ROXANNE

They say that more sibling relationships start in sleeping bags than on beds. There’s something liberating about fresh air and change of venue.

When Dad went to buy a better tent, Mom told him to get two. “Super sale at Outdoor World. Roxanne and Stevie need more room, too. They’re bigger.”

After we set up our campsite, Mom and Dad take off to explore and the two of us doze in the shade, my head on his shoulder, his arm across my Smiley Face t-shirt, me feigning sleep.

The folks’ tent is on the far side of the campsite, as fresh air and change of venue affected them too, I wonder. In setting up ours, Mom says that if we zip our sleeping bags together, they make a better cushion. She and her brother used to.

After marshmallows, I get into our bag before getting into my Turtle Time pajamas; Mom having said to bring warm ones.

Once in our bag, I reminded him about the axe-murderer who’s just recently escaped from jail and was last seen quite close to this very place. After he kills the people, he takes their gear.

“Yeah,” Stevie agrees, not wanting to appear uninformed.

“It’s not windy and the flap just moved,” in my best alarmed voice.

“Maybe an owl?”

“It sounded more thumpy, like a man’s steps,” signing him to listen. There’s always noise in the woods. “Probably nothing,”

When Stevie finally drifts off, I poke him awake, “We need to pee”

“Speak for yourself”

“I’m not going out there alone.”

“You’ll owe me one.”

“Can I aim you?”

“No way! You’ll hit my foot on purpose”

Again in our bag, I say I hear a perhaps bear almost right outside the tent. “Don’t turn on your light. It might see!”

“Night bears don’t like light,” he tells me but doesn’t turn on his flashlight.

“It’s smart to be like this to look bigger,” I advise, sliding his way. “He’ll decide we’re too big to mess with.”

“I didn’t hear anything,” he says.

“Shut up and listen,” and after a moment, “Listen to my heart, I mean,” pulling his head to a purple turtle to prove the bear’s proximity, judging from my heartbeat.

STEVIE

Is Roxanne trying to tell me something? If she’d really been dozing this afternoon, she’d not have stopped breathing when I put my arm where I did. Her nipples wouldn’t have come out.

She’s just moved my hand where a button’s already open below a red turtle.

I’ve only had sex with one person.

I pause a long moment before undoing the remaining turtles.

Roxanne smiles with eyes yet closed, reaches her knee across my thigh and giggles at finding what she probably knew she’d find.

“Don’t” I tell her.

“Hush, or they’ll hear.”

As she removes her Turtle Time bottoms, I forget about axe man and bear.

MOM

I’d sensed the bear that afternoon. Camping’s not being just about chopping wood.

I’d gotten ahead of Robert on our return, and loudly identified a distant bird to warn the kids of our approach.

Robert at last slumbering, I slip out, and when I’m beside the kids’ tent, hear the swish-swish-swish.

There’s not much to do but to hope for the best, returning my own tent to roust Robert for what I need myself, preparing to make due with a little less of Stevie.