Monday, Jul. 04, 2016 @ 4:58 pm
We're sitting in a fish and chips restaurant, vinyl booths, the wait staff wearing the same t-shirt with a funny saying on the back. The ferries churn up the waters of the bay, gulls wheeling in the late summer sun.
Me, Kevin, and Chris. Just off the trail, reeking of body odor, mud smeared across my shins, my arms tracked with fresh welts from bug bites and the lashing of low shrubs.
We are talking about relationships, about the dance of courting. How many days to wait between phone calls, texting, emails.
"But I guess you don't need to worry about this stuff anymore, though, Shannon," he says. Chris. He looks directly in my eyes. His hair wild, his face reddened from the sun and the wind, his eyes piercing.
I stutter, "I guess not..."
My gaze averts. I feel myself blushing. Thoughts reel through my head.
I wish I'd been faster on the uptake, spilled my guts across that table before the food arrived. The intimacy of the moment. His eyes. The question. Fishing for an answer to why I was on the hike with them alone, no Daniel beside me on such a wild and crazy adventure.