16. River

RIVER

In a small clearing by the river, I built a fire. The sun was sinking into the trees to the west and the temperature was cooling. The Marine in me needed to ensure we'd both be safe and warm for the night.

With a few branches from the forest, I managed to construct a makeshift drying rack for Clarry's sodden shorts, shirt, socks and jocks. We even left his shoes to dry by the crackling campfire. Of course, his shorts took a little extra washing in the river after we discovered several soggy snickerdoodles in the pockets. After scooping out the mushy handfuls, I hung his shorts up with the other clothes.

I had found a blanket in the back of the pickup and Clarry was now sitting by the fire with it wrapped around his shoulders and covering him down to his knees.

I'd pulled my own shorts back on, but it wasn't cold enough for my shirt yet.

While Clarry warmed himself, I brought my rucksack to the clearing, then walked the trail back to the pickup and Clarry's ice cream cart, Bessie, and returned with his backpack .

The canoe was still a short distance away on the pebbly bank, along with the fishing gear and lantern.

My last job before the daylight slipped away was to collect as many decent sized branches or small logs that we could use to keep the fire going into the night. Cracks and thuds echoed through the forest as I traipsed through the ferns, breaking up fallen limbs from trees that I carried to the campfire by the armful.

When I was done, I stoked and fed the flames then sat beside Clarry and wrapped my arm around his blanket-covered shoulders.

"You really know how to build a fire, don't you?" he commented.

"In the Marines you learn to survive. I've had to spend some tough nights in places I never wanna see again." I kissed him on the side of the head and said, "This isn't one of them." I was suddenly concerned I hadn't made him comfortable enough. "Is this okay? Are you warm enough? Are you okay to spend the night out here with me?" I'd already asked him, and he said ‘yes', but I felt the need to ask again. He wasn't exactly the wilderness type, that had been established many times during our teenage years.

"I'm fine. This is… wonderful."

"But you don't exactly love camping."

He looked me in the eyes, and I could see he wanted a kiss. I gave it to him, and he said, "Let's just say I'm discovering a new appreciation for the great outdoors." He paused a moment, then asked me, "What happened?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean… what changed? When did you realize we could be more than just…"

I hitched a shoulder, not sure what to say other than simply, "I guess I started listening to my heart." I looked into his eyes and asked, "What about you? "

He hitched a shoulder too. "I guess I stopped listening to my head."

We kissed again.

His lips were as soft as cream, just like I imagined they would be.

Suddenly he asked, "What about the whole… being gay thing? Did you ever…?"

He didn't finish his question. He didn't have to. I knew what he meant. "I don't know. I never really thought of myself as gay, or bi. But I never really thought of myself as straight, either. There are so many labels in this world. I was ranked a PFC in the Marines, and although I experienced a lot, I don't want those things to define who I am. My mom was white, but I've never really called myself that. My dad is a proud Menominee, and hell knows I've fought my whole life against giving in to that."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm not sure. I feel like we're all a mixed bag of something. I feel like maybe I've been trying to shake my bag empty all these years, get rid of all its contents so I can start anew. But maybe I should have kept everything I already had inside me. After all, what use is an empty bag. Right?"

"I don't get it."

"Well, look at your bag. It's full of scoops of ice cream and sprinkles of choc chips and the happy endings from every movie ever made. If I looked inside that bag, I'd grin and say, ‘That's Clarry.' Maybe instead of trying to tip my bag out, I should just let people look inside and say, ‘That's River. He's not gay, he's not bi, he's not straight… he's just River'."

Clarry snuggled his head against my neck. "Just River. I love that."

I tucked my finger under his chin and lifted his face for another kiss. "And I love you… just Clarry."

I looked up to see the day hand the sky over to the night, and I thought about Manabush and Saw-Whet .

I reached inside and pulled a part of me out of my bag. "Say, you wanna try a little night fishing with me? We have to eat at some stage. The campfire can look after itself till we come back with something for dinner."

Clarry looked uncertain. "Oh, I don't know. I mean… you know how I feel about fishing."

"Come on. This is a tradition that's been handed down for thousands of years. I promise I'll do all the work, with the exception of one thing."

"What's that?"

"I need you to hold the lantern. I need you to be my light."