We find a Super Wal-Mart a few miles away, leave Pickles in the car, while Caleb puts his arm around me as we run for the doors. People stare at us like we have antennae growing from our heads. Some of them are in shorts.
“Its arctic cold out here,” I say to Caleb, and he smiles like I’m silly.
“Not to them.”
I am freezing, even though it’s at least fifty degrees out, and I wonder what it feels like to be in snow. I think of asking Caleb about snow but then I remember he doesn’t have any memory of it.
We head to the clothing department first. Caleb finds a matching pair of sweatshirts with kittens on the front that says, “I’m Cat’s About Georgia.”
“We are getting these,” he says throwing them in the cart.
I look at them in mortification and shake my head.
“How’s a girl supposed to look pretty wearing something like that?”
He tweaks my nose.
“You would look pretty wearing burlap and mud.”
I turn away to hide my smile.
We fill our cart with underwear, sweatpants, and socks and then head over to the food aisles.
By the time we stand in line to pay, we have enough food for two weeks. Caleb pulls out his credit card and refuses to take any money from me. We pull our sweatshirts over our heads next to the free magazine rack in the foyer and then dash to the car with our bags.
“Breakfast,” Caleb says tossing me a can of boiled peanuts. I pull a face.
“I’m pretty sure I saw a McDonalds back that way.” I pass the can back to him.
“No way,” he shoves it at my chest, “we are doing this the right way. Eat your peanuts!”
“The right way,” I mumble. “Is that why you bought an electric heater?” He looks at me out of the corner of his eye and I see a smile creeping at the corners of his lips. He always liked it when I sassed him.
We pull into our temporary gravel driveway around nine and begin lugging our supplies into the tent. I set up inside, stripping our new sleeping bags of their tags and arranging them on opposite sides of the small space we are sharing. I glance outside the tent and see Caleb arranging logs to make a fire. After a moment of watching his strong arms tug and pull, I yank the sleeping bags closer together. I might as well stay as close as I can—while I can.
Once the fire is lively and spitting, we each grab a semi-chilled bottle of beer and cozy up on our rainbow striped beach chairs.
“So does this feel familiar?” I ask, stroking Pickle’s head. He furrows his brow and shakes his head.
“No. But, it feels good. I like being here with you.”
I sigh. Ditto.
“What are you going to do about your apartment?” he asks not looking at me.
“Start new I guess. I don’t really want to think about it. It’s depressing,” I pull the lid off of the can of boiled peanuts and fish one out.
“We can both start over,” he flips the cap off another bottle of beer and lifts it to his lips. I watch him quietly waiting for him to continue.
“I’m going to start living my life the way I want to live it,” he tells me. “I’m not really sure who I was before the accident, but by the looks of things I was pretty miserable.”
I down the rest of my beer and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. I wonder idly if he was miserable because of me. Was it possible that right before his accident that he was still affected by my betrayal?
I think of Leah and I wonder if she is waiting at his condo, waiting to crack me open like the bad egg I am. Maybe I should have let it happen. It would have expedited the inevitable. I could tell him right now, but then I’d have to share a car with him back to Florida. Eight hours of torture. I deserve it. I open my mouth, the truth burning behind my lips to be let out. I can say it all quickly and then take cover. I toy with the idea of calling Cammie to come get me. I look at Caleb just as he stands up and stretches.
“Bathroom?” he says, scratching his chest. I point to a building that sits like a grubby egg-carton in the middle of the campgrounds. It is communal and it stinks like bleach. I watch him until he disappears into the building and go to the car to look for the bag of dog food that we bought. I am digging around in the backseat when I hear a rattling noise. I pull myself up and peer over the seat. His phone is lying on the passenger side floorboard. It is vibrating and from where I am I can see the name “Leah” flashing on the screen. Glancing over my shoulder I check to make sure he is still in the bathroom and snatch up the phone.
Seventeen missed calls—all from Leah. Wow! She is really gunning for me. I see my wrecked apartment in my mind and I shudder. If Caleb sees how many times she’s called, he will surely call her back. He is too considerate of a person to let her worry. I shut my eyes. I can’t let that happen. I hold down the power button and watch the screen turn black. Then I shove the phone into my pocket.
“Olivia?” I spin around. My heart is beating so fast, I can feel it pounding in my kneecaps. Did he see what I did?
I open my mouth to make some excuse, when he interrupts me.
“Let’s go for a walk,” he says.
A walk.
“A walk?”
“It’ll warm you up,” he holds out his hand and I take it. I have once again escaped the inevitable.
I grit my teeth as we walk. This whole escape-by-the-skin-of-your-teeth scenario was getting old.
Caleb’s phone feels like a wad of guilt against my thigh. I pray that he doesn’t see the bulge and make sure that he walks on the opposite side of where it is hidden.