The Big L-Word

Chapter Two

Back in the yurt, we turned on the small space heater and then hurried to the unattached showers while we waited for it to generate a little heat. Though we had put on warm pajamas, we were still shivering with damp hair when we ran back inside the yurt. We stood next to the heater, wrapping up in the extra throws we'd packed. Exhaustion was beginning to weigh on me but, even though we had stopped for a late lunch before getting to the park, I was beginning to feel a bit peckish again. I commented as much to Gene and he went over to our pile of supplies sprawled out on the bunk bed, pulled out a can, and showed it to me. I looked at the can and then looked at him in undisguised disgust.

"You brought canned chili for us to eat?" I asked him, incredulous.

He stared at me and looked at the can. "Well, yes," he said, looking back at me.

The repulsed curl of my lips deepened. "Ok, first of all, canned chili tastes like dog food and, second of all, I'm not eating chili and then sleeping in a single room yurt with you," I said a little more loudly than I'd intended.

It took him a few beats, but then his lips started to twitch before they morphed into a mischievous smile. "We could get to know each other really well with canned chili and a single room yurt," he said, almost sneering at me wickedly.

I opened my mouth in horror. "No!" I exclaimed. "I don't want to know you that well, sir! And you don't want to know me that well, either!"

He put his hand on his hip with an air of faux aristocratic disdain and said rather haughtily, "Madam, I don't think you know what I want to know."

I lunged for the can, but he pulled his hand back and turned to block me. "I'm gonna throw that can of chili outside for the raccoons," I threatened.

He pretended to be offended by the suggestion. "No way," he said. "Then everyone in the entire camp will have to smell raccoon farts and nobody wants that! Everyone already hates the raccoons to begin with."

"Oh, I see!" It was my turn to feign offense. "You don't want to feed the raccoons chili, but you'll feed me chili!"

He stuck his tongue in his cheek. "You know what, maybe I brought the chili just for me. Maybe I'll eat the chili."

I tried to grab the can from him again, but he moved away from me. "Nobody is eating that damn can of chili! Besides, you'd have to heat it up."

He shrugged. "I could just eat it out of the can."

I curled up my lips again. "That is even more disgusting!"

Gene walked over to the bunk and pseudo-dramatically tossed the can back from where he'd retrieved it. "OK, OK. Fiiiine. Nobody is eating dog food flavored canned chili," he said sarcastically. He rummaged around and then pulled up a slim rectangle with a green wrapper. "I've also got honey oat granola bars."

I looked at him petulantly but let my shoulders sag in surrender. "Ugh, fine. I'll eat the damn granola bar. At least I won't offend anyone," I whined, holding out my hand.

"Am I allowed to eat a granola bar?" he inquired, pulling out a second one and holding it up.

I rolled my eyes at him. "Of course you're allowed to eat a granola bar."

"Well I have to ask in case that upsets you, too. I might get oats stuck in my teeth or something, and I don't know how you're going to react to that," he remarked.

"Oh, shut up and eat the damn granola bar," I smart mouthed him, unwrapping the thin green foil, and biting into the pressed oats irritably.

"Hey, I'm just asking. I already got in trouble for bringing canned chili. I don't want to get in trouble over a granola bar, too," he argued facetiously.