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“Yes...” said Artair awkwardly. “Except she didn’t know where I was or how to contact me?”
“Huh?”
“I don’t have a mobile.”
“What about an email?”
“Or that.”
“Home address?”
“Nope. Sorry.”
“How... How can you not have any of those things?”
“I dunno? I just prefer doing stuff face-to-face?”
Luca shook, trying to channel the confusion into rational sentences. “Artair... I’ve been living in this tower for a whole month thinking that you wanted to be in that tent by the river. That it was some kind of plan. And instead, I’m now finding out that you were homeless and trapped and unemployed because of me! That you were soaked and freezing and literally starving because of me! That every night you went to bed shaking and hungry and hurt was because of me!”
Artair’s face sank in terrible understanding. “Luca . . .”
“No! How could you not tell me?” he said, tears forming. All he could think about was the long days of thunderous rain and the frozen nights of rumbling bellies. All he could think about was that he’d caused all of that. “Do you have any idea what that feels like? To be responsible for all that and not even get to choose?”
Artair enveloped Luca in his big, strong arms before the tears got any worse. He held him close, Artair’s beard rubbing affectionally against his cheek, as if his whiskers could clear the streams of salt. “You’ve got it all wrong, buddy. Don’t blame yourself.”
“How?” Luca sniffed, returning the hug on instinct. His arms melted into Artair’s softness, warm and gentle. “How could I possibly have it all wrong?”
“Because I did want to stay by the river. I could have turned around and headed back to the highway any time I wanted. Or explained everything to you and asked to borrow some food. Or used the radio and let Sandy know what had happened. There are a thousand fire lookouts across the country. And if they’ve all been filled with rookies, then at least one would’ve been staffed with some kid who flaked out and a quick replacement was needed. I could have found somewhere to go and a way to get paid. But I didn’t want to do that. I knew the cabin was down there. I knew the old gear was there. And when I saw you here, I got the crazy idea to just see how long I could live on my knowledge of the woods. I’ve wanted to try the smoking hut for years, but there’s never been time to set it up away from the tower. I’m not saying the cold and the hunger was fun. But it was exciting. It was an adventure.”
Luca shook his head against the neckhole of Artair’s t-shirt, soft and brimming with hair. Just a few hours earlier, the shirt had been his. Now, it already smelled of Artair. “You’re just saying that.”
Artair snorted. “Luca, I’m almost twenty-five, and I’ve never once had an apartment.”
That gave Luca pause. “Really?”
“Or a house. Or a mobile phone. Or an email address. Or any of that crap. Since I was seventeen, I’ve lived on couches and tents and trailers and taken jobs that’ve given me somewhere to sleep. I worked one winter at a Canadian ski resort, with twenty guys to a dormitory. I’ve spent three springs as a deckhand on a cruise ship out of Hawaii. I’ve slept under bars when they closed. I did a whole season as a ghost in a haunted house, just so I could sleep in the attic after hours. And all of that has been by choice. I know it sounds crazy, but I like that kind of stuff. Trying new things. Making up plans as they come. Challenging myself. Just seeing where the wind takes me!”
Luca did his best to process that. Even if it did sound a little crazy—voluntarily putting yourself in awful situations just for the thrill of the experience—the way Artair’s voice peaked gave it a ring of truth. It was the same excitement Artair had when running through the bowls of foraged food.
And if Luca thought back to each time he’d seen Artair, it was true that little seemed to faze him. Even that first time they’d met, when the man must have been shocked and confused with seeing someone else in his tower—of realizing that his whole summer was ruined—he hadn’t seemed bothered.
And that, at least, made Luca feel better. It wasn’t his fault that Artair went through that awfulness. Because Artair wanted that kind of challenge.
It also explained why he didn’t ask Luca for help sooner. Why he’d wander off into the dark, rather than ask for shelter.
Because where was the challenge in that?
Where was the adventure in that?
The moment was interrupted by a familiar voice.
“Hey Rookie,” said Sandy, with an audible yawn. “How’re the woods looking. Do we need to build an ark yet?”
Luca leaned back from the pillowy warmth of Artair’s chest. They stared at each other awkwardly for a moment, the voice of their current and former boss making it all suddenly real—how many times Artair must have stood on this very spot, holding that very radio, talking to that very person.
Luca gestured to the desk. “Well, go on.”
“Really?”
