Page 20 of Born to be Wilder

We’d cooked outside on the little grill at our site—hot dogs and corn and some kind of campfire potatoes in aluminum foil that Marge had thrown together. And it had been genuinely lovely. We’d pulled the picnic table behind Bertha onto the gravel pad and sat around it, talking, drinking wine, and laughing until we all held our bellies and complained we’d burst with just one more bite.

Just four best friends out in the wilderness on an impromptu road trip. The perfect Wilder Widows evening.

“When we get done with dishes, I’ve got stuff for s’mores.” Marge shoved a glass into the drying rack.

“Oh, that sounds good. I’m so full I have no idea how I’ll fit them in my stomach, but I’m sure as hell gonna try,” I said.

“There’s always room for dessert.” Doris handed Marge another clean dish to dry.

“I suppose I can eat some s’mores since I’ll probably lose all the weight if I end up getting chemo,” Alice said from where she sat in the little booth, examining her fingernails.

We all went silent.

She looked around, her eyes rolling as she said, “I brought it up. Remember? I’m allowed to bring it up.”

We all exhaled a breath as if we’d been holding it collectively.

“Sorry, I’m trying so hard never to mention it that I panicked when it came up,” Doris said.

And I had to admit, I felt the same. Trying to watch every word out of my mouth, stopping myself from saying things, was trickier than I’d thought. It was like when someone told you not to think about food and then all you could think about was food. We weren’t allowed to talk about the cancer, so all I could do was think about the cancer.

“I really am trying not to say anything,” Doris added. Then she pulled her fingers across her lips like a zipper. “But I know the rules. No bringing it up unless you bring it up. So, does this mean we’re talking about it?”

Alice quickly answered, “No. I just made a comment. Cancer talk over.”

And just like that, we were back to ignoring the giant purple polka-dotted elephant in the RV.

Tonight had been so peaceful, and today had been so fun. It was hard not to think about what awaited us when we returned. Appointments. Waiting rooms. Surgeries. Test results. Having no control over what would happen to my friend. Watching someone I loved disappear into a battle for her life and hoping it gave her back.

But I did what I did every time those intrusive thoughts clouded my mind. I pushed them back down as things we’d deal with later, after the trip, but I knew those thoughts would pop up again soon like some terrifying game of Whac-A-Mole.

We finished dishes, laughing and chatting, then we hunted through the groceries for the s’mores ingredients. Marge flicked her lighter on and off, telling us to hurry up.

“I’ll go get the fire started.” She moved toward the door. “At the rate you three are going, by the time you find the s’mores ingredients, I’ll have a fire roaring with nothing but a stick and some leaves like I did in Mexico that one time.”

“You packed a month’s worth of food in these bags with zero organization,” I defended as I pulled a bag of Funyuns out of the way.

“Oh! Toss those to me!” Marge waved her empty hand at me.

I chucked them over my shoulder, and she caught them with ease.

“Funyuns. Disgusting.” Alice wrinkled her nose. “I’m not sleeping anywhere near you with your Funyun breath tonight.”

Marge stuck out her tongue.

“I found the marshmallows!” Doris hoisted the bag in the air like a trophy. Then a crash came from outside, and Doris froze, her arm still stuck up in the air. “What was that?”

We all went still.

Another sound from outside. A thump, then a scrape, then another thump.

“Something’s out there,” Doris whispered.

“It’s probably just the wind,” I said, though the next bang made me disbelieve my own explanation.

Another thump. Then another.

“That is not the wind,” Alice whispered, panic filling her eyes.