I roll my eyes. “I guess that’s fine. It’s just…I really enjoyed spending time out there with you. And…the whole point of coming out here was to get away from all the extra wolf noise.”
“Is it bad?” he asks, taking his sandwich back up.
“It’s not bad. It’s definitely better. I’d…I’d just like to know how good it could be if they were elsewhere.”
Jasper glances at me with narrow, contemplative eyes, then chomps down the last couple bites of his lunch. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Really?”
“There aren’t any packs for miles, I don’t think one hike could hurt.”
“That would be amazing.”
After lunch Jasper goes to speak with his security team while I sit under the veranda with my sketchbook and try to capture the landscape as best I can. I want to remember this view for its rugged wildness, the contrast between smooth stone, ragged rock, and spiky plants.
When Jasper comes back he’s wearing black swim shorts and has a towel draped over his shoulder. He’s carrying what looks like an oversized cell phone, which he places on the table.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“Satellite phone,” Jasper says. “I convinced the guards to let us camp without supervision as long as we take this with us.”
I sit up and lean over the armrest, beyond excited. “You mean…?”
“Privacy,” Jasper says.
“When can we go?”
“Tomorrow if you like? We’ll need to pop into town for some supplies this afternoon but I’m game.”
“Yes! Great. Let’s do it.”
After our brief morning run, all I want is to explore this stupidly beautiful piece of land with my mate, without the buzzing presence of other wolves in my head distracting me. I want the calm and quiet, and I want to use this as an opportunity to get to know Jasper better.
“I’m going for a swim,” Jasper says. “Be ready to head off in about an hour?”
“Perfect.”
Jasper heads to the pool, drops his towel on the tiled edge, and dives into the clear water. I quickly add a few lines to my drawing, wanting to include Jasper. He swims a few lengths of the pool, gliding like a pro freestyler, before stopping in the middle and bobbing up and down with his hair slicked back, watching me.
“What?” I ask.
“The water’s really nice,” he replies, treading water and grinning.
“Aaaaaand…?”
“Why don’t you join me?”
I roll my eyes and huff jokingly, but I can’t resist his smile. I slap my sketchbook on the table—I’ll have to finish my drawing later—pull off Jasper’s tank, and run to the pool. I dive in, making sure to splash water in his face.
The drive to town takes roughly an hour. Desert stretches out on either side of us as we drive, like that’s all there is in the world. For a moment I stare out the window and wonder what it would be like if Jasper and I were the only people left—like some apocalyptic event wiped everyone out and we were trekking across this barren wasteland on a mission to find a shred of hope that all was not lost. Would we make a good team? Or would we bicker and get sick of each other? Not that we’ve been bickering, or disagreeing or arguing at all since New Year’s. So maybe we would make a good team then? Maybe our postapocalyptic mission isn’t doomed. Maybe our relationship has legs.
Dusty road turns to tarmac the same time we enter the town. None of the buildings are over a story tall, making them blend in with the expansive desert plain the town sits in the center of. We pass a souvenir shop that could be straight off the set of an old Western, the curving sign and old-log-cabin aesthetic lending it something of a theme park vibe. The main drag of the town follows suit. Old-school buildings line the wide street, and I keep expecting to see cowboys chewing tobacco or tying up their horses outside.
Jasper pulls into a small parking lot belonging to a three-store strip mall. First we visit a grocer and stock up on camping supplies. Jasper pulls fresh produce, cans, and bottled water off the shelves and into the trolley while I take responsibility for adding marshmallows, chocolate, and graham crackers. Next we pop into a camping store where Jasper talks to the sales assistant and we leave with a new tent, sleeping bags, large water canisters, and a battery-powered lantern. We drop all of that off at the car then head over to the Joshua Tree Visitor Center, its metal and concrete exterior standing out amongst the old-timey vibes, where we grab a map and speak to a lady who gives us advice about which trails to take, the prime times of day to head off, strategies so we don’t disturb the natural habitat, and safety tips such as what to do in an emergency or if one of us is bitten by a rattlesnake—all of which goes over my head and which I pray Jasper was paying closer attention to.
Finally we head back to the car, but when I stop to open my door, Jasper continues on.
“There’s one more place we need to visit,” he says.
