I suspect we are different, very different, in more ways than just that one, but of course I don’t feel the need to point that out.
“One reason I like my job is that you can never really prepare for every single circumstance,” he goes on. “It makes you have to trust your gut, think on your feet. You kind of have to learn to adapt when thingsget uncomfortable. It’s the best kind of rush, not knowing how things will play out and having to figure it all out on the fly.”
“See, yeah, that sounds like my worst nightmare, Thorn.”
He takes a long sip from his water bottle, looking at me in a way that makes me feel more seen than I have in quite some time.
I shouldn’t have let my guard down like that—shouldn’t have given him this much of a peek into just how extra I really am. I had every chance to start fresh here, for this group and its grumpy leader to see me as Go-with-the-Flow Sadie. Maybe even (oh, the horror) Instant Coffee Sadie.
To Thorn, I am currently Wrong-Shoes/Coffee-Snob/Put-That-Phone-Away Sadie.
“I sincerely hope you win the bet, then,” Thorn says, twisting the lid of his water bottle back in place.
“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”
He smirks. “Because if you lose, your coffee setup is going into my pack for the rest of the trip. On the bright side, hey, maybe it’ll be a chance to try something new. Something outside your comfort zone: the wonderful world of instant coffee.”
“Because being here in the first placeisn’toutside my comfort zone?”
He tips his head as if to saygood point. “All I’m saying is, I hope you win—for the sake of your feet and your coffee.”
“WhenI win,” I reply, “I’m making you a cup of my coffee, and you’ll totally admit I was right about that, too. That it was worth it to bring it.”
He holds out his hand. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”
I give it a firm shake—his hand is strong and warm and fits mine perfectly.
“Okay, everyone,” he calls out a moment later. “We’d better get moving if we’re going to set up camp before nightfall.”
The sounds of zippers and chatter fill the clearing. I slip a little on the uneven rocky pavement, as if the universe is also trying to prove Thorn’s point.
He notices, of course.
“Already rethinking that bet?” he says, loading his pack onto his back.
Preemptively mourning the loss of my beloved coffeeis more like it, but it’s fun to pretend I have even the smallest chance at winning.
“Just trying to wrap my mind around how long it’ll take to get to camp,” I say coolly.
And how long it’ll be before I get my first blister. And my tenth blister. And how this is just the first day of…many, many days.
“Everyone good to go?” Thorn calls out once we all look more or less ready. “We’ll take another quick break later, but we’re going to cover as much ground as we can before that.”
No one objects. Not out loud, anyway.
Today’s first hike would’ve been enough for me—it’s more time outdoors than I’ve had all summer unless you count the hotel pool.
I have a feeling Thorn would not count the hotel pool.
Now that I’m here, and the excitement is wearing off, it’s finally dawning on me that I’m going to be out in the wilderness fortwelve days.
As if on cue, a mosquito lands on my forearm. I shoo it away, then shoo its little mosquito friend, too, before they both settle in for a feast.
Thorn leads the way like he was born king of the woods.
I follow like a lululemon influencer who stumbled out of a photo shoot and found herself uncomfortably sweaty and surrounded by bugs.
How could I ever have thought this was a good idea?
