Chapter 3

BE PREPARED - Boy Scouts of America

A sharp pain in Brenda's shoulder blade awoke her from the daydreams and memories. She had been propped against the tree for nearly forty minutes and the small charley horse that Brenda experienced was a signal that a stretch was needed. This would be as good a time as ever to hit the trail in was her thought.

Arising, she turned to face the nut tree. Brenda braced into it with her hands together and overlapping while she kept her feet a comfortable shoulder's width apart. Brenda forced the muscles in her back to slowly stretch as she pushed against the trunk. Tightening her buttocks, she stretched the hamstrings in her strong thighs and the muscles in her sculpted calves. Then, Brenda eased out of her spread position and shouldered her pack.

As she came upon trailhead, the family she had observed earlier was approaching the trail's entrance to make their exit from the woods. They looked so sullen with the mother and the youngest child in the lead. The older siblings followed on the heels of their mother and the father was the caboose of the solemn train.

As they passed Brenda, the mother gave her a sweeping once over, that ended with her firing another searing look of disapproval. Brenda smiled a forced cordial greeting and turned to the father who was sheepishly bringing up the rear. " That was a quick hike," she remarked.

He grinned at Brenda in return and offered as an alibi, " We took on a bit more walk than the kids could handle, I think."

Brenda doubted that the kids had called for an end to the hike. The man and his wife were the ones who appeared to be fatigued. " Have a nice one!" she called back to him as the adventurous femme started her own walk into the forest.

The woods were silent today, as the summer's cicadas had mated and burrowed into the earth. Their young would return to the surface in seven years. Looking at the changing foliage the venturesome lass noted that in spite of today's heat there had been some cold nights in mid-September. As Brenda walked, her mind roamed to the final events that contributed structure to today's foray, as they had occurred within the past two months.

The weekend following her encounter with the Old Man's phallic member had been a washout. Her son, Christopher, had gotten himself stranded in another state with a broken down car and no means to get it repaired or return home. He did have enough change for a phone-call, and it was his mother that he called. Christopher's directions were vague and it was not until late on Saturday afternoon that she finally located him. Brenda was far less than pleased to have her weekend taken from her so. She arranged with a local garage to have his car fixed and gave her son a ride back to their home.

On the trip home, Brenda asked her son to give her a ride and drop her off so that she could camp overnight on a future weekend. Christopher agreed with a promise, as he drew out a rolled sandwich bag that had been concealed within his shirt. Watching him, Brenda couldn't help but think of Shaggy from Scoobie Doo. Chris's tousled hair, his small beard tuft and his baggy long sleeved shirt created an image that solicited a tender mother's smile from Brenda. She felt her irritation with him dwindling as a mist before the morning Sun. Holding the baggie up to the fading light of day, her son began counting the tan tablets it contained.

"What's in the bag, Chris?" asked Brenda.

Christopher might have many minor flaws to his personality, but he always boldly told the truth when he conversed with Brenda. Sometimes she wished that he had held back some information. " This is called 'E' mom." Christopher replied. " You know, the designer drug called Ecstasy."

Brenda had graduated from high school in the late sixties and drugs were not strange things to her. Although she had been offered chemical stimulants many times during her adolescent days, she had always declined, afraid of the 'bad trip'. Brenda had smoked Pot twice with her girlfriends, but had gotten caught. Her father had placed such a guilt-trip on her that she never smoked it again. She had also drank a few times with the same friends, but fell out of their clique when she stopped smoking marijuana. In a mother's probing style when they are trying to sound like a friend, she asked, " Chris, what exactly does it do to you?"

"It helps you to ditch your inhibitions, and get all fired up, " her son replied.

"Why would you want to do that? " Brenda inquired.

"To enhance your sexual experiences, " returned Christopher, and he continued, " there are some mild, but pleasing hallucinations that accompany its stimulation also. Gee mom, don't you ever watch the News or Sixty Minutes? "

"Is it addictive? " Brenda ventured.

"Nah, you just take one, maybe one and a half if you've got a 'hard-head', and enjoy the ride. You will never feel a need to take it again, although you might choose to."

"Is it expensive? " she probed.

"At last-call in the right bar, the price can go to thirty dollars for a tablet, " volunteered Chris. " Most of the time, the price is half that much. "

"Do you really need to have all that much with you? " Brenda queried as her final motherly question.

"Well mom, I sell the stuff sometimes, to make ends meet." stated Christopher as he placed the bag back in his shirt and turned his gaze away from his mother, to stare out the passenger window. The young man had lost his last job two months ago, just in time for summer.

Brenda drove on in silent turmoil. On the following week, while washing some of Christopher's laundry, she found a baggie that held five of the small and brown tablets. Brenda took two of them, and placed the bag with the remaining three on his dresser. He never said a word about it.