[25]
Desert Of Lions
"Let's go to France," announced Wade, his words almost drowned by the sound of him slamming the door. Skipper glanced up from the map which lay on the ground in front of her, travel journal not too far from reach. One of her legs was folded beneath her, the other hugged to her chest with knee supporting her chin. She glanced at him with puzzled eyes, not completely hearing his statement due to the door slam.
"Let's go? Go where?" She queried. He held Charles's leash and allowed his pet to stray a little.
"To France. Let's go to France, I said."
"But we can't drive there. There's an ocean." She gestured to the map.
"Maybe we could take a boat?"
Skipper thought about it, resting her chin on her knee again. "Intercontinental ferries can be more expensive than flying," she muttered. "Why is it you want to go to France?"
"Change of scenery," he shrugged. "Eclairs. I thought you wanted spontaneity."
"But I haven't been to Brazil, and that's closer than France." She pretended to pout. Wade frowned and briefly turned his attention to detangling the leash Charles was winding around his legs.
While it was true that Skipper had asked for spontaneity not more than a couple days ago, there was still so much she wanted to see before her time was up. For the sake of practicality, it made more sense to visit places that were within distance of each other, rather than hopping large distances at a time and wasting precious minutes on a plane.
"Dude, you literally just said the other day that you're bored and want to be more spontaneous. So let's be spontaneous." Wade looked mildly annoyed, almost tripping over Charles' leash. "Geez, buddy. One would think you've got ants in your pants."
"Maybe he does," Skipper observed, eyebrows raised. "He is an anteater, after all..."
"Oh, shut up. You're not funny," growled Wade, a sour expression on his face.
"Somebody's grumpy," snickered the girl. "I thought you liked it here in Mexico."
Wade scowled. They'd spent their entire time here traveling to different beaches and amusement parks, and his lack of sleep had caught up to him. Charles had also started to get restless, which was inevitable but inherently exhausting.
"Here," Skipper got out her phone and opened a search tab. "You need something invigorating to do."
A sneer tugged the left corner of his upper lip. "Why does that sound bad?"
"Because you have a dirty mind," she shrugged. "Hmm...let's see. Ooh. Looks like there's some sort of festival going on...kind of like a big block party."
"No."
"There's dancing."
"No."
"Yes. You can dance the salsa while eating salsa. Didn't you say you wanted to do that?"
He just glared at her, letting his breath out through his nostrils like an aggravated bull. "I am not in the mood for social events and dancing. I'm burnt out."
"Yes, your skin is very brown," she considered, giving him a once-over. "And peely. Should've worn sunscreen."
"Heh, unlike you, I prefer not to encourage cancer," he scowled.
"As if I had a choice, idiot! Don't make me throw this at you!" she brandished the travel journal menacingly. In that same moment, Charles succeeded in knocking his master over, and proceeded to climb over the fallen man with a searching, sticky tongue. Skipper covered her mouth with her free hand in an attempt to smother her giggles. It didn't work.
Wade made no effort to get up. Just laid there exhaustedly with a giant anteater on top of him. Charles stopped seeking food, retracted his tongue from Wade's pocket, and slumped on his master's chest like an oversized cat, blinking his beady eyes. Squeezing his own eyes shut, Wade stroked the anteater with shaking hands. It was all he could do to swallow the frustration that was pent up inside. He was growing more and more homesick as the days went by, and he felt awkward around Skipper now. If she hadn't hugged him that night, if she hadn't asked to be friends, he would feel fine. He wouldn't be any more awkward around her than he'd been when the trip had started. But she'd gone and complicated it by acting like she cared about him as a person. She was the one who needed pity, not him. He was fine. She was dying.
"You are such a big baby," Skipper remarked, standing over him and taking Charle's leash. "C'mon Charles, get off." She tugged gently, but the creature didn't budge. He snuggled closer against Wade, loathe to get up. With a huff, Skipper reached her arms around Charles and attempted to heave him off. "Get off your daddy, he's too tired and you're fat."
"Noooo," Wade complained, whimpering slightly. "Don't say that."
"Don't say what? Daddy?"
"Ew. Stop."
"What's wrong, Daddy?"
"DON'T CALL ME THAT!" He shouted, lurching up. His volume alone spurred Charles to get off, and the anteater cowered behind Skipper like he'd been a bad boy and she would protect him.
"It got you up, didn't it?"
"I hate you. I hate you so much and this is why we can never be friends."
"Go take a nap." She pointed to the vehicle, a stern look befalling her countenance.
"No. Give my anteater back."
"After you've had your nap. Go." She administered a light kick to his ankles and he glared harder, but obeyed.
"Don't do anything stupid," he ordered, getting into the vehicle. She rolled her eyes and shut the door on him, turning to Charles.
"Well, boy? What should we do while he's simmering down?"
Charles was wandering once more, winding his leash around her ankles. Immediately, she understood the assignment. "Alright, we'll go for a walk."
They'd arrived at Desierto de los Leones National Park just this morning, but Wade had been too tired to even consider hiking, so instead they'd spent the morning bickering over where they would go next. Then Wade had expressed his desire to go to France. With an eye roll at the thought of him being fickle, Skipper packed away the map and travel journal, then grabbed some water, Wade's camera, and her backpack before setting off with Charles eagerly leading.
Trees stretched skyward, providing ample shade over brown paths winding between their trunks. Fellow tourists smiled wryly upon realizing the girl was not walking a service dog, but a service anteater. She didn't care. It was nice to take things at her own pace, enjoy nature, and take pictures for her Instagram. Of course she got comments inquiring Wade's whereabouts. She ignored them. Just last night he'd made a remark that she cared too much about what other people thought, and she figured he was right. But then, did she only think that because she also cared what he thought? Where did one draw the line when it came to external opinions?
Shaking the thought aside, she shifted her focus to the scenery around her. Ancient monuments and lush foliage. She took some polaroids for the travel journal. Charles padded along happily. It had been a long while since he'd taken a hike, and it felt so good to stretch those anteater legs.
Skipper giggled as she watched the shaggy animal scamper along. He seemed so happy. People were passing, their expressions ranging from endeared to horrified, and she honestly couldn't give a damn. She was having the time of her life just walking an anteater around, visiting this beautiful national park.
They'd been gone a few hours when Wade called her. He sounded groggy over the phone, and she detected the slightest hint of FOMO in his voice. He wondered when they'd be back, or if she wanted him to meet them on the path somewhere. After all, they'd planned to explore this park for at least a day or two.
Skipper thought about it. She looked at Charles, who honestly couldn't be happier. She decided she was fine being alone with the animal for the remainder of her time. It was oddly nice to not have to listen to Wade's whining.
So she told him not to bother meeting them on the path; they'd turn around and come back so they could get supper. Wade didn't sound very happy about that, but then again, was he ever really happy about anything? She couldn't recall from the top of her head a time she'd actually seen him happy.
If he was so miserable, why was he even doing this for her?