“Light rain is okay. Your new jacket is waterproof. But we shouldn’t bring Slate. He doesn’t do well in the rain, even though he loves streams and ponds.” I shake my head in disbelief. Ivy also looks perplexed. “I don’t get it. We’d have to leave him back in this cozy house. What a travesty.”
Ivy shakes her head in understanding. “Okay, okay. We can try something new. And as long as you’re confident on the weather.” She exhales.
“From what I can tell, the weather should be fine.” I reassure her after looking at my own weather app.
She smiles in agreement. “What’s the trail called?”
I tell her and she immediately grabs her phone again to start looking into it.
After breakfast is cleaned up, Ivy is researching and I’m taking care of a few things around the house. I glance at the calendar. My blood runs cold.
I forget to breathe. Fuck. How did I miss this?
It seems like the last week has all run together. I’ve been wrapped up in everything Ivy.
My birthday. The annual reminder of the worst thing I’ve ever been through. The day where loss could swallow me whole.
My birthday is in two days.
This is not light rain. It may have been light when we started but it’s been steady ever since then. Ivy and I are much slower than we were even when we had Slate with us.
“Nothing like breaking in a new jacket. Making sure it’s waterproof.” Ivy claps her hands at her chest and then throws her arm in the air. Rain droplets fly off her sleeves. Her voice is upbeat.
“There’s a good chance it will let up soon. Or if you want, we can turn back and cut it short.” I want to give her the choice. Rain during this time of year isn’t common.
“A little rain never hurt anyone.” Since she’s wearing her hood, she has to awkwardly move her head in order to see me.
She doesn’t seem nervous or anxious. Either she’s hiding it well or she’s feeling good. I know how she likes to follow a plan and know what’s coming next.
Me on the other hand, I’m a wreck. My mouth is dry. A cold sweat breaks out over my forehead. I feel like I’m on the verge of a panic attack. Wouldn’t be the first one.
We walk in silence. Ivy tries to start conversations but I don’t have it in me. I know I’m being an asshole. But all my other energy is going towards keeping my shit together. It’s not going well.
She resorts to asking random questions.
“Favorite food?”
This one’s easy.
“Chicken pot pie.” My answer is always the same. “We have a family recipe. My grandma made it for my mom, and now my mom makes it for me. Only for holidays and special occasions. Sometimes, we put it on holiday menus at the lodge.”
She’s satisfied with that answer.
“Your favorite food?”
“I can’t pick. There are too many!” She squeals.
“I’m not going to make you tattoo it on your body or anything. At this moment, what’s your favorite food?” I try to sound easygoing, but it comes out all wrong. If Ivy notices, she doesn’t let on.
“Fine. I’d say… noodles. Any type of pasta.”
We walk for another minute before she’s back with another question. I’m trying not to be irritated. My horrible fucking mood has nothing to do with Ivy, but I wish we were being silent.
“What’s something popular that you don’t like? It could be a person, song, food, restaurant, anything.”
Another softball question. Thank god. “Cell phones. I obviously have one and use it. But there are so many times I’m at the lodge and see families on vacation, but they’re just scrolling their phones somewhere other than their house.”
“That’s a good one,” she says. “Being present is intentional.” I look at her quickly. “That’s what my therapist tells me. I can’t take the credit.”
