Page 76 of When We Had Forever
“At the beginning.” His voice strengthens, as if the subject change has granted him a reprieve. “You asked if nature has ever healed me, which means it’s done that for you. So what did you need healing from?”
“Losing my best friend,” I say, grateful for the straightforward question. I can do straightforward. “She died. In Costa Rica. When we were in tenth grade. And I wasn’t okay after that. Not for a long time.”
Silence comes through the line, giving me room to find my way. All the details Michael never asked for slide free—first in snipped-off pieces, then in long gushes. I tell Grayson about how much I adored Margo, how clever she was. I talk about the time we watched that Christmas movie where the boy licks a frozen flagpole, then rushed outside together to see if our tongues would really stick. I describe the time we learned to catch food in our mouths by tossing Cheerios across the room while shrieking with laughter. And our freshman year of high school, when Margo posted our school for sale on Craigslist, then lingered outside the office with me, eavesdropping on the bewildered staff as they muddled through one awkward phone conversation after another.
“When I found out she was never coming home, it was like someone had dropped me into the bottom of a well.” I take another draft of wine. The bold, dry sting warms my throat. “I don’t know how else to describe it. It was like I was watching my life happen through this tiny porthole overhead while everything around me was dark. I hid in my room for days at a time, not eating. My grades tanked. I lost a bunch of weight. I’m pretty sure my mom thought I was going to waste away.”
Grayson grunts. “Grief. It’s the most challenging emotion in the human experience, isn’t it? The hardest to deal with. You’re not alone in that.”
I pause. It’s such a simple idea, but...I’ve never thought of it that way. “Yeah. You’re absolutely right. And I was only fifteen, and I had no idea how to handle it. I was just spiraling, and my mom finally decided to pack up the car and bring me here for the summer. Try to snap me out of it.”
“And being in the forest was the thing that finally helped,” he says. Only the barest hint of a question mark softens the words, as if it’s not a question at all.
“Yeah. It might sound silly, but...it felt natural, being here. Like forgiveness, and recovery. Like all the things people talk about finding in church, only I had to go outside to feel them. So I did. Every day. And by the end of the summer, I was better. Not great, but better. Margo being gone didn’t hurt any less, but it was like I grew bigger and stronger, enough to handle it. If that makes sense.”
“Perfect sense,” he says. “You know, the Japanese have a word for what you’re describing.Shinrin-yoku. It means something like...‘forest bathing.’ It’s based around the idea that nature is therapeutic.”
I stem a breath. “That’s a thing?”
“It’s a thing.”
I swipe away the tears that sneaked out during my soliloquy about Margo. “How do you even know that?”
“I know a lot of things.” He laughs. “Which is pretty ironic, considering that when it comes to this whole life business, I haven’t the faintest fucking clue.”
“I don’t, either. At least that’s how it feels, these days. I just hope being here will help me figure it out. Help me put myself back together.”
“I hope so, too,” he says, and sounds like he really means it.
For a few moments, I soak up the sound of him breathing. “You don’t think it’s stupid of me to come here? To ‘forest bathe’?”
“You’re talking to a guy who’s built an entire career around chronicling nature’s majesty. So no. I don’t think it’s stupid. At all.”
We lapse into silence. The quiet settles over me like a blanket. I feel warmer than I have in hours. Months. Years, maybe.
“So, what now?” he finally says. “You’re going into the woods tomorrow?”
“I did today, actually.”
“Oh yeah? How’d that go?”
I reach for my cup again but find it empty. “Pretty well, actually. At least until the bear showed up.”
“Bear?” he says. “Wait.Bear?What bear?”
“It’s not a big deal,” I hedge. “It was just a black bear. She came into the clearing I was in. With her cub. But it’s fine. I’m fine.”
“A mama? With her cub?” His tone sharpens, a complete departure from the smoky ease of earlier. “What’d you do? Put your arms up? Make yourself look big? You didn’t look her in the eye, I hope?”
“Um...” I shrink into the pillows. Of course Mr. Nature Photographer Extraordinaire would know what to do. “Not exactly.”
“You didn’t run, did you?” His tone goes flat. “Tell me you didn’t run.”
“Okay,” I say. “I won’t.”
When I don’t elaborate, Grayson groans. “Really, Mina?”
I make a sound of protest. “I was too freaked out to think straight. I just...reacted. But it’s fine. She didn’t chase me.”
