take care of yourself and think practically, and I’m…”
“You’re what?” said Henry, handing me one of the torches.
I looked sadly down at the ground. “Less rule-bound, I guess. I would never have quit my job before, but our excursion last night into the heart of the earth taught me a few things. Some things are more important than a job.”
“You are beginning to sound like me,” said Henry.
“Well, it helps that I have a few thousand saved up,” I said (in a slightly defensive tone).
“And you were being sexually harassed,” he said. “And no one should stay in a job where they’re being sexually harassed.”
“No, I suppose not. Up until now, I’ve always been so loyal, sometimes to my own hurt. Maybe I’m learning to take better care of myself, too.”
“In that case, maybe we’re not rubbing off on each other,” said Henry. “Maybe we’re just growing. Together.”
“Together,” I said, knocking my torch against his as though I was giving a toast. “I like that.”
This time we were fully prepared. I had spent the day buying all the supplies we would need in the general store on the mainland: two sets of ruhmkorff lamps, five containers of water, 200 yards of rope, a pick-axe, a small shovel, a miniature stepladder, diving suits, breathing apparatuses, bread, granola bars, and bananas (“that way if we get stuck in the earth,” I explained, “we won’t get scurvy for a couple of weeks”).
“We won’t get trapped down there,” said Henry. “And we won’t get scurvy.”
We made our way through the cave opening where Henry had fought the bear the day before—after spending so many hours exploring the depths of the cave, it was hard to see this part of it as anything but a foyer opening up into something much bigger. It was inconceivable that we had nearly been killed in such a small space; if the bear had attacked us now, I felt quite certain we would have just left the cave before engaging it in combat.
“Yesterday feels like a lifetime ago,” I said quietly. “Like, we were such babies then.”
“Isn’t that life, though,” said Henry in the spooky darkness. “We only live a certain number of days. I bet if you looked back over your whole life, you would be shocked by how much happened in a single day.”
“It all sort of blurs together in my mind,” I said.
“Because life un-spools moment by moment.” He turned to face me; his face was glowing, and not just from the torchlight. “So we don’t see how fast it’s going, and how much is happening to us and all around us. We’re lulled into complacency by this most amazing of things.”
“You make life sound so rich, so romantic,” I said. “For me it’s never been anything but drudgery and work. I had to work to put myself through school. I’ve had to work all my life.”
“You’re working now,” he said. “It just doesn’t feel like work, because you’re in love.”
I couldn’t help smiling, in a rolled-eyes, “this is ridiculous ” sort of way. “And who am I supposedly in love with?” I asked.
“Not who, but what,” said Henry, his eyes still gleaming. “You’re in love with this moment. With your new mission. This cave that goes on and on.”
“Henry, you’re an okay guy,” I said. “You may not have it all together, but you have a way of sweeping people off their
“You’re what?” said Henry, handing me one of the torches.
I looked sadly down at the ground. “Less rule-bound, I guess. I would never have quit my job before, but our excursion last night into the heart of the earth taught me a few things. Some things are more important than a job.”
“You are beginning to sound like me,” said Henry.
“Well, it helps that I have a few thousand saved up,” I said (in a slightly defensive tone).
“And you were being sexually harassed,” he said. “And no one should stay in a job where they’re being sexually harassed.”
“No, I suppose not. Up until now, I’ve always been so loyal, sometimes to my own hurt. Maybe I’m learning to take better care of myself, too.”
“In that case, maybe we’re not rubbing off on each other,” said Henry. “Maybe we’re just growing. Together.”
“Together,” I said, knocking my torch against his as though I was giving a toast. “I like that.”
This time we were fully prepared. I had spent the day buying all the supplies we would need in the general store on the mainland: two sets of ruhmkorff lamps, five containers of water, 200 yards of rope, a pick-axe, a small shovel, a miniature stepladder, diving suits, breathing apparatuses, bread, granola bars, and bananas (“that way if we get stuck in the earth,” I explained, “we won’t get scurvy for a couple of weeks”).
“We won’t get trapped down there,” said Henry. “And we won’t get scurvy.”
We made our way through the cave opening where Henry had fought the bear the day before—after spending so many hours exploring the depths of the cave, it was hard to see this part of it as anything but a foyer opening up into something much bigger. It was inconceivable that we had nearly been killed in such a small space; if the bear had attacked us now, I felt quite certain we would have just left the cave before engaging it in combat.
“Yesterday feels like a lifetime ago,” I said quietly. “Like, we were such babies then.”
“Isn’t that life, though,” said Henry in the spooky darkness. “We only live a certain number of days. I bet if you looked back over your whole life, you would be shocked by how much happened in a single day.”
“It all sort of blurs together in my mind,” I said.
“Because life un-spools moment by moment.” He turned to face me; his face was glowing, and not just from the torchlight. “So we don’t see how fast it’s going, and how much is happening to us and all around us. We’re lulled into complacency by this most amazing of things.”
“You make life sound so rich, so romantic,” I said. “For me it’s never been anything but drudgery and work. I had to work to put myself through school. I’ve had to work all my life.”
“You’re working now,” he said. “It just doesn’t feel like work, because you’re in love.”
I couldn’t help smiling, in a rolled-eyes, “this is ridiculous ” sort of way. “And who am I supposedly in love with?” I asked.
“Not who, but what,” said Henry, his eyes still gleaming. “You’re in love with this moment. With your new mission. This cave that goes on and on.”
“Henry, you’re an okay guy,” I said. “You may not have it all together, but you have a way of sweeping people off their
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