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Twenty : Box

We decide to wait until daylight to attempt the climb, and once again Corin and I sleep curled into each other, like a pair of newborn puppies. It feels natural now, as though I've always spent every minute by his side. To be without him would be stranger. It's hard to believe a mere three days ago I was shy about our forced physical contact. It's already second nature to thread my fingers through his whenever we're active... because if we don't, that painful magnetic pull quickly reminds us.

When the sun rises we set off, up the mountain. It is slow going, Corin's injuries holding him back and the steep incline offering little chance for rest. We have nothing to say for several hours, instead focusing on scrambling over fallen logs and slapping away low hanging branches.

What if that cougar gets to the refuge before we do? Do you think there'll be anyone left to throw us a welcome party?

His thought pops into my head without warning. I glance at him, a step behind me, and catch a cheeky grin. I shake my head and continue walking. He is obviously in the mood for conversation.

Do you really think our mothers will be there? Mine and yours?

"Why not? It doesn't hurt to hope." I link back. I'm lying. Actually, I think it does hurt. Hope is how hearts get broken.

Are you mad at her? For leaving?

I want to say no, that now I finally understand why she did. Because her husband had grave suspicions and her life as she knew it was in danger. Instead, I admit the truth. It feels good.

"A little."

We walk in silence for a moment longer, our heavy breathing interspersed with our boots crunching on the forest floor. Then, I elaborate. "I got up one morning, got ready for school, as usual. Went to the dining room for breakfast, and her chair was empty. My father didn't seem concerned so neither was I. But when I got home from school that afternoon, she still wasn't home. Usually, we exercised together before dinner, but her sim-run was switched off. I checked her wardrobe and her fitness gear was still folded neatly on the shelf. It was just my father and I at dinner. I remember the steak was cold and chewy because we spent almost an hour waiting for her before he finally let me eat. He didn't even have his - he stormed off and left me sitting there alone. I knew she wasn't dead – I was certain he would have told me if she were. I still believe that. 

The press was silent. She was never mentioned again, almost as though she'd never existed at all. People probably talked about it in their homes... they must have been curious. Jesse asked once, a few months ago, but I didn't have anything to tell him. When she first disappeared, every day after school I'd go straight to the sim-runs, imagining she'd be there, setting a beautiful beach vista up on the digiwall for us to jog towards. Anyway, I gave up waiting after a few months. Hoping was a waste of time. It hurt that she'd obviously forgotten me, but I figured it would be more painful to know why. So I stopped waiting and stopped wondering. I just... got on with it, I suppose."

Corin squeezes my hand. I stop to let him catch up.

That's.... he pauses, searching for the right words. Really sad. I'm sorry.

I shrug. "Honestly, I feel lighter just telling someone. I've held all that in for way too long."

We lean against the trunk of a massive cedar and take a few sips of water. The cool liquid slides down my throat. It leaves me craving more, thirstier than I was before. But the bottle only has half remaining. Corin fumbles with the fasteners on his backpack, returning the drink bottle to its place and seeing if there's any food remaining, squashed and forgotten. I scan the surrounding foliage in search of colour. I don't see anything bright. A huge sigh escapes my lips. I feel so worn down all of a sudden. It's like the grey sky and darkness of the dense forest is pressing in on me, squashing me, a thumb on a helpless bug.