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Unbearably Yours

Page 58

by Elodie Colliard

I listen, mesmerized by how easily she captures her audience’s attention. She could be reading me her grocery list, and I’d be sitting with my face in my hands, drinking in every word that pours out of that gorgeous mouth of hers.

“The only place you’ll find these beautiful creatures is here, in Canada,” she continues. “We estimate the population to be around four hundred individuals, but that number is slowly dwindling due to the numerous threats they’re facing. Before we get to that, let me show you how they hunt for dinner.”

Charlee waves at Emma to come closer as she slowly backs up and stands next to the river. She shouldn’t do that. She’s being reckless, inching closer to the torrent while the rain is still beating down. I told her not to get too close, and now the distance between her and me is too wide. If something happened to her, I wouldn’t be fast enough.

I grit my teeth. Shouting at her would only make matters worse with the bears right there.

“Yes, Charlee, that’s it. Get me that shot,” Trevor urges. He’s standing next to me, but I’m too busy monitoring her footing to smack his stupid face.

“Look how focused the mother is on the fish sputtering out of the water,” she tells the camera. “Bears aren’t known to be graceful, but their determination is unmatched. It’s only a matter of time before mama bear catches dinner for her cub.”

She sucks me right back into her spell, and I’m too wrapped up in her poise and confidence, hanging on to her every word for just a moment too long, to notice the surge of water heading straight for her.

“Charlee!”

I’m too late.

The water crashes into her.

I watch in horror as Charlee scrambles to grab hold of something, anything, as she loses her balance and tumbles into the rushing water.

Toronto, January 4, 2018

My Oli,

Happy New Year! I’m sorry I couldn’t get back to you sooner. The holidays kept me pretty busy.

Getting your letter on the 24th was the best Christmas present I got this year. I’m sorry you got cookies thrown in your face, though. Hope Emile didn’t leave you with crumbs and bruises!

I hope you had a wonderful Christmas with your grandparents and everybody who joined you guys at Jerry’s.

Mine was surprisingly good. We spent most of our time lounging in our PJs with Mom, watching rom-coms and drinking hot cocoa. And thank god for the caterer, because Riley almost burned down the kitchen. Twice.

Would I be horrible if I said that reading that you felt awful while I was on my date makes me feel all kinds of ways? Honestly, maybe I could have given the guy a chance if I didn’t have you on my mind all night, but he was done from the start because he just wasn’t you. Picturing you brooding while I was on my date makes me laugh. And . . . it also makes me realize that I’m not going crazy and that maybe I’m not the only one who feels this thing between us. Whatever it is, whatever the word is for what I feel for you, it’s strong enough to make any other man irrelevant to me.

I don’t have any words to describe the way I feel every time I read you. It’s both surreal and impossibly logical at the same time, like everything makes perfect sense. But it shouldn’t, because what’s happening between us would be crazy to anyone outside looking in. And your last letter . . . Oliver, I’ve never felt so . . . wanted in my life. Not in that way, anyway. There have been plenty of men and women who’ve been attracted to me for my body, but with you, it’s different. You don’t know what I look like, and yet you make me feel like the most beautiful woman on this earth through your words. I am drawn to you in a deeper, more meaningful way than I’ve ever been drawn to anyone. You make me feel seen and valued and cherished. All this without ever having touched me or laid eyes on me.

So yeah, you’re right. It’d be delusional to think we’re friends and nothing more, and the fact that you see right through me, even about something like this, is enough proof of our bond. There’s something about you that pulls me in, and I don’t want to resist. Just like the last article you wrote on the laws of gravity.

I talked to my sister about you during the break. I told her everything. She said that I should go with my gut and do what feels right, even if I haven’t met you in person yet or even know what you look like. But why would any of this matter when it feels like nobody on this earth understands me better than you?

If we were living in the same city, would you take me on a date?

Let me tell you what we would do if the planning was up to me. First, I would take you camping at my favorite place. I’ve only been there a few times because it’s so far from Toronto, but the magic from the red and white pine forest at Caliper Lake Park is like none other. You can camp under the most beautiful starry skies, surrounded by centuries-old pine trees. We’d set up the tent in a meadow where there’s enough space to gaze at the sky, and we would build a fire to roast marshmallows. (Can you believe I’ve never done that before? Maybe I’m just waiting now to do it with you). We could hike all day, and when night falls, just warm ourselves next to the fire and drink hot chocolate (yes, I love it, sue me). And maybe the day would be warm enough for us to not even need to sleep in the tent, but under the stars. Next to each other. Or even bundled up together. And we would wake up to the sound of wind rustling in the leaves and birds singing to the new day. Yeah, that would be my perfect date with you.

I hope we get to do it.

With love,

Your Charlee

PS: If we’re imagining things, I imagine you smell just like the forests you spend your days in. If I remind you of warm summers, you’re my cozy days during fall.

PPS: I don’t know why I chose this theme for my article because I hated every minute of writing it. Please, critique away. I’m sure you’ll have plenty to say.

Attached article

Not your regular camping: Glamping popularity is growing faster, and it’s all thanks to (or because of) the internet