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I chuckle, which I’m certain I’ve never done while discussing Andrew Reid before. “Yeah. Thanks.”
“What are we going to do at the lake? Just, like, sit there?”
“Jeez. A little trust?”
“I don’t trust people I just met.”
“Just met? You just called me your best friend.”
“I thought Canadians are fluent in English, French, and sarcasm.”
I chuckle; I can’t help it. Something about this girl…I can barely keep a straight face with half the stuff that flies out of her mouth. “Sarcasm, yes. My French is iffy.”
“Say something.”
“Uh…nous sommes ici.”
“What does that mean?”
“We’re here.”
Auden looks away from me, out at the scenery. I turn right, down the dirt road that leads to the path that ends with access to the lake. It’s more crowded than I’ve ever seen it. I avoid coming here in the summer for exactly this reason. It’s packed with tourists who were already here for the carnival.
I park next to a food truck emitting the fragrant smell of frying meat. You can catch glimmers of the turquoise water through the trees, but you have to walk down to the shore to get the full effect.
“Come on.”
We weave through groups of stressed parents and sunburned kids. I must be making a face, because Auden asks, “Not a big fan of children?”
“Not at all.”
“Doyouhave siblings?”
“Three. My mom remarried. They’re all girls. Loud and obsessed with nail polish.”
She laughs. And then keeps laughing. “Sorry.” She finally stops. “I’m just imagining you sitting in the middle of glitter and pink tutus.”
I roll my eyes. “Do you like kids?”
“I guess. It would have been nice to have a younger sibling, someone to hang out with and take care of. There are times when my parents do something really annoying and I’ll thinkI would never do that to my own kid.” I seem to wear my emotions on my face around her, because she says what I’m thinking again. “You don’t want kids?”
“I’m trying to be different than my dad, remember?”
“You weren’t…planned?”
“No. Hell if I’m going to put a kid through that.” Part of the reason I’m the only one of my friends who has yet to have sex, but that’s a fact I keep to myself. Friend or not, there are just some things you don’t say to a girl.
“Wow.” We arrive at the lakeshore, and it puts an effective end to our previous conversation.
“Just another puddle, eh?” I tease.
“It’s so blue. I—wow. I kind of wish I could draw it, but I couldn’t do this justice.” Her eyes roam over the glacier-fed water framed by the craggy, snow-capped peaks of the mountains hovering in the distance. Straight, proud pines line the lake. Colorful canoes dot the rocky shore.
“Funny you should say that.”
I pull the pad of paper and package of colored pencils I stole from my youngest sister’s room out of the backpack I’m wearing and hold them out to her.
“What’s that for?”
