Field-Tripped

by Nicole Archer

  “I was going to. But then your parents…” I can’t finish the sentence.

  Her gaze shifts back to the window, but her fingers reach for mine.

  I bring our clasped hands to my lap.

  “What are you going to do with that ring?” she asks.

  It comes charging back—the tightness in my chest. I don’t answer her, because, truthfully, I’m not sure what I’m doing with it. “It’s sort of a moot point now.”

  She turns on the heat. The windows fog up, and she draws a heart on hers then wipes it off.

  On the way back, she falls asleep, and we don’t bring up the ring again.

  FORTY-FIVE

  Charlie Finds A Treasure

  October 2005

  WEINER FOUND Elliott’s engagement ring. Squee! I wonder when he’s going to propose? I’m so in love and so happy.

  December 2005

  It’s been two months, and that ring is still not mine. I’m pissed. So are mom and dad. What the hell is taking so long?

  FORTY-SIX

  Charlotte Makes Love

  Eli’s Mixtape: She & Him, “All I Want For Christmas is You”

  ON CHRISTMAS MORNING, I let Elliott make love to me—a gift for both of us.

  I shed a few tears when it’s over. It’s been so long since I’ve experienced this kind of intimacy. I’m scared of the way it makes me feel. Especially because it doesn’t seem like he’s made up his mind about us.

  Afterward, he wipes my tears and kisses me. Then he gives me his gift.

  It’s an old framed picture of the three of us. In the photo, Patrick and I are wearing these dumb hats my mom knitted us. Elliott is wearing a puffy coat three times too big for him. My old dog, Sir-Farts-A-Lot, is in the picture, and we all have plastic sleds.

  I rub my cheek against his soft beard. “I love it.”

  “That’s not all,” he says. “I made you a mixtape.”

  “A real mixtape?”

  “No, online. Malcolm let me borrow his laptop last night.”

  “Yay! I can’t wait to listen to it.”

  “My turn!” I jump off his lap and pull a box out from under the bed.

  His brow lifts. “Beaver wrapping paper? Did Burt buy this?”

  I bounce on the bed. “Open it!”

  He tears off the paper and holds up the Ken doll glued to a tongue depressor. “World’s Greatest Lover?” He turns to me. “Is this supposed to be me?”

  “The stick’s supposed to be a snowboard. Maybe you didn’t win the race, but you still deserve a major award.”

  “I see. Why am I wearing bedazzled feather underwear?”

  “That was the only craft supplies here.”

  The St. James smirk shows up. “This is better than winning a gold medal at the Olympics.”

  I kiss him hard. “I knew you’d love it.”

  Downstairs people are stirring. “Let’s go see what Austin does when he sees all those presents under the tree.”

  We dress in our tacky Christmas sweaters and make our way to the den. Burt’s building a fire, and Christmas songs play softly in the background.

  Avery is on the floor with her little boy, watching his frenzied excitement. “Santa came! Mommy! Santa came.”

  “I told you the fire wouldn’t hurt him.” She winks at me. There’s a huge smile on her face. I imagine it has something to do with seeing her son so delighted.

  Maybe one day, I’ll get to see my own child light up like that.

  Art heads to the kitchen, and soon, the scent of fresh orange juice, coffee cake, bacon, cinnamon, and mulled wine warm the lodge.

  Sam arrives at breakfast. “Morning everyone.”

  Eli nods. “Fischer.”

  Preeti floats into the dining hall with her hair tumbling down her back in black waves. She’s wearing a bright red sari.

  It’s like a flashbulb goes off and lights Skip up. In an instant, his expression returns to smugly bored.

  Malcolm toddles out, wearing striped adult-sized footie pajamas. “Oh my gawd, I’m starving.”

  “Eat up,” Burt says. “You’re doing the dishes.”

  “Nun-uh. I’m off today.”

  “Guess I’ll take back that holiday overtime.”

  “Christ, old man. Least let me eat some Danish before you beat me.”

  He’s such a drama queen.

  My smile is big, and my laughter is real. And as I look around the table, I see family. Not my original family. My new family. My tribe. Eli, his lovely friends, my crazy godfathers. Even Malcolm.

  I don’t know why I avoided coming up here for so long. I guess I thought it would make me feel empty. But it doesn’t.

  I feel whole again.

  FORTY-SEVEN

  Eli Has A Merry Christmas

  Survival Tip: The warmth and comfort of a fire is a great morale booster.

  Eli’s Mixtape John Lennon, The Plastic Ono Band, The Harlem Community Choir, “Happy Xmas (War is Over)”

  I DON’T THINK I’ve ever enjoyed Christmas until today. The last few years, I’ve spent the holidays with my roommate Elias and his band over at his mom Annie’s house. She’s Chinese, so most of the time we end up at a dim sum restaurant in the afternoon, and that’s that.

  It’s different today. The holiday spirit glows inside me. It’s as toasty as the fire and as radiant as the woman next to me. It doesn’t feel real.

  Seeing all of us gathered around a ginormous tree, opening gifts and drinking mulled wine, while Art bellows out Frank Sinatra and Avery’s little boy bounces with joy—it’s like taking a walk in the snow and peering through someone else’s windows.

  Even Skip is smiling. And it’s not creepy. He just gave Preeti her gift.

  The intern folds back tissue from the tiny box and holds up a red origami butterfly. “It’s…wow. Did you make this?”

  Skip sits back and loses the grin. “You don’t like it?”

  “No, it’s beautiful.” She sets it back in the box and lifts an astonished gaze back to my boss. “I had no idea you were so talented.”

  Skip rubs his hands. “Who’s next?”

  “Me,” Sam says. “I picked little man.” He disappears for an instant and comes back with a life-size gorilla and Santa-sized bag of presents.

  “Sam!” Avery covers her mouth. “What in the world?”

  Austin tackles the gorilla.

  Sam chuckles and high-fives the kid.

  Avery shakes her head.

  “Oh, come on,” Sam says. “I’m not going to make a kid a present. It’s Christmas.”

  “Don’t you think you went a little overboard? How am I going to get all that home?”

  “I’ll ship it.” He hands another gift to the kid, who tears through it and tosses it in a pile.

  “Say thank you, Austin,” Avery tells him, shaking her head at Sam.

  He tears into another package. “Tank you, Austin.”

  Charlie leans over and whispers in my ear. “I think Sam has a crush on Avery.”

  I tilt my head and study the two. “I don’t see it.”

  She shakes her head. “Men are so dumb.”

  Avery retrieves a package under the tree and hands it to Sam. “I drew you.”

  He shakes the gift in front of Austin. “What do you think it is, buddy? A ray gun?”

  “It’s a book,” the kid says.

  Sam chuckles and unwraps the book. It’s a tattered copy of The Princess Bride, by William Goldman.

  “I brought it with me from home. It’s my favorite book,” she said. “I noticed you like to read.”

  “I do.” He has a big ole goofy grin. “And I love the movie. ‘When I was your age, television was called books.’” He ruffles Austin’s hair. “Your mom’s a pretty cool lady.”

  Avery hides her smile behind her mug of wine.

  “Want to be my daddy?” Austin asks.

  She chokes, and I get hit in the face with her wine spray.

  Sam cracks up. “Think you freaked out
your mom there, kiddo.”

  “Austin, we don’t say that to people.”

  “That’s okay. I’m flattered. Not every day a kid asks you to be their dad.” He laughs again then buries his nose in the book.

  Charlie pinches my thigh and gives me a bouncy brow look.

  It’s my turn. The envelope with my resignation burns a hole in my back pocket. This doesn’t feel like the right time. Not with everyone here. “I drew you, Skip. But I’m going to give you my gift later.”

  My boss cups an ear. “I keep hearing echoes of Jerry Reno, shouting, ‘That’s what she said.’”

  Everyone laughs.

  Malcolm gives Charlie an old hoodie with the word Bitch bedazzled on the back.

  “This is the best gift ever.” She puts it on and models it for us.

  Art passes Avery an envelope. “Little something for Austin’s college fund. Don’t open it now.”

  “Really? You didn’t have to do that.”

  “We enjoyed having him around.”

  Avery tears up. “This is the best Christmas I’ve ever had.”

  “Here! Here!” I say, and we all clink mugs.

  Austin gives Burt a new pair of bunny slippers, made out of leftover pink feathers and socks.

  Preeti gifts Malcolm a watercolor painting she made of the mountains.

  Burt gives me the same GPS tracker we lost in the avalanche. “Maybe you can find your way to the sink and shave that fuzz off your face.”

  I ignore the beard comment. “I’ll cherish it. Thank you.”

  Once all the gifts are handed out, we set up everything for the party. At four o’clock, Burt and Art’s friends arrive—an uproarious and diverse community.

  There’s singing and dancing and games. The food and drink overfloweth.

  Charlie and I sneak away periodically to make out in dark corners. “This is the best Christmas I’ve had in years.”

  “Me, too,” I say and tweak her nipples.

  Around ten, all of the guests leave, and while Charlie helps clean up, Skip calls for a Shimura team huddle in his private hot tub.

  It’s only big enough for four people, but five of us cram in and pass around a bottle of peppermint schnapps.

  “I’m pissed you got this room and not me,” I tell him.

  “I have a hot tub,” Avery tells me.

  “Me, too,” Sam says.

  I glance at Preeti. She shrugs.

  “So I’m the only one without a private hot tub?”

  “I don’t think your woman has one, does she?” Sam asks.

  “I think we all know the answer to that,” Avery says.

  Everyone fists-bumps her except me.

  “So what are you going to do now?” she asks. “You’re going back to New York, right?”

  I rub the back of my neck. “Actually, I was thinking about resigning. That was the gift to Skip I was talking about earlier.”

  It’s quiet except for the sound of the jets splashing water over the sides.

  “Sure you want to do that?” Skip asks.

  I stare up at the moon. “Honestly? No. But I love her. I always have. It’s a lot to take in, in a short amount of time.”

  “I don’t blame you one bit,” Avery says. “I will never give up my life for a relationship again. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to reinvent myself for a man. It’s not worth it.”

  Sam’s brows knit. “Who said he has to give up his life? Maybe you’ve had some bad luck, but that doesn’t mean all relationships are like that.”

  “Did she ask you to give up your job?” Preeti asks.

  “No, this is my idea.”

  Sam gestures to Avery. “See? He wants to do this. It’s called sacrifice. People who love each other do that.”

  “I’m not sure it’s really a sacrifice,” I say.

  “Are you saying my agency sucks, St. James?”

  I chuckle. “Not at all. I love it there. And I love you guys.”

  “Aw, I love you, too,” Avery says. “I’ll miss you if you leave.”

  The conversation turns into this drunken I-love-you bonding moment, and we rehash memories of our crazy trip even though we’re still here.

  “We need to do this again,” Sam says. “I had a blast.”

  Everyone takes a pull off the schnapps.

  “This is so cliché,” Avery says, “but it made me feel like a kid again. And Austin had a ball. Except for the spanking.” She lowers her head in shame.

  “He’s not going to remember that, Avery,” I tell her.

  “I hope not.”

  “So what are you going to do about your ticket home tomorrow, St. James?” Skip asks. “Because, if you need a little more time, you can push the date. I booked them like that in case this turned out to be bullshit, which it was, but we had fun, and now I have to lay a bunch of people off.”

  “What was the question?” I ask.

  “Are you coming back with us tomorrow?” Preeti asks.

  I drag my hands down my face. “I don’t know yet.”

  Sam shakes his head. “Dude. You better make up your mind. Second chances don’t come around very often.”

  “Fuck. I know.”

  He shoves my shoulder. “Get out of here, and go talk to your lady.”

  I do exactly that. I dry off, find Charlie, and drag her to my room.

  We snuggle in bed and recount the day’s events like we’re a real couple. And then at midnight, the grandfather clock downstairs gongs, and Christmas disappears.

  “My plane back to New York leaves tomorrow night,” I say, and as the words leave my mouth my chest caves in.

  Her body tenses next to mine. “Don’t go.”

  “Chicken.”

  She sits up. “I’m serious. You said you don’t like your apartment, and you don’t have any furniture. Quit your job. Stay.”

  “You said you were going to travel.”

  “Come with me.”

  “What am I going to do for money?”

  “Burt and Art said we could help them with the camp.”

  “You asked them about me?”

  “Does that bother you?”

  “No, it’s just....” I’m not ready yet.

  Snow piles on the skylight above, and I feel like I’m under the avalanche again. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. My heartbeat is the only sound in the room.

  This is such a big decision. I spent ten years trying to get over her. What if something bad happens again?

  She threads her fingers through my hair. “I would tell you to take your time, but we’ve wasted enough time.”

  “Are you saying, if I leave, that’s it? We’re done?”

  “I’m saying, it’s time for me to start living again. I don’t want to wait around for you anymore.”

  “That feels like an ultimatum.”

  “I want to be with you. I know what I want. And I’m sad that you don’t.”

  “I want you,” I tell her.

  “But?”

  I stroke her pretty face then turn back to the skylight. “About six months ago, I had a nervous breakdown. I threw my coffee at a barista.”

  “No way.”

  “He wrote ‘feline’ on my cup instead of ‘Eli’. I was working all the time, not sleeping, dealing with tons of stress. I didn’t hurt the guy, but I wanted to.”

  “I can’t imagine you doing that.”

  “Yeah, well. That’s the point. I sort of lost myself there for a minute. Crazy enough, a Buddhist monk was there when it happened. He gave me a card and told me to give him a call if I wanted to chat.”

  Her eyes widen. “A monk had a business card? What did it say?”

  “It was the address of his temple. I went to see him later that afternoon. We talked, and he gave me some books. He told me about the eight-step path to happiness. After that, I started meditating, took a few classes. Then my roommate asked me to move out, and I decided it was time to make a change. Tried celibacy, vegetarianism.”

 
She snorts. “How’d that work out for you?”

  “Well, that’s the other thing. I’m obviously not sticking with it.”

  “And that worries you?”

  “We’re different people now. We don’t know each other.” What if I give up my life, and we’re not compatible? What if I lose you again?

  “This is a big risk,” she says softly. “For both of us. I may be channeling my inner-Christine here, but we both have to take a leap of faith and trust that this will work out. I love you. I’ve always loved you. I know in my heart you’re the one for me.”

  I turn to her and kiss her softly. “You’re the one for me, too. But if I get attached, I don’t think I can survive losing you again.”

  “I can’t survive if you leave.” She flicks off the lamp and wraps my body around her. “Let’s talk about it in the morning.”

  I watch her face in the moonlight. Her eyes close, and her lips pop open. When we were dating, I used to hear that little pop and know she was out.

  I want to hear that every night.

  FORTY-EIGHT

  Eli Gets Knocked Down

  Survival Tip: Earthquakes are caused by the sudden release of built-up tension. They are perhaps the most feared of all nature’s violence, because they arrive suddenly and with little warning. If you survive, brace yourself for aftershocks.

  Eli’s Mixtape: M. Ward, “Clean Slate”

  EARLY THE NEXT MORNING, my coworkers pack up to leave. The finality of it settles in my stomach.

  Skip pulls me aside. “So what’d you decide? Do I need to find a new designer?”

  I scratch my beard. “Is it okay if I give you my answer later? I changed my flight so I could have more time.”

  “Your job may still be there, but your woman won’t be.” He sighs and places a hand on my shoulder. “I’m halfway tempted to fire you, to make it easy on you.”

  He removes his hand and pulls a joint out of his backpack. “You look stressed, St. James. So, I’m going to leave this with you. It’s a crying shame I can’t take it with me.” He gives the joint a kiss and leaves it on the dresser.