just desserts

Originally uploaded by kristalynn.

many years ago i went to new york with a girlfriend. i remember, as we were packing up, she found three rolls of film under the bed. "oh, HERE'S my film... i thought you had taken it."

i was affronted. "you thought i stole your film?"

"well, you're studying photography and all. but you didn't - look." she held up three rolls of black and white film. "let's go eat."

but i couldn't shake the fact that for a period of time, who knows how long, she had lived with the thought that i had stolen from her. those hours or days of distrust existed. and i couldn't believe that the universe would wipe clean her feelings once she found the film she had misplaced.


on this recent road trip, my travel partner (different one) and i embarked on what she refers to as the "death march". but when a local pulls out a guitar, sings to us at breakfast, and then suggests we visit some natural hot springs, i look at it like it's something i can't pass up.

"there are two hot springs. the one that's further down the road is a shorter, but more challenging hike. it's worth it. it’s beautiful – the water’s around 98 degrees…" he looked forlorn and his guitar fell off to the side. "shit, i wish i could go with you guys."

he was high.


our hike did not start off well. within the first 7 minutes, my hiking partner got stuck on a log. i walked back to see if i could help.

"i'm afraid of heights." tears were welling in her eyes. "i gotta do this on my own." she waved me off with her hand that held her gucci bag. a hermés scarf that reminded her of her fiancé was perma-attached to its handle.

“give me your bag,” i was trying to speak in a pleasant tone. “give me the bag and get yourself off that log.”

“no. the bag has sentimental value. you KNOW it reminds me of PHIL.”

“give. it. to. me.”

"go!" the tears were in full flow and beads of sweat had formed on her forehead.

i turned and walked away. i understood that she had to tackle her fears on her own. but i also understood that she may return to the car.

about five minutes later i sat by the river's edge to see if she would come. i had crossed two guys who were leaving the hot springs. they informed me that it was “only a few minutes further”.

not long after she showed up, walking stick in hand.

"good!" i exclaimed. i was happy to see her. i told her that, due to the path ending, i wasn’t 100% sure where to go.

"maybe we need to cross the river? there's a path over there."

there was a path, but it was not the right thing to do. we managed to turn a 15-minute hike into a 2-hour "white water struggle". i won't get into too much detail, but i will mention that there was a moment when we had to empty our bags (gucci and otherwise) to take a personal inventory of what food might sustain us through the night (2 mints, 4 crackers, and less than 500ml of water). the river was also re-traversed, we held onto logs so that the current didn't take us away. we clambered over snowbanks, portions of pants were lost, one head was knocked on mossy rock, and there was a minor urination in one’s pants (or portion thereof).


later that evening, once settled into our log cabin with our bottles of champagne and vodka, my travel partner confessed to me that there was a moment where i annoyed her, when she quite possibly could have hated me: as i "floated oh-so-easily" along the path. she mocked me, called me “nature-girl” and whatnot.

i knew the damage was done. once someone becomes incensed by you, or thinks you’ve stolen from them, the constitution of that relationship is changed.

i looked over at her gucci bag. it was covered in mud.

her feelings were warranted.