But she will overcome her fear today.
Well, at least one of them, and I’ll be damned if I leave her to do it here on her own. I’ve been facing my fears alone all my life, and I don’t want anyone to go through the same, especially not her. “But camping in the cold is fun. You’ll see,” I say, walking to the tent. After digging through it, I can tell she spent a small fortune on it, and it will hold just fine even if the snow hits at night.
“Have you been camping a lot?” she asks as she makes her way to me.
“I wouldn’t call it camping.” I move the tent to the side and see if the spot it’s in is any good. “Do you want it here?” I nod at my feet, and she shrugs in return. “All right, we’ll move it that way then.” I point toward the young, thick pine trees that make a natural wall against the wind.
I gather all the stuff so I can move it fifteen feet to the left, and she comes to help.
“What would you call it?” she asks after a pause.
“Surviving, I guess.” I shrug and start cleaning the area of cones and twigs.
“Did you grow up in the woods or something?” The way she asks it might sound snobbish to someone who doesn’t know her, but to my utter surprise, I understand what she means.
“I wish I did. It probably would have been better that way.” I lie down the footprint for the base. “Grab those corners so we can stretch them.” I point at the two corners opposite me. She helps to spread the base on the tarp, and I drive the stakes into the ground. Then I go to deal with the poles.
The tent is basic but good quality, and it takes me about five minutes to finish inserting the poles and build the tent to its full glory.
“Wow,” she says in awe.
“We’re not done yet.” I glance at her gleaming face.
“It looks so cool already.”
“Yep.” I check around the perimeter, securing the poles and hooks. “See how you did this time.” I stop by her side and motion toward our creation. I briefly look at her.
I wish I never did. Her face has changed, radiating pure joy. She has a big, bright smile across her face, her eyes big and happy. All that from a freaking tent.
I feel unexpected emotions rising, and I swallow them down. They’re new to me, but somehow already familiar. I felt it in my shower when she was helping me clean up.
“Thank you,” she says quietly, clearly fighting the urge to cry.
“Yeah.” I look around uncomfortably. “Do you have anything for the inside?”
“Yes, it’s over there.” She clears her throat and points at her backpack.
I march over and find so many things in this bottomless bag. I pull another tarp out, a thermal one, thin and light. Then comes an air mattress with a manual pump. I have more and more questions with every object I pull out. She might have spent asmallfortune on her adventure.
Finally, I pull out a heavy duty, super warm sleeping bag before a bunch of other stuff.
I turn toward her. “How did you carry all of this here?”
She shrugs. “I had a goal.” Her smile is sheepish, and I can’t help but smile back.
I carry everything inside with her hot on my heels. The tent is huge. I can easily sit without touching the ceiling, which is rare, considering I’m six foot five. She slips in behind me. We spread the tarp and the mattress across the floor together. While I work the pump, inflating the mattress, she moves to the corner and folds her legs under her butt.
“Thank you for your help, Mark.”
“Sure.” I shrug it off.
There’s a pause. “Why are you here?” she asks suddenly, and my heart skips a beat.
I switch my attention from the pump to her. I have two options here: I can make up some shit and laugh it off, or I can tell the truth. “I wanted to make sure you’re all right,” I tell her after a moment.
“Your profession talking?” Her voice waivers a little as she asks.
“I guess.” I finish pumping the air in, not knowing how to interpret the change in her tone. The bed is a twin, raised about ten inches above the ground. “All done.” I pad the velvety surface. “Looks comfy.”
