Page 31 of Restoration
“Oh, what?”
“I’ve been stupid plenty of times.”
“Like when?”
“Like my whole life. I’ve gotten crushes on guys who would never even look at me twice. Guys I never had a prayer of getting. But knowing that didn’t stop me from falling for them. Daydreaming about them. And getting hurt over and over again when my feelings aren’t returned.”
“You’ve dated, haven’t you?”
“Of course. Not a ton, but I dated Richard and Jake. You met them. And I had a couple more boyfriends before them—one in college and one in grad school.”
“So they were obviously into you.”
“Yeah. I guess.” When it looks like he’s going to object, I hurry on. “They obviously liked me enough to date me, but I don’t think any of them were really head over heels about me. And the truth is... the truth is... they weren’t exactly dream guys to me either. I dated them because they asked and they were decent and I liked them well enough. I’ve never—not in real life—been swept away.”
I sigh, my stomach roiling at that deep and depressing truth.
Edmund is clearly listening, but he doesn’t respond immediately.
Shifting on my towel, I add, “I sometimes wonder if there’s something about me that... that doesn’t fit with being swept away by love that way.”
“You think you’re too sensible?”
“No. Like I said, I’ve fallen for more than one guy who wasn’t at all the sensible choice. They just never were into me back. Maybe what I mean even more is that there’s something about me that makes it impossible for guys to be swept away by me.”
That admission is even rawer. More naked. I’m left feeling chilled and nervous, and I sneak a peek at Edmund to see how he reacted.
He’s got his head turned in my direction. His expression is quiet. Thoughtful. Not his normal clever humor. He doesn’t say anything.
Neither do I.
We stare at each other for a minute until I’m so antsy I sit up. “I’ve got to get some water.”
“Okay.” He doesn’t sound surprised or rebuffed or amused or anything but reflective.
I get up to take the last few swallows of my bowl of water and then go back to the stream to refill it.
Edmund is asleep by the time I return.
***
WHILE HE SLEEPS, Iget ambitious and experiment with options that Edmund might use for shoes.
Obviously we have nothing genuinely functional, but I consider sacrificing one of our towels. If I could tear it into strips, we might be able to tie on some pieces around his feet like socks.
But before I destroy one of the towels, I wander along the tree line and start picking off a variety of the larger leaves from the trees and vines and scrubby bushes. Maybe one of those will be strong and flexible enough to walk on.
Eventually I decide on the best leaves to try. They’re huge—longer than my face and almost as wide. And I can bend them and step on them and fold them in half without them cracking or ripping.
When I’ve picked out two good specimens, I crouch down at the bottom of Edmund’s towel and line up the leaves with his feet to see how they’ll fit.
They’re way too long, so I tear them off at an appropriate length. They’re also too wide, but it might be helpful for the sides to bend up around his feet, so I leave them that size.
Now all I need is something to tie the leaves to the bottom of his feet.
I walk the forest line again, this time looking for vines or long grasses, and eventually tear off a handful of different possibilities.
It takes a long time for me to sort through them and try each one. I finally decide on a flowering vine. When I pull all the leaves and blooms off, what remains is a thin, resilient vine that’s flexible but surprisingly difficult to break. I gather a bunch more, cleaning them up and tearing off the leaves.