We had been broken up at least since spring. School had ended and summer started and we told ourselves that the relationship was over. Still, we'd call, we'd go to movies. We drove up to Mt. Hood for no reason other than it was a sunny summer day. Mostly we were silent. It's hard to chit chat when you are "officially" broken up. We hiked up a trail to a waterfall. I dunked my head under the spray, but Sally didn't want to. She fretted and grumbled. All I could think of was our early days, when we both would have stripped, dashed in and out of the icy mountain water, and sun dried naked on hot boulders.
We turned and went down the trail. I wish I could remember exactly how it happened next. I go over it in my mind, but it is always more a feeling than the exact steps. Back at the car, we knew we'd get in and turn back to the city. The air was hot and humming with insects. We were sweaty and sore from the hike. I was horny. So was she, apparently. I guess we both had been thinking of the road trips we used to take back from Montana. We'd stop, at any forest turn out. Grab a blanket from the back, and hike just far enough off the road. And fuck. Lord did we fuck. Fast, sweaty, hard, loud. We'd shake the trees. We'd slap together, grunt, moan, gasp, grind. That summer she rarely wore underwear, bras, or deodorant. We would get sweaty and wash in a creek. Then drive until we were hot and horny enough to pull over and drain ourselves again. But the thing is: we'd never feel drained, the more we fucked, the more we wanted it. The more we dripped sweat and cum, the quicker our bodies replenished.
Now, standing at her car, ready to turn back, we understood. One of us grabbed the blanket. We said nothing, not even a nod of recognition for old times sake. It was just a straight movement. We had a blanket, we walked just far enough off the road. I lay down, she climbed on top. We pulled aside just enough clothes and then we were there again, back to that moment, the riding and churning and crying out. The slapping and screaming and scratching at the sky. The shudder, the release, the collapse and skin and salt.
It would be our last time together, though we didn't say it then. It didn't matter. Words didn't matter, or time. Just the forest above, and splinters of light falling down. The moment repeats in my mind, forever.
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