I scramble to follow his instructions.
“No—Ruby—left!”
I squeak and thrust my paddle to the other side of the canoe, hitting full throttle. Only…backwards. Any chance of redirection is lost, and we’re now heading into the fallen tree, sideways.
“Duck!” Eitan shouts.
I shriek like a river banshee and duck. As we pass under it, small branches and leaves slap my face, and the rough bark of the trunk is mere inches from my cheek. I’m leaning back so far and holding my breath that I don’t feel the change in balance until it’s too late.
Just as we clear the fallen tree, the canoe flips. I finally remember whatcapsizemeans.
The water is a cold shock.Something slimy snakes around my leg. I fail to get my bearings until the life vest pulls me to the surface. I gasp as my feet find the riverbed. The water is chest-deep, the current trying to sweep me into it. I blink several times, clearing the river from my eyes, and shiver as the cold truly sets in.
My paddle must be halfway to Lake Huron at this point.
“Ru—by.” Eitan’s voice pipes up from downcurrent. I turn to see him, soaking wet and dripping water, biceps straining as he single handedly keeps our canoe from making a break for it. He makes his way to the riverbank, pulling the canoe with him.
I wade toward him in the shallows next to the bank, wincing, preparing myself for a lecture.
“Hop in,” Eitan says gruffly. I look at him and the canoe with the utmost skepticism. He’s holding the boat steady, expecting me to get back into that medieval torture device. I sidle up to the opposite side, and we face off across the canoe.
“I think I’ll walk,” I tell him.
“Get in the canoe, Ruby.”
Skip’s voice calls out to us, enthusiastic in his camo life vest. “Caboose squad alert! The river waits for no man. Or woman!”
Andres paddles in the front, looking dead behind the eyes.
“Why am I here!” I yell over the sound of rushing water, at Skip.
“Why are any of us here!” he responds. “Less than a mile to the new campsite!TALLY HO!”
I grumble while shivering so hard my teeth chatter. I hoist myself onto the front seat of the canoe and lay back. My headleans to the side, and I watch Eitan push himself up, Hulk style, and sling a muscular leg over the canoe to pull himself aboard.
“I lost my paddle,” I inform him.
“Yep, I figured. Probably for the best.”
“I don’t think I want to be here.”
“And yet, you smiled at me this morning.”
I turn beet red, recalling how I admired Eitan’s bedhead like a lovesick idiot. “I don’t smile!”Brilliant comeback.
“Whatever you need to tell yourself,” Eitan says absentmindedly as he takes over the paddling for both of us. I resign myself to shivering in the fetal position while the riverbank’s canopy and the rolling clouds meander overhead.
“Wake up,”Eitan calls out. It could be anywhere between fifteen minutes and two hours later. I’m still soaking wet, so I’ll assume it’s closer to fifteen minutes.
There is a sloping bank cleared of trees ahead on the right, and Eitan steers us directly toward it until the canoe is beached. He hops out quickly, then holds a hand out for me to do the same.
When I don’t immediately take it, Eitan squats down, bringing his face eye level with mine. “Ruby,” he says.
Just the sound of him saying my name makes frustrated tears prick at the corners of my eyes.
“Eitan,” I whisper.
“I want to be someone you can lean on,” he murmurs. He almost sounds conflicted, like he’s actively battling himself. His hand takes mine and holds it as he stands up again. My body follows his, magnetized.I want that too.But how can I lean on someone who doesn’t even trust himself? How am I supposed to open myself up to that when I’ve experienced the other side of it?The fallout of being left. Eitan may not be selfish like Grant, but he’s made it clear that he can’t be relied on.
