The Thousand Mile Love Story

by Natalie Vivien

  “Are you sure this is the right address, and not, you know, the address for Ye Olde Creepy Place—turn back while you still can!—instead?” asked Tiffany, glancing in the backseat to get confirmation from Robin.

  Robin shrugged, chuckling. “Oh, come on. It’s not that bad!” she said, waving her arm at the eerie scene that now presented itself before the little green convertible.

  The gate of the campground looked like as if it had been lifted from a cemetery. It hung ominously, half off its hinges, swinging a little in the stiff breeze that had begun to blow. The trees overhead, for some reason, looked much more scraggly than typical campground trees, and if Andee squinted, the branches really did resemble clawing hands.

  A tumbleweed—an honest-to-goodness tumbleweed—suddenly blew across the road. What was a tumbleweed doing in Pennsylvania?

  And to top it all off, the sign posted beside the road that read “Pleasant Campground” was cracked down the middle, the paint, which had probably once been very vibrant, peeling away.

  “I vote for staying in a hotel,” said Tiffany, clearing her throat. “Not because of Bigfoot or anything, but so that I can paint my nails properly,” she muttered, tapping a finger on the steering wheel.

  “Or,” said Robin, head to the side, eyes narrowed mischievously, “because you’re chicken.”

  “Oh, you so didn’t use that word with me, missy,” said Tiffany, throwing the convertible into park and whipping around to face the backseat. With her green eyes flashing, and her red hair fallen loose from her braid, she looked like the embodiment of Medusa again. All she really needed to complete the effect were a couple of small snakes and some terrified victims. As always, Robin was not cowed in the least by Tiff’s intense gaze. Robin just chuckled a little, narrowing her blue eyes.

  “The only way you can prove you’re not chicken, of course, is to camp with us here,” she shrugged, glancing nonchalantly at the towering trees. “But it’s up to you. You and your nails.”

  “Ha!” said Tiffany, screwing up her face as she bounced back down into the seat, thrust the car into drive and pressed her little high-heeled foot down on the gas. Everyone was flattened against their respective seats until Tiffany paused in front of the gatehouse, idling.

  The gatehouse was small, painted blue, and looked like its best hope for repair would be demolition. There were no windows but, rather, a peephole that the gatehouse attendant could look out at the cars through. The ramshackle door burst open when Tiffany put the car into park, however, and standing in the doorway…

  “Bigfoot Bob!” said Tiffany charmingly up at the large man, who blinked down at her as if he was trying to remember where they might have met. An open can of beer filled his large hand.

  “Welcome to Pleasant Campground!” he slurred after a moment, launching into some sort of campground script. “Sightings of Bigfoot are almost guaranteed! It’s thirty dollars a night for a tent site.”

  “Thirty dollars! Thirty dollars!” Tiffany muttered, pulling a twenty and a ten out of her wallet and waving away the money that Jill, Robin and Andee were suddenly holding out toward her. “Sightings are almost guaranteed?” she then asked the large man, who blinked at her through his haze and nodded slowly.

  “Almost, because we can’t really guarantee anything, but if you guys have hotdogs, he loves hotdogs, likes to come around for them,” he said, shrugging and disappearing, with Tiffany’s money, back into the little gatehouse. “Your tent site’s called ‘Alien Abduction.’ They’re all alphabetical, so you’re pretty close. Up here, on the right.” He pointed in a vague direction, then shut the door to the shack behind him.

  Somewhere in the descending dark, an owl hooted mournfully.

  “So haunting your ass,” Tiffany muttered back at Robin as she drove the car forward very, very slowly.

  “He alphabetizes the campsites?” Jill was trying not to laugh—and failing miserably—as they pulled into the very first marked and cleared area. “Alien Abduction… It’s really called that.” That hand-painted sign had fallen off its post and was propped up against it, two rusty nails sticking out of the back of the wilting boards.

  “I shudder to think what he named the others,” Tiffany muttered, shutting off the ignition. The dark had come much quicker than Andee had expected, and they popped the trunk, dragging out the two tent bags as Tiffany set about gathering what they’d need for a fire, humming to herself.

  After a few minutes, she sighed, putting her hands on her hips. “I saw some campfire wood for sale back up there,” she said, pointing toward the gatehouse, which was just visible through the trees. “If I can take along a partner in crime, we’ll get this fire started. I am so not walking back there alone.”

  Robin raised one side of the tent and then raised her eyebrow, too. “Well…if I can keep a partner in crime here to finish this, you can take a partner in crime to brave the gatehouse. Then we’ll be two legendary pairs of campground criminals.”

  “Works for me,” said Tiffany, and she slyly glanced sidelong at Jill, who blinked and then nodded.

  “Oh, right, right,” she muttered, shrugging and grinning at Robin as she began to walk up the road with Tiffany, toward the gatehouse.

  “Rob, you’re almost done. You didn’t need my help,” said Andee then, her hands on her hips as she gazed at Robin, shoving the last stake into place. Robin, who wasn’t almost done. She was done. Andee had never seen someone set up two tents so quickly in her life. “Well, that’s a good thing, anyway,” she said, taking one last sip of her super large Coke. “Because I have to go find the restroom or port-o-potty, or…you know, bushes. I wonder what this place has,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “My guess? Bushes.”

  “Well, on the internet, which we know is almost one hundred percent right all of the time,” said Robin, winking up at her in the waning light as she rose from kneeling in the dirt, wiping off her hands on the back of her jeans, “it said that this campground actually had a bathroom slash showering facility, if you’d believe it. And you must know by now, Miss Shaw, I would never let you go on such an adventure alone. What if Bigfoot came after you?”

  “I won’t carry any hotdogs,” Andee quipped, feeling her heartbeat begin to thunder inside of her as Robin took one step closer, almost close enough to kiss. Andee swallowed, feeling Robin’s body heat against her skin in the chilling cool of the twilight. “But…but just in case,” she said, clearing her throat, “I’d really like it if you came with me.”

  Walking through a creepy campground trying to find the probably even creepier bathroom should not have been a romantic experience. But Robin reached across the space between them and took Andee’s hand, squeezing Andee’s cold fingers against her warm palm. They walked close together, and though the wind moved through the trees, and the branches scraped and creaked, though the owl called and something bounded away into the bushes (“Probably a deer,” Robin had said nonchalantly, though her eyes widened in the dark for a heartbeat), all Andee really noticed was the warmth of Robin, so close to her, the sound of Robin’s breathing, soft and quiet in the dark, and exactly how close they were to one another.

  They walked toward a flickering light ahead on the little gravel drive, and there was a small building, which the odd, hanging light was attached to. In the dark, Andee couldn’t tell what color the building was, but it was probably made of wood, and the paint was probably peeling. The door read “Bathroom,” scrawled hastily, as if someone with a piece of chalk had decided to deface property.

  “You’re very brave,” muttered Andee, as Robin stepped up and pushed open the door.

  Inside the small building, a light flickered to life. It guttered overhead, making the scene before them look very much like one right out of a horror movie. The toilet was actually clean, and there was only one shower, but everything was cast in that strange, strobing light. Andee pulled back the shower curtain and sighed with relief. No blood! Good sign.

  The door creaked ominously behind t
hem, and Andee whirled around, but it was only Robin, shutting it, easing it softly closed.

  They both stood beneath the light that finally, finally stabilized. It was a very low wattage, so everything was softly lit, and when it actually stopped flickering, it washed the small room in a warm glow.

  “Oh, the places you’ll go,” Robin muttered, grinning as she raked her hand through her hair. “Sorry. I thought this campground would be better. More interesting. Less—um—creepy.”

  “I don’t even notice it,” lied Andee. But it wasn’t a complete lie. Because as she gazed up at Robin, leaning against the door, hands in pockets, head to the side as she considered Andee, eyes sly and mischievous and so bright blue, even in the soft light…Andee decided. It was an immediate decision, and she moved forward before she could double-think it, before she could dismiss it.

  She pressed her body against Robin’s, angled her head up and kissed her.

  There was something about Robin, a gravity, that drew Andee in. Everything about her held that gravity: her smile, her warmth, her kindness, her jokes, her hair, her hands, her eyes, her laughter. Everything about Robin was beautiful, and if Andee could just, for a handful of heartbeats, forget ten years ago (which was getting easier and easier to do, admittedly), Andee could wrap her arms around Robin’s neck, could stand on her tiptoes and press the entire length of her body against Robin’s body, and think of nothing else.

  And she kissed her deeply.

  Time slowed down, as it always did in moments like this. Robin tasted a little like coffee and a lot like the mint from her gum, and she was soft and warm, and all of the old feelings began to stir in Andee, things she hadn’t felt in so many years, things she’d squashed down and tried to forget for so long. They all came rushing back.

  And, among them, the strongest was need.

  She needed Robin. She wanted her. She loved her. She knew she did, knew it clearly, absolutely, like she knew that there were stars overhead, that fire burns. As she felt Robin’s heartbeat against her lips, as she moved her kiss to her neck, to her warm skin there, Andee felt the need growing in her, pulsing in her with such power, it made her weak and it made her strong, all in the same instant.

  And the light overhead glowed like a tiny sun as Andee felt Robin’s hands against the small of her back, under her shirt, as she kissed the woman again, strongly, fiercely…

  There was a knock on the door.

  Since Robin was leaning against the door and Andee was leaning against Robin, the knock reverberated through them both, making their bones shiver.

  “Hello?” called Tiffany’s muffled voice. “Robin? Andee? Um…Bigfoot?”

  “We’re in here, Tiff,” called Robin, voice strained as she tried to slow her breathing. Andee closed her eyes, her fingers tangled in the lapel of Robin’s leather jacket as she tried to calm down, too.

  “Oh? Ooooooh,” said Tiffany, the sound of Jill elbowing her in the ribs quite loud in the stillness. “Oh, well, we got the fire going. But you don’t have to hurry or anything! Um. There’ll still be hotdogs if Bigfoot hasn’t eaten them all. Um. Goodbye!” And then came the muffled echo of stifled laughter as Tiffany and Jill walked away, back toward the campsite.

  Robin sighed for a long moment, gazing down at Andee as she bit her lip. There was longing in her eyes, longing that had darkened as Andee kissed her. But there was something else there, too.

  Andee recognized it, and it made her heart slow down.

  Pain.

  “Andee…” began Robin, pressing off from the door so that she stood straight. Andee backed away, straightening her shirt, clearing her throat. “There’s nothing I want more,” said Robin, her voice low, husky as she breathed out, curling her hands into fists. “But there’s just… There’s so much stuff. That we need to talk about.”

  Andee paled in the darkness, ran her hand through the length of her ponytail as she straightened it.

  “And we have to talk about it,” said Robin then, clearly, softly. “We can’t let it just…be the elephant in the room.” Her lips twitched, curling up in a soft smile. “Or the Bigfoot in the room, either.”

  Andee breathed out again, closed her eyes as Robin stepped forward, as she brushed her lips over Andee’s cheek.

  “Tomorrow,” said Robin, then, backing up one step, glancing down at Andee, her eyes bright. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow. Not right now. Not like this.”

  Andee nodded her head.

  “Tomorrow,” she whispered, and feeling her heart breaking—but just a little this time—she stepped forward and kissed Robin once more. A slow, soft kiss that lingered.

  They walked back through the woods, hand in hand, toward the fire that danced in the distance, warm and bright.

  ---

  “Niagara Falls, USA, we are in you!” Tiffany declared, as she slowed down to thirty miles per hour, failing to keep the car in her lane as she angled her head, trying to catch a glimpse of the falls.

  “Tiff, usually the driver looks out the front window,” Jill quipped, and Tiffany sighed, rolling her eyes as she angled the car toward a large parking lot.

  “So, ladies, this is one of the most popular vacation destinations in the world!” said Robin grandly, gesturing to the whole city with her arms once they’d paid ten bucks for the parking, once they were out of the car and marching across the expansive lawn toward the soft roaring of the falls. “I figured we’d go to some touristy places first and then see the Falls. Sound good?”

  They walked along the main boulevard. They had decided, as a group, to stay on the American side and not venture over into Canada (which, Robin said, was definitely a shame, since the Canadian side was ten times better), since they needed to get across all of New York State that day. Tomorrow was Massachusetts, and the day after that was Vermont, and then they would be in Burlington for the wedding rehearsal and the wedding.

  And the infamous road trip would be over.

  It was hard for Andee to believe how much had changed in so few days, and exactly how fast the time had flown by. But she couldn’t appreciate all of it, because she was tense. Tense from her discussion with Robin last night. She knew they needed to discuss things, to bring everything out into the open. They had to talk about it if they would ever be able to go forward and… Well. Andee didn’t know exactly what they were beginning here, but it felt special. And promising.

  But they needed to move past the biggest hurdle before it could become what it was meant to be.

  They needed to discuss what had happened ten years ago.

  Tiffany had been right: Andee hadn’t ever truly listened to Robin’s side of the story. What if Robin finally told her the truth? That she had cheated?

  What would that mean? How would she deal with that?

  She didn’t know. She didn’t know anything anymore. She’d thought that, for the rest of her life, she’d mourn something between the two of them that had never had the chance to grow.

  Now, maybe they were getting a second chance.

  Andee swallowed, gulping down her fears as she sipped on the gigantic straw of her gigantic lemonade, following the three women ahead of her down the ridiculous boulevard expressly created for tourists. There were several haunted houses (punctuated with screams); a few wax museums, each with a large horror movie character propped out front to keep the door open. They’d just passed a very bad imitation of Frankenstein. There were chain restaurants, the smell of fried food making Andee’s stomach growl, and tourist shops filled with things imprinted with “Niagara Falls, USA.” Literally, everything you could want—from visors to teddy bears—bore cartoony pictures of the Falls and wishes that whoever was recipient of the trinket had been there.

  And, ahead of them on the boulevard, across a massive sign, was the looping script for the destination they were seeking:

  Ripley’s Believe it or Not Museum.

  “This is one of my favorite places in the world—which says a lot about me,” said Robin, winking as she held
the door open for the three women. They bought their tickets from an enthusiastic young man in a bowtie, and then they made their way into the museum proper.

  “I will be very disappointed if there aren’t any exhibits about teeth or dentures,” said Tiffany, grinning. “The Museum of Dentistry spoiled me!”

  “Oh, don’t worry,” said Robin, her own grin ominous. “There’s tons of that here. You’ll be mesmerized!”

  Tiffany snorted and rolled her eyes before following Jill along the first wall of exhibits, Tiffany making strange little sounds in the back of her throat. Robin paused beside one wall, her hands in her pockets, staring through the glass at…

  Andee paused, walking up to the glass.

  There were about twenty tiny shrunken heads, their mouths sewed up. They looked like movie props, with their leathery skin and strange, thick black hair. Andee shuddered and stood next to Robin, reading the little placard.

  “Okay,” said Robin, taking a deep breath. “It’s now or never.” She turned to Andee, her bright blue eyes searching Andee’s as she licked her lips, breathed out. “Andee…can you do me a big favor?”

  “Do you want some of my lemonade?” Andee joked weakly, holding out her gigantic cup (the cup was literally as long as her torso), but Robin shook her head, grinning a little.

  “No. But thank you. No, I’m going to ask a big favor. Do you see these little guys here?”

  “I’m trying not to,” said Andee, grinning sidelong at her companion. “They’re a little…um.”

  “Aw, don’t hurt their feelings,” said Robin, gazing at the shrunken heads with a laugh. “But do you see how their mouths are sewn shut? There were actually a lot of ritualistic reasons for that…”

  “Of course you know the reasons,” said Andee with a sigh.

  “It’s because I watch the History Channel,” said Robin, making Andee chuckle. “But as you can clearly see, their mouths are sewn shut.” Robin turned to her, the jokes fading away, the lightheartedness slowing, dissolving. “Could you, just for five minutes, be like them? Don’t say anything. For five minutes, let me tell you the truth. And for five minutes, listen.”