The Bear (pt. 1)

The two men were younger than she, but not young enough to be called “boys”which is what she thought when she first saw them in the cafe near the trailhead. Their dress threw her off with the logo T-shirts and blue jeans rather than the hiking gear one would usually see. She thought they were high school kids, wispy, but with teen-like rawness. So, they stood out here, at the edge of the wilderness, like a pigeon or fat, city squirrels let loose in the woods.

The thought of the out-of-place creatures took her mind back to her dad. Once, on a long car trip, he had become so frustrated with a fly they could not coax out of the van after every conceivable effort, he had finally shut all the windows and gripped the steering wheel, staring ahead and muttering under his breath, “Well, have fun moving to Nebraska, Steve.” She and her sister giggled loudly enough for Mom to cut them a look over her shoulder, but they saw their dad’s face slide into a slight smile in the rear view mirror.

At a gas station in Omaha, the fly appeared from below a seat and made a break for it, briefly buzzing Dad’s head as he pumped gas. The girls laughed and waved, calling out, “Bye, Steve. Be careful, Steve. Don’t forget to write, Steve.”

Mom glared at them as others at the station watched the two young girls waving and yelling at the air in the summer heat. The ride had been claustrophobic with the ten-foot tall stalks of corn framing the road for the last hour, blocking the sky but for the sliver directly above them.

The gas station was a paved oasis in that verdant desert and the girls were exhilarated at the space. They quieted under her gaze and looked at their Father. “It’s okay. He’ll be calling me for bus fare home in a week,” he said as his face broke into a smile. He looked at their mother, “How about a drink, babe?”

Her face softened and the girls relaxed, moving in on Dad as he pulled his wallet out. “Go get two cokes and a bag of Funyuns and whatever else you can get for this,” he said, handing them ten dollars each, plus a five for the parental order.

As they headed across the pavement, they heard their mother say, “You spoil them so much.” They had heard it many times before and didn’t need to stop to hear the reply.

“So. I spoil you too,” he always said in response and she never contradicted him.

The cafe she was in today was a few miles from the trail and was their traditional pre-hike breakfast spot. The waiter remembered her from their last few visits. “Where’s your dad,” he asked as he brought her a cup of coffee.

She looked up, grateful for the existence of another’s memory of him. “He passed last month,” she said simply.

“Aw. I’m sorry to hear that. He seemed like a funny guy.”

She took a drink of coffee. “He was. He really was.” He took her order and brought the food and refills as she ate in near silence. The place was empty but for them and the two young men and, as she ate, she could feel them watching her. Their voices were low and she couldn’t make out what they were saying.

She looked down and saw goosebumps rise on her arm. Another vision crossed her mind from childhood of one of those fat, city squirrels scurrying around the lion exhibit at the zoo and the fear she felt for the small trespasser that day returned to her. The lions had sat languidly, watching the squirrel forage, their only movement small tail flicks. Life confined had taken away the rest of their instinct, making the squirrel the safest animal in the zoo. She glanced at the men again and one of them was staring at her, his mouth opening and closing slowly, allowing her to see he was eating pancakes. She shuddered and immediately regretted it when she saw his face spread into a grin in reaction. He said something else she couldn’t hear and the other one turned his head. His eyes were a brighter blue than she had seen before and she thought of all the “hot” mugshots of strangers she and her friends had giggled over in college. “Hey, he can’t cheat on me if he’s in jail,” one of her friends always argued over the laughing objections of the others.

“If you quit picking cheaters, they wouldn’t cheat on you,” they would all yell in unison. The memory was funny one, but all she could do now was stare into his eyes, gleaming in the cafe light, but with something dark behind them and, while the other continued to smile and laugh, there was nothing on his face but emotionless stillness.

She shook her head and looked away, catching a snippet of what the other one said. ‘…. got her looking …” but not attempting to hear any more. Her heart was racing, but she made herself sit there, taking the moment to regulate her breaths and let her feet regain feeling after she realized they had been tingling. After a few minutes, she drained her second cup and scraped the last bit of butter onto the toast, left payment on the table and walked out the door. She didn’t look back as she went. “I’m not a city squirrel and there aren’t any lions out here,” she thought. She reflexively patted her pocket and felt the shape of her father’s pocket knife for comfort as she walked down the sidewalk to her jeep to make the last drive to the starting point.. “Alright, Dad,” she said to herself. “Let’s hit the trail.”