City Girl

I don’t know how I ended up here, at the edge of a forest, under a cloudy brooding sky. This was not my idea of a perfect first date.

“I come here all the time. Nothing to worry about.” Sarah shouldered her pack, twice the size of mine.

My mind whirled. What if we got lost? Or broke my ankle? Or a bear attacked us? I’m a city girl. I like the creature comforts—soft bed, hot showers, sharing sushi with friends.

Sarah intrigued me. None of that stuff mattered to her. She was at home in the woods, on a mountain, anywhere people were not. We should never have met but, yay internet.

Her solitary independence attracted me enough to exit my comfort zone and agree to a hike in the woods. Which is how I ended up here in my brand-new arctic white, Columbia jacket, and matching boots. Sarah wore an old black beanie, a blue puffy coat patched with duct tape, and boots so worn they were molded to her feet.

I wanted to take a selfie for my socials, but Sarah insisted—no cell phones, one day off the grid.

“Don’t you trust me?” she said.

“Yes,” I heard myself say even though we’d only been texting for a month.

“Just a short hike?”

“Yup,” Sarah said.

By the time we parked my car in the empty lot at the start of the trail, doubts replaced my earlier enthusiasm. Before I could put my thoughts into words, Sarah jumped out of the car, shouldered her pack and disappeared into the woods. She walked freakishly fast.

For a moment, I stood immobile under the dark sky and contemplated my choices. Go home to my predictable boring life or be brave and follow her? This was a chance at something different. I ran after her. My new boots felt stiff, and heavy. I slipped on the wet path.

“Wait up!” The dense woods swallowed my words.

“Com’on, this way.” Sarah’s voice reached me from up ahead.

I caught up and fell into an easy rhythm behind Sarah grateful for every yoga and spin class I’d done. The forest enveloped us. Our footfalls thrummed out a meditative squelch. I stopped for a moment to take in rust-coloured leaves that dangled from black branches like tiny bats, filled my nostrils with a deep earthy smell. I lost sight of Sarah again and jogged to catch up. My boots rubbed, the burn of new blisters.

“Hey, Sarah!” No answer.

The path got harder to follow. My heart halted. I’m ok, I’m ok. I could hike back to the car, my car. I looked back--everything looked different. The trail vanished. How hard could it be? Just walk straight back. I had a compass on my cell phone… if I had my cell phone. What was I thinking? Why was I here?

I ran along what I hoped was the trail. Water fell out of the sky in huge rain drops. The ground rose, my toe caught under an exposed root, I went down, knees wet, palms slid on slick leaves, white coat streaked with mud. Hot tears stung my face. I wanted to go home, a hot shower, a warm bed.

An adrenaline surge pushed me to my feet, propelled me forward, eyes down, searching for the path. Our bodies collided.

“Whoa!” Sarah’s strong hands on my shoulders. “You ok?”

I looked up at her, nodded and then shook my head. “No.” I wanted to go home but couldn’t find the words. “How much longer?”

A moment, a breath. “Let’s go back. Weather’s crap anyway.”

“You sure?”

Her arm circled my waist. The rain picked up, cold, heavy, dense. Sarah pulled me into the woods towards a dark structure, pine boughs piled up against each other—a tree tent.

The scent of Christmas filled the air. Inside it was almost dry. We sat on logs around the ashes of a cold fire pit. Inhaled the faint hint of wood smoke mixed with evergreen. Dampness seeped into my body. Sarah pulled me closer. I leaned in. We huddled together for warmth.

She handed me a granola bar. We listened to the rain fall, watched it form a curtain at the opening of our tree tent. Sarah’s body-heat melted my fear.

“It’s beautiful,” I said.

The rain eased up.

“Let’s go.”

She pulled me to my feet, turned and ducked out of our sanctuary. I followed close behind until my body merged with her back, and we became one. A shadow blocked the way. She stood tall, solid, immobile.

Sarah reached to her hip, pulled out a can. The shadow dissolved into the forest with a large lumbering grace. She stood still a moment longer. I absorbed the slow steady rise and fall of her back against me, soaked in her confidence.

She turned to me, face bright.

“What?”

Sarah slid her arm around my neck and turned to face the woods.

“That,” she gestured to the forest, “was a bear. And this,” she held up a yellow can, “is bear spray.”

My tension bubbled out, laughter and tears. “A bear?” I managed to choke out.

“Yup, I just maced a bear.” Sarah pulled me in tight.

“Remind me not to piss you off!”

We walked back to the car arm in arm. This part of hiking I liked.

We drove back to town singing and laughing.

I dropped Sarah off with promises to text. A hot shower and I felt back to normal. In my soft comfy bed, I stared at my new clothes. They lay on the floor in a dirty heap, proof that I had taken a chance, tried something new and survived. The sound of cars honking outside my apartment was music to my ears. I was home, in the city, where I belong.

BIO: Denisha Naidoo is a South African Canadian physician, psychotherapist, writer, poet and songwriter.