l a p s e

the shadows

We reached the edge of the forest a little after nightfall. It wasn't really the edge of the forest, just a very large clearing in which the trees petered out into a wide, grassy circle, littered with weeds and ringed by more trees in the distance. Here the river spread into little pools lined with reeds and cattails.

The botanist declared that we stop to rest in a dry, raised area in between two of the smaller pools. The reeds delighted him. He was like a child with a new toy, and spent the evening examining each and every one of them. He went in circles around each pool and turned over the leaves, all while muttering to himself.

We lit another fire. About half the matches were gone, which began to worry me, but I was soon distracted. There was a little metal coin-box in the blue suitcase, and we used this to boil some water, and later, some tubers that the botanist produced from one of the ponds. We fried some fish again; here in the pools they were larger, flat and long and easier to catch, and you and the lawyer caught three each, enough for each of us to have one and then some extra.

I wasn't very hungry – the reduction in intake was taking its toll on my appetite – so I ate about half portion and fed the rest to Statue.

After dinner we sat around the fire. I was between the lawyer and the professor, and absently stroked Statue's fur while I stared up at the stars again. The botanist stoked the fire, and I offered to find some firewood. He agreed, visibly relieved.

I stood and began to walk back to the tree line. There were footsteps behind me. I turned, holding Statue protectively to my chest. It was only you. You gave me a sheepish grin and held his hands up in apology.

"Sorry if I scared you," you said. "I didn't want you to go alone."

"It's alright," I replied, trying to ignore the sudden pounding of my heart. It wasn't that I hadn't pondered the dangers of the forest before, just that I'd been lucky enough to avoid them.

I turned back around, and together we looked for firewood. It was difficult to do in the dark, but we managed to collect and armful each. The wood was slightly damp, but I was fairly sure it would burn. On the way back I stumbled several times because the wood I was carrying poked painfully into the wound at my side.

"I'll take the logs," you offered.

"No, I'm fine," I insisted, and though you had more logs than I did, you still took almost a third of my load, and I gratefully adjusted my position so that the logs sat comfortably in my arms. We followed the winding muddy parts between the pools back to where I could see the flames flickering in the distance.

Back at our makeshift "camp" you and I sat next to each other, carrying on an empty conversation while taking turns tossing the wood into the fire. The professor had gone off to sleep early; I could see his silhouette through the flames. The botanist was nowhere to be found.

My clothes, by then, were completely crusted in mud. There was no telling the original color of them. We all stank of grime and sweat and soil, but none of us felt ashamed for it because we all smelled the same.

You excused yourself to take a dip in one of the pools – the cleanest and biggest of the lot. I dipped one of the longer logs into the fire and brought it out glowing red hot. This I handed to you, along with one of the largest t-shirts and shorts from the red suitcase, and you smiled and slipped off.

Barely ten minutes later you returned, hair dripping wet, carrying a dark blob – your clothes – in one hand. You'd somehow managed to get most of the mud off. The large shirt you wore like a dress, the shorts pulled awkwardly around your midsection. I think I giggled.

"It's only till my clothes dry," you grumbled, and I giggled some more, drunk with exhaustion, as you adjusted your neckline. "Why don't you take a dip?"

I explained my avoidance of immersion. "I usually only take sponge baths."

"You can use one of these shirts as a washcloth," you suggested, "and the lawyer can go with you. Clean off the mud, at least."

To my surprise, I accepted. You went off to find the lawyer, who was stargazing two pools away, while I rummaged in the suitcase for a suitable shirt to cover myself with afterward. It was fortunate that I was short – all the shirts came almost to my knees. There was one raincoat – zebra-striped- that reached my ankles. I picked up both the garments, careful to keep them away from my muddy torso, and lit another torch. By this time the lawyer had returned, and you were pointing out where the pool was.

At the pool I tucked myself behind a thick curtain of cattails and began to undress while the lawyer resumed her stargazing a little ways away. I nestled the torch into a particularly thick snarl of reeds and, careful not to slip, peeled off my concrete-stiff jeans, slightly cleaner t-shirt and undergarments.

First, I steeled myself and knelt by the water's edge maybe six feet from the torch to do my business. It was a fair bit cleaner than the other pools – there was no silt or algae, and the water war nearly clear. Some water–striders marched across the surface, and mayflies and moths flocked towards the torch, casting fluttering shadows on the water.

After I finished, I moved back to where the torch was, dipped my 'washcloth' into the pool, stood, wrung it out, and – wincing – began to scrub the caked-up mud and sweat from my skin. At first it was strange, but then the need to feel clean overpowered my fear of water, and I even went so far as to let my toes lick up the moisture welling on the banks.

At last I was done, and I washed the cloth and my outfit well in the water, watching the mud melt away beneath my fingers as I did so. I wrung them out and dressed again. It felt liberating to be clean.

The lawyer had abandoned me. I followed the light back to camp again and threw the torch onto the fire. You smiled as you saw me approach.

You still wore the ridiculous shirt – now I saw that it read "FULL METAL BIKER" in blood-red font – but your curly hair was dry; tousled and matted from not being combed. I knelt beside you and you pulled my head onto your shoulder.

There I slept; warm, safe and clean for the first time in a while.