I tapped my stubby fingers on the desk. I scoffed at them, irritated at my inability to stop biting my nails, and annoyed that every time I tried fake nails, I couldn't keep them on for more than a day. I couldn't type with them, and I typed on my computer all day. Sorting money with the nails proved to be more difficult, when I assumed they'd be a big help. Despite the fact I scolded myself seconds before for biting my nails, I planted my finger against my teeth and started chewing away. Fine. Whatever. I'd check out this geocaching stuff to at least beat the boredom. The only other option besides bed was staring at the wall, which may be more exciting.
A quick search in Google found the main site. Where did I even start? The Welcome page displayed a video, so that seemed like a logical step. At only a mere minute and some odd seconds long, it didn't provide as much information as I hoped. My eyes scanned the page, What is geocaching? How is it played? What are the rules? Geez, these people took this hobby seriously. At least twenty questions filled the page under eight different categories. Skipping around appealed to me, but if I planned on learning anything, I should start at the beginning.
To complete the first step, I signed up for an account. Fine, easy. Except the damn username. I hated coming up with usernames, even more so than a password requiring at least eight characters, one letter, one number and a symbol! Well, seeing everyone thought of this chick when they heard me say my name, I decided on NotAllyMcBeal. I didn't even know who she was, but I wasn't her. A couple confirmation emails later and I had an account. Next. Wow, so many different types of caches existed, each with their own level of difficulty. This was a science. The couple I met seemed so weird, and sweet, and I didn't imagine this many people did this. Maybe there was something to it.
One Direction's "Story of My Life" startled me as the song played from my phone. Yes, a twenty-nine year old One Direction fan, and I didn't have one bit of shame. My best friend Chelsea's face flashed on the screen with her name. I didn't think I could handle the call right now, but she'd figure out if I was ignoring her. I was sick of hearing about Daniel. Not Danny, or Dan, but Daniel. She always called him by his full name, which drove me insane. Daniel was a jackass, plain and simple, and Chelsea referred to him as her boyfriend, even though he was a two-timing low-life with a girlfriend of two years. Chelsea's acceptance of his behavior sickened me the most. Even after what Josh did to me, and how she shamed him for it, she didn't mind being the other woman. Still, she was my best friend, and I loved her.
"Hey Chels," I rolled my eyes, mostly because I was certain a one-sided conversation about Daniel followed, but also because my eyes were just about the only part of my body that didn't hurt. "What's up?"
When she paused, instead of nearly cutting me off from my greeting like she usually did, I assumed something was wrong. Through muffled tears, she replied, "Daniel's engaged ... to her."
"You mean his girlfriend?" Yes, blunt, but she had been "dating" him for over a year now, and frankly, I didn't want to hear any more about him.
"Ally, really? Can't you be a little supportive?"
"What did you expect?" I pulled my leg to my chest and leaned back in the chair. "He's been with this girl for two years now - the entire time you two have been together - and he met you after her. He's scum."
She stopped to blow her nose. "He said he planned on breaking up with her. Just last week."
I reminded her as I twirled my finger in the air, "And the month before that, and Christmas before that. Aren't you noticing a pattern here?" Even though I didn't condone her relationship, as my best friend, it crushed me to hear her cry. "Are you okay? When did you find out?" I sighed, letting my sensitive side take over.
"He just left."
"I'm sorry, Chelsea. Are you two finally broken up for good now, then?"
"Broken up? No. He wanted to tell me, but said things wouldn't change. He needs more time. He'll break things off soon."
I smacked myself on the head. "Chels, what's wrong with you? He proposed to this girl. No one forced him to. When are you going to get it?"
While I waited for her reply, I stared at the laptop screen, contemplating this geocaching thing. A new hobby wouldn't be a bad thing. Chelsea wasn't athletic in the least, so she avoided my outdoor activities at all costs, I didn't really know any of my neighbors, and Josh would've despised it, calling it a waste of time. Unless Chelsea needed me, I didn't have anything planned tomorrow. The website showed an app for my phone, so I didn't even need one of those GPS things. I had everything required.
Finally, Chelsea replied, "Get what? He loves me."
At this point, I wanted nothing more than to pound my phone against the table, but I couldn't afford a new phone, unless the promotion ever came through. "I don't even know what to tell you anymore. He's engaged. To be married. To someone else. He doesn't even love her for Christ's sake. How can you even be with this man after what Josh did to me? You're Kandace in this relationship. Dick boy is Josh."
"Don't call him that."
"It's the truth. The guy's a dick! All I'm saying is I hope you're being careful, because who knows where that thing has been."
Her sobs turned into gasps for breath. "Let's talk about something else, okay? What did you do today?"
Moving onto a new conversation seemed awkward after basically calling my best friend a tramp, but anything to move the topic off of her destructive relationship. "I went for a hike."
"Why would you want to do that?"
"You mean be outside, enjoying the weather, taking time for myself to reflect? Josh and I didn't break up that long ago. I need to be alone, do things to get my mind off of how he broke my heart. I met a couple, and they were doing this thing called geocaching."
"Which is?"
"Let me finish and I'll tell you." Yeah, I wasn't in the mood after hearing her sob story about Daniel. "Basically searching around town for different things that are hidden. A lot of people do it. I think I might try tomorrow." I suddenly felt guilty for lashing out at her. I do that way too often. My mouth speaks before my brain. "Want to come?" My best friend was hurting, so the invite might help a little.
The line fell silent for a few seconds, followed by a hearty laugh. "Do you know me at all?"
Her giggles spilled over to me. "At least I made you smile." My sarcasm and tone put off a lot of people, even Chelsea at times, but my attitude and her sensitivity created a balance between us.
"So what, you're going to search for things all day? Do you get anything?"
"No. I don't think you can take anything. If I do, I believe I'm supposed to leave something in its place. I think it'd be fun, though. The couple I met seemed to enjoy themselves."
"Is it safe?"
The thought never even crossed my mind. How could it be unsafe? Maybe if I were alone and someone tried to mug me? If I only searched for geocaches in public places, it should be okay. "No safer than you having sex with Daniel."
Luckily, the comment pulled another laugh from her. "I understand, you know. I do get it. For some reason, though, I love the jerk."
Well aware I wouldn't convince her otherwise, I agreed.
CHAPTER THREE
Movement seemed impossible. I reached my arms over my head, and extended my legs. Oh, the pain. Not even a good stretch brought relief. My back popped, and my feet outreached farther than before, but forget it. Ugh, and my ass. My god, my ass. Yep, falling down did me in. With geocaching on the agenda today, my body wanted me to refuse to go. After the hike yesterday, and the subsequent tumble I took to the ground, my muscles needed rest. My body wouldn’t appreciate the torture if my first geocaching adventure involved hiking up another hill, climbing a tree, or even, well, moving. I forced myself to a seated position. One step at a time. I decided to skip my shower because standing upright in a flood of water at my feet wouldn’t be a good situation. I imagined myself in one of those commercials yelling to no one “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up!” A week later, someone, probably a hot fireman, wo
uld find me naked on the floor of the bathroom. I crossed the shower off my list. I showered the night before, anyway, and depending on how geocaching went, I figured I might shower when I got home.
I pulled my phone off the charger and opened the weather app. Currently the temperature rested at 55 degrees, rising to 62 over the next two hours, the high reaching 68. I didn’t want to wear yoga pants again, and sweat pants made my thighs appear three times bigger than in reality. Knowing me, if I wore shorts, I’d be freezing. Capris seemed to be a good compromise. My pair of lighter material (some sort of airy cotton?) worked, along with a short sleeve shirt, ankle socks and my nicest tennis shoes. After getting dressed, I decided today I’d do pigtails. Not Catholic school girl from a rock band video pigtails, but the band over halfway down so it almost looked like a bob, with trundles of hair falling over my chest. A quick cleaning of the teeth, and I’d be set to go after my morning coffee.
I wasn’t getting out the door without coffee. Overall, I ate as healthy as possible. Despite my best efforts to eat well, with the occasional fail, I could never give up coffee and Doritos. Munching on Doritos while drinking coffee equated to heaven. Most people I met, okay, everyone I met, thought the two made a gross combination, but they weren’t putting it in their mouth, so I really didn’t care what they thought.
Coffee took less than three minutes to brew. My Keurig machine? Best. Investment. Ever. Warming the water took all of thirty seconds, and by the time I put the K-cup in, filled my cup, added Hazelnut creamer, and sat down, less than three minutes passed. I think that’s quite an accomplishment. When I went from a slow drip percolator to the Keurig, my mind almost blew up.
I turned on the television while I sipped my coffee, but I didn’t pay much attention to the screen. Instead, I played with the app I downloaded to help me find caches, trying to figure out where to start searching. I figured it was best to start furthest from my house and work my way back. About fifteen were placed in a park on the east side of town. Shit, I could spend my whole day there! I finished up my coffee, grabbed my license, keys, a pen and a bottle of water, and went on my way, but I needed to make a quick stop first.
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I kept my hands crossed in front of me as I walked along the pavement. I stepped onto the grass, which, after a dry evening and sunny morning, was plush and radiant instead of mucky and wet. The grounds keeper always kept the lawn crisp and green, and did a spectacular job trimming around the headstones as well as placing seasonal flowers. My mom chose this cemetery to bury my dad not only because it belonged to her church, but also because of the beauty. Not one headstone matched another, the winding path through the grounds made all plots easy to access, and at the end of the pathway a small, man-made pond waited, benches outlining the oval, where many came to sit and reflect after visiting their loved ones.
Dad never joined mom at church. He only ever attended for his own wedding, and his funeral. Church, to him, was a waste of time. He figured why spend his Sundays cooped up inside a building singing hymns and raising his hands in the air when he could be out fishing, out in nature, enjoying what God created. My brother, Perry, always went to church with my mom while I went fishing with my dad on Sundays (ice fishing in the winter!). He made it “our” thing. Mom never liked how I skipped church to go to “Daddy’s church,” but she eventually came to terms with it, seeing my brother at least went with her. Where did my Sunday church with Dad put me with God? I wasn’t sure yet. I hoped Dad followed me in spirit, since he wasn’t with me physically anymore. His stroke came out of nowhere that Sunday morning he went fishing alone, and I never forgave myself for missing our weekly expedition to see Josh. Here I stood, almost two years later, and I couldn’t even remember what Josh and I did that morning that was so much more important than spending time with my dad.
“Good morning, Dad. I made it out again. Every Sunday, right? I wouldn’t miss visiting with you for the world.” After about six straight months of visits, I graduated from laying on the ground, resting my head on the stone, to standing. When a year rolled around, I think the visits held less tears. Now with almost two years passed, I could make it through dry eyed. I guess that’s what closure is.
“Anyway, it’s been about eight months now since Josh and I split up.” I envisioned my dad putting his hand on my shoulder to comfort me, while giving me a thumbs up with the other. “I know you never liked him. I should have listened to you, but you know me. You raised quite a stubborn daughter, if you weren’t aware.”
My stubbornness worked for and against me in so many ways in my life. My simple refusal to give up usually meant I got what I wanted. When I demanded I own all the stuffed Care Bears and my parents said no, I nagged and nagged them until finally I had them all, from Sunshine to Grumpy. At sixteen when I wanted more than anything to see Vanilla Sky, but my parents thought the R rated movie contained too much adult matter for me, I convinced them to buy the ticket and let me go. And when I met Josh at nineteen, and we moved in together after three years, and my dad insisted he wasn’t right for me, I tried so hard to list all the reasons he was, including how much he loved me. Yep, bull-headed Ally made some great wins, but Josh, well, he went down in history as my epic fail.
“Like I tell you every time I’m here, Dad, you were right. Don’t hold it against me, though, okay? Harry takes care of me. He’s a good guy.” My dad didn’t have a clue when he was alive who Harry Styles was, but if One Direction made me happy, he’d approve. “Mom’s dating again, for awhile now. Perry doesn’t know. She wants it that way. Since we don’t see him much, it’s simple to keep from him.” I bit some skin by my pinkie. “I haven’t met anyone she’s gone out with, and I’m not sure I want to, but she insists you would be okay with it. Mom says you wouldn’t want her to be alone. I don’t know if that’s true. I mean, I can’t imagine her not being with you, but everyone needs someone.” I contemplated my love life. Just because you needed someone, didn’t mean you deserved anyone.
I noticed a man approaching a grave site near my dad’s. I loved talking with my dad, but I felt uncomfortable when strangers showed up. “Okay, Dad, I’ve gotta go. I’m going to try something called geocaching. You probably would have loved it.” I knelt down and kissed the cold stone. “I love you, Daddy. See you next Sunday.”
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My tiny Chevy Cobalt got me around town. I didn’t drive much out of town anyway, so I rarely needed to fill up on gas, and so far I didn’t experience many issues. Used, only one previous owner, and I only got my brakes fixed a little over a year ago, and some belt replaced in the last couple months. Other than that, she ran okay. My small car and equally little duplex apartment spoke of my thriftiness. My dad taught me the importance of being economical, so I tried hard to maintain such a lifestyle.
I kept the app open and my phone plugged into my charger so I didn’t drain the battery. When I arrived, I’d figure out how to maneuver around. I tried playing with the features the night before, but unless actively geocaching, nothing made much sense. I turned down the street, and slowed as I struggled to find a parking space. The sun shone over a large field filled with soccer nets and kids I guessed to be no more than eight or nine years old. The caches seemed to be scattered throughout the park, most located far away from the games, but the spectators made me more than a little nervous. Maybe I could find another park nearby. I pulled to the side and widened the map and saw one not too far away; in fact, at the park just down the road. I’d try that one.
When I pulled up alongside the park, a few kids pumped their legs on the swings, others ran around the mulched yard, and some climbed the jungle gym. A woman sat on a bench, a baby in a stroller next to her. How would I come across snooping around a park? I was about to find out.
I grabbed my phone and walked toward the play area. From the cache logs, this appeared to be an easy one (Quick grab!, Easy peasy!, Thanks for such an easy find!), and the size displayed as mini, so I needed to search for a small contai
ner of some sort. The compass portion already showed I was close. A younger child let out a bellowing cry, and I turned, not wanting to make eye contact with the mother. The cache hid within a ten feet vicinity. Awesome! My first one, and I’d find it right away. Based on the compass, I would find it either by the bench opposite the one occupied by the young mom, or the tree next to it. Holding my phone as I walked, I headed toward the bench. I used my free hand to feel around the wood, making sure to press on any breaks in the lumber. I ducked my head under, too, but didn’t see a thing.
Hmm. I scrolled down and noticed a hint. If given the option for a hint, always take it. “Knot finding it? Look up.” Okay … this meant the cache must be in the tree, I guessed, and probably in the branches, or higher up. The app listed the terrain as a two, so from what I read online, I didn’t have to climb, so it shouldn’t be too far up the tree. I walked over to the tree and touched my hand on the trunk. I stuck my fingers in every gap as I ran them up and down the hard surface. Nothing. I crouched to the ground, pushed my hand against the dirt and grass, and ran it down the sides of the trunk. This was harder than I thought. Standing, I glanced back at the bench. Did I miss it and the cache was there? I went back over by the bench and touched around it again. The lady still sat on the other one. Did she ever move? The bench she sat on appeared to be too far out of my coordinates. Frustration started building. This cache claimed to be easy, and I called bullshit to whoever placed it. The app included a button that said “Did not find.” If I touched it, I announced my failure to the entire geocaching community. I hopped out of my current location, and spotted another one nearby, at a bed and breakfast a mile away. In refusal to admit my defeat, I ignored the button, and went back to my car. The lady on the bench started to make weird faces at me. The last thing I wanted was to be arrested for looking suspicious.
Caching In Page 2
