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Both of us, together.
But instead it was only me, in my expensive boots, with my bag that converted into a backpack, my plane ticket to a tiny town, and the trailhead. Only me with plans to hike now.
Stupid broken marriage.
I lugged my bag off the carousel and tripped, dropping my purse in the process, sending coins, receipts, and a couple of tampons rolling.
Tears filled my eyes, total embarrassment, because the last two people lingering at baggage claim were staring.
On my knees I grabbed my stuff, shoved it into my bag, and climbed to my feet, trying to act casual as I rolled my suitcase out into the cool night air.
I stood on the sidewalk and scrolled through texts to the one from the host of the cabin we had rented to use as the launchpad for the hike. I tried not to notice all the texts I wasn’t supposed to answer because they were forwarding to my assistant, Karrie. I had been really busy lately: work, clients, a new show to cast, but had taken a month off to hike with my husband, anyway.
Fucking nature.
I found the cabin’s address and pasted it into the Uber app.
* * *
I gave my pits a furtive smell. Ugh. My breath was probably godawful. A moth dive-bombed my hair and I swatted crazily, but it got stuck — ack! I brushed madly trying to get it out of my hair.
A lady at the end of the sidewalk glanced at me nervously.
I sighed.
It was quiet, desolate, forlorn... my new boots gleamed under the lights of the airport pickup spot.
I stared down at the gum-and-god-knows-what-else-stained sidewalk, and tried to be still with my thoughts.
I was on the verge of crumpling under the weight of what had just happened — this slow fucking train wreck.
This white star explosion.
This catalyst and calamity.
To mix a lot of metaphors.
I had been in our house in Los Angeles, just having had sex with my husband, waiting for him to get out of the shower — our gear folded in piles around the room. We were packing for our trip, ready to go, when—
The text lit up his phone.
I would never have looked, why would I? Why should I? We were in love, totally, no doubt, no jealousy, no worries — except I looked. And this was the text:
I can’t wait for you to get back,
so you can fuck me again.
I miss you already.
Love, xox.
And my whole marriage blew apart.
* * *
Though the Uber driver was perfectly respectable, he was also completely quiet, which is why I woke up suddenly when he announced, “Here we are!”
I was on a dark road, lined with big dark trees, a dark house at the end of a darkened driveway. A sign in the yard waved on its pole: short-term rental.
