Sketchbook of a Wayward Seer: Chapter 33
Puppy Love
A cappuccino, a cinnamon bun, an Argo roll, and a paper bag of undisclosed snack and lunch items.
Jason had the bounty waiting in his car for me, accentuating the upholstery’s chronic coffee/bakery aroma. I started right in on the cappuccino and cinnamon bun, grateful to have something to do with my hands and a reason not to talk as I sped through a quick round of self-rationalization, trying not to let guilt gag me on the gifted breakfast, reminding myself of hurt feelings’ ranking in the grand scale of earthly wrongs.
But the cappuccino was perfect and the cinnamon bun still hot and Jason beamed like a puppy on the way to the park, and I couldn’t stop sour from rising into my throat.
In situations with high potential for intense one-on-one lying, comforting myself by pretending I’m a spy rather than a sybil dicking over a friend had quasi-worked in the past. But with Caleb’s cuff on my wrist and Jason’s coffee in my hand, my mind wouldn’t let me cast myself as anything other than a villain fucking over a really good guy and, even worse, keeping him smiling as he sawed the branch out from under his own feet.
Maybe all seers really should be locked in the sybillary.
Maybe we do more damage by placing the dead before the living and the future before the now and fucking with things in a way they ought never be fucked.
Maybe we really are abominations.
The click of Jason’s blinker was the first sound in the car after we pulled away from The Argo. Not that we’d sat in silence for long. I’d hurtled through my existential crisis in under two blocks.
“Thank you for breakfast,” I said as we headed toward the southern Widow’s Run bridge. “You know you don’t have to ply me with baked goods, right? You’re the one spending his Saturday helping me.”
Jason shrugged. The movement had an extra cheery little bounce. “You like coffee, and there were some things in the cafe I thought you’d like to try that travel okay in a pack. Better than the cardboard wearing nutritional facts like a food disguise I’m willing to bet you have.” He glanced to the day pack at my feet.
I frowned down at the currently filled with less than delicious snack options bag I’d borrowed from Kate. “There’s no food in Kate’s house that can compete with The Argo.”
“If you think this is good, wait until Andre and I both bring food next week. We create an excellent balance of gourmet and cafe.”
My natural response wanted to be Can’t wait, but something in my gut told me there wouldn’t be a hike with a Jason-Andre picnic combo.
Not for me, at least.
Focus on the task at hand, Ella.
Distractions cause mistakes, Ella.
“I need to remember to thank Paige for hooking me up with a foodie crowd.” I set my cappuccino in the cup holder and perched my cinnamon bun on the paper bag in my lap, ready to start stuffing goodies into my sack like a gingerbread house-raiding fiend destined for a witch’s oven.
“Before we get too much farther”—he twisted, reaching into the seat behind him, grabbing a sharply creased, folded paper and handing it to me—“you get to choose our route.”
Printed on four sheets of paper then methodically taped together to make one big rectangle, Jason had created, judging by the fancy geology terms I didn’t know, a notated version of the geohazard map he’d procured from his dad’s computer.
Across the slope, areas flagged as potential rockfall or erosion sites had been marked with little crosshatches. The thirty-one crosshatched candidates had either been x-ed out or shaded in with colored pencil, labeling them as belonging to one of five zones—upper slope, south mid-slope, north mid-slope, base, and one zone reaching out onto the saddle between Gates Peak and the summit to its northwest.
Each of the zones had a little dashed line marking the path from one colored-in site to the next, forming a complete route, including where we should park Jason’s car to begin.
“Wow,” was the verbal gem I managed.
“I spent some time looking at our options last night.”
“You put all this together?” I traced my finger along our theoretical path through the upper slope candidates.
“Well…” Jason’s tone held enough guilt to distract me from the map. I looked up in time to catch him wincing. “I was really more of an assistant. And by that, I mean my desk was commandeered, and I got sent on a food run, but if you want to hit all sites with maximum efficiency, these routes make the most sense. If you’re up for it, there’s a way to connect the paths for the northern slope and saddle section. We can aim for covering both today.”
“Oh, I’m up for it.” Pride rose in my chest as I managed to not add let’s fucking hike for forty-eight hours straight and get this shit done!