to others. He had assumed he was normal, that he lived a normal life like everyone else, and had a normal temperament. He had in fact prided himself in being normal, as a way to orient himself.
Maybe I am normal , he thought as they crossed over the bridge across the creek. But now that he had seen the alternative, it was even more appealing to him. And yet, all he had ever known was his work and the urban life contained in a cubicle. The city itself was just a manifestation of the cubicle – four walls designed to keep him placated and productive.
He doubted that he could ever adopt Lily’s way of life, even if he wanted to. It wasn’t just a matter of bravery and courage. The idea of quitting his job was a paradox in his mind – part of him could see Lily’s perspective perfectly, and he longed for it. But the other part of him couldn’t escape his tendency to think about the future. That’s where he and Lily differed.
For him, the future was everything. For her, it didn’t even exist.
That night both of them avoided the topic, but kept smiling at each other. They cooked dinner together using the last of the groceries he’d bought, and teasing each other playfully the whole time. As the night grew on, Lily suggested they go outside and look at stars and he again reluctantly followed her outside. It wasn’t warm, but it was a lot better than the night before and she skipped in bare feet down the lawn again toward his Toyota.
“What are you doing?” he asked, when she reached the car and opened the back.
“These seats fold down right? Here, look, a perfect bed,” she said, hopping inside and flatting the backseats. She laid the blanket out on top and pulled herself inside, and motioned to him through the open cargo door.
He took of his own shoes and hopped in next to her. It was remarkably more comfortable than he had imagined, and he quickly pulled the heavy blanket over both of them. It was the first time he’d been this close to her, and he could feel the warmth of her small slender body pushing up against his. Both of them seemed uncertain at first, but she let out a long sigh and scooted in against his arm. He instinctively raised it and she nuzzled against his chest and pulled the blanket up to her chin.
“See?” she said.
“I think I saw a shooting star,” he said suddenly. Through the open back door they could still see the whole expanse of the valley looking north, and again just out of sight, the orange halo of Port Angeles.
“I love sleeping outside. Well, kind of outside. It makes all the difference,” she said.
“You sleep outside a lot, then?” he asked.
“Not a lot, but often. I actually have a small one person tent in my backpack. A lot of times, when I’m hitching, I’ll just choose a place off the road somewhere, or hike up a hill or a mountain, and just set camp. It’s really peaceful. I love being under the stars because it feels like everything is open. I’m not confined or restricted. I would hate being in a cage.”
“I suppose I can relate. I’ve been in a cage most of my life,” he admitted, “if an office can be called a cage.”
“I think it can. You should go camping more often,” she recommended.
“You’ll have to take me, I don’t have a tent.”
“Well, my tent is only big enough for one… but… if you wanted to get cozy, it could probably fit two people,” she said.
He could feel the heat of her breath as she spoke against his chest and wrapped his arm around her under the blanket. She