May 21 - Thursday
Half a dozen rough patches of roadside accidents had extended their eleven-hour trip to fourteen, but it would be well worth the wait. Typical for any Southern Californian to complain about traffic, it was damn near impossible to do so considering the view ahead. For the last hour or so, Lane and Luna climbed north on the 101 Freeway along the shore past Eureka. There, looking over the cool blue waters of the West Coast, the sun irradiated their surroundings in a magnificent golden glow. Salty air, fresh pine, and the crashing waves were enough to rid anyone of even the deepest of anxieties.
Admittedly most of Lane's anxiety stemmed from the rumors Becca had been spreading about what Lane had supposedly been doing with his sister. The truth was they'd been doing nothing. Absolutely nothing. But, Lane sighed, the speed and staying power of truth was nothing compared to salacious gossip. As the tired sun continued to melt into the ocean, Lane forced the days of worrying about Becca to set as well.
There were more immediate concerns for Lane to occupy himself with. It would be dark soon. They'd need to make camp. They'd need to cook dinner. After all that, they'd have to haul everything out of the Jeep and cram it into a Wildlife Locker so deer, elk, or bears didn't harras them in the middle of the night. Of course 'they' would likely be Lane unless he woke his sister up. Luna had fallen asleep after driving past San Francisco, lightly snoring in the passenger seat for the last few hours.
Lane was grateful for the peace and quiet. He needed the time to think, to forget. Becca's roots still plunged deep in his heart, his mind, and his nerves. It would take time and distance to remove the hold she had on Lane. Fortunately, he'd put in quite a bit of distance for one day. It was now only a matter of time. But, how long?
--
Luna didn't come around until Lane had set camp and nearly concluded cooking dinner. She rubbed her sleepy jade eyes. She couldn't see the shore, but judging by the sound of the waves, they must have made camped less than a quarter mile from the ocean. Opening the door, Luna's bare feet sank into the soft sand. She pushed her toes through the fading warmth of the earth and exhaled in joie de vivre. Prompted by a sudden shiver, Luna walked from their Jeep and gravitated toward the campfire.
Lane looked up from the grill, "Look who's awake. How you feeling, Ursa-Minor?"
Luna grumbled, "I could have helped set up camp. You should have woke me up."
Easing the frying pan back over the fire, he agreed, "I should have, but you looked peaceful. Didn't want to disturb you."
About an arm's length away from her brother, she reached out and lightly clasped his shoulder, "Well, you remember how peaceful I was 'cause I'm going to be awake all night long thanks to that five and a half hour nap you let me take."
Lane kept his attention on his cooking; "Great. You can keep watch and make sure we don't get mauled by wildlife in the middle of the night."
A flash of fear sprang up on Luna's face as her gentle hand resting on Lane's shoulder turned into a death grip, "What wildlife?" Lane tried to shake her loose, but Luna continued to wrap her limbs around her brother like a boa-constrictor. "We talking snakes? There's no snakes here, right? Lane? Say, 'no to snakes,' right now!"
Lane was about to drop the skillet in the fire, "No snakes. Just bacon-wrapped dogs."
Instantly, Luna unwound herself from Lane and took a seat in the nearest canvas chair, "I'm a fan of bacon." With a huff, she added. "Hate snakes. Love bacon."
Lane readjusted himself and the grill, "Of course you do. Grab a plate and dig in."
--
After they'd eaten their fill, Luna lent her brother a hand in loading anything with even the faintest scent into the Wildlife Locker. Since they were both ten, their mom had taken them up to Yosemite National Park annually. In Curry Village, Lane remembered the tape that played on a loop in the visitor center; bears breaking into cars, stealing food, and running off into the night. The last thing Lane wanted to worry about was waking up in the morning to find Yogi had destroyed their Jeep over a stray stick of gum.
That was a lie. The last thing Lane wanted to ever worry about was Becca. Nearly two years invested in a relationship he was sure would be his last. They may not have been in- well, that word people used and meant when they said it. That wasn't them. Similar interests, similar majors, feverish physical chemistry; Becca and Lane were a perfect couple on paper at least. Try as he might, however, his willpower alone couldn't create a bond where none was meant to exist.
Considering the failure of his will, Lane was suddenly struck over the head with a pink fuzzy pillow. Without turning to face his attacker, Lane asked, "Don't suppose you ever give a second thought about where you went wrong in life?"
Luna tapped her index finger to her lips, "I imagine that would be difficult for me to do considering I'm always right. So, sorry, can't say I can help you with your existential crisis, Bro-Bro Cop. How about you turn your brain off instead and come inside?"
It sounded like a question, but Lane found himself pulled by the wrist and dragged into their tent. Tripping over the entrance flap, Lane tumbled over onto the air-mattress in the center of the tent. Big enough for a family of four, Lane had been willed their mother's Susie Sport four-man tent. It was a bit on the heavy side, but it felt like walking into the Tardis; much roomier on the inside than it appeared.
Luna dove after her brother onto the air mattress. He felt himself bounce up slightly in opposition to her downward force beside him. She was giggling. Wide awake. Not a care in the world as per usual. Lane was envious. What he wouldn't give to drop all his cares and run into the wild. It seemed the weight of the world wasn't nearly as burdensome to Luna as it had been to Lane. Even after their parents left them, Luna seemed to shrug it all off as easy as Atlas.
Another thwack of the pink fuzzy pillow broke Lane's concentration. Luna righted herself up into a cross-legged position in front of Lane. Once again, her loose silk pajama shorts exposed Luna's cotton boy-shorts riddled with stars. From behind her back, she presented a familiar white box and set it in between herself and Lane.
With a smile, Lane asked, "Oh, so what you're saying without saying anything at all is you'd like to taste defeat before you go to sleep?"
Luna shook her head. Her dark bangs fell down into her face revealing only a mischievous grin curling up at the corner of her cheeks, "I don't know what this 'Sleep' is of which you speak, but you're not going anywhere until I've tasted your surrender."
The game within the brick-sized white cardboard box was 'Unstable Unicorns'; an utterly ridiculous card game with the simple goal of collecting your own or stealing unicorns from your opponent. Simple premise. Deviously fun strategy game. Lane reached for the box, but Luna pulled it back. Raising a finger in the air, she blew her bangs out her face and declared, "We shall duel for the highest stakes, as per tradition."
Lane raised an eyebrow, "What tradition?"
Breaking her mock-formal character, Luna leaned forward with a more American Accent, "The tradition we'll be starting tonight," leaning back and regaining her regal French Cadence, she continued, "For every unicorn placed in your own stable, or stolen from another player, the opposition must withdraw an article of clothing."
Shaking his head, Lane protested, "Luna, honestly I'm really not in the mood for-"
