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“It’s a Dark Sky Preserve, in fact,” Colin said, cracking open the pull tab. “People come from all over the state because there are limits on light pollution. You can see constellations out here that you can’t see down in Vanberg, and definitely not in Denver.”
"I can sometimes find the Big Dipper, but that's about it," June said, sipping her beer.
"You're in luck," Colin said, rustling around in his bag. He pulled out a laser pointer and shone it at the sky, a green line shooting up into the stars. "They gave us these when I started teaching outdoor education in New Mexico - I'm pretty sure it's industrial strength, so I have no idea why they thought giving a bunch of early 20-somethings lasers was a good idea, but oh well. It's the best way to show someone constellations!" He pointed the laser to the Big Dipper, which June had correctly identified.
"There are some easy ones to identify most of the year," Colin continued, switching into educator mode. "I loved doing night hikes out in the desert because the air was so clear." He shifted his laser, "This group of stars is Pleiades, the seven sisters." Another movement to three bright stars in a row. "This is Orion's belt, part of the larger constellation of Orion, though you have to be on some serious drugs to see how it looks like a person." June laughed and leaned into Colin's shoulder. He took a sip of beer, finishing the can, then reached around June to get another can, opening it with one hand. June's stomach flipped at the effortless movement, a subtle sexiness about the way Colin's fingers moved over the pop tab.
"This is always the easiest for me to find," Colin continued, tracing a collection of five stars in a zig zag. "This is Cassiopeia. Clearly this W is a woman."
"What a wild story," June said. "Cassiopeia was such a bitch. I mean, who lets their daughter get tied to a rock and almost eaten by sea monsters? Andromeda deserved better." Colin looked down at her, a bit dumbfounded. "Sixth grade standards are ancient history," she replied, tapping him on the forehead. "I know my Greek mythology, even if I can't find them in the sky."
Colin leaned against the back of the bench, crossed one ankle over his thigh. "You're full of surprises, June." He sipped his beer. "I mean, maybe Cassiopeia was telling the truth, right? Maybe her daughter was actually more beautiful than the sea nymphs. Perseus is the real winner here, though - he swoops in and saves the day, marries the girl."
"Psssh," June blew out a noise that communicated her disbelief.
"Maybe Andromeda had a mane of red hair and a bump on her nose and hips that drove Perseus wild," Colin said, leaning in and pressing a kiss to the side of June's throat. Heat blazed through her, set every nerve ending in her body on fire.
"And maybe Perseus had a man bun that was ridiculously cute and wore socks and sandals, which gave him super fighting powers." Colin barked a laugh, then kissed her. Her beer hung limply in her hand as their mouths moved together, the malty taste of their kiss adding to the buzz that June was beginning to develop.
Colin and June stayed on top until they finished the six-pack and June had started to complain about getting cold. Colin reached into his bag and pulled out an oversized sweatshirt he had packed “just in case he got cold” but, based on what she had seen of his thermoregulation so far, he had packed it with her in mind.
The hike back down to Colin’s was faster, though both of them stumbled on the occasional rock. June, more than Colin, as she wasn’t used to drinking at altitude. June delighted in the wave of warmth that greeted her as she opened Colin’s door and was sniffed by Muir.
“It feels so nice in here!” she said, stripping off a layer.
“Set the heat on before I left,” Colin admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m going to change into something more comfortable and then I’ll meet you in the living room.” He disappeared down the hallway to his bedroom, and June tried not to think about immediately joining him, and instead headed to the MurderCouch, tucking her feet underneath her.
Oh for fuck’s sake, she thought to herself when Colin joined her on the couch. The man was wearing soft red flannel pajama bottoms and a worn college sweatshirt with a tear in the sleeve. She took a moment to admire his casual sexiness, the ease with which he existed in his home before she also acknowledged that she wanted to rip his pants from his body.
“You went to VU?” June said, recognizing the tell tale purple and silver coloring. “I went there, too! Moved here from Colorado Springs and never left.” Colin nodded as he sat down, Muir hopping out from some hidden corner to settle himself on Colin’s lap. Colin scratched his chin, then in between the cat’s ears. Muir nestled in between his legs, and began to purr. June suddenly realized she was jealous of a cat. What a strange turn of events this week had been.
“I started there,” Colin said. “I grew up in Vanberg - my sister still lives in town, shit, she even works at VU at one of the museums on campus. I had an okay time, but wanted to get out and try something new. I ended up moving to New Mexico and finishing up school there.”
June’s eyebrows shot up, incredulous. Colin looked like he was born to exist among the mountains and aspens, all long limbs and fleece and those damn sandals. Colin chuckled at June’s obvious disbelief. “The desert has its own beauty,” he explained. “I wanted something different, wanted to see what it was like to not have snow. Turns out I ended up really missing seasons. I worked at camps during summers throughout college, kept working there after I graduated, and realized it's where I wanted to spend this portion of my adulthood. I also missed my family and when this job opened up, I applied and moved back home.”
June’s mind caught on a phrase that Colin said. “What do you mean by that?”
“By what?”
“This portion of my adulthood,” June hadn’t ever thought of her life in that manner. There were defined steps in life - high school, college, then career (the largest portion), then retirement. She had always assumed that the career portion was one long slog with some bright moments until you got to where you could afford to quit working, which, to be honest, seemed like a date that would be eternally moving out of reach.
“I mean, I never saw myself committing to one thing forever. When something feels right, I like to chase it. When something stops feeling right, I reevaluate. As long as I feel like I’m progressing on myself and living my own values, I figure I’m doing alright. For example, I used to be a swimmer in high school, then I moved to the desert and became a rock climber. Then I moved out here and became a trail runner. Regardless of what I’m doing, I’m pushing my body and feeling accomplished. If trail running ends up getting boring or I get hurt, I can always figure out something new.”
June stayed silent, chewing over his words in her mind. Finally, she asked, “So it’s the same with work?”
“I know it sounds like a hippie cliche, but I don’t want to be a person that is defined by what they do. I like thinking about my life in a way so I’m a person that’s defined by who I am, my connections with people. So yeah, for a while, it felt right to live in the desert and figure my shit out. But now, y’know, my dad died and my mom got weird as she got older and I missed my sister, so I moved back home. Right now, I love working with kids and young adults, but it’s tiring. So eventually I might move into something else that makes me feel fulfilled. Or I’ll take a bullshit corporate job because I need money and that feels like what I need to do.” Colin shrugged. “It’s been working so far.”
"Nothing wrong with selling out to corporate America," June said, slightly defensively. "It'd be nice to get paid for once." June cocked her head and looked at Colin, took in his relaxed demeanor, the quiet confidence with which he had just casually shared his life philosophy. She took a quick moment to apply that same framework to her own life and did not like what she saw.
She studied English because she liked reading books in high school and it was the first class she took in college. She stayed in Vanberg after graduation because she knew the neighborhoods and had decent rent on an apartment. She became a teacher because an advisor said she’d be good at it and that thought stuck in her head, especially after her mother died. She kept teaching because that’s what you did - you started teaching, kept teaching, and either became a principal or retired at 65. She put in late hours grading and planning because she wanted to do right by the kids, but what else had she missed? All of her friends were teachers at her school. When, inevitably, someone moved or quit teaching, they drifted away, replaced by whoever had a classroom close to hers or the same prep period.
Yes, June loved her connections with students, loved sparking the knowledge in these growing adults, but at what cost? She trusted Kevin with her life, but would he stay connected if his husband’s job took him to a different town? A different state?
Who was she if she wasn’t a teacher?
“Hey,” Colin said quietly, breaking June out of her thought spiral. “Where’d you go?” He pushed Muir out of his lap and reached out to June, placing his hand on her arm and shaking gently.
“I…I’ve just never considered things like that,” June said in a whisper. “It’s totally foreign to me and I don’t know how to square the circle with it.” She sighed and ran a hand through her hair, shaking her curls in new directions. Colin said nothing, waiting in the silence that didn’t feel oppressive or compulsive, but supportive. His hand remained on her arm, firm and warm, his presence an anchor in June’s swimming thoughts. June looked up at the ceiling, studied a crack that ran from a corner to the ceiling fan. Finally, she said, “So I have a few thoughts. On one hand, it’s completely different from how I think. I mean, for me, if you start something, you finish it, and that includes a career. Like, if I quit teaching, what does that mean for the last ten years? Did I waste it?”
