February 19, 2005

In the Raintree Cafe, Laura and I spread the roadmap on the table, locked our fingers together, and made plans for next week. We’ll hijack her parent’s car Tuesday morning and disappear for four days in search of mountains, asphalt, wilderness, ragged cliffs, bears, tenderness, sheets of ice, everything.

“Let’s head towards Tobermory,” I said. “I want to immerse myself in nothingness.”

“Tobermory doesn’t exist during the winter,” Regan assured me earlier in the day. “It is entirely a product of spring.”

“Deserted urban spaces are always sexy,” I said. And after Tobermory, we’ll head towards St. Catharines to see lovely Zed.

“This is crazy,” Laura said. “So sudden.”

“I know.”

“I’m worried,” she said. “I’ve been the rebound girl too many times.”

For a while I didn’t know what to say. I kissed her cheek and she smiled. “I never want to hurt you.”