Forget Me (Hampton Harbor) by Jess Petosa Page B

,” I retort.
                “I
won’t complain,” Will says with a wink.
                He
leads me to the beginning of the trail and reaches for my hand. “Might as well
hold it now before we are both sweaty and too disgusted to touch each other.”
                I
smile and lace my fingers through his, stepping beside him on the trail.
                We
pass several people early on, and even cross over a few bike and running paths.
I can pick out the tourists easily, with the heavy cameras around their necks
and the fanny packs around their waists. Excited parents hike across the trail,
while bored and grumbling pre-teens follow behind. We pass a group of local
high school students, all carrying large backpacks and rambling on about a
campsite.
                It
takes us an hour to reach the end of the trail, and when we finally break free
of the trees, we come to a cliff overlooking the bay.
                “Whoa,”
I say out loud.
                “Amazing,
isn’t it?” Will asks.
                I
wipe at the sweat dripping down my forehead. “I’ve never thought about looking
down on the bay from up here, and I wish I’d done this sooner.”
                “There’s
the marina,” Will says while pointing.
                I
can make out Davey & Sons Boating from here, and my eyes trail down to
where I know the cafe is. Everything looks so small from up here. I look out over
the bay and I can see the mainland stretching out to the north. I even spot a
few small islands dotting the water. I can see where the bay lets out into the
ocean, and from there the water is endless.  
                “Come
this way.” Will takes my hand, even though it is slippery with sweat.
                We
follow the path around to a flat outcropping of rocks. Will pulls a blanket
from the backpack and sets it down. We both sit and chug water from our
bottles. I drop the empty bottle onto the blanket and reach into the bag. I
made some calls the previous night, and snuck into town this morning to gather
the food I wanted for our lunch.
                I
pull out the first container, which is still warm from the insulated cooler I
borrowed from the restaurant.
                “Cheese
ravioli from Amore .” I set the
container on the blanket. “And grilled cheese and chili from the cafe.”
                “It’s
like you know me or something,” Will says.
                “You
are a creature of habit,” I tell him. “Thank God you don’t order something
different every time we eat out.”
                “Like
you?” He says with a grin.
                “I
like options,” I retort. Then I lean across the blanket and press my lips to
his, letting the kiss linger.
                We
dig into the food, and it isn’t long before it is all gone. Hiking so far left
us famished. A few other hikers wander up to the cliff, and one is carrying
climbing gear.   I pull my gaze from
the view and look around the open area. There are small piles of rocks
scattered about, all stacked in towers. I know they could haven’t formed like
that.
                “Why
are those rocks like that?” I ask.
                Will
follows my line of sight. “I’m not sure how they started. It feels like they’ve
always been here. Tourists and locals add to them, or start new ones, when
they’re up here. I guess it is a way of making a signature. Saying that you
were here. Some people leave rocks in memory of lost loved ones.”
                I
wipe my hands on my shorts and stand up. I find a flat, circular rock and walk
over to the rock piles, looking for the perfect place to put mine. I find one
and set it atop, careful not to knock the tower over. I head back to the
blanket and sit down.
                “Now
I’ve been here too,”