Ch 1. Parking lot
Heidi walked into the deserted parking lot as the warm sky, full of birds, turned to evening. She took a deep breath, feeling the artificial chill of the office melt from her skin. And as she exhaled she felt her responsibilities drift off like dandelion puffs.
When she'd initially planned her romantic getaway to the mountains, she'd envisioned weeks with Steve. The longest vacation over their 20 months together had been over a long holiday weekend with friends but this would be her gift to them. It would have been wonderful.
But Steve had broken it off before Heidi could unveil her surprise.
"You never want to do anything," he'd sighed. He was bored and Heidi knew he was right: Heidi was boring. She'd been a quiet child, always daydreaming, and grew into a careful adult secretly filled to the brim with the fantasy worlds that she loved. But, for all her love of fantastical adventure, Heidi was always too cowardly to do anything.
When she'd cried to her best friend about the break up, Heidi vowed to abandon the trip and cursed herself as an idiot for putting down an expensive, non-refundable deposit on the cabin.
"Hold up! Why should you give up the cabin? You were as excited for a break as you were to bone in the woods, " Melissa rebuffed and began to count on her fingers. "You work like a machine. You never take time off. You're more responsible than my parents. You can't get the deposit back. You just got dumped by, and I'm sorry to say this but you know it's true, a guy that never excited you. You need this trip."
Heidi sniffled. "By myself? What would I even do for three weeks alone?"
"Call it self-care!" Melissa's positivity was infectious. "Take long baths. Read in a glade. Pretend you're an elf. Fuck a random hiker..."
Heidi almost choked on her obligatory breakup wine.
"I don't make the rules." Melissa defended herself. "You need a post-break-up lay and I know for a fact those mountains are full of hot, dumb dudes who make terrible boyfriends and excellent lovers. Listen for a drum circle and go fuck some rando in the woods. Or randos. I won't judge. Just be sure to report back."
Heidi downed the dregs and tried to sound sober, "You may be okay with one night stands, but that's never been my thing."
"You're thing hasn't been working out for you, has it?"
Heidi couldn't deny her lifetime of sexual disappointment. "How do you even do something like... that..." her voice trailed off as she very clearly imagined how she could do that.
"Which part?" Melissa prompted slyly as she topped off Heidi's glass.
Heidi dropped to a murmur and a mischievous grin slowly spread across her face.
""Fuck randos in the woods." The women exploded in snorting laughter.
After that night Heidi just couldn't bring herself to cancel her trip. Days passed, the sting of shame and heartbreak flaked off, and she only grew more excited. With a grin to her reflection in the window of her car, Heidi got into her aging hatchback and started to drive out of town, the sun setting at her back.
Ch 2. On the Road
Once out of city limits, Heidi called Melissa and let her know that she was finally off, albeit later than planned.
"Are you sure you shouldn't just leave in the morning?"
"I'm already out of town," countered Heidi. "I'll be there a bit after 1 but their cabins have keypad locks so you can arrive whenever. I've got an energy drink, it's fine. Just don't kill my plants or stretch out my clothes." Melissa refused to say goodbye until she'd extracted a promise from Heidi that she would pull over if she grew tired.
Heidi drove for hours yet stayed positively effervescent. Eventually she pierced the foothills, the air cooled and began to smell like damp pine and the last of her cell signal disappeared. The digital isolation was a selling point when she chose Dunbar Campgrounds. She followed the branchless ribbon of road that would lead her, inevitably, to her very own woodland oasis. As the car climbed higher, the road became flanked by walls of evergreen that became a tunnel once night fell. Her headlights cut the mist and she imagined wizards and elves in the woods, griffons in the sky and dwarves mining tirelessly in the mountains' heart.
As the hours peeled off, Heidi began to weave a fantasy for herself. She wouldn't be Heidi the Doormat for this trip. That name, Heidi, had given her nothing but grief as a dark-haired, olive-skinned child and put a target on her back for bullies. For the next three weeks she would be someone new, someone who loved to enjoy herself! She would be Alice, exploring a new world beyond her looking glass!
"SHIT!" Heidi screamed as she jerked the wheel, barely missing a deer. Gravel ricocheted against trees as she careened into a ditch. Once her hands stopped shaking, she dragged herself out to appraise the situation. One rear wheel hovered in space as the nose wallowed in moss and mud. She was easily still an hour's drive from the campsite and her wish for forced digital isolation now seemed boneheaded.
"Well this vacation is off to a great start," she mumbled to her car. It might be days before she could get towed and she shuddered to think of the cost. Heidi dragged out her backpack, dumping out the books and bath bombs. She repacked it with bare necessities (panties, aspirin, etc) for a long weekend in case she couldn't return before Monday. After taking some photos for insurance purposes, she dragged her hair into a ponytail and began her ascent into the night, on the ribbon of gravel that would lead her, inevitably, to Dunbar Campgrounds.
The moon was a slender smudge in the overcast sky. Her crunching footsteps careened into the mist, shocking fauna into silence. After such a long day, Heidi was on fumes.
Walking an incline on gravel is grueling and it wasn't long before her calves and thighs protested. Her eyes had adjusted as much as possible but the fog muted the starlight and turned the moon into a slender smudge. The crunch of gravel was swallowed by the fog that plastered her hair to her skin. After her extra long day, Heidi was running on fumes. Her bubbling optimism was overtaken by exhaustion.
