40SADIE
Everything happens in a whirlwind: one minute we’re packing up camp, and the next, I’m back in an airport shuttle, on my way to catch a flight. The seats feel strange after spending so much time sitting on rocks and logs and my sleeping bag.
It’s also weird to hear music again. I can’t hear a single buzzing insect, or any babbling brooks, or the crunch of hiking boots (and one extremely soiled pair of Adidas Ultraboosts) on gravel.
I never thought I’d miss the soundtrack of these last two weeks. And for how out of place I felt when I first arrived in the wilderness, it’s surprisingly jarring to be back in the real world—like a severe case of whiplash.
The airport feels too bright, too busy, too loud.
It’s weird that I can just walk up and buy myself a slice of pepperoni pizza, or a latte, or a family-sized bag of Cheez-Its. (I definitely buy all of these things.)
It’s weird to use an actual toilet again. This one isgoodweird—going to the bathroom in the woods is one of the primary reasons I won’t be making a career out of this like Thorn has.
Thorn.
I miss him so much already. Danica pulled him away for a long talk as soon as we got back to the museum. We found out on the way over that she had arranged for an airport shuttle for those of us with early departures—the tour group handles all return flights since weather and injuries like Brittany’s can cause changes to the original itinerary—and I was whisked away, along with Trey and Hunter and Silas, not fifteen minutes later.
Like I said: whiplash.
I didn’t think eleven days would throw me so thoroughly out of sorts, but wow, everything feels foreign and sterile and digitized. Did I really wake up in a tent this morning? Did I really watch the world transform under the sunrise—lavenders into oranges into the full spectrum of daylight?
We kissed, one last time, while we still could.
It wasn’t long or steamy, like in my spiciest dreams—
But it was everything I needed, and the perfect way to remember him.
The only problem was that it had to end.
“Whoa,” Abby says when she flings open her front door five hours later. I came straight here from the airport—she was thrilled when I texted her from California, and insisted we have a girls’ night. “Who are you, and what have you done with my best friend?”
I don’t have to ask what she means: when I first saw myself in the airport bathroom mirror, I almost didn’t recognize myself.
“You smell like campfire,” she adds, laughing as she pulls me in for a huge hug. “I already booked us an actual spa day for next Saturday, but in the meantime, I stocked up on some stuff to make you feel like you’re at the Four Seasons! Go pamper yourself, Wilderness Queen!”
I almost burst into tears right then and there. For all the ways the real world feels jarring, Abby feels like home.
She wasn’t kidding about stocking up on stuff—she must have bought one of everything from our local spa’s line of products. There are more bottles than I know what to do with, and a trio of candles, and some fluffy white towels I’m almost certain she must have acquired today.
I shower first, washing the campfire off my skin and out of my hair, and then I soak in the tub, and then I shower again.
Even after I’ve scrubbed the wilderness off, I’m left with a lingering sense that it’s fused to my bones. There’s still something different when I study myself in the mirror—something in my eyes, I think. Maybe my cheekbones, too.
Or maybe it’s just that it’s been a while since I’ve seen my own bare face andnotfelt the pressing urge to cover it up with foundation and concealer and mascara.
I think that’s what it is.
Maybe I’ve always looked like this, and what’s changed is much deeper: for the first time in years, I’m truly seeing myself—flaws and all—and instead of wishing them away, I see someone beautiful and strong staring back.
I swallow hard, blinking until my eyes clear.
My phone buzzes on the counter, lighting up with a notification: the nameAugust Thornon the text gives me a hit of dopamine.
Hi :) Miss you already, and I hope you made it back okay. Wanted to let you know I found all the stuff you stashed in my office before we left—did you leave it behind intentionally? If you still want it, I can get it to you.
He’s sent a picture, and I almost laugh out loud…why did I ever pack all of those things in the first place? I want to give Past Sadie a hug, bless her sweet little overprepared heart.
Totally forgot to grab all of that, I write back.If it’s not too much trouble, I wouldn’t mind having it back, but please don’t go out of your way.
