by Michelle Fox
* * *
“I think getting away is a good idea, but why the middle of nowhere? Can't you get Harrison out of your system at a spa, or a resort? Some place with indoor plumbing?”
My best friend Maggie was curled on my couch, sipping a Cosmo. She'd just binge-watched an entire season of Sex and the City, and she was channeling her inner Carrie Bradshaw. But it suited her personality. She's a girly-girl through and through, and a complete opposite of me. Maybe that’s why we’ve been friends for so long.
“I like to hike and camp, you know that.” I plopped down in the chair opposite her. “It's only for a couple days. Nothing’s going to happen to me, other than bug bites and maybe a case of poison ivy. I took a sip of my beer.
“I'm just tired of everything that reminds me of Harrison. I’m tired of…” I waved my hand in the vague direction of pretty much everything in sight. We’d shared this apartment, and while I'd gotten rid of most of his personal belongings, the things we'd bought together, like the couch I no longer sat on, were silent reminders of him, of us. Of what was no more.
“I need a vacation. And it’s been ages since I’ve gone camping. I miss being out in the woods. And hey, it’s a two-person tent, if you want to come along.”
Maggie was already shaking her head. “Oh, hell no. Not me. I’m a city girl, and you know it. I’m lost if there’s anything other than concrete beneath my feet. If I go longer than a few days without retail therapy, I go into shock. You know this.”
“And that’s exactly why you need a two bedroom apartment. Just so you have enough room for your shoes.”
“And that’s why I’m a very happy girl.” She laughed. “Retail therapy. Works every time.”
“Well, I’m glad you found your bliss. Mine is outside. Alone with nothing but nature, and myself.”
Maggie’s laugh faded. “Yeah. About that.” Her expression suddenly changed, and I knew where this conversation was headed.
“So, why can’t you think here? Why not just hole up with a gallon of Ben & Jerry’s, and a bunch of movies?”
“Because there’s email and phones, and clients with deadlines…and interruptions.” And reminders around every corner, and in every drawer, and in every closet. Basically I lived in a haunted apartment with my ex as the resident ghost.
“But why the need to live amongst the wild? Can’t you just unplug everything, and disconnect from the world for a bit? Even I can do that.”
“Not the same, Maggie. Do you want another Cosmo?” It’s hard to derail Maggie when she gets like this. But she wasn’t taking the bait. I went and got another beer, bracing myself for what was coming next. She waited until I was back in my chair before she started up again.
“Rish, I’ve said this before. You spend too much time alone. You work from home, you order groceries online, have take-out delivered. Who do you actually see, besides me?”
“Jack, at the gym…” I wanted to say the other guys at the gym, but I had to admit, even to myself, I really didn’t even know their names. “Clients.” It sounded lame, even to my ears.
“Clients. Rish, you’ve never even met most of your clients. For all you know, Hannah in Canada might be a middle-aged man in Florida. You don’t know these people, other than as an email address or Skype name.”
“That’s unfair. It’s not like that, and you know it. This isn’t online dating, this is my business. I’m a ghostwriter. It’s not like I have to know my clients personally. They send me an outline, I complete the work, and they pay me. I don’t exactly have to be their friend.” But I did have to admit; I had doubts sometimes about who really was on the other end of the email address. As a ghostwriter, all of my business took place via the Internet, so I would never really know. But quite honestly, I didn’t care. I kept my head down, and did the work.
“My point, Rish, is you’re alone. A lot. And I don’t know that it’s a good idea for you go off and be even more alone than you already are.”
“This is different.”
“How so? Alone is alone, either here or in the middle of nowhere. You’re still alone.”
“I asked if you wanted to come with me, remember?” I figured that would shut her up. “Besides, I’m my own best company. I have an active imagination. And hey, there are a whole lot of people living in my head. They’ll keep me company.” I gave her my best smile, but she wasn’t buying it.
“That’s another thing; you write strange stories, about werewolves, vampires, things that go bump in the night. You asked if you could duct tape me to a chair just last week to see if I could escape!” She shook her head, and I laughed. I’d asked her to do that as research, and she’d flat out refused to be my guinea pig. I couldn’t say I blamed her.
“It’s just that I worry about you.”
“Yeah, I know. I worry about me too, sometimes. But this really is different. There’s something special that happens in the deep woods…something, elemental. I always feel as though I belong out there somehow. Like I’m going home.” I shrugged. “Sounds weird to you, but it’s my bliss, being out there. I miss it.”
Maggie rolled her eyes, but I could tell that I was getting through to her. “Well, you were always the hippie chick.” She grinned at me over the edge of her glass. “I suppose running naked through the woods would do you some good. At least you'll get rid of that indoor pallor, get some sun. You never do see the sun, do you? With the vampire hours you keep...”
It was my turn to roll my eyes. “I'm not a vampire; I work from home. And I don't tan, you know that. Red hair...” I ran my hand through my hair, fanning the strands over my shoulders. “Freckles, all of it...I'm doomed to be pale, regardless of my work schedule.”
All this flaming red hair—which only flamed brighter as I got older, not dimming as my mother had said it would as she tried in vain to console me, while I'd cried over its brash color—red hair is really difficult to manage, which meant that I wasn’t exactly a popular kid. It had taken years to finally come to terms that I would always stand out in the crowd, and through it all, somehow I learned to love the hair and freckles that made me different.
Maggie sighed, a sound of resignation. I hoped we’d come to the point, just like we did every time we had a variation, of this conversation, where she just gave up. I didn’t like the confrontation, and this was as confrontational as we ever got.
“So when are you going off to play forest fairy?”
“This weekend, I think. If I can get caught up on work, I can take off Thursday and Friday, and be back Sunday night. I'm only going up to the hot springs at Big River.”
“Oh, see? You'll be skinny dipping, too! I’ve heard all about the sort of things that go on up at those secluded hot springs.” Maggie giggled, finishing her Cosmo. “Too bad you don't have someone to take along...” She winced. “I'm sorry. I mean, some random guy you just met, you know, for a wild weekend fling in your two-person tent. Maybe you'll meet your hippie soul mate up there. Heaven knows you'd have more in common with the guys who hang out up there, than the juice pigs at the gym.”
“No wild weekend flings. I want to meditate, do some yoga, sit in the springs, and just think.”
Maggie leaned forward, setting her glass on the coffee table, her smile fading. “You just can’t do things like everyone else, can you?” Apparently, she hadn’t quite given up yet. “It's the same thing with the boxing. Why not a membership at a regular gym? Instead you go to the extreme, hanging out with a bunch of guys who like to beat the shit out of one another. And still, no dates.”
I rolled my eyes, probably for the tenth time in the last hour. We'd had this conversation before, too. “I didn't join the club looking for a date, Maggie. I wanted to get in shape...”
“You can get in shape at a better place than a fight club, Risha.”
“It's not a fight club...”
Maggie was already holding up her hands in mock protest, but she was smiling. “I know, I know. Boxing is a great work out, great for cardio
, gets you strong...I've heard the sales pitch before.” She laughed as she stood up and grabbed her purse, then leaned over and kissed my cheek.
“Listen, Rish, you do what you need to do. You've never done the conventional thing, so if heading into the woods, and bending yourself into a pretzel is what you need, then go for it. Personally I think a weekend at Bloomingdales would be a great way to forget an ex, especially if you happened to still have one of his credit cards. But then again, we never do see things the same way, do we?”
“I guess not,” I replied with a smile. Maggie drove me crazy at times, but I know she always has my best interests at heart.
“Have fun,” she said, hugging me. “Everything is going to be okay. Harrison was a jerk… you know you’re better off without him. So go and zen out until you feel better. I love ya, girl.”
“I love you too, Maggie…”
After Maggie left, I slumped back into my chair, avoiding the couch, shifting around until I got comfortable. Maggie had known me since grade school. We'd seen each other through boyfriends and college, jobs and first apartments. She knew me better than anyone, even if it was clear she didn’t understand me.
But she was right; I wasn't conventional, never had been. And that was fine with me.
Chapter Two
I was headed to Big River, which ran down the backside of Black Wolf Mountain. Most of Black Wolf, and the mountains around it were part of the Seven Mountains State Park, but the ridge that ran north along the backside of Black Wolf belonged to a huge tract of land, over several hundred acres that stretched all the way to the Canadian border, which everyone assumed belonged to a private party. It was crisscrossed with disused logging roads, some that ran up to the park land. Most were posted with No Trespassing signs, blocked off with chains and padlocks, and over the years small trees had sprouted, further blending the roads back into the surrounding forest. There were rumors the land had belonged to a recluse. Or currently belonged to a cult. Or aliens landed there frequently. It all depended on whom you talked to, and on what day, and on how much the storyteller had to drink.
According to local lore, and then translated through stories that got passed around among hikers who used the springs, there had been sightings of big animals—wolves, mountain lions, bears—bigger than any ever sighted in the park. Most of those stories were told around the campfire, along with a bottle or three of wine, or something stronger, shared with novice hikers coming up the mountain for the first time.
The logging road that ran up the back of the mountain wasn't on park land, and there hadn't been any logging in the area for decades. It had always been rough, but this year there had been torrential rains, and the road turned from washboard, to rutted, to washed out far below where the trail to the hot springs began. So I parked my car, dragged out my gear, and locked up. I always worried I'd come back to find the car gone, but in all the years I'd been coming here it was always right where I left it. The only problem I'd ever heard about was when a bear had attacked a friend's ancient Subaru to get after some food that had been left on the dashboard. He'd come back from a week in the woods to find the roof torn off the car, and the food long gone.
I stopped to look around, breathing in the cool air. I closed my eyes and smiled. It felt like the first time I'd smiled in a long, long time. Or at least the first time in a long time the smile felt authentic, not forced for a client on Skype, or a cashier at the market, or a cab driver. It occurred to me that there might be more to think about on this weekend besides Harrison. Maybe it was time to think about the bigger picture, rather than just the missing piece to the puzzle.
After hiking halfway up the mountain to the turn off to the springs, I was sweating, breathing hard, and very glad I'd only brought enough in my pack for a long weekend. The idea of setting up camp, kicking back in one of the hot springs as the sun went down, and then having a simple dinner by the fire with some wine, was looking more and more enticing. I dropped my pack for a minute, loving that fleeting sense of weightlessness that happened after shedding all that weight. I stretched my arms and rolled my shoulders. This was going to be a great weekend. I would be one with nature, live in the moment, stop dwelling in the past. Maybe I'd come home with my own tall tale from the forest, my own lore to add to that of my camping friends.
The forest ahead of me was deep, dark green. I always loved this part, stepping off the road, out of the sunshine, and into the cool darkness of the woods. It was magical, like stepping into a fairy tale. I thought of Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, and the other stories I'd read as a child. If I could build a house anywhere in the world, it would be here, on the edge of the unknown, just over the line from civilization. Not so far over that I'd have to give up plumbing and shaving my legs, but just enough to ease out of the rat race.
So I shouldered my pack and took one last look back down the road. There was no one in sight, no other cars, no sounds of traffic, nothing but a lone hawk circling overhead. I felt like I was alone in the world. And that was fine with me. Out of habit I dug my phone out of my pocket. I had it out, and checking for messages, before I remembered there was no service up here. I chided myself for bringing along this last bit of technology. I held it for a minute, and considered flinging it off the edge of the mountain, but I wasn't quite ready to divest myself of all the trappings of civilization. I shut it off, and jammed it into my pocket.
The woods were cool, the path covered in pine needles. I was on level ground for the next couple miles, and then I'd find a gentle descent to Big River and the springs. My steps were muffled, almost soundless. I could already feel the tension, and anxiety of the past months ebbing out of my body. I was pretty sure by the time I reached the springs, got my little camp set up, and made dinner, I'd be exhausted, in a good way. A soak in the hot springs, and a little wine, and I'd be too tired in body and mind to obsess about Harrison. And tomorrow, maybe a sunrise session of yoga, a nice breakfast, and then I'd sit and think.
The pines here grew so close together they almost touched overhead. The path wound in and out of shafts of sunlight, and for a time I was conscious of the difference in warmth against my skin, then the chill as I stepped out of the light. My senses seemed heightened, every detail popping out at me. I started to notice my footfalls, the shushing sound my boots made, the wind above me. I was in my zone, living in the moment. This was going to be a great weekend.
Something was off though. The hair on my arms stood on end. I stopped, thinking there was someone on the path ahead of me, or behind me. Or in the woods. I listened carefully, but the only things I heard were the wind, a few birds in the trees. Maybe I wasn't as relaxed as I thought I was.
I did a slow circle, but I didn't see anyone. A bird sang somewhere close by, another answered. The forest seemed just as it always did, filled with its usual flecks of color. I shook my head, laughing at myself. Maybe I'd turned into a city girl, buffered by traffic noises, city sounds, and now freaked out by a little silence.
But standing in the middle of the path wasn't going to get me to those hot springs. With one last look back down the path toward the road, I turned around. And stopped dead in my tracks.
The wolf stood in the middle of the path. It was big, really big, but also amazingly beautiful. It stared at me, and I was mesmerized, unable to look away. And then I panicked. Staring at them was a sign of dominance, or aggression, or something. But I'd be damned if I was going to take my eyes off the wolf.
But it didn't seem vicious. Like I would know what a vicious wolf looked like.
It looked more curious than anything, standing in the path with its head tipped to the side, dark eyes on mine, as if it were analyzing me. And it was stunningly beautiful, dark fur tipped with silver, big eyes. I stared at him, and he stared back, and for a moment I had the sensation of having my mind read, or my soul searched. Or the living daylights scared out of me.
“Hey, boy...good boy.” Oh my God, my heart was beating wildly in my chest. It tipped its hea
d further. Progress. I babbled on. “Oh, yeah. Good boy...”
The wolf took a step forward, pink tongue showing in a doggy grin. I took a step back. No one's going to believe this. Oh, shit. Take a picture. Slowly I eased my phone out of my pocket, eyes never leaving the wolf. I turned on the phone, dropped my eyes from the wolf for the split second it took to take the picture, then looked up.
The wolf whined, a low soft sound. But what did that mean? Was it camera shy? Had I upset it? Reflexively I clicked off another couple of pictures. The wolf whined again, and I let my arm fall to my side as it took another step forward. Every cell in my body told me to run, but I held my ground.
“Okay. Okay. I'm done. No more pictures. Good boy...” The wolf stopped, ears pricked forward. Then it advanced another step.
I held up my hands. “Whoa...stop.” The hair on the back of my neck stood up. “Please stop.” My voice came out in a desperate whisper.
The wolf stopped, eyes still locked with mine. They were blue, like a husky dog. Maybe that's what he was, just someone's pet, off its leash. I let out a sigh of sorts.
“Would it be too much to ask for you to sit?”
Behind it, the tail started to wave back and forth in slow motion. And then, to my amazement, it sat down in the middle of the path. So it was someone's pet.
“Hello?”
I spun around. A man was walking toward me, wearing a park ranger uniform. Relief washed through me, and along with a wave of giggles. This must be the ranger's dog.
“Boy, am I glad to see you. Your dog...” I was already pointing, and I turned back to the wolf. But the path was empty. No dog, or wolf, or anything else was visible in the shifting patterns of light and dark. My giggles faded away.
“Sorry, ma'am. Did you say dog?” His friendly expression took on a hint of concern. “I don't have a dog. None of us do.”
