“I’m more of a savory than sweet kind of guy,” said Zeke as he sucked a bit of marshmallow from his thumb, his focus on the dwindling flames of the campfire.
“What?”
“I’d rather have steak and potatoes than cake,” said Zeke.
Cal turned this revelation over in his mind. Sure, he got it, now that he had an example in front of him.
“I like salt.”
Now Zeke’s focus was on him, the shadow of that hat brim hiding anything that would help Cal navigate his way through this very close, almost intimate, conversation.
“Like, um.” Cal paused, tasting the sugar from the chocolate on his lips. “Salt and sugar. Bugles and a Coke.”
“What are bugles?” asked Zeke. “Like a trumpet?”
“It’s a snack. Cheetos. Doritos. Bugles. Very salty, very good washed down with Coke.”
He felt stupid saying it, but Zeke only nodded, like it was an everyday thing to collect personal information and store it away for when he might need it. Or like he maybe was interested in Cal as a person, distinct from his status as a parolee.
Zeke didn’t have a second s’more, so Cal didn’t have one, though he sensed he could have if he’d wanted to. That Zeke was the kind of guy who wouldn’t lash out with criticisms like the ones Preston used to fling.You need to eat more vegetables. Jesus Christ, you’re so fucking skinny, it’s all the shitty snacks you eat. And so on.
Cal did his best to shake this off and enjoy the moment he was in, rater than focusing on the past. When the evening ended and the fire was doused, and Zeke stood up, Cal stood up, as well.
“Where’s your flashlight?” asked Zeke, hefting his in his hand. He looked down at Cal’s empty hands and added, “You need one to navigate the darkness. To get back to your tent.”
“Um.” He’d forgotten his flashlight.
“I’ll walk you,” said Zeke. “You’ll remember next time.”
Zeke walked Cal back to his tent, leading the way, going slowly along the path as if he knew how out-of-place Cal felt.He’d grown up in a city, and the cool air swirling all around him felt new and different, as if each step he took was on an alien planet, with dangers lurking in every shadow.
“There aren’t any bears, really,” said Zeke. “No matter what Bede fears.”
Bede was the scary-looking guy with the tattoos along his neck and muscled forearms who didn’t look like he was afraid of anything. That he was worried about bears could almost be comical if that thought didn’t raise the fear of bears, which could be hiding in the woods this very minute, waiting to pounce.
“Here’s you,” said Zeke, waving the beam of his flashlight over the wooden steps to Cal’s tent. “Next time, be sure to zip your tent closed, so the mosquitoes and moths don’t get in.”
“Will do,” said Cal.
“When you go to take a shower later, if you do, be sure to bring your flashlight with you,” said Zeke, businesslike, but still warm and friendly. “Breakfast is at seven-thirty. You’ll hear the bell. See you in the morning.”
“See you in the morning,” echoed Cal, realizing that it sounded like Zeke expected Cal to take up his things and trek through the dark woods to the facilities for a shower. And that he’d come back in one piece, safe and sound, to sleep in his lonely tent.
Chapter 10
Cal
He’d gotten used to the sounds and movement of Wyoming Correctional, with the way it was so brightly lit, even to the point of being lit at night, which sometimes made it hard to sleep. He’d gotten so used to all ofthat, and now here he was again, having to adapt.
Could he do it again, in this new environment? That was the question.
He managed to get his flashlight, grab his stuff, and scurry through the darkness to the showers, where he showered in record time, and got dressed while his hair was still dripping down the back of his neck.
There were a few other guys showering as well, laughing and talking in low voices over the tops of the sturdy shower stalls. Maybe they were in the same stall? It was hard to tell. Cal didn’t stick around to make sure, but made his way back to his tent through the darkness.
He’d left the single lightbulb burning and the tent flaps open when he’d gone to the campfire earlier, so of course there were at least five crazy moths swirling around the bulb. One of them flewinto his face as he went in, making him curse under his breath as he batted it away and zipped the tent flap closed.
It took a minute to orient himself as he put his stuff away on the little white shelf between the two cots. Then he stood there, awash with the realization that he soon would have to turn off the light and crawl into bed.
