To the Trees and Back.

I’ll race ya. It’s not a contest but I’ll race you anyways because it’s fun. It’s Create Your Own Fun Day. At first it was just, “Hey, let’s take a little walk, just to the trees and back. It’ll be nice.“ But then you start getting ideas, glorious new ideas, making it better, making it exciting, making it fun instead of nice. “I’ll race ya.” you say with an evil grin. You tilt your head and narrow your eyes and dare him to accept. Suddenly the face you’re looking at changes, everything in your brain is understood and reflected back at you and your heart starts racing before your feet are even moving. He doesn’t need to say anything but he says “Ok” anyway, tossing it out like it’s useless garbage. He grins as if he has fangs. Oh, the delight. ‘Competitive nature’ is such a polite term for the dirty under-handed way you want to take him down. Friendship and love are on pause. The challenge is dancing around both your heads and you’re so…f*****g…eager. You are 100% sure that the end of this day will see his sweaty body lying flat on the forest floor, dark soil ground into his cheek. You will feel him gasping for breath under your foot that is stepping on his back. His struggles and strains will travel up your leg and into your body like fuel. 

Fantasies are rich before the race even begins. Shake your head and focus. Someone’s stripping your sock off and tying your ankle to his. Oh my, you didn’t think of this twist but yes, let’s. Someone very familiar is waiting with a starter pistol nearby. Some distant part of your mind wants to hold it. Adrenalin spikes as you realize you’ll get to see him shoot it. Someone yells from a crowd that wasn’t there a second ago. The excitement is building. You’re close to your friend/enemy, the sides of your bodies touching like unyielding Barbie dolls that don’t fit well together. Your bare foot is touching his and your right pinky toe is fighting his left pinky toe. It’s a cute battle, but it’s the only one you can get away with right now. 

He smiles benevolently at you from his pedestal of confidence. You are composed of half love and half hate and it’s bleeding into him where your bodies touch. You look at the man with the gun, impatient. He looks calmly back, knowing what the end will look like, as he always does, yet he’s obligated to pull the trigger. He does so with a squint and a grimace of satisfaction. Your eyes drink it up like juice. But right before the shot, you scrunch your toes up viciously, jabbing your toenail into your opponent/partner’s foot, drawing blood. Benevolent smile my a*s. He’s shocked by your action, then shocked by the gunshot. You save your smile for the trees that are straight ahead as you take off. 

But it’s not good. It’s fun but it’s frustrating. You stagger along, so does he but he’s smiling still. His enjoyment grates on your nerves. Your frustration doesn’t touch him but the fun does double-time. You concentrate on the trees ahead. They look better than anything you’ve seen on earth so far. They clear away the brush in your mind. You picture wild cats streaking across the ground. You picture a shark denied your toes. There’s a bear come late to the picnic, sitting staring at crumbs. There’s a mysterious little monster now noticing with interest that its door has been left ajar. 

The game is torture but happiness bursts through you. Trees up ahead, hundreds and hundreds of them! You’ve already won but you keep going because you want to. You keep going because deep down you’re a joyful girl. You’re tied up and slow and clumsy, but at last you’re having fun. Then the rope comes loose and you both look down with surprise. He shakes his head at the shoddy job while you shake your leg free and run. He catches up quickly, still looking amused as the sweat drips down his face. The crowd goes wild as you reach the trees together and look at each other again. You wonder what it was that made you want to win so badly, instead of just enjoying the game. You wonder what kind of monster has a taste for stepping on people, and driving them down in the dirt. Because this is only a man, average at best, and you were going to the trees anyway.