I’d even been fine with it when Roger had gone out to the bathrooms to get ready. It was only when he came back, wearing a blue and gray Colorado College T-shirt and a pair of black mesh shorts, that the reality of it hit me. Not only would I have to sleep next to Roger, but I would have to sleep next to him while he wore pretty much just his underwear.
I gaped for a moment, then grabbed my own sleep things, retrieved my toiletries from the bear locker, and headed to the bathrooms to get changed. The bathrooms were located down the path from our cabin, and I walked down it, keeping an ear out for the sound of bears and trying to seem as unappetizing as possible. I put on the least-revealing sleepwear I had—sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt—then brushed my teeth and washed my face, taking my time, hoping against all odds that by the time I got back, the reservations office would have miraculously found another cabin.
But I knew this wasn’t really a possibility. I’d locked my things in the bear locker and was now trying to get myself to open the door and go inside.
I just didn’t want to. I didn’t want to have to sleep in the same bed with someone I barely knew. I wanted to be back home, in my own bed, with my parents down the hall and Charlie next door. I’d just always assumed those constants, so basic, would never change. I hadn’t even realized they were anything special at the time. And now I would have given anything to be back there again.
Amy! was probably having a burger right now with her football-playing boyfriend, and her biggest concern was that zit on her cheek that just wouldn’t go away, darn it!
I heard Roger moving around inside the cabin, and I knew I was going to have to go in eventually. I took a breath and opened the door, feeling my palms get sweaty. I saw that Roger had made the bed, and neatly, the top blanket folded down. He was sitting on the bed, on the right side. I set my clothes down on top of my suitcase and walked around to the left side of the bed, feeling incredibly self-conscious and wondering what it was that I normally did with my hands. As I got to my side of the bed, I saw that Roger’s T-shirt had risen up a little, exposing a strip of his back above his shorts. I looked away quickly, wondering what to do. Should I sit on the bed as well? Pull back the blanket? Wait for him to get under the covers first?
Roger turned to me. “Everything okay?” he asked. “I was starting to get worried a bear got you.”
“Oh, ha ha,” I said, trying for a light laugh but, even I could hear, failing miserably. “No, I’m fine. I was just, um …” I had no idea how to finish that sentence, so I didn’t even try, and it just hung there in midair between us. “Thanks for making the bed,” I said finally. “You didn’t have to.”
“It was no big deal,” Roger said with a smile. He stood and looked at me for a moment, taking in my outfit. “You look hot.”
“What? Me?” I stammered, completely flummoxed.
“Yeah,” he said, still looking at me.
What? Was this some kind of come-on or something? Right before we were about to sleep in the same bed? Like this wasn’t complicated enough already. “Oh. Um, thank you. I mean, not that you don’t, but I’m not sure that you should—I mean …”
“Oh, no,” Roger said quickly, and I could see that he was blushing again. “No. I mean—I meant what you’re wearing. Are you going to be too warm?”
Oh. I momentarily wondered if it would be possible to get one of the bears lurking outside to come in and kill me. “Oh, right,” I said, trying to force my voice to stay upbeat. “Um, I think I’ll be okay. I always get pretty cold here at night.” Roger nodded and stretched, revealing a flat strip of stomach this time, and I looked away again, wishing that he could have worn a slightly longer shirt. “Are you going to be okay?” I asked. “Warm enough, I mean?”
“Oh, sure,” he said, pulling back the covers on his side. Relieved to have some direction, I pulled them back on my side as well. “I’m always hot at night. Hadley used to call me the space heater.”
I walked over to the door, checked that it was locked, and turned out the light. But because of the white walls, and the moonlight filtering in, there was still enough light to see to get back to my side of the bed. Roger got in, and I climbed in as well, staying as far over as possible on my side while still actually being on the bed. I kept both arms pressed against my sides and looked up at the ceiling, acutely aware of how close together we were. I could have reached out and touched him without even extending my arm. I could feel the rhythm of his breathing. “Hadley?” I asked after a moment, figuring this was the ex-girlfriend—the one whose side of the bed I was now occupying.
“Yeah,” said Roger, and I could hear a strain in his voice. “My girlfriend. My ex-girlfriend,” he corrected immediately, sounding annoyed with himself. “She … she was just …”
I waited, turning my head slightly to look over at him, but apparently what Hadley was wasn’t going to be articulated. Roger sighed deeply, then tucked his arms behind his head. I took in the gun show for a moment, then looked fixedly up at the ceiling.
“What about you?” he asked, turning his head toward me. “Is there anyone in the picture?”
I immediately thought of Michael, but wasn’t sure how he fit into any picture I wanted to tell Roger about. “Um, not really,” I said. Then, thinking that made me sound too pathetic, I added, “I mean, there was this guy, but it was just … I mean it was mostly just … I mean, it wasn’t really …” I stopped, wondering where all my adjectives, nouns, and verbs had gone. Mr. Collins would not have approved. “I don’t know,” I finally concluded brilliantly. “Not really.”
I looked over and saw that Roger was now on his side, facing me, curled up a little bit. I usually slept—or tried to sleep—on my side as well. I looked up at the ceiling, mentally preparing myself for another long night. I’d started having insomnia for the first time in my life over the last month. I’d lie awake for hours before finally giving up and going to watch the Weather Channel. For whatever reason, I found it soothing—the preciseness of it, the way it essentially predicted the future. I liked that the meteorologists could tell people across the country what their days and weeks would bring. They were preparing people, letting them know that a storm might be coming toward them. And that way, you weren’t caught totally off guard and unprepared when it finally hit you. After watching the Doppler radar for a while, I could usually doze off for an hour or two. But here, without the seven-day forecast, with bears potentially hanging around outside, and sharing a bed with Roger, I knew I wouldn’t be getting any sleep.
“Well, good night, Amy,” Roger said.
“Good night. Sleep tight. Don’t let the bears bite,” I added automatically. It was how my father and Charlie and I had always said good night when we were here. I hadn’t thought about it in years, and yet there it was, just waiting for the right prompt.
Roger laughed, a quieter version of the laugh I’d heard earlier. “Right,” he said. “You too.” I saw his eyes close and figured he’d probably be asleep immediately. I felt irrationally envious of him—someone who could just drift off, someone whose thoughts didn’t keep him up. Someone like I’d once been.