“So not only are we going camping, we have to sit in a car for twenty hours to get to Seattle before we get on a boat to get there? Have you all lost your ever-loving minds?” Mike asked as he placed a packed bag in the trunk of BT’s oversized SUV.
“I told him, Mike.” Linda smiled. “But he wanted to bring all his camping gear.”
“Fat lot of good that does. Baby boy here convinced you both to rent a cabin instead of setting up a tent. I have a brand new seven-person deluxe model that even has dividers inside, plenty of privacy. Thing’s bigger than most people’s homes.”
“Bud, I love you, but there’s no way in hell I’m ever going to risk accidentally seeing you in that golden speedo ever again.”
BT’s face grew hot, not from embarrassment but anger. “Accidentally? You walked into my house unannounced.”
“I needed sugar, that’s what neighbors do. You can’t expect me to drink coffee without sugar. I’m not a savage.”
“You walked into my home at five a.m. without knocking.”
“I was being courteous because it was early. I didn’t want to wake you.”
“Mike, we gave you that key in cases of emergencies.”
“This was an emergency. And then…and then the trauma I’m going to have to carry with me for the rest of my life. I wasn’t even fully awake, and you came around the corner in that glowing thong, eating a bowl of cereal like it was the most natural thing in the world.”
“I was in my own home!” BT raised his voice.
“And were you supposed to be eating Crunch Berries?”
“Honey, is that true?” Linda asked.
“I’m gonna twist your head off,” BT whispered threateningly.
“It was just that one time.” He turned toward his wife, trying to placate her.
“You know what the doctor said," she admonished him.
BT put his hands behind his back so Mike could see as he made a wringing motion.
“I hope I’m there when you finally learn when to keep your mouth shut.” Tracy pinched Mike’s ass.
“Yeah, but you’re missing the bigger picture. BT’s no longer focused on me.”
“Want me to drive?” Mike asked.
“We’ve been on the road for less than three hours, I think I’m fine.”
“Well, how about you pull over at the next rest stop for a pit break.”
“You have to go already? What are you, seven?” BT was looking at him through the rearview mirror.
“He’s full of crap, he just wants to call the house. The dogs will be fine, Mike. Your daughter’s watching them,” Tracy said.
“Really?” BT asked.
“They don’t understand what’s going on. They saw me pack some things and leave. The doleful eyes on them, like they were crying.”
“That was you, Mike,” Tracy told him.
“Your dogs probably just ate lunch and are sleeping on the couch. They’ll be fine,” BT said.
“You sneaky bastard.” Mike had just awoken and was staring at the sign for the Porcupine Pines Campground in Hazelton.
“We’re halfway to our destination, and in the middle of Idaho; there’s nowhere else to stay.”
“I bet,” Mike said as he got out of the vehicle, stretched, and helped pull the massive tent from the back.
“What?” BT asked as Mike glared at him. “This thing cost me twelve hundred bucks, there was no way I wasn’t going to use it.”
“I’m heading up to the visitor’s center. Want to walk with me?” Tracy asked.
“Of course.” He grabbed her hand as they walked the quarter-mile.
“Sure, sure. I’ll take care of this all on my own!” BT shouted, Mike waved.
“Pretty out here," she said as she looked around at the woods.
“Pretty right here," he said as he squeezed her hand.
Mike grabbed a few park pamphlets as his wife used the facilities and looked at some of the trinkets in the small gift shop.
“Huh. Did you know Idaho has seismic activity almost throughout the entire state? And one of the largest recorded in the state was a six-point-nine in 1983. I said six-point-NINE," he said as they walked.
“You can stop leering. Nothing is happening in a communal tent.”
“Stupid BT.”
By the time they got back, BT had the tent set-up and a small fire going. He stood up from the large steel cooler he was sitting on, opened it, and handed Mike a cold can of beer before sitting back down.
“You got bottles in there?” Mike asked, looking at the can in his hand.
“Not supposed to bring glass into campgrounds,” BT told him.
“And yet I saw the one you set behind you when you stood up.”
“Ungrateful bastard,” BT said as he again stood and handed Mike a bottle. “Are you going to give me the can back?”
“Not likely,” Mike said as he cracked it open.
“'Camp with the Talbots,' my wife says, 'it’ll be fun,' she says. What does she know?”
“Cheers, bud.” Mike clinked his can against BT’s bottle, they both smiled before taking a drink.
Linda handed Tracy a glass of wine. “To old friends and new adventures,” she toasted.
“Stemmed glasses?” Mike asked.
“It’s called roughing it in style.”
The following day BT kicked Mike’s feet to awaken him. “Time to go, sunshine.”
“Oh, man.” Mike sat up, his head pounding. “How much did we drink?”
“We didn’t drink that much. You drank a shitload. Help me take the tent down, and there’s a Gatorade in it for you.”
“I need greasy food.”
“There’s a diner down the road.”
“I love you, man.”
“I know, you said it a dozen times last night.”
Mike’s stomach was gurgling a storm as they waited for their order to be served.
“Was something wrong with the beer?” he asked.
“Beer? You killed a bottle of my best wine all by yourself. Said it was a quest of yours to, and I quote, 'drink this reddish swill til the end.' You thought that was hilarious.”
“I’m sorry, Linda. I’ll replace it.”
“Of course you will.” She reached across the table and grabbed his hand.
“Just so you know, friend o’ mine, that was a fifty-dollar bottle.” BT was smiling.
“Fifty dollars? If I remember correctly, it tasted like Boones Farm, and that stuff is like eight bucks a gallon.”
“Unsophisticated palate.” BT shook his head.
“What are you talking about? I’m as sophisticated as they come,” Mike pleaded.
“Please,” Tracy said. “Your idea of fine dining is putting A-1 on your hamburger.”
“It’s fucking delicious," he told them.
“Whoa, we’re here already?” Mike asked as they pulled into the Four Seasons in Seattle.
“That’s what happens when you sleep all day,” Tracy told him.
“Wow,” Mike said as he stared off into the distance at Mount Rainier, “that is spectacular. Not Rockies spectacular, but still impressive.”
“Come on. We have to go and check-in.” Tracy grabbed his hand.
“You knew we were paying; you couldn’t pick a cheaper place? Had to be a roadside motel somewhere along the way.”
“Hon, you have a book screaming through the best sellers lists in multiple publications, you’re entertaining offers from three large publishers and one from a studio. I think you can swing this.”
“You realize I’ll never get used to having money, right? I grew up blue collar, and, although we’ve always worked hard, the first ten years we were married we floated more checks than I’d care to admit.”
“I know, hon, I know. Just enjoy this time we have right now. Live for this moment.” She stood on her toes and kissed him tenderly on the lips.
The next morning was a busy one as they headed to the port to catch their ship. Mike hovered nearby as the ship’s porter went through their belongings.
“Sir, you don’t really need to explain everything I’m looking at.” Ted Jansen had only been on the job for less than a month, but he’d already confiscated more items than he could catalog.
“My concern is for when you get to the umm, marital aids.”
“Marital aids?”
“You married?”
“No...we’re waiting for my boyfriend to tell his parents about his...orientation.” Ted wasn’t sure why he’d given a perfect stranger that bit of information.
“Well, let me tell you. When you’ve been married for a bit, and the sex,” Mike whispered that last word, “gets a little, stale, ruttish, even, you start to look at those, er, specialized web sites. I never knew I had an affinity for leather, latex, whips and chains. Know what I mean?”
“No idea.”
“Don’t worry, you will. I just don’t want someone else handling the merchandise, if you catch my meaning. Some of the stuff might still be sticky and, well, germs and the like.”
“You know what? Why don’t you just take the suitcases you’re concerned about, and I’ll consider them sufficiently checked.”
“Smart man. Your boyfriend’s name, what is it?”
“Devon, why?”
“I’d like to pick you two up something while we’re in Alaska. I wish you nothing but the best, and I hope you can move forward with your relationship soon.”
Ted studied Mike for a moment and saw nothing but sincerity. “Uh, thanks.”
“And if you want, I can give you a list of the better websites to get some stuff from.”
“We should be good. Now, if you don’t mind, I still have another pallet of luggage to go through.”
“Understood,” Mike told him as he hefted three bags away.
“Do I even want to know?” Tracy asked as she witnessed the event.
“Denial is your best defense," he told her as they headed to the cabin.
As much as Mike hated being on the water, he had to admit to himself and the tight-knit group he was with that he was enjoying the hell out of himself.
“Haven’t laughed this much in years," he told them during dinner. “Or eaten this much.”
“That’s the truth.” BT sat back and rubbed his belly. “What’s for dessert?”
The seven-day cruise up the coast had been as peaceful as it had been spectacular, and he was sad to see it end, until he stepped on dry land and came face to face with all the beauty that the Alaskan Aleutians had to offer.
“I don’t ever think I’ve seen anything quite so breathtaking,” Tracy said as she grabbed Mike’s hand.
“You’re looking in the wrong direction,” he chided.
BT was beaming as he pulled up in the rental.
“Shit, BT, what was the next size up, tractor-trailer?” Mike said as he walked around the enormous SUV.
“Rental agent said this thing can take on the toughest terrain that Alaska has to offer,” BT told him.
“You realize he gets a percentage of the sale on an upcharge, right? He would have told you this thing doubles as a pontoon boat to close the deal,” Mike told him.
“Shut up and help me pack our gear in.”
“Please tell me it’s not another twenty hours.”
“Two and a half, according to the GPS, plus this thing also comes with satellite radio.”
“I thought we were trying to commune with nature?” Mike asked.
“I’d hate to pull an Aunt Edna on you.”
Mike gulped and stayed quiet.
“Not many people here.” Mike looked around. There were four tents set up on grounds that could accommodate over thirty. Of the fifteen RV slots, only five had campers parked.
Behind the counter, an older man with gray hair pulled back in a long ponytail looked up from the High Times magazine he was reading.
“Can you help me?” he asked as Mike entered.
“Um, what?” Mike replied.
“Do you know when this is?” the man asked.
“I didn’t know the magazine came with free samples now; I would have never let my subscription lapse,” Mike told him in jest.
“I’m Trip.”
“You’re tripping?”
“I am?"
“Oh, hi!” A heavy-set blonde woman came out from a room behind the counter. She wore a bright smile and clothes a size too small. “I’m Becky. I see you’ve met our new employee, John. He’s going to be in charge of the campgrounds during our off-season.”
“Yeah, buddy, I’m in charge now, so we’ll have no hijinks here. You better behave yourself.” He was pointing a finger at Mike.
Becky’s lips momentarily drew tight in consternation. “You’re so funny.” She lightly tapped Trip on the shoulder. “Your names?”
“Um, Mike and Tracy Talbot.”
“Let me get your paperwork.” As she turned, Trip pointed at Mike and mouthed. I’m watching you, I’m always watching you.
“And the Tynes,” Tracy added. Mike could only stare at the man, whose eyes were nearly the color of the Martian surface.
“They’ll have to come in and sign,” Becky said as she placed the reservation/contract on the countertop.
“You’re paying,” Tracy told Mike.
“Well, duh.”
“For BT and Linda, too.”
“Is this because of the bottle of wine? Because it wasn’t all that good.”
“That’ll be ten thousand, two hundred and thirty-five dollars,” Trip said, extending his hand. “We only take nickels.”
“Oh, um, sorry.” Becky gave a nervous chuckle. “He’s still new.”
“And high as a kite,” Mike whispered as Tracy gave him a slight hip check. “What? I’ve seen weather balloons with less altitude.”
“It wasn’t a weather balloon at Area 51,” Trip said as Becky leaned over him and did the math.
“John, we talked about this. You can’t discuss your conspiracy theories with the guests. Sorry again,” she said as she looked up. Her upbeat, cheery self was ready to be anywhere but there. Trip wasn’t her first choice for off-season caregiver; he’d been her only choice when, inexplicably, the ad they’d run for help had failed to yield another candidate.
“It’s not a conspiracy if it’s true.”
“With tax, it’s four hundred nineteen and sixty-nine cents,” Becky said.
“I recommend rounding up to four twenty,” Trip offered.
“I bet you do,” Mike told him.
As soon as Mike’s charge went through and Becky handed him the receipt and the keys, she turned to look at the large clock above her. “Well, will you look at that? Time for me to go on vacation! John, I’ll be back next month to check up on things. Mister and Missus Talbot, I hope you enjoy your stay.”
“Thank you,” Tracy told Becky’s retreating form.
“They must not pay overtime here,” Mike said as the door closed.
“Let’s go check out the cabin.” Tracy had turned and was following Becky; Mike was looking at Trip, who was pointing at his eyes and then Mike’s again in an I’m keeping my eyes on you gesture. What was strange to Mike was that he kept doing it, then he suddenly looked down and frowned at the moving fingers as if he’d forgotten what they were doing. Mike took that as his cue to leave. He wondered whether if he came back in an hour, Trip would still be watching himself give the gesture.
“Probably," he said as he closed the door to the office.
Mike walked back to the SUV, where BT and his wife were kissing.
“Get a room,” he called out from across the lot.
“Well, you better hurry up then,” BT told him.
“Deluxe cottage cabin, number fifty-nine. Apparently it has a shower.”
“Here, let me see the keys. I’ll drive over,” BT told him.
“Go for it.” Mike was going to take his time, hopefully giving BT more time to unload the SUV.
Linda, Tracy, and Mike walked together. “This is amazing. Thank you for the cabin,” Linda said.
“It’s the least he could do after all you’ve had to put up with the last week,” Tracy laughed.
“I’ve been nothing but a perfect gentleman, and I replaced that bottle.”
“Gruet Blanc De Noirs does not replace a 2016 Cabernet Sauvignon.”
“It was a gas station, Linda, my options were pretty limited, I’m sorry.”
“Is he always this easy to rile?” she asked.
“You have no idea,” Tracy responded.
BT was halfway through cleaning out the trunk by the time the trio meandered over. “Hey, if you’re not too busy could you grab an end to this cooler? Thing is pretty heavy.”
“You’re up.” Mike tapped Tracy’s buttocks. “Go get em’ slugger!”
“You’re hilarious," she told him.
Mike kissed her cheek as he went by to grab the handle to the Yeti cooler. “This thing worth all the extra bread you laid out for it?”
“None of the ice from the boat has melted in two days. You tell me,” BT said as they hefted it and placed it on the floor inside the kitchenette. “Now that I’ve got you here, I have some bad news.”
“We out of beer?” Mike asked, looking panicked.
“Linda and I are taking that room on the right.”
“This is a nice place.” Mike was looking up at the vaulted ceiling. He headed over to take a look at the room BT had claimed. “Good-sized room.”
“Yeah, yeah, now get out.” BT had grabbed his shoulders and ushered him back into the living room. “Your room is over there.” BT gave him a gentle shove.
Mike crossed the room and went through the door. “Hey man, what the hell, this room is half the size.”
“It gets worse, keep looking.”
“Oh, come on, it's bunk beds, for fuck's sake!”
“I know. God, I love karma. And you’ll notice that the bathroom is adjacent. I’m very regular, but it tends to be late at night. So if you get a wafting smell that’s something between burnt cheese and skunk, that would be me.”
“Tracy!” Mike yelled out.
“I know,” she said as she came in. “I offered them the master suite.”
“Come on! It’s bunk beds!”
“We’ll be fine for the week.” She was putting things away in the kitchen cabinets.
“Looks like you’re not getting any,” BT whispered in Mike’s ear as he walked past.
“Absolute horseshit,” Mike grumbled the entire time he went back and forth from the car to the cabin. When it was finally done, he grabbed a beer and sat at the picnic table in front of the place.
“Pouting?” BT asked as he groaned and sat down opposite Mike. “I told you we should have used the tent. At least you would have been able to sleep next to her.”
“Shut up. Want to play some backgammon?”
“Only if we make it interesting.”
“Play for the room then?”
“Oh no.” BT laughed. “I already have that; what sense would putting it on the line make?”
“Then what?”
“Best out of seven, loser is the beer bitch for the evening.”
“I’ll take that bet. As big as you are, you don’t drink a ton, whereas if I win, you’ll lose weight running back and forth all night.”
“You know, not all of us joined the Corps and became competitive drinkers.”
Mike’s smile ran away from his lips, and he turned serious for a moment. “It was the only way to cope with some of the…just cope, man.”
“I get it. Sorry I brought it up.”
“Not your fault I have demons. Come on, let’s fire this up.” Mike quickly set his tiles on the board.
Four games in, they’d split two games apiece. However, BT was ahead in the fifth when a man came over.
“Hey, neighbors!” The affable person waved. He was slighter taller than Mike, with dirty blonde hair and a tightly trimmed beard. He carried a four-pack of wine coolers in one hand and a deck of cards in the other, a purple fanny pack was sitting in front, oxymoronically.
“Hey.” Mike didn’t look up from the board as BT rolled. “Come on, man, doubles again?”
“Backgammon?” the stranger asked.
Mike glared up at him.
“Right, sorry, I know what the game is. My name is Paul Ginson.”
“Pleased to meet you, Paul,” BT beamed. “I’m BT, and the grouchy one over here is Mike Talbot.”
“Just do your move.”
“You don’t want to concede?” BT asked.
“Winners?” Paul asked.
“We’re in the middle of something,” Mike groused.
“I’m in the middle of winning, and he’s not,” BT told him. “Sit. When the series is done, I’ll destroy you too.”
“Pissah,” Paul said as he sat. “Anyone want one?”
“They still make those?” Mike asked as Paul offered a cooler.
“Making a comeback,” Paul offered.
“Like me, then?”
“You wish,” BT said.
“My wife Errin and I are on vacation.”
“Aaron?” Mike asked.
“Errin.”
“Oh, I assumed you were…”
“Mike.” BT shook his head.
“He has a fann…”
“Mike, I could sure use a refresher, and you could get some much-needed practice,” BT said as he shook his empty bottle in front of the other man’s face.
When Mike came back, a woman was standing behind Paul, rubbing his shoulders.
“Would have never thunk it.” Mike shook his head as he approached.
“This is my wife, Errin.” Paul reached back and lightly touched her hand.
“Pleased to meet you,” Mike told her.
“Thank you. So beautiful here, isn’t it? We went hiking this morning, so peaceful. I love coming here this time of the year, almost have the whole place to ourselves. It’s nice when you can meet everyone and be able to remember their names.” She smiled. “Three of the tents are a group of college kids taking a break before midterms. Nice enough, but they didn’t want too much to do with an old lady. The last one is a woman and a child, I only know that because I saw them come in. As far as I know, they haven’t come out since they set up camp.”
She then proceeded to give a breakdown of the RV’ers. “There are two older couples that are just passing through until they get to Denali National Park.” They ended up pulling out just as Mike fought for a comeback victory in game six, forcing the determining game seven.
“The one in rough shape over there belongs to the caretaker and his wife, Stephanie, and that large behemoth that looks like a traveling house? I don’t know who’s in there; they didn’t answer when I knocked, and neither did the one next to it.”
By the time the seventh game got underway, Tracy, Linda, Errin, and Paul were all inside the cabin talking animatedly.
“Fuck, I thought they’d never leave.”
“The Ginsons or our wives?”
“Sure,” Mike answered.
“Brave when no one is around to hear you.”
“I may do stupid things, but I’m not stupid,” Mike told him.
“Says you.”
The seventh game was close; midway through, there was no clear leader. Mike was about to roll the dice when Trip yelled over.
“Hey there!” He was running spasmodically, nearly in a side-to-side gait, but he was moving fast, faster than he should have been able to, given his strange means of locomotion.
“What’s he doing?” Mike had turned to watch.
“I don’t know, but he’s coming over.”
“I don’t think he’s going to stop.”
“Of course he is,” BT said, but he didn’t seem so sure.
Mike half stood, getting ready to move out of the way. “Shit!” Mike dove as Trip jumped over the bench seat he'd been sitting on. Trip's trailing foot caught the edge of the backgammon case and sent it spinning wildly away. BT was able to grab the man in midair before he collided with the ground.
“What the hell, Trip? I was winning,” Mike said as he dusted off.
“Like hell you were,” BT said as he put the man down. “Now, what’s so important that you interrupted my victory?”
“What day is it?” Trip asked.
“Fried-day. Something I would think you’d be all too familiar with,” Mike told him as he began to pick up all the counters.
“Oh, thank goodness. We have one more day," Trip said as he turned and walked away.
“Draw?” Mike offered.
“Sure, as long as you get the first round.”