I blink.
Linda stares, eyes wide. “You can’t be serious?”
“I’m fuckin’ very serious. You do it, or you don’t eat tonight. This retreat isn’t just about having fun and relaxing, it’s about leavin’ a better person, and the two of you aren’t actin’ like good people. Enzo, get some paper and a pen. You have two hours before you’re going to present the answers to us.”
I open my mouth to argue, but the look Rhett gives me stops me in my tracks.
I know when to close my mouth, and right now is that moment.
Enzo leaves and comes back with a piece of paper and a pen each, then some book about berries and wild foods for us to lean on.
“Have fun, ladies,” Rhett grins.
Well fuck me.
This is going to be a barrel of fun.
Not.
13
Linda and I stare at the water for at least half an hour, both of us with our arms crossed, both of us not wanting to do or say a damned thing. The only problem with that is, I know that Rhett is serious, and he won’t let us eat or even come back to camp until we do it. I, for one am starving, and I don’t want to sit here all night, so I decide to be the bigger person and start this horrid, damned conversation.
“Look,” I mutter, “you don’t like me, I don’t like you, but we’re not going to enjoy the rest of our day if we don’t do this. So, let’s just get it over and done with.”
Linda looks at me, her eyes narrowed. “I’m not interested in doing anything with you. I couldn’t care less about your life or you.”
Well.
Moody.
“Listen, Linda, if you think I care about you either, you’re sadly mistaken. I just don’t feel like sitting here for the rest of the damned night. So, can you grow up for five seconds so we can answer the damned questions and I can get the hell away from you?”
She scowls. “Fine by me. The less time I have to sit by you, the better.”
“Wonderful,” I mutter. “Do you want to go first, or shall I?”
“I’ll be asking the questions,” she snaps. “What is one thing you would change about yourself and why?”
I exhale with an eye roll. What a basic question. Are we supposed to be talking about looks?
“My legs, they’re too fat,” I mumble.
Linda glares at me. “Even I’m not so daft as to know he’s talking about something deeper. Your personality, something that you wish was different.”
Fuck.
I know Rhett isn’t going to accept half-assed answers, so I know I’m going to have to grow up and answer this properly. So, I pretend for a second it isn’t Linda I’m sitting next to and someone else, like Faye. I think on the question, never having actually asked myself something like that.
“I wish I was kinder. I’ve always been defensive; I’ve always been quick to react, and I don’t find enjoyment in being around a lot of people.”
Linda stares at me. “Why?”
“Why what?” I mutter.
“Why do you want to change that about yourself?”
“Because it’s not a good trait. I know it, yet I find myself unable to change.”
Linda writes something down, and then asks the next question – What are you most afraid of in this world?
The answer is simple.
“Losing my son. I lose sleep at night at the thought of losing my son.”
“Is there a reason for that?” Linda asks, her eyes just a smidge softer now.
“I lost my sister to a drunk driver as a child, I watched her die. I never ever want to go through what my parents went through –I never want to feel that kind of pain. My son is my world.”
“I’m sorry,” Linda says, and for the first time since we’ve been here, her voice is genuine.
I shrug, a little uncomfortable.
I don’t like baring my soul on a good day, let alone to someone I don’t like.
“What makes you the happiest?” Linda asks.
“That’s easy, also my son. He brings a light to my life I can’t explain. Even on my darkest days, he makes me laugh.”
Linda nods, like she knows exactly how that feels.
Of course she does, she’s a mom.
She hesitates on the next question, and then mutters, “What about the other person makes you angry, and why?”
I don’t hesitate on this one. “You judged me, without knowing me, without even trying. You experienced something, and you assumed you knew who I was and because of that, you were snarky toward me. You never gave me a chance, and I don’t appreciate people who assume to know someone without so much as an effort.”
Linda’s cheeks grow red, and she writes on the paper, but, surprisingly, she doesn’t argue.
“We can’t really do the next question until I’ve answered mine,” Linda says.
I nod and take my notebook out.