Little Blackbird

There’s no way in hell. Olivia’s eyes followed the twists and turns of the boulder-bordered mountain path, her ponytail tickling the back of her craned neck. He expects me to walk that thing? Like I’m some sort of mountaineer?!

The mountain was entirely unlike the hill she’d envisioned, monstrous evergreens casting shadows across the rocky soil, small patches of sun scattered sporadically. She felt silly in her neon sneakers, bare arms chilled by the whipping breeze. She was severely unprepared.

It’s your own fault, Liv, screwing things up like always, she silently scolded herself, shooting him an uncertain smile.

When he’d asked if she liked to hike, she’d...embellished. “Love hiking!” she’d texted, “I hit the trails as much as I can!”. It was an innocent white lie, her guiltlessness riding on memory of post-brunch, mimosa fuelled treks with friends; the “hikes”, on trails so flat, they often got away with wearing open-toed sandals. This technicality remained issueless‒ until that morning. After several weeks of flirtatious “getting to know you” texts, Alex had finally revealed their surprise first date: an evening picnic hike. Cue the panicked, last minute run to a discount shoe store.

“I have a confession,” she said, turning to face him. She realized it was his impressive gear that troubled her more than the mountain itself. He wore a long, black backpack (their picnic presumably tucked inside), and his hiking boots were expensive and worn-in, scuffed and creased with movement. The soles of her own sneakers were noticeably bright and new, a thin sweater tucked around her waist reading more like a yoga outfit, than one meant for an uphill excursion. Ironically, she’d never done yoga in her life. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“What’s up!” His smile dimpled with sincerity, Olivia’s pulse quickening as she untied the sweater, pulling her arms through. Despite the intimidation of attire, he seemed entirely unpretentious, his body language loose and welcoming. They’d driven nearly an hour to the mountain, his uninhibited chatter calming any panic she had for the duration of the ride; his charm had smoothed any momentary silences with brilliant conversation starters, unawkward and unforced, as though they’d shared similar banter for years. They’d been paired by mutual friends, and so far, Olivia could see why. She was elated to see their humours coincide, like honey to tea, swirled marvelously by the time they arrived at the mountain.

“Promise not to hate me.” His smile had calmed her, urging her to find humour in the situation. She pretended to be serious. “I like hiking. I do.” She paused. “But...” Olivia watched his mouth twitch into a wider smile. “I think I hyped up my experience...a little.” He was fully grinning now, arms folded.

“Olivia!” His voice dripped with playfulness. “There goes my plan to picnic at the peak!”

“Hah!” She scrunched her nose at him, uncertain if this was a partial, veiled truth‒ was he actually disappointed? His toothy grin shifted to a thoughtful smile.

"Nah, there’s a fork in the path pretty early on, heads to a beginner’s trail. Should get us there faster, actually,” he said matter of factly. She untensed her shoulders.

“Where’s ‘there’?”

His boyish grin returned. “It’s a surprise. Not far, I promise.” He paused to adjust the straps of his backpack, stretching his arm out in gesture for her hand. “Once we’re there, I have a bottle of merlot with your name on it.”

Her cheeks became warm against the cool wind, her hand in his, their fingers folding seamlessly. “We could always pour a glass before the hike,” she suggested.

He laughed heartily, leading her to the base of the trail. She was only half-joking, but his laughter was sweet to her ears.

* * *

Olivia felt the cushion of grass thinning underfoot until stones popped beneath their shoes. The shadow of pines shaded them from the harsh wind, dulled, feathery strokes cooling her flushed chest. Her feet ached almost instantly, the shoe salesman’s praise of the flash sale sneakers clearly‒ironically‒an embellishment, resulting in what Olivia presumed to be, a delayed karmic slap. Great for uphill hikes, my ass, she thought. To say the shoes were not equipped for the jagged terrain would be an understatement, the soles flimsy and thin, rocks poking her toes and heels. She winced every few steps, her eyes fixed to ground in watch of pointed branches and stones, her attention only turning to Alex’s infectious excitement.

He pointed out plants in their path, listing their scientific names with a goofy, crooked smile, laughing at Olivia’s butchered attempts to echo his Latin. His eyes darted around with childlike eagerness, confident and giddy to show her the various spotted mushrooms and drooped greenery. Their hands remained folded together, his gentle squeezing encouraging her to keep pace. While his long legs carried him forward effortlessly, her own stride was stretched, mixed with the occasional, quick, hop-like steps. C’mon girl, no slowing down now.

Despite the mild discomfort, she was having a marvelous time. The surrounding shrubbery had tightened their path, enclosing them, and she welcomed the closeness.

“It’s beautiful out here‒oh!” she exclaimed, stopping to swat at a sudden cloud of tiny, flying insects. She slapped her arm, itching where she’d struck.

“Hold on,” he said, sliding his hand free from hers. She watched his bicep flex in reach of the backpack’s side pocket. “It’s in here somewhere.”

Olivia shifted her weight from foot to foot, using the moment to even her breathing. She took pleasure in the mud that had caked onto her shoes, camouflaging their brightness. Alex lifted a tall, thin cylinder, shaking it in the air like a can of spray paint.

“Arms out.”

She stood like a lowercase “t”, the bug spray misting her arms and torso.

“This stuff reminds me of camping,” she said, their stride continued. She brushed her hand against his, hinting for him to take it. “The smell, I mean.”

“I know, right? Me and my dad used to‒Olivia!”

She yelped, immediately mortified by the throaty squawk, her knees buckling. She’d forgotten to watch the trail, fixated on the air between their hands, tripping over a large, decomposing tree branch. Her ankle had twisted like a corkscrew.

“Ow, ow, ow.” She held her ankle, hunched over awkwardly, the branches of a plant prickling her back. Liv, you clumsy‒

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!" He crouched, gently folding his hands over hers. “I should’ve watched the trail, I was just‒” He clenched his jaw. “Do you think you can walk on it?” His eyes were wide with concern, pupils blending to hickory iris. ‒idiot. You idiot!

Her face reddened, nervous laughter building and erupting from her chest.

“Don’t apologize!” she cried, laughter replacing the screams she would’ve preferred. He cocked his head, bewildered and unsure, lips pursed and cautious. I’m the moron who tripped, and he’s apologizing? My god, he’s‒

“Are you okay?” He’d settled on a half-smile, brows furrowed. He circled her palm with his thumb, Olivia’s heart and ankle throbbing in unison. ‒amazing.

“Never‒” She hiccuped. “‒been better.” She attempted to stand, ankle spasming, pinched with pressure. This was it. She had ruined the evening. She’d never hear the end of it from her friends. He’d never want to see her again. Olivia had ruined another good thing.

He watched her grimace. “Nope, nope, stay there.” He stood, unbuckling the straps from his chest, removing the pack to sit next to her, leg to leg.

“I’m really sorry,” she said quietly. She stared ahead, anxious laughter replaced by the threat of tears. Faint chirping hummed through the otherwise quiet air, her mind a blur of embarrassment. A perfect evening, a perfect guy. God Olivia, why can’t you ever‒ She flinched at an interrupted pop, the gurgle of ruby red glugging from spout to glass. He handed her the clear, stemless wine cup, paired with a reassuring smile.

“Merlot,” she said, breathily.

“Close your eyes for a bit?”

Olivia nodded, watching for a moment, as he reached for his pack. It’s fine, Liv, don’t panic. It was an accident‒ could’ve happened to anyone. She squeezed her eyes shut like a child awaiting a surprise, sipping timidly. The wine was luscious and smooth, black cherry coating her tongue, chilled from the cold pack in his bag. The tears had escaped from their ducts, quickly wiped with the back of her hand, her mouth a celebration of earthiness, paired in tango with a lingered fruitiness. It danced from tastebud to throat, settling her stomach.

He gently touched her shoulder, her eyes opening to a colourful spread of various cheeses, meats, and crackers, the glisten of purple grapes centered in display atop a yellow, checkered quilt. He carefully tucked the quilt’s corner under them, tipping the wine bottle to top her off, before filling his own glass. He raised it to hers, in cheers.

“This is, just… wow”. Give the man a little more than “wow”, Olivia! She excitedly flapped her hands in gesture of the feast, words of appreciation replaced with a smile that reached her eyes. “You’re just‒this is, just‒ wow!”. His eyes creased over the brim of his upturned cup.

“It’s not the view I was going for, but‒” He paused, shushed by the emergence of a small, black-winged bird, its dainty beak pecking at an escaped grape. Satisfied with its find, the bird hopped from quilt to grass, flapping off into a low flight. Alex turned to her with the same infectious excitement she’d seen earlier. “In France, 'merlot' means ‘little blackbird’.”

“I didn’t know that,” she said softly, watching him.

“Beautiful.” He watched the bird’s flight, deep into the trees. “But yeah, there’s this cliff edge...”. The sentence drifted off with the bird, unfinished. For once he’d matched her nervousness, his eyes downcast, avoiding hers; his smile, coy. With her own ease restored, she was determined to make him laugh.

She put on her best sarcastic inflection. “I’m a little disappointed.” She watched his eyes sink slightly. Panicked, she rushed to continue. “I was ready for a cheesy pickup line.” She swallowed. “About me being the perfect view.” Oh god, please know I’m joking. His smile returned, bright like the spotted sunbeams freckled across their blanket, laughter bubbling from him like water through a broken dam.

“Missed opportunity,” he mock-chastised himself, palming his forehead. They folded into laughter, fingers reunited over the touch of thighs.

* * *

“‒elevated and iced.” He gingerly repositioned the icepack on her ankle, lifted under a stack of bright green throw pillows. She nodded. Poor guy. Bet this isn’t how he imagined the night would end.

The remainder of the picnic had earned enough laughter to fill an entire comedy club, the downhill trek equally boisterous, their giggles merged with the chirp of birds. Her weight had been leaned to his in an awkward hop, not unlike the ones she’d performed in keeping up with his stride prior. Apologies were swept away like grass clippings off a sidewalk, and the downhill hike was enjoyed watching for plants and animals as they had on the way up, bodies pressed together, eyes in tune with the same details. He’d kissed her at the base of the mountain in celebration of their feat.

“I think I owe you a date that doesn’t end in me limping,” she said, eyes cast to her elevated ankle. She bit her tongue, peering up at him. Did that sound desperate? What if he was just being polite this whole time? Oh geez, Olivia. He stood at the end of her couch, arms folded, taking in her apartment. Say something, before I puke!

“Well, we’re definitely getting you better hiking shoes, that’s for damn sure.”

She smiled into her shoulder, stomach dipping like a spoon to sugar, sweetened. She regained her composure, mirroring his. “I hope you know, I have insanely high expectations for that cliffside.”

He leaned to kiss her temple, his lips stamping her. “I hope you know the next bottle of merlot’s on you.”