Fall With Me

backward, away from the barn door.
    She stutters. “Um, Jill? No, no, I don’t think so.”
    “Oh. I figured she’d be down here. You need a hand, then? How many stall you have left to do?”
    “Is there . . . is there a message you want me to relay to her?”
    Nice, Karen , I think, and try not to roll my eyes.
    “That’s okay,” he says. “I’m sure I’ll run into her eventually. Here, I’ll help you finish up. Where’s the other wheelbarrow?”
              Hearing that, I leave the wheelbarrow where it is and turn and run around the side of the barn, all the way back to my cabin.
     
    There’s no way to avoid him once lunch rolls around, though. I’m in the kitchen with some of the campers, making egg salad sandwiches. By the time I realize that he’s strolled in through the door, it’s too late to run anywhere, and besides, I’d have to somehow make it past him to get to the exit.
    Luckily, though, the campers clamor around him, they want to know if he’ll do archery with them later, a few of them want to go kayaking. Just the sight of him makes me simultaneously want to run away and go over and jump on him. At one point, he looks right at me, and I look away, quickly, but not before he gives me a wink, which, luckily, no one else picks up on. My heart feels like it’s about to beat out of my chest. I spoon out more egg salad onto the slices of bread.
    “How’s the sandwich-making coming along?” he asks. He walks over, his arm brushing mine.
    “Fine,” I reply.
    He lowers his voice. “I missed seeing you this morning.”
    “I . . . I was busy.”
    “Meet me at the beach trail later tonight.”
    His voice is so quiet I can barely hear what he says. I can see a few of the campers watching, straining to hear what we’re saying.
    “Okay,” I say finally, my own voice barely a whisper. “I will.”
     
    He didn’t give me a specific time, so I wait until it’s dark, and even then, I consider not going. Before I leave, I stand in the bathroom and look in the mirror.
    “There is seriously something wrong with you,” I tell my reflection. Wouldn’t any other normal person be ecstatic that this was happening? A normal person wouldn’t try to avoid the person she’d just slept with if she actually liked him in return.
    Finally, I make myself go outside and head toward the trail. He’s there, as I approach, and I wonder how long he’s been waiting. He comes over and touches my shoulder.
    “Hi there,” he says. “I was just starting to think that you stood me up.” He takes my hand. “Come on; let’s go for a walk.”
    We basically take the same walk we took the other night, and I can feel myself getting tense. He must, too, because he stops and looks at me.
    “You okay?”
    “Yes.”
    We walk down to the water and I kick my flip-flops off and let the waves roll over my feet.
    “I missed seeing you today,” he says. “I had a pretty great time last night.”
    I look out at the water but don’t say anything.
    “Did you?” he asks.
    “Yes.” I take a deep breath. “Of course I did. I’m sorry; I don’t know what my problem is. It’s been a long time since . . . since I’ve been in a situation like this, I guess. I don’t really know what I’m doing, if you hadn’t figured that out.”
    He smiles. “I think I’d most definitely have to disagree with that last statement, sweetheart. But, I feel a little weird about things too. It happens.”
    “Has it ever happened to you?”
    “Well . . . yeah. This is different for me, too.”
    “How so?”
    “I don’t need to get into all the down and dirty details, but . . . let’s just say I’ve had my fair share of romantic liaisons. But never with someone I really, truly liked, if you can believe that. Never had a girlfriend before. Never in a long-term relationship or anything like that.”
    “I was with Sean, and it was awful.”
    “I always assumed relationships would be awful, which was why I avoided them at all costs.”
    “Not that Sean was the great love of my life or anything, but I’d like to avoid any more heartache, if possible. It just seems easier not to be involved, you know?”
    He doesn’t say anything for a minute. The waves continue to wash over my feet, pulling the sand out from under them each time they roll back.
    “‘It is better for the heart to break, than not to break,’” he says. “That’s from a Mary Oliver poem. And though I’ve never been in a relationship