch, Hilary dragged her bag outside so she could rummage for something dry and relatively clean to put on. It was chilly. The sun hadn’t yet hit their little clearing but from the clearness of the sky it looked like would be a beautiful day. So, Hilary settled on typical island attire, cut offs with long wool socks that could be stripped off when the sun finally provided some heat. Hilary debated scrounging up some breakfast but decided she would take advantage of the relative solitude and explore one of the rocky bays without the distraction of loud voices and dares. She cut through the grass and down to the secluded bay on the right. They didn’t usually swim here as the rocks were very slippery and the waves frequently violent but this early in the morning the tide was still far out, exposing a sandy area with shallow water just now being warmed in the sun.
Hilary managed to make it down the rock face backwards, only slightly anxious about how she would make it back up. At the bottom, she pulled off her sandals and socks and let the sand squish between her toes. The sun began to fill the bay and soon it was almost hot. Hilary found a shallow pool and sat with her feet in it admiring the aquatic life. She prodded a starfish and marveled at its tenacity. How many other animals could grow another limb? Hilary found a flat rock and lay back enjoying the heat, held captive by the U of the rock face. Hilary peeled off her sweater and let the rays hit her shoulders. Soon she was sweating. Judging by the position of the sun, it was still early. She could probably sneak in a swim before the others appeared. She scanned the rocks behind her for movement but only the trees wavered slightly in the breeze. She pulled off the rest of her layers, enjoying the feeling of air on every inch of her skin. In the past, they had all swam naked on the island but slowly it had become uncomfortable and a few years back they had reached an unspoken agreement to always remained clothed. In accepting the safety of a swimsuit, Hilary had forgotten the sheer pleasure of melting into the sea without any protective barrier. She paddled out to deeper water and let herself float on her back enjoying the swell of the waves as she watched the blue of the sky. She flipped on her belly, plunging under the water to summersault. She held her ankles tightly together pretending to be a mermaid. She grabbed handfuls of smooth pebbles from the ocean’s floor, entranced by these naturally polished jewels. She grabbed a passing strand of kelp and whipped it around her head pretending it was a lasso. Finally, tired and cold, she headed back to the shallows. As she took her first step on dry pebbles, a shadow in the rocks above her caught her eye. It almost looked like a figure of a person crouched on a rock. She looked closer but the shadow remained still and shadowy. She pulled her clothes back on without bothering to air dry. When she looked up again, the shadow was gone.
Back at the camp, Eli was just opening a can of beans. “Want some?” he asked, pouring the sloppy mixture into a blackened skillet. Hilary nodded. “I’m starving.” “Must be all the swimming” Simon said grinning. Hilary frowned and rang out her dripping hair. “You’d make a great mermaid,” he continued. Hilary’s stomach clenched, gurgling salt water. “Hey, there are still some graham crackers” Isabelle yelled enthusiastically, popping up from behind the food box where she had been foraging.
By the time the eclectic breakfast had been eaten, the sun was beating with an intensity that suggested that anything requiring more than minimal exertion would be out of the question. They pulled out some ratty floatation devices and headed down to the water’s edge. Eli inflated everyone’s raft using the musty foot pump. When he finished, he was sweating and the first raft was already beginning to deflate. “This is lame” Simon grumbled nudging the squishy raft with his foot. “Do you have a better suggestion?” Eli asked a bit gruffly. Simon was silent. They waded into the shallows and plopped on to the rafts. Hilary’s was grey and had a clear section in the middle so, in theory, you could lie on your stomach and watch the fish go by, but the condensation of countless breaths had fogged the window. She flipped on here back and slid down so she could dangle her feet in the water. “Do you think we’ll still come here when we’re older?” she asked. “Like how much older?” Eli wanted to know. “Oh, I don’t know, like teenagers or adults” Hilary said, forgetting that Eli was in fact already officially a teenager. “I sure won’t” Simon answered. Hilary wasn’t sure what had prompted her to ask the question and now she regretted it as everyone grew silent contemplating their future selves. She didn’t want adults to ruin the island.
Soon enough it was time to eat again, one of the few indications that time was indeed still passing. They decided to build a fire and roast some of the limp veggie dogs that floated in the pool of melted ice at the bottom of the cooler. The pile of firewood was still high thanks to Simon’s efforts the night before but as soon as Simon had coaxed a small flame from the kindling and crumpled newspaper Eli declared that he was off to gather more wood. “There’s plenty here” Simon complained, not wanting to be left behind to tend the fire. “Better to stock up for tomorrow” Eli replied. Hilary sensed he wasn’t being entirely honest and took the opportunity to follow him. They cut through the bushes in silence broken only by the slap of branches on legs. When they reached the deep woods, the air was heavy with all the words they hadn’t let out. At the same time, they both started to speak. They laughed. “You first,” Eli said and bent to collect some branches. “Oh, it was just silly,” Hilary said, unable to find the words she really wanted. “Me too” Eli said. “Oh, I was just going to ask how you’re liking school this year, or were liking it I guess, I mean before summer started.” Hilary stammered. How did you ask someone if they wanted to kiss you? She watched his arms, busy in their task, still not completely brown but much darker than the sickly phantom blue white he usually appeared. They were thin, the hands long and almost skeletal but still appealingly functional. What would it be line to interlace fingers? “Oh…school is…was…pretty terrible actually. High school, it’s more about fitting in than really learning. How about you?” Eli answered. Hilary nodded in agreement. “Mostly the same. Yeah, fitting in.” They laughed again, glad to find someone else who didn’t fit in but sad to learn the other wasn’t any happier. Maybe I should just kiss him, Hilary thought. But what if I’m wrong? What if I ruin an almost perfect summer? She watched him again. He wasn’t like the movie stars whose pictures she tore out of magazines, no pouty lips, teeth that were slightly crowded, a long thin nose, but he was so firmly present. She knew it was stupid, but she thought that if he kissed her she would be at once floating free and solidly grounded.
Eli’s arms were full. “Well I guess that’s enough” he said reluctantly. They walked back through the woods and then bushes as silently as they had come, both feeling the weight of everything they had not had the courage to say or do. They were subdued the rest of the evening. Even Simon noticed. “What, lover’s quarrel?” he spat. Hilary felt herself blush and covered her discomfort by shoving another bite of burnt hotdog in her mouth. Swallowing was hard and she resolved to make a move before she left the island
That night, Hilary could not fall asleep. Her mind was too full of thoughts of Eli. She wondered if his lips were sooth or chapped from the sun. Did he taste of anything familiar, or his own unique flavour? Was he wondering the same thing? Tomorrow, before they packed away the bags and loaded themselves into the camper, she would find out. She had to. Even if she was disappointed at least she would know. That was better, right? At some point she must have fallen asleep because she woke to a presence leaning right over her. At first, in her bleary state, she thought it was Eli but as she slid into consciousness she saw that the shape was all wrong, too solid, the smell too sticky. And then the figure was closer. She saw that it was Simon. His weight was on her arms pinning her and then his tongue was in her mouth probing. Sleep and limbs held her captive. Her mind echoed with the sound of nos she couldn’t say over the alien tongue. He knelt on her right arm, pinning it so he could roll down the sleeping bag and reach for her almost non-existent breast. She bucked. He slipped and kicked Isabelle. Isabelle’s eyes flew open startled. “What the hell?” she gasped. Eli’s head popped up. He blinked and surveyed the scene. Simon straddling Hilary, her shirt up on the right side. Simon crawled off her as if nothing had happened. Hilary hoped that the darkness of the tent had been enough to obscure the events. She wanted to explain, to cry out and denounce Simon but she knew it didn’t really matter; everything was broken. Even in the dark she saw Eli’s disappointment and Isabelle’s disgust. She didn’t care to sense what Simon was feeling.
The next morning, they packed their bags in silence. Henry imagined they were all facing the end of vacation blues. “Don’t worry. We’ll do it again next year.” Henry tried to reassure them but as oblivious as he was, even he knew this was a lie.

The Weight of it All

By the time she got to the third floor, Lisey was perspiring heavily; no scratch that she was sweating like a damn pig. There was nothing ladylike or glowy about what was happening. The peach fuzz on her upper lip glistened with fat beads, her lower black was slick and oily and there were two dark stains blossoming in the pits of her crimson dress shirt. She was also wheezing. Damn it, she though, why didn’t I wear a light coloured shirt? New Woman Today had mentioned nothing about the side effects of this hint number 3 from the supposedly “painless steps to weight loss”.
Before opening the door to her office, Lisey paused to take a few deep breaths, hoping that her face didn’t match her shirt. She flapped her arms a few times, hoping to dry the sweat circles that now extended to her rib cage. The whoosh of fabric on fabric and her laboured breathing masked the clack of Carol’s heels. Lisey was startled when Carol’s pinched face appeared at her shoulder. “Everything ok dear?” she asked in a clipped voiced that clashed with the sweetness of her words. Her voice reminded Lisey of little yellow packages of artificial sweetener, poison masquerading as a treat. “You look terrible dear. You should take better care of yourself.” Lisey nodded, forcing a smile to her heated face. She didn’t have enough breath to retort. Carol half smiled, her pale skin cracking with sharp lines that looked painful. “See you in a few” she said, disappearing into the office. Lisey counted to 20 and followed her in.
Lisey’s desk was all the way in the far right corner of the office. To get there, she had to pass a long row of cubicles. The sound of thigh rubbing on thigh alerted her co-workers to her passage and a few of them peeked their heads over or around stained grey partition walls to murmur greetings with varied degrees of sincerity. Lisey merely nodded, conserving her breath, until she reached Kyle’s box. There, she paused and cleared her throat, hoping he would turn around. Kyle was busy playing with his phone and Lisey to a moment to watch his broad shoulders and the perfect wave of his sandy brown hair before she cleared her throat again. Kyle looked up and flashed a toothy grin. “Oh hey Lisey. How’s it going sunshine?” Lisey smiled back. Her face had cooled during the walk but now it flushed again. “Good Kyle” she said and then grimaced at the breathless, yipping way her voice came out. “You?” she asked, forcing her voice down a few registers. “Oh you know, keeping on, keeping on” he answered still grinning. Lisey shifted her gaze around the cubicle wall, trying not to stare into his magnificent green eyes for too long. With a nod, Kyle swiveled around in his chair indicating that he was ready to work. “Ok, well, have a good day” Lisey chirped, casting one last look at his perfect back. He reminded her of the popular football player guy on her favourite sitcom as a teen. Kyle waved over his shoulder.
Lisey plonked into her chair. It groaned and made a farting sound as her pants slid across the imitation leather. Carol looked up from the neighbouring desk with a chastising look on her face. It was the chair Lisey wanted to scream. Lisey did her best to ignore Carol’s looks, centering herself by staring at the screen saver, a picture of her kittens Mandy and Pandy. She wondered what they were doing at home. Probably sleeping or eating. Lisey thought of the poached egg and English muffin she had eaten for breakfast. It seemed like days ago. Her stomach gurgled. There were m&ms in her desk. No, she was on a diet. A few wouldn’t hurt though. Just a handful, a small handful. She leaned over and opened the bottom drawer. It squealed. She glanced up. Carol was busy on the computer. Good. Lisey snatched the m&ms and deftly tore the corner of the pack, pouring a heap into her hand. She put a single m&m in her mouth and let it melt slowly, savouring the choclatey hit. But the edges of her tongue tasted nothing. She added a few more, allowing herself to crunch a bit this time. Her eyes closed and she was engulfed in the sound of her own chewing and the taste of pleasure. She flicked her wrist and poured another handful.
She was startled out of her blissful state by Carol’s shrill reproachful voice. “Lisey, really, chocolate for breakfast?” Lisey’s eyes snapped open. “I uh… didn’t eat at home and it was all I had here” Lisey stammered apologetically. Why am I apologizing to the skinny bitch? She pictured tearing Carol into bite sized pieces. Her perfect bun looked like a shiny coil of black licorice, her face a white egg, her tiny pant legs two thin chocolate lady fingers, her white shirt…well that’s where the image stopped working. Carol tsked and returned to her compute screen. Lisey scowled at Carol’s rigid back and wolfed down the rest of the m&ms hardly tasting them. She licked her fingers clean, pulled a Kleenex from the glittery box on her desk and turned her attention to work.
Lisey had enough work on her plate that she avoided thinking about food until lunch time but as soon as she pulled her Lean Cuisine out of the staff room fridge, her mind was filled with dreams of fried chicken, lasagna and chocolate cake. The Lean Cuisine looked good though. It was fettuccine Alfredo and only 350 calories. She watched it rotate in the microwave and hoped it would satisfy her. Cathy and Janet walked in, all bubbly in their pastels. “Hi Lisey” they said in unison and then giggled at themselves. The microwave dinged. Lisey pulled out the cardboard tray and lifted it to her nose, inhaling. It was almost odourless except for a faint scent of wax. She sighed. “Oh look at you” Janet cooed. “Lean Cuisine. I wish I had the willpower.” She sat at one of the formica tables and began packing an array of food, an apple, a yogurt, chips, a granola bar. “Join us” Cathy called to Lisey who was still hovering by the microwave. Lisey trundled over, walking into a chair leg as she squeezed between the narrow rows. The invite was welcome. Usually she ate at her desk, trying not to make a mess or to incur Carol’s derision. The Lean Cuisine was gone in six bites. It tasted like it smelled. She watched as Janet tore her granola bar into tiny bite sized pieces and chewed each one carefully. “Oh I can’t finish all of this,” Janet sighed. She shoved her yogurt container towards Lisey. “Here, have this.” “Yeah, have my cookie too,” Cathy added, pushing the offering across the table. Lisey shook her head. “I’m full, really.” Cathy and Janet raised their eyebrows in sync. “Oh come on, that was nothing. Don’t torture yourself” Cathy sang. Lisey reached for the cookie. It was not very good, dry, bland and mealy and with each bite, Lisey pictured her thighs expanding, like a balloon being slowly inflated. She kept eating. Her mind told her all the reasons she should put the cookie down but she kept raising it to her lips, biting, chewing and swallowing. Next, she reached for the yogurt. She didn’t have spoon. She knew there were some in the communal kitchen drawer but she couldn’t be bothered to get up so after peeling back the silver lining, she brought the whole container to her mouth, squeezed the bottom and let the sticky, sweet strawberriness run down her throat. She licked her lips; definitely better than the cookie. “See,” Janet smiled. “Better right?” Lisey nodded but her inside felt like stones. She pictured willpower as a giant bird that would carry away her heaviness. She sat on this weight the rest of the day.
At the end of the work day, Lisey stood in the stairwell trying to decide whether she wanted to brave the stairs again or wait for the elevator. Going down the stairs would probably be easier she figured but her kneed and ankles were bothering her. Then again, Carol hadn’t left yet. She might get trapped in an awkward elevator conversation with her. Just as she was about to commit to the stairs, every little bit counts after all, she heard the door open behind her. She turned her head just in time to see Kyle stepping out. She smiled to herself, pushed her hair out of her eyes, straightened her back and turned around. “Hey Lisey Loo” he called. “Hey Kyle” she waved. Definitely elevator. As they waited, Kyle bounced on the balls of his feet. “So, big plans for the weekend?” Lisey hated these types of questions. What was she going to say, yeah, eating chocolate and watching movies with my cats? “Oh a few potentials, nothing concrete yet.” Kyle nodded. The elevator groaned, clanged and then dinged and the doors opened with a shudder. They both took a step forwards at the same time and their hands banged clumsily against each other. Lisey swallowed hard. “Ooops, ladies first.” Kyle motioned her towards the open doors. “Thanks”. They nodded at the other elevator passenger, a balding man dressed almost head to toe in grey. The elevator gave another shudder and began its slow descent. Kyle started to whistle. The sound bounced off the shiny elevator alls. Lisey stared up at the ceiling, catching sight of her distorted and stretched reflection. She looked even larger than usual. She sighed as the doors opened on the lobby. “Have a good weekend” Kyle said as they parted at the front door. “You too.”
When she got home Mandy and Pandy were anxiously waiting for her, circling their empty food dishes like blood thirsty sharks. “Mommies here” she called putting her purse on the hallway junk table. She emptied a scoop of dry kibble into each of their bowls, purple for Mandy, pink for Pandy, and stirred in some wet food. “There you go sweeties” she said placing the dishes on the little plastic mat by the fridge. She pulled the water pitcher from the fridge and filled both their water bowls too. “Don’t spill now sillies.” She rummaged through the cupboards looking for a snack for herself. She settled on a bag of dill flavoured mini rice crackers. She tore open the bag and absentmindedly munched the Styrofoam bites, licking the flavour off her fingers as headed into the living room. She settled into the oversized loveseat, flicked on the TV and began flipping through the channels. Despite the complete cable package, there was nothing on. There never was on Fridays. The networks figured people were out having fun. She finally settled on a home improvement show. At least the people in it seemed kind and happy. She hated seeing people bicker or even compete. The rice cakes quickly disappeared. She made some lite popcorn to tide her over until the show finished. She was involved now. Finally, they revealed a new kitchen. She couldn’t actually remember what the old one had looked like, or maybe she had missed that part of the show, but the new one had to be nicer. They always were.
Now, there really was nothing on. Only news and that was too depressing. Oh well, it was a good excuse to make dinner. She pulled a bag of pre cut pre washed veggies out of the crisper. They were starting to lose their colour and even in the warm countertop lighting they appeared grey and limp. She hoped a quick steam would revive them. She popped a pre-seasoned, pre-cooked chicken breast in the microwave and wondered when the last time was she had actually cooked a meal from scratch. Probably at least a year. Sad. But cooking for one was sadder. The steam did little to revive the veggies. It only coated them with a layer of moisture. The zucchini looked and felt like slugs. Probably tasted like slugs too, though of course Lisey couldn’t actually say for sure. She heaped the veggies and the chicken on a sunny plate, hoping the yellow would make the food look more appetizing. It was not enough to entice her to sit down and enjoy her meal. She ate standing at the counter leafing through an old gossip rag. Not only were the celebrity tidbits trivial, they were dated, but she supposed it hardly mattered. The glossy photos diverted her from the blandness of the meal. She tried hard not to compare her body to the ones she saw in the magazine. They had trainers and personal chefs and photoshopping. Lisey only had herself and she was really craving ice cream. She dug around in the crowded freezer hoping she might find something good under the frozen vegetables and meat. There was nothing, not even a forgotten tub of frozen yogurt. She looked at the green clock on the microwave. It read 8:30. The supermarket across the street would still be open. Pandy and Mandy stared at her accusingly from their perch on the fuzzy play palace. What, I’ll take the stairs and it won’t be so bad. She knew there was no point in fighting it. Her brain was saturated with melting ice cream cravings. She zipped a hoodie over her shirt and closed the door firmly behind her, then surprised herself by nearly jogging down the hall and stairs. With each step, another flavour erupted in her mind. Mint chocolate chip? Maple walnut? Rocky road?
Outside the street was eerily quiet and if not for the ugly light from the streetlamps and the crowded shadows of city buildings, Lisey might have imagined herself on a country road. There was no one around. Lisey’s heart thudded loudly in her chest, partially from the exertion of taking the stairs and partially from a small piece of fear that had taken hold of her internal organs and was now slowly rattling them, like a bird beating itself on the bars of its cage. Lisey clutched her keys in her fist, pointed outward so she could stab any would be attackers. By the time she reached the supermarket, which was only across the street, she was on the verge of panic but the ding dong of the automatic doors dissolved the fear in an instant. The inside of the supermarket was sterile and comforting. The colours, from the maroon and blue of the signs to the cherry red of the employees’ smocks, were happy and safe. She stood over the freezer admiring the selection. Monkey’s nuts? Who comes up with these names, she wondered. Finally, she settled on a pint of Cherry Garcia. It was funny without being offensive and sweet without being overly nauseating.
Purchase safe in hand, she wandered out on to the street, thoughts of her indulgence warding off the menace of the night. There must have been a lot of bounce in her step because somehow she lost her grip on the thin plastic handle of the bag and the ice cream slipped and rolled out onto the street. “Oh fiddlesticks” Lisey mumbled to herself as she stepped off the curb and reached for her dessert. There was a sharp squeal of tires as the little black civic she had not bothered to check for swerved to avoid her. The air smelled of rubber and hot tar. Goose bumps blossomed on Lisey’s arms. “Watch where you’re going crazy bitch!” the driver shouted as he peeled away. In the dim light from the streetlamps, Lisey could just barely make out the black snakes from the tires. The closest set was less than three inches away from her right foot. The bird in her chest had grown to an eagle and it wanted out. Her feet would not move from where they were. She managed to turn her head to see inside the supermarket, expecting a group of concerned shoppers to emerge but they continued to stand in line at the check out, oblivious to the drama outside. Ba boom, ba boom, ba boom…ba boom..ba boom..ba boom……ba boom……ba boom……ba boom. Her heart was almost beating at a normal speed. The weight in her feet was dissolving. Her vision cleared and she saw the tub of ice cream, still wrapped in its plastic bag, apparently unscathed, sitting by the opposite curb. She focused on the little tub and forced her feet to take her across the street, making sure to check both ways carefully before she did so.
Upstairs, safe in her apartment, she turned on the television, settled on a talk show, stroked Mandy and Pandy and ate the whole damn tub of Cherry Garcia.