mountains: part III

We had to drive for another three hours before getting to the cabin one of our friends had lent us. I had asked him personally and he thought it was the best idea I’d ever had, and that it would be great for both of us. I enjoyed his enthusiasm: he has known us for many years and he is our only friend in the city who knew the truth about our lives. He is the only person we feel we can trust, and the fact that he had heard many [manly nice] stories about our people when he was young made him all the more open to hear the whole thing. At first he thought it a well executed prank, but soon he was persuaded by Cam’s magic: her eyes and her words were so sincere he couldn’t not believe them, and when she made a tiny flower blossom before his very eyes, there was no way he could deny it. He was so excited, I remember; he was so excited to know that all the things [well, at least most of them] his grandmother had told him when he was a child were true that he almost cried. And Cam almost cried with him, for it made her feel she belonged in a fairy tale in the past [and I regret that she always made it so clear that she thought we all belonged in the past…] From then on he has always been very important and close to us. To the other people there we might look like a regular couple: a couple of sisters, even: but Karl’s the only one who sees us for what we are. When I told him Cam was ever more insecure, to the point that she couldn’t even take credit for the things she made happen and that I was thinking about going away to her parents’ house for a couple of weeks, he was quick to offer me the cabin, and he described its location colourfully: he told me about the lake and the mountains and the many trees surrounding it all, he told me all about the grass surrounding the cabin and how it had three bedrooms and it was all very comfortable and comforting and he would come with us himself if that weren’t a holiday just for the two of us. It would remind Cam of home but without someone constantly telling her how she had been mistaken for choosing what she chose to do.

“Are you tired? I can drive if you are” I asked, knowing she would refuse the help: she was having a great time. Still, I thought I should ask.

“Oh, no, it’s okay” she answered and she smiled at me with that kind of smile one can’t fake: the smile I gave her was of the same kind. “Do you think this is a good idea?” she asked, as if she had been thinking about it the whole time.

“No, I think it’s a great idea. Didn’t I tell you about Karl’s cabin? It’s awesome. You’re going to love it.”

“Have you ever been there?”

I paused. I hadn’t. I knew what she meant: how could I know for sure it was awesome if I had never been there? And indeed, how could I? “No, I haven’t, but Karl showed me a photo of it” I lied “And it really looks amazing.”

“Oh. Good to know” she said and I could see she was still smiling: a tinier smile, though.

“You have nothing to worry about” I said, instantly regretting it: what if she took it the wrong way? “You know, I mean… it’s going to be just fine, you know?”

“I know, I know” she muttered. As the last sunbeams reached the car before the sun was completely gone I thought I saw something that resembled grey eyes flying by my side of the car: I was about to ask Cam whether she had seen it but she was hypnotised by the road, so much so that I decided against bothering her with my bored imagination.

(Carol Smnt.)


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