Ashes, Ashes

3 - Arrival

After what felt like an eternity, the dirt road came to an end at the gate of a campground. Parker pulled up beside a keypad and rolled down his window, leaning out and punching numbers into it. He got the code wrong the first time, cursed, ducked back into the car to check something on his phone, and then leaned out again. 

This time the gate swung open, and the SUV rolled smoothly through, pulling us into a narrower path. A thick copse of trees leaned in from both sides, a mix of pinon and aspen. A month or two ago these trees would have been crowned in gold, but now they were barren and skeletal, their white trunks shining like bones. 

"The groundskeeper sent me the access code," Parker was explaining, in a tone that sounded a lot like a humble-brag. "Nobody's supposed to be up here in the off-season, and he charged me double and this brutal security deposit on top of it, like he thought we were going to set the place on fire or something. It was a pain in the ass to get it all set up, but hey, anything for Laurel, right?" 

"I'm sure it was a real financial hardship for you," Richard cracked. "Did you have to put it on the Visa Black card, or did you have to fire the maid for a week?" 

Abby groaned. "Oh my god, you two. Are you going to be doing this alpha dog bullshit all weekend?" She rolled her head back against the headrest, craning to look back at me and Liza. "Logan? You want to get in on this, too?"

"I'm good." 

"See, and that's why transmen are better." She snapped her fingers. "Take notes, boys." 

"Is this going to be a thing?" I asked, trying to keep it light. "Is everybody going to be fucking weird about my gender all weekend? Because I sure wish you wouldn't." 

"I'd like it noted that Abby's the one who brought it up this time," Parker said. "I have a firm one dick joke per day policy." 

"All I heard out of that was something about a firm dick?" Dawn teased. 

We laughed at that, all of us, even though it wasn't really that funny. But it felt good, genuine. Even Liza laughed. Some kind of tension loosened in the car, and it was like all of us had aged back somehow, like just getting together had started a clock ticking backwards that would throw us into our early 20s. 

"Well. We're here." 

Parker pulled into a space in front of a cabin. It seemed tiny from the outside, and there was something about the smooth texture of the logs and uniform red hue of the wood that made it look fake, like it was made out of oversized Lincoln Logs. A stone chimney rose up off one side, poking through the green aluminum roof. There was also a fire pit outside, surrounded by some artfully arranged logs, and a simple grill for barbecuing. 

"Are we all going to be able to fit in there?" Liza marveled, unfolding herself from the backseat. 

"That's what she said." 

"Shut up, Richard, that doesn't even make sense." Abby punched him in the arm and then both of them oozed from their respective seats and out onto the dusty ground outside. "For real though, Parker, are you sure this thing can sleep six people?" 

"There are tents that sleep six people. You just have to act like you like each other." Parker stretched, two arms over his head, leaning backward so that his button-up shirt tugged loose from his pants, a little peekaboo of belly. It was soft and flabby where it had once been hard muscle, and I couldn't help a little thrill of Schadenfreude at that. I've always been the chubby kid -- I was the fat girl in middle school, the big cuddly teddy bear guy by college -- and I've always hated guys like Parker who lived on beer and pizza and yet somehow always managed to have perfect bodies and perfect tans. 

I guessed it was true what they said: marriage does make you fat. 

The inside of the cabin seemed more spacious than the outside would let on. It was all one big room. On one side was a tiny kitchen space with a long pine table and chairs. On the other side, bunk beds had been built into the wall like oversized shelves, curving all the way around the end of the room -- six beds in all, each with the blue plastic mattress of a dorm room bed. The center of the room was dominated by a fireplace and a scatter of cushions across the floor. 

"Looks...cozy," Abby ventured, wandering down to the end of the cabin to inspect the bunk beds. She didn't look impressed. 

"It's certainly hard to keep any secrets in a place like this," Dawn agreed, wrinkling her nose. She turned to look at Parker. "No bathroom?" 

"There's one outside. I think it's like one of those rest stop bathrooms, with the showers and everything. We can go check it out here in a sec." 

"You know," Richard mused, "Didn't you say this place is technically closed? Like, there's nobody else here?" 

"Yes..." 

"So what's stopping us from sprawling out? Everybody gets their own cabin!" 

"Knock yourself out," Parker said. "But I'm coming for your ass if I end up owing on this security deposit." 

"It'd be harder to keep them all warm, too," I pointed out.

"I'm just saying. If I'm ever homeless, I'm busting into a campground for the winter. This is posh." 

"As fun as this is," Liza said, "We should do the ashes. While there's still daylight out." 

"We've got plenty of time, it's still -- " Parker edged toward the window, stared out at a sky that was now the color of asphalt, and sighed. "Okay, fair point. Let's just get the car unloaded and then we can go find a good spot." 

I wondered when he had become the guy in charge here, and why we were all letting him. I guess nobody else really wanted the job. 

"I'm going to go scope out the bathroom situation," I said, finding the cabin suddenly unbearably crowded. "Just toss my stuff wherever." 

"I'll come with you," Dawn said, hurriedly, and rushed to my side. 

Outside, buffered against the noise of conversation, everything was perfectly still and serene, almost supernaturally quiet. No traffic, no dogs barking; I couldn't even hear a bird chirp. Maybe they're all hiding from the storm, I thought, shooting an uneasy glance up at the sky. 

But Richard was right. Bad weather wouldn't last long, not even up in the mountains. And parker's stupid SUV had four-wheel drive. And we were at a big, well-known campground. This place had Yelp reviews, for godsake. It's not like we were out in the wilderness. 

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding and forced my shoulders down, trying to relieve some of the tension that had built up in my back. Nothing bad was going to happen out here, I told myself. I was just keyed up about Laurel, that's all.