| Oakleaves Chapter 4
I physically felt two things in the next two seconds. Number one would
be a rustling beside me. The second would be his sweet lips upon mine. I
was shocked. I had my suspicions, recently more than ever. But this.
This was not like him. It didn’t take me long to respond to it. However,
it wasn’t the response that I intended.
He caught me by surprise and I pushed him away. He took it to heart.
He sat bolt upright and started to extricate himself from the sleeping bag.
Not an easy task when in a hurry. "I’m sorry, I just though. Oh, God,
what have I" I truly felt sorry for him when he started to cry.
I unzipped my sleeping bag enough to reach him. He was nearly out when
I yanked him down and I lay half on top and half off. "Shh." With that I
kissed him. It wasn’t a long one, just one to say that your feelings are
"Huh?" he questioned.
"I love you Noah."
"You caught me by surprise, it was a reflex."
"Oh." He was silent. I was mere inches from his face. Again he started
to cry. I reached up and kissed them away.
"Shh, it’s ok." He smiled at my comment.
"I know, I’m just happy." I smiled too. Then, I bent down for another
kiss on his sweet lips, and another, and another. I kissed the flesh of
his neck, then rolled over into my sleeping bag.
"Does this mean that we are an item?"
"I’d like that, sure."
He pulled closer and snuggled up next to me. We spooned each other with
the sleeping bags to separate us. "I’d like that too."
It is hard to describe the feeling of having someone next to you, other
than good. I can only imagine what it is like to have him next to me
without any walls. My hand around his chest, chest to back. God it must
feel great. With that lingering thought, I fell asleep.
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The next morning we still retained our positions, me behind him. We
woke at the crack of dawn. Today, we would make camp, permanently. We had
pancakes from breakfast. Not with syrup and butter. With peanut butter.
It was actually pretty good, surprisingly.
We quickly tossed our stuff in the canoe and shoved off. We paddled
down a small river and entered Basswood Lake. This was the last of the
titans. Then we move into the weekdays.
Noah again pulled off his about 10:00 in the sun. I know why he
did it too. He knew what it would do to me. I did the same, but it
wouldn’t have the same affect since he was facing the opposite direction.
The lake was peaceful and quiet. Against my better judgment, the
Anderson’s decided to catch dinner early. We pulled out the fishing rods,
and the worms that were stowed away without my knowledge.
We didn’t fish long. Mr. and Mrs. Anderson continually yelled us for
disrupting the fish. Even so we caught three. It will have to do. We
hooked them then dragged them to Brook’s parents’ canoe.
I spent most of the day is silent contemplation. ‘I had a boyfriend,’
was a phrase that I said to myself over and over again. That fact
completely shocked my system. I felt great.
‘What were the implications though. Ostracized, humiliated. These were
all possibilities. All of which I didn’t like. I couldn’t imagine what it
was like to be called a fag wherever I go. It would and I would not
be able to function. No matter how much it we cannot display our
The lake eventually came to a point when it cascaded into another falls.
This one was about two feet long and had a drop of like a foot and a half.
Even so, there was a path, so we took it. I flipped the boat up onto my
shoulders and set off. Noah was right behind me. The path was short,
about twenty yards or so.
Like every other time, I plunged my canoe into the lake. This time it
was different. We were on a different turf now. We have officially exited
the country. You see, the BWCA is in both Canada and the United States.
As I set my canoe into Monday Bay we entered the Canada side. This side’s
rules are a lot stricter in some aspects but they do have one advantage.
No designated areas. I guess it would be fair to mention that last
nights camp was illegal. With the sites come campsites. Well on
this side, you can pee, poop, and sleep wherever you want.
As we shoved off the wind picked up a bit and the waves became choppy.
This made things a little difficult. The inlet to the next bay, Tuesday
Bay, was a straight shot across Monday Bay.
"We have two options," Mr. Anderson called out. "One, take a detour
around the shore of the lake. Or two, straight through. This will mean
that we will have to rough out the waves."
This statement was echoed by a number of "Two"’s.
Simpler said than done. We were instructed to rock with the waves.
This was to keep from falling in. ‘Great,’ was my first thought. The lake
looked to be a mile across.
"Are there going to be anymore portages?" I asked.
"No!!" Mr. Anderson called back.
"Noah," I said softly.
He got a wide grin on his face. It was priceless. "Yes, sir," he
saluted. With that, he turned and dug his paddle deep into the water. I
did the same.
The waves were worse than we expected and our pace slowed, but still we
blew the others right out of the water. When we reached about the middle
of the lake my arms were tired. "Switch!!" I casually tossed the paddle
between hands and started again. Giving my well used arm a rest. The
waves were tossing us about, but I kept the boat pointed in the right
direction mostly. We had to shift our weight from left to right all the
time so we didn’t loose the balance in the boat.
We coasted into the inlet which led to the next bay, where we stopped
and rested. The boat came to complete stop in the calm water. With small
strokes I turned our canoe lengthwise so we could see our oncoming
companions. Which after, what seemed like an hour, came up along side us.
"Finally!" I yelled.
"That was uncalled for," Mr. Anderson said.
"Yea, but a lot of fun."
"Argg, come on, lets go." He sounded just a bit pissed to me.
We paddled though two other bays that took on the same properties.
Waves, high and mighty. It was little fun, but at the same time, a lot of
fun. Three canoes passed into the canal that separates Wednesday and
Thursday bay. Here is where we found home.
We pulled the canoes to a stop about ten yards from a small island. The
island was spectacular, in that it had everything. There was a peninsula,
a small one, which jutted out almost twenty feet from the mainland. The
mainland was covered with trees except for the area closest to us, which
had a flat grass spot, perfect for tents. It had rocky flat space for
everything else including a campfire. It was perfect.
"Should we live here?" Mrs. Anderson asked us.
"Yea," I said. Everyone else agreed.
The canoes crashed upon the shore with many a cheer from all of us.