Lumbersexual (Novella) (17 page)

In double the time it normally took, we made it to the street, and we got a clearly suffering Court in the truck.  I ran in the house, not caring about a single thing that I owned except my purse to be able to drive legally.  And then I turned to the others.  They told me where they were meeting for the evacuation, and I promised to meet up after I took care of him.

“I’m taking you to the doctor,” I said, and he nodded, slumped in his seat next to me.  I waved to the others and took off, driving Court’s truck to the emergency room.

I turned to him.  “I’m so glad I have you, Courtney Thompson.  You are what I really want.  You’re mine.”

He nodded.  “You got it.”  And then he leaned against the window, pale and sweaty, and I drove faster.

“Maggie!  How is he?”

Kristy ran into the urgent care, wearing jeans and flip flops from the party.

“He twisted his ankle and broke his fibula.  He has to wear a boot for a month.”

“Oh no!”

I nodded.  “He’s going to have to recover, but the prognosis is good.  He just needs time to heal.”

She sat down next to me in the void-of-personality waiting room in Oakhurst, and wrapped her arm around my shoulders.  “I’m so sorry.”

“Me too.”

“Do you mind if I ask what’s going to happen with you and Court?”

“I don’t know.  He’s my everything.  I’m not leaving him.  If I have to get a job outside of the park and commute, I will.”

Giving me a smile, she patted my knee.  “I don’t think you’ll have to do that.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Helen got a job offer in Vermont.  I think we’re going to take it.”

“I’m so happy for you,” I said automatically, trying to feel it but too shaken from everything that had happened in the last few hours to really dredge up any enthusiasm.

“You don’t understand.  I think you could take over my job.”

I saw stars.  What?  “Me?  I can’t do that!”

“Of course you can.  You have a college degree.  You know what you’re doing.  The least you can do is apply for the job.  And I’ll help you fill out the forms so that you can get in the system properly.”

The sweet feeling of hope percolated through my body.  “Seriously?  That would be the best thing ever.”  Then I thought of something.  “But will I have to work with Amanda?”

“She is transferring at the end of the summer to Washington D.C.”

My eyes widened.  “She’s leaving?”

She nodded.  “So she won’t be under your supervision.  If you get the job, that is.”

“I can’t thank you enough for the opportunity!”

“I’ll write you a glowing letter of recommendation.  I think you’re a shoo-in.”

Just then, the door opened and Court came out with crutches.  “Hey,” he called.

I ran over to him, wanting to throw my arms around him, but knowing I should be cautious.  He jostled the crutch around and gave me a squeeze.  “Ready?” I asked.

“For anything.”

Kristy helped us out to the truck, and then took off once she saw we were situated.  I leaned over Court and helped him buckle in his seatbelt.

“I can do that,” he muttered.

“I know,” I said.  “But it gives me an excuse to do this.”  And I kissed him, the gentlest kiss I could.  One that told him that when he’d fallen, so had I.  

He pressed his forehead to mine and ran his big hand under my chin.  “I was just thinking about you up there, and missed my step.  Feel like an idiot for not watching the edge.”

“Sometimes you fall, even if you’re careful.”

Because of the wildfire, we were evacuated into temporary employee housing.  Court, drugged up, mostly lay in bed sleeping.  Everyone else helped the effort, directing traffic or pumping gas for the firefighters.  Thankfully they saved the structures in Wawona and the fire was controlled.  We were allowed to return home after two days, the air smoky and charred, instead of the clean smell of the mountains.

But that would return soon enough.

Over the next week, I moved my few things into his house, and learned that I got the job as interim ranger supervisor, taking over for Kristy until they decided who to hire permanently.  I applied for that job too.

I trusted that the right things would happen, even if I didn’t know what they would be.

My last night in the Brown House, everyone gathered around the table.  The house was picked up, all the gear stowed in bags and cars.  Almost everything packed up, ready to go.  Clean and set for the next group of people.

“We’re really gonna do this?” I asked.

“Yep,” said Ian.

Matt wore an apron, bustling about the kitchen.  The rest of us sat at the dinner table, wary.  The kind of wary that we knew we were doing something stupid, but nevertheless were going to do it anyway.

“What is it?” asked Yazmin.

“Squirrel and raccoon,” he answered.

“Ohmigod,” said Emma.

My stomach turned.

“I don’t think I can do this,” I said.

“Live a little,” said Matt.

He brought over a huge platter of grilled veggies.  Those looked safe.  Sliced rounds of fresh baguettes with olive oil and balsamic vinegar.  Again, safe.

And a platter of some sort of squirrel and raccoon fricassee.

Ian sniffed.  “It doesn’t smell all that bad, dude.  Kind of like Italian food.”

Emma rolled her eyes.  “You’re kidding me.  I can’t do this.”

“We’ve watched him eat like this all summer.  Now he has enough for all of us.  I think we should try it,” Ian said.

“You are so not the voice of reason in this house,” I argued.

He burst out laughing.  “Nope.  Not.  I’m just enjoying watching all of you squirm.”

“It’s so wrong and creepy.”

Matt came over with a salad and sat down.  We all stared at the table.  The food looked edible.  Better than that, actually.  The crisp green salad was topped with shaved carrots and sliced cucumbers artfully arranged.  He’d made a vinaigrette, which he’d placed on the side.  The mountain of grilled veggies had pretty grill marks and some hot red peppers for spice.

Court hopped in, set his crutches aside on the wall, and sat down.  “What did I miss?”

“All of it.  Pull up a chair.”

He raised an eyebrow and sat down.  “What’s for dinner?”

“Roadkill.”  I eyed it.  

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope.  After razzing him all summer, Ian decided that we all needed to try it.”

Ian had wrapped a napkin around his neck and held a fork in one hand, the knife in the other, and looked like a cartoon about to devour an entire supper.  “You will all thank me for this afterward.”

I realized how stupid this was and cracked up.  “You are absolutely ridiculous, you know that?” I sputtered.  “Why are we doing this?  We are intelligent people, who can afford to buy healthy food.  We don’t need to eat this.”

But Ian adopted an intellectual look on his face.  “Philosophically speaking, however, there really is no difference between Matt’s Raccoon and Squirrel Surprise and a chicken dinner.”

Oh, God.

This was happening.

Somehow the salad bowl was passed to me.  Then the colorful grilled veggies.  Then the roadkill stew.

I looked at Court, who burst out laughing.  “You know you don’t have to eat it just because Ian told you to.  I’m sure Matt’s cooking is superb.  He won’t be offended.”

But Matt did look hurt.  Goddammit.  I was eating roadkill.  I gingerly scooped out the smallest portion I could, and put it on my plate so that it wouldn’t touch anything else.  Then I passed the dish to Court, who took a scoop that wasn’t much bigger.  He passed it to Ian, who took half of the amount on the platter.  He clearly wasn’t just being polite.

When everyone had filled their plates, we paused, each of us looking around the table, to see who would go first after Matt, who tucked in immediately.

Of course it was Ian, who took a big bite.  “Tastes like chicken,” he said, “only a little gamey.  Like the dark meat, but a little stinkier.”

“That isn’t helping me want to eat it,” Emma complained.

“I’ll try it,” said Yazmin.  And she looked at Matt in a way that made me think they were going to see each other after the summer.  Between his diet and her philosophy, they’d make a great pair.

Kind of like me and a certain bearded dude.

“Do we really have to do this?” I muttered in a low voice to Court.  

He leaned down and held my hand.  “No.”

“If I do this, can we have s’mores?”

Squeezing my hand, he nodded. “Absolutely.”

“That’s a relief.”  Then I looked down at my plate.  And I realized something.  “You know what?” I said quietly to Court.  But others could hear.
 

“What?”

“This has been a summer of me finding myself.  Of realizing what I do and do not want to do.  I’ve found that Yosemite is my home, and I want to stay.  I want to do field work, even with the blisters and the bug bites.”

He nodded.

“And I am
not
the kind of girl to eat roadkill.”

“Here, here,” said Emma, and clapped.  “Me neither.”

“I’m sorry, Matt.  I understand your beliefs, and I respect them.  I’ll eat your salad and your veggies.  And then I’m going to stuff myself silly with s’mores made by Court.”

Matt smiled at me.  “More for me.  I’m glad that you were even willing to consider it.  The veggies are vegan.”  He paused, and took a bite of a grilled zucchini.  “And pretty tasty, too.”

I sank back into my chair with relief, ate my vegetables, and then helped Ian do the dishes.  But I snuck my Cheez-Its into my room and ate a handful as I packed my final things.

When I was done, I stood on the steps with all of my housemates surrounding me.  Same as when I first showed up.  Only this time, instead of feeling overwhelmed, I felt like part of a community.  Like I was home.  Like I was loved.

I was going to miss all of my friends.  I hugged all of them, and with tears streaming down my face, got in my car and drove it to Court’s, following his truck.

After we unpacked my things, we drove to the Glacier Point road.  At the end, we came to another stunning view of the unique majesty of Yosemite, but this time from way up high and on the side.  Almost sunset.
 

I felt the familiar fear of being up so high.  The air felt thin, but it wasn’t just the elevation.  It was also the grandeur of the landscape.

A zillion years ago (give or take a few), glaciers carved these granite peaks of Yosemite, leaving sheer granite cliffs and tall waterfalls.  I stared at the Half Dome from the side, a striking and unusual feature in a landscape full of striking and unusual features.

But the thing was?  Being up so high?  I knew that nothing would happen to me.

Out here in the fresh air, with beautiful vistas, I found myself.

Maggie.  I didn’t figure it all out.  But I learned that I didn’t have to.

I took a picture and turned to Court.  He came up behind me, balancing on his crutches, and kissed my neck, wrapping an arm around my waist.  I said, “You know, Yosemite walks this balance between nature and amusement park.  It’s part of the American identity.  And maybe that tension, that complication, that not knowing, is part of who it really is.”