Page 34 of Fate Fiction

The clock illuminated on my phone, 2:30 p.m. Much later than expected, if we left now we’d be getting back exactly at five. I hadn’t expected this trip to truly take up the entire day, but clearly fate had other plans. If we left much later, Sue would be sending Randy out on his ATV to find us.

Evan had joined alongside me at this point, stuffing his towel carelessly into his bag. I winced a bit for the state of the high end.

He stretched again, his back muscles tensing all at once. “Jesus, I must be getting old, that catnap wrecked my back.”

“Are you good to go?” I gestured back towards the trail.

Evan remained shirtless and in his swimsuit, with seemingly no intention of changing since his other clothes were now buried beneath his towel. He laced up his sneakers and hopped up, snagging the backpack in one swift motion. “Sure am,” he said cheerfully.

We started back on the trail, more silence between us but somehow this felt comfortable. Maybe honesty was in fact the best way to get through this week.

When we got to the top of the falls, Evan jogged over to the lookout once more, shaking his head in disbelief and taking a quick photo on his phone.

“I, uh, could take one of you? If you want?” I asked from five yards behind. He extended his hand to offer his phone, I hesitantly went over and grabbed it.

After stepping back far enough to be sure the majority of the photo was the scenery and not Evan, I set up the shot.

“Say Horseshoe Falls!”

He laughed, showing his brilliant white teeth, and I took a few pictures in a short burst. He came back and I handed him the phone once more.

He promptly stuck it in his pocket without even looking at the photos. “I’ll have to send this out once I get service again. My mates aren’t going to believe I actually took the trip. They’re all assuming I’m holed up in my apartment with my phone on airplane mode.”

“Why’s that?”

“I’m not usually one for adventure or stepping outside my comfort zone. Never was and I’m certainly not now. I tend to get a decent amount of shit for it.”

Maybe we were more similar than I’d realized. This place acted as my safe haven, but I forget that for most people it was some sort of outdoorsy adventure.

It was a camp in Maine, not the summit of Mt. Denali, and yet some people would treat it as such. Sue had endless stories about guests from the city acting like it was their first time seeing a tree. I didn’t think Evan was this type, but he certainly gave an impression that this was some grander adventure in the great wide somewhere.

“Did you want to get one too, or?” Evan pointed at my phone resting in my hand, I had forgotten to put it back in my bag when we left the swimming hole.

“Oh no, I probably have two hundred pictures of the falls from over the years.”

I angled a shoulder back to the trail and set off. We fell into step with one another swiftly.

“Right. What’s the story there,” he started, “you’ve really been coming here your entire life or was that another exaggeration from Sue?”

I chuckled. “When I was young my mom would take me, well, essentially drop me in Sue and Randy’s lap while she stayed in the cabin reading the entire week. Eventually that turned into her dropping me off and then picking me up in town at the end of the week, and once I got older I’d either work here in the summers or bring my friends up for the week. No one seemed to appreciate the place in the same way I do, it’s a second home to me and truthfully paradise on earth.”

“Sue wasn’t kidding then.”

“No, definitely not. I know the camp and the surrounding areas probably better than I do my own neighborhood.”

Even having lived in Boston since graduating college, I would often take the T in the wrong direction—inbound and outbound is a ridiculous way to describe train directions—or I’d accidentally turn down the wrong street and need to make a massive circle to get back in the right direction thanks to the fact that the entire city runs on one way streets.

Driving around camp was simple, straightforward. There weren’t absurd traffic laws to keep track of or strings of red lights, there was just the dirt road and the occasional moose to watch out for.

“You’re exactly spot on,” he said.

“About what?”

“This place being paradise on earth.”

“You’ve been here a day,” I chuckled.

“And I can already tell there’s something really special about it.”