Hell to the No

Alpine Mine

Not being able to handle the immense amount of emotions that Roman's touch causes me, I slide my legs off of Roman's lap to furl them beneath me in the seat as I sit up. Sage is still out cold and we get a kick out of taking a few pictures of his slumbering face, jaw agape and head leaned back. Roman seems to be holding out all right, and he tells me he only got a few hours of sleep also when I ask him.

"I would definitely drive for you if I knew how to work the manual nonsense," I tell him with a chuckle, and he gives the stick shift an affectionate pat.

"Maybe I'll teach you at camp," he laughs quietly, and I give him a horrid look.

"That has disaster written... ALL over it," I breathe with a grin. He shoots me a wink before my attention turns to the scenery. We moved out of the farm fields nestled between sloping hills just outside of town, to smaller, winding roads that run through steeper ranges of the Appalachian Mountains. We still follow Roman's mother in her small silver car, rolling across the twisting roads covered in sun-dappled patterns from the brilliant sun playing through the leaves of the tall trees above us. I comment on the beautiful drive as Roman turns off onto a dirt road after his mother.

"We're almost there, now," he tells me with a smile, and I get excited to finally see the camp.

We drive a couple miles on this dirt road, and pass other campground properties with cabins and chalets and cottages built for renting. I'm pleased at the looks of them, and how each property is pretty far-spread from the others. Seeing the variety of house and landscape, my curiosity just grows as we travel toward ours. I poke Sage awake in my excitement, wondering how he could sleep through the bumpy journey on this back road, and he joins me in peering out the front window. He tells me about which family owns what property as we go by some of them, pointing out the ones they know well as seasonal regulars, just like he and Roman. He also shows me a few that house some kids that are annoying, some that have kids our age that are just dicks. Roman scoffs in agreement periodically. Finally, we pull into a gravel drive dotted with other vehicles that sit in front of a large, logwood garage. With a flourish, Sage presents their family-owned property.

Built on a sloping hill and nestled against it lies two large cabins, both made of dark logs. One sits slightly higher on the hill farther back, and small children dot the wide porch adorned with beautifully carved woodwork as railings. Adults wave from the porch of the other cabin, and dogs romp in the sloping lawn of fresh-cut grass that flows to meet the road out front. The property is lined with hedges of some sort of flowering bush on either side, Mountain Laurel, I think, and a white gate runs from hedge to hedge to separate the yard from the road. The farther-most border at the back of the property was hidden behind the crest of the small hill. It was rustic, grand, and magnificent. I could only imagine what this kind of place costs to have, and I can see why so many people help out with ownership.

Like a pair of excited children, Roman and Sage are out in a flash to greet family as I follow behind. We end up on the porch of the first big cabin, exchanging hugs and smiles and greetings as I am introduced to family. Roman's aunts and uncles, little cousins, Sage's parents, Sage's little siblings. I try to remember as many names as possible in the short amount of time that I meet all of these new people, endlessly smiling at the jovial start to this vacation. I get a lot of compliments and gasps of delight at my wildly colored hair, and I shrug and laugh with them as I blame crazy teenage tendencies.

Once we greet and meet everyone, we start loading our belongings out of Roman's truck, and Amy's car, making a few trips but leaving the project supplies in the pickup. I follow Sage and Roman up the cobblestone path to the higher cabin, lugging my purse and a large duffel bag. The little cousins swarm around us, carrying a bag here, helping out there.