2011-10-14 12:36:16 UTC
“What, do you want to sit around and talk about feelings?” he asked sarcastically as he poked the campfire. Glowing sparks shot skywards, and he flinched to avoid getting burned. He kicked off his boots and his new socks --which he had already worn a hole in-- and stuck out his feet to warm them over the flame. The sight was so comical, Sarah would have laughed if he hadn’t been in such a bad mood.
“No, I just thought we could... Get to know each other better. Give me something to work with here,” said Sarah. She looked at him with those doe eyes he loved so much, knowing it would get him to crack.
“Fine. You want me to talk? I’ll talk, Mark said.
“My dad was an English professor. We moved from Florida, where I grew up, to Boston the winter I turned fourteen. Shakespeare was his idol. He’d read me Shakespeare’s complete works by the time I was twelve.
“This one time, he decided to take me camping. He wasn’t a real outdoorsy guy, but he wanted to be the kind of dad who took his kid on male bonding trips. We packed up our stuff and the dog and set off at four in the morning. It was a long drive, and my dad thought it would be a good idea to get an early start. It was March, and the roads were still icy. We skidded a couple of times on the road, but no one was hurt and we made it to the campground.
Mark paused to take a bite of stew with the spork Sarah had packed in his mess kit.
“After we set up our campground, we went to take a hike in the forest. We walked into a clearing that had a little pond. It was still frozen over, so my dad thought it would be fun to slide around on it for a minute. I’d never seen a frozen pond before, or really any ice now that I think about it. I didn’t want to go, because the dark water underneath scared me. My dad walked out first to show me that there wasn’t anything to be afraid of.
“I heard this terrible shattering noise, and my dad screamed. It looked like the pond was swallowing him. I was screaming for help, but there wasn’t anyone around. He was flailing around in the water, but his clothes were so heavy and the water was so cold that he couldn’t pull himself out. I should have been able to save him. I was fourteen, nearly a man. I was weak and I’ll never forgive myself.
“It was too late by the time they pulled him out. He was blue and his heart had stopped from the shock. The funeral was the next week.”
Mark choked back a sob as Sarah pulled him close and kissed him on the forehead. Her gentle touch comforted him, and he didn’t think he’d ever felt so safe before. He doused the fire and climbed into the tent, Sarah following after him. They did not sleep together that night. Instead, Sarah took Mark’s head in her arms and stroked his hair until he fell asleep. Sarah lay awake, marveling at the things left untold when one gets married after a month.