We are parked helter-skelter in a Wendy’s parking lot, and I am inappropriately thinking about a Frosty. Then I get an idea.
“Can we go camping? To that place you saw in that magazine?”
After we get a Frosty? I add in my head.
Caleb’s brow furrows and I wither in my seat. He is going to say no, tell me I am weird and crazy.
“Please,” I say closing my eyes, “I just want to be far, far away…” from Leah and the truth.
“It’s an eight hour drive. Are you sure you want to do that?”
My eyes snap open and I nod fiercely.
“I can take some time off of work. We can buy what we need when we get there. Let‘s just go…please.”
He is rolling things over in his mind, I can see it in the slow movement of his eyes-he looks at his hands, at me, at the steering wheel, and then he nods.
“Okay. If that’s what you want...”
I send my deepest thanks to God and smile.
“I do. Thank you. Let’s go now, right now.”
“Now? Really without anything?”
“Well, I don’t have anything to take anyway. You saw my closet. Let’s just make it an adventure.”
Caleb turns the car around and I lean back in my seat wanting to cry. A little while longer—please God, just give me a little more time.
The highway spreads out like licorice before us. Caleb opens the windows allowing the wind to rush in, frisking us with her fingers. We are leaving Florida. Leaving my vandalized home and leaving Caleb’s vindictive lover. I am safe…for now.
“Caleb?” I reach out and touch his arm. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me,” he says softly, “this is for both of us.”
“Okay,” I say, though I have no idea what he means. “Hey, can we stop and get a Frosty?”
We drive the eight hour trip to Georgia in seven. For most of the trip, we remain in a comfortable quiet. I fret over Leah and the mess I left behind in my apartment. I take to biting my nails but Caleb keeps swatting my hands away from my mouth. I look for something to harp at him about, some bad habit or annoying vice but he is all smooth edges.
I fall asleep and when I wake up Caleb is gone. I lift my head to peer out of the window and see that we are at a rest stop. I snuggle back down and wait for him to come back. I hear him coming, walking in a quickstep along the asphalt. He takes care to be as quiet as possible with the door and keys, so as not to wake me. He doesn’t start the car right away and I can feel his eyes on my face. I wait, wondering if he will wake me up to ask if I need to use the restroom. He doesn’t. Eventually the engine hums to life and I feel his hand shifting the gears near my knees.
We arrive at Quiet Waters Park, just as the pink tinged sun is lifting herself out of her slumber. The trees are wearing their fall coats, clashing oranges, reds, and yellows. We bump roughly on the gravel as he steers us toward the park entrance. I feel the full skosh of my deceit when I see the park—just as it was the last time we were here. I wonder in dismay if someone will recognize me from our last trip and dismiss the idea as absurd. The last time we were here was three years ago and the chances that the same employees would still be manning the campsite is silly, not to mention the fact that they saw hundreds of faces each year. Caleb parks outside of the rental office and turns off the radio.
“It’s cold here,” I laugh hugging my knees to my chest.
He rolls his eyes. “This is Georgia-not Michigan.”
“Still,” I say slyly. “We have no blankets or clothes, so we might need to use body heat to keep warm.”
His eyes pop. I laugh at his reaction and shove him out the open door.
“Go!” I instruct, pointing at the office. Caleb takes a few faltering steps backwards—still looking at me in mock surprise, then turns around and jogs into the small structure.
I settle back in my seat, proud of my crassitude.
Caleb exits the building about ten minutes later with an older woman trailing behind him. When he reaches the car, she throws up a hand and waves at him like he’s an A-list celebrity. Her jowls flap around like pillowcases and I snicker. He is forever making friends…or fans. Amnesia apparently does not change everything about a person.
“They don’t allow tents here,” he tells me, but they have these structures that they rent out. Looks like a tent, but bigger and it has wood floors.”
I already know this. The first time he deceived me into coming here, he told me that we would be staying in a luxury cabin. I packed my bags, excited to be leaving Florida, something I had never done before, and wondered whether or not our ‘cabin’ would have a fireplace. When we pulled up to the camp grounds, I looked around for the cabin in anticipation.
“Where is it?” I had asked, craning my neck to peer into the trees. All I saw were tepee-like tents. Maybe the cabins were further back into the woods. Caleb had smiled at me and parked his car in front of one of the tepees. He laughed when my face turned white.
“I thought we were staying in a cabin,” I had said, folding my arms across my chest.
“Trust me, this is posh camping, Duchess. Usually you have to erect your own tent and the floor is just thin canvas beneath you.”
I grunted, and stared at the tent miserably. He had tricked me.
Despite my initial horror, it turned out to be the best weekend of my life, and I would be forever addicted to ‘posh’ camping.
“Let’s go buy fur coats,” Caleb says blasting the heat. I nod and stare contentedly out of the window.