going to have a blast.”
I wasn’t so sure. And it didn’t sound particularly romantic to me.
* * *
I sat on the ground, sorting through the various things that were in the bag that Stacey and Jack had given us. “I don’t understand how this is going to be a tent.”
Griffin was still pulling things out of the back of my car. “How much crap did you bring, Leigh? We’re here for two nights, not a month.”
“Sorry,” I said. I had never been camping before, so I didn’t know what to expect and what to bring. When I felt like that, I usually overcompensated. We probably wouldn’t be able to use half of the stuff I’d brought and wouldn’t need it. But you never knew. It made me feel better to have it. I eyed several foot-long metal poles. “I don’t see how those are going to be big enough to hold up the tent.”
Griffin dropped one of my duffel bags on the ground. “I think those are stakes.”
“What?” I said.
“You pound them into the ground to keep the tent from blowing away,” he said.
“Oh.” That made sense. I set them down. “How do you know that? You’ve never been camping either.”
“I’m a guy,” he said. “I pay attention to things like tents.”
“What does being a guy have to do with it?” I said.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I just think that guys are more process-oriented than women. When I was a kid, I was interested in how to steer a car and in the gearshift. My sister was only interested in what color it was.”
I glared at him. “That is so sexist.” Then, “You have a sister?”
He knelt down next to the tent, facing away from me. “Not anymore. Not really.” He handed me several pieces of metal that were connected to each other by a stretching string. “You can put these together.”
I looked at them in confusion. “Did something happen to your sister?”
“No,” he said.
I waited for him to say something else. He didn’t. I guessed he didn’t want to talk about it. But this was the kind of thing I was telling Stacey about. I wanted to know about his life and his family. If he wouldn’t tell me anything, how was I supposed to get close to him? “So then, why isn’t she—”
“You want me to demonstrate?” He took the metal pieces from me and showed me how to put them together.
I took them back and did what he’d showed me. I didn’t finish my question. He didn’t want to talk about it. Fine.
There were two of them like that. They made two long flexible poles. When I was finished, I looked over at Griffin, who’d unfolded the fabric that would make up the tent. “Now what?” I asked.
He stared down at the tent. “I’m not exactly sure. Those poles are going to hold it up somehow, but I don’t know where they go.”
I crawled over to inspect the tent. It was bright orange. There were zippers all over the place and little loops. It was the most confusing thing ever.
“I wish we had a picture,” said Griffin. “I don’t even know what it’s supposed to look like.”
“It’s one of those dome-type things, right?”
“You think so?” he said. “Well, then maybe the poles...” He shook his head. “No. That won’t work.”
“Do they go in the little loops?” I asked.
He looked up at me. “Maybe. Bring one over here.”
I did. Griffin threaded it through the loops on top of the tent. “Yeah, this is right,” he said. “The other one crisscrosses it.”
I couldn’t picture it until he did it, and the tent suddenly stood up. Then it all made sense. I helped Griffin stake it into the ground. We secured the rain fly. (But if it rained, I was seriously going to get in the car and drive home. That tent didn’t look like much protection from the rain.) Then we stood back and surveyed our handiwork.
“It’s really kind of a small tent,” said Griffin, sighing. “Trust Stacey to try to push us close together.”
I was thinking the same thing but with excitement. I scuffed my toe on the ground sourly. Trust
I wasn’t so sure. And it didn’t sound particularly romantic to me.
* * *
I sat on the ground, sorting through the various things that were in the bag that Stacey and Jack had given us. “I don’t understand how this is going to be a tent.”
Griffin was still pulling things out of the back of my car. “How much crap did you bring, Leigh? We’re here for two nights, not a month.”
“Sorry,” I said. I had never been camping before, so I didn’t know what to expect and what to bring. When I felt like that, I usually overcompensated. We probably wouldn’t be able to use half of the stuff I’d brought and wouldn’t need it. But you never knew. It made me feel better to have it. I eyed several foot-long metal poles. “I don’t see how those are going to be big enough to hold up the tent.”
Griffin dropped one of my duffel bags on the ground. “I think those are stakes.”
“What?” I said.
“You pound them into the ground to keep the tent from blowing away,” he said.
“Oh.” That made sense. I set them down. “How do you know that? You’ve never been camping either.”
“I’m a guy,” he said. “I pay attention to things like tents.”
“What does being a guy have to do with it?” I said.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I just think that guys are more process-oriented than women. When I was a kid, I was interested in how to steer a car and in the gearshift. My sister was only interested in what color it was.”
I glared at him. “That is so sexist.” Then, “You have a sister?”
He knelt down next to the tent, facing away from me. “Not anymore. Not really.” He handed me several pieces of metal that were connected to each other by a stretching string. “You can put these together.”
I looked at them in confusion. “Did something happen to your sister?”
“No,” he said.
I waited for him to say something else. He didn’t. I guessed he didn’t want to talk about it. But this was the kind of thing I was telling Stacey about. I wanted to know about his life and his family. If he wouldn’t tell me anything, how was I supposed to get close to him? “So then, why isn’t she—”
“You want me to demonstrate?” He took the metal pieces from me and showed me how to put them together.
I took them back and did what he’d showed me. I didn’t finish my question. He didn’t want to talk about it. Fine.
There were two of them like that. They made two long flexible poles. When I was finished, I looked over at Griffin, who’d unfolded the fabric that would make up the tent. “Now what?” I asked.
He stared down at the tent. “I’m not exactly sure. Those poles are going to hold it up somehow, but I don’t know where they go.”
I crawled over to inspect the tent. It was bright orange. There were zippers all over the place and little loops. It was the most confusing thing ever.
“I wish we had a picture,” said Griffin. “I don’t even know what it’s supposed to look like.”
“It’s one of those dome-type things, right?”
“You think so?” he said. “Well, then maybe the poles...” He shook his head. “No. That won’t work.”
“Do they go in the little loops?” I asked.
He looked up at me. “Maybe. Bring one over here.”
I did. Griffin threaded it through the loops on top of the tent. “Yeah, this is right,” he said. “The other one crisscrosses it.”
I couldn’t picture it until he did it, and the tent suddenly stood up. Then it all made sense. I helped Griffin stake it into the ground. We secured the rain fly. (But if it rained, I was seriously going to get in the car and drive home. That tent didn’t look like much protection from the rain.) Then we stood back and surveyed our handiwork.
“It’s really kind of a small tent,” said Griffin, sighing. “Trust Stacey to try to push us close together.”
I was thinking the same thing but with excitement. I scuffed my toe on the ground sourly. Trust
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