by Ann Partridge
Ella
This pre-wedding holiday was supposed to make us closer.
And here we are, just the two of us, surrounded by nature in all its glory.
“We’re almost out of bug spray Ella!” Geoffrey calls from inside the tent. I don’t really mind that he didn’t know how to set up the tent. I do, and anyway they almost pop up themselves now.
“I’ve started a fire. The smoke will keep the bugs away, Free. Hurry or you’ll miss a spectacular sunset,” I call back, while wishing that we were snuggled together by the fire in silent admiration of the perfect night. Our voices seem harsh in the stillness of the forest and diminish the magic of the moment.
Geoffrey finally comes out of the tent and my eyes pop open wide. I blink a few times, but the hallucination doesn’t vanish. He sits in the chair beside me and I wait for him to tell me that his headgear is a badly timed joke. He doesn’t. Feeling my steady gaze he finally says, “You know I worry about West Nile. The sky is nice, Baby.”
The sun has slipped below the horizon and the brilliant colours are losing light and merging into darkness. My mood mirrors the sky because my soon-to-be-husband is wearing a beekeepers’ netted head covering. The overpowering scent of insect repellent drifts my way and I edge my chair away from him. One tear slips from my eye as I relinquish my romantic ideals.
Sitting in stunned silence, I think back on our time together and realize that during the two years we’ve been seeing each other, the only outdoor activities we have taken part in were at the beach. And, yes, Geoffrey has always been religiously sunscreened. Sure we’ve gone for walks in the city parks, but they are tame: pruned and paved. Only an echo of the forest. So I have to take into consideration that he is out of his element.
As I was out of mine when I moved to the city and started work at Climeco. I had been a small town girl working for a smart new environmental company in a big city. It had been scary. Some of my co-workers, Geoffrey among them, helped me get used to life in the Big Smoke and showed me how to make the best of it.
I guess that was part of my problem now. I was used to Free showing me the ropes and taking the lead in everything. He had helped me understand the ins and outs of the transit system and once I learned that I realized that my reasonably priced little apartment was way off the beaten path as far as public transport was concerned.
Less than a year ago we moved in together. We live in a more expensive townhouse but we save money on the commute to work. I rented a car this week for our romantic outdoor getaway. This was proving to be a different kind of holiday than I had anticipated.
I make a conscious decision to be more supportive, as he had been with me when I met him. I won’t even consider getting cold feet about our wedding next month. I’m determined that this vacation won’t be something I regret for the rest of my life. I could teach him camping craft as he had taught me subway stops. We could have a great time, if I stop expecting us to emulate Adam and Eve in this Garden of Eden.
Geoffrey
Ella is finally smiling at me again. At least I think so. It’s hard to tell without any illumination other than the flickering firelight. She has been snippy with me all day. I don’t know which of us is more surprised by our different definitions of camping. When I went camping as a kid, my family went to a trailer park and I rode my bike with the other kids, went swimming and ate lots of hot dogs and beans. It was a fun place that didn’t seem the least bit scary or surrounded by this vast menacing wilderness. I should have showed more initiative when she planned this getaway and asked for details. I just assumed we were on the same wavelength. We most often are.
To celebrate my bride-to-be’s happy look, I make my way back to the tent and with the aid of a large flashlight find a bottle of champagne stowed in our gear.
“Don’t use the light out here Free,” Ella calls. “It will spoil the ambiance of our campfire.”
I obey immediately to keep her lips curving upward and walk tentatively in the dark towards the fire.
“Oooph!” I cry when I trip over a tent peg and hit the dirt.
“Geoffrey!” Ella says. “What are you doing?”
“Just examining the local geology more closely, Honey,” I reply from my prone position on the ground. I know she’s pissed again because when she’s happy she calls me Free. “Don’t worry. I’m unhurt and even more importantly, the champagne bottle is still intact.”
Brushing myself off, and finding my chair in the dark, I show her the bottle and say, “I thought we could toast our good fortune in surviving the gruelling hike to this campsite.”
“Your headgear is lopsided,” Ella observes.
Righting my bug protection helmet, I twist the wire off the champagne bottle. Now, this is something I know how to do, I think as I release the cork with a satisfying bang. Following that happy sound there is loud crashing from within the dark forest around us. Something monstrously large is coming towards us. I maneuver myself between Ella and the sound and brandish the champagne bottle by the neck and prepare to face my destiny. I wish I’d had one sip of the champagne that’s running down my arm.
A large shape emerges from the trees and leaps around the fire before I can threaten it with the bottle. It quickly disappears into the inky blackness of the woods again. I’m frozen in place. “What the hell was that?” I say while hyperventilating.
“A deer, Geoff. The sound of the cork must have startled it. No need to stand on guard anymore, my knight in lopsided beekeeping gear.”
Weak at the knees I fall into my chair and gulp champagne out of the bottle. I pass the bottle to my beloved who accepts it with a smile. I straighten my bug-battling helmet once more. Ella sips from the bottle and I realize that I didn’t think to bring glasses. She smiles at me and I hope I am forgiven for my many lapses.
I reflect on the blessed fact that I didn’t need to battle the deer.
Ella
There was frost this morning and Geoffrey wasn’t any more use making breakfast than he had been making camp. I showed him how to find dry kindling under pine trees and the proper way to build a fire. I don’t know how much he took in. First he was blowing on his hands for warmth and later he was jumping up and down with his hands in his armpits. I found a few moments to appreciate the sunrise and the gentle steam that arose when the sun touched on the frosted landscape.
“Ew, gross!” Geoffrey exclaims, when I instruct him in the proper technique for his morning ablutions.
“Well, what did you expect?” I ask with exasperation.
“I don’t know. A smelly outhouse, at least,” he says before heading off behind the trees.
When he comes hobbling back with his pants around his ankles, I can’t resist a loud guffaw. He says he heard loud rustling noises behind him. I am impressed that he doesn’t land on his face in the fire and I vow to make him rinse out his own laundry in the stream.
When I suggest we finish our coffee and go exploring, he looks less than enthusiastic. I mention that there is a well-trodden hiking trail and this is wonderful country to go walking in. I picture us hand-in-hand strolling through nature’s paradise and marvelling at its wonders.
Geoffrey emerges from the tent wearing his beekeepers headgear and I alter my expectations. I offer him bear bells and he looks horrified. As we start walking his head darts from side to side continually. I feel dizzy just watching him.
I renew my vow not to regret this camping vacation. I will make it work, somehow. I could always lift his mesh for a soulful kiss. Or not. We should have packed more champagne.
Geoffrey
I awake thrashing from a horrific nightmare. I’m swatting at a swarm of bugs when a bell-wearing bear sneaks up on me and grabs the wine bottle from my hand. He’s about to sink his teeth into my arm when I hear Ella’s scream. She’s not here. I’m alone in the tent and there is one small ray of sunlight striking the tent flap. Shaking my head to clear the awful images from my mind, I unzip the tent to find snow. In August. Holy crap! Can this vacation get any harder to handle?
Ella is not in the campsite. Did I really hear her scream? I hurriedly follow her footprints in the snow. They lead into the forest. Who knows what else is lurking there in the gloom?
I find my fiancée with her pajamas around her ankles and her sweet behind resting in the snow. There are tears on her cheeks. The other ones.
“Free!” she exclaims warmly. “I slipped and hurt my ankle. Probably just a sprain, but I can’t seem to get up and my ass is freezing. I hurt my shoulder, too.”
I scoop her up and carry her back to the campsite. I wait until I get her into the tent before rearranging her pajama bottoms.
“You were in bare feet in the snow, Free.” Ella says in wonder.
I shrug, though my feet do feel like blocks of ice.
“Your behind was in the snow, too,” I recall fondly. This will be my most lasting memory of this holiday.
We snuggle for a while in the sleeping bag to warm us both. It’s tricky to get skin-to-skin with a girl who has a hurt ankle and shoulder, but I manage it. This is the best part of our camping trip so far. After we achieve optimum temperature, I go out and start a fire and make coffee and breakfast.
Impressed with my warming skills, or at least my coffee making, Ella is happy and we enjoy a leisurely breakfast while watching the unseasonable snow melt. We plan the end of our camping trip. I will pack up the tent and our other possessions under her supervision. Leaving our gear behind, I will slowly hike back down to our car with my beloved in my arms. A strenuous, but rewarding activity, I decide. I will only occasionally savour the memory of carrying her bare-bottomed earlier in the day. Once safely depositing her in the car, I will make my way alone back to the campsite and attempt to bring all the gear back. It may take a couple of trips.
She looks up at me with shining eyes and I know I can do it.
Ella
I feel so bad that I slipped in the snow and hurt myself. Now we have to end our romantic camping vacation and it is all my fault. I will never forget the welcome sight of Free, wearing only his sleep pants, scooping me up out of the snow and carrying me lovingly back to our tent. My hero. I will always remember this vacation and how he came through and demonstrated that he was the right man to spend my life with.
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