Moira used to get all fidgety around him, like a kid with ADHD. When she caught sight of him walking across camp to his truck or if he happened to sit at her table for dinner she couldn’t even speak. A handful of times, after downing a beer or two, she worked up the courage to talk to him beside the fire. Moira was surprised at how different he seemed when they were alone: thoughtful, deep—vulnerable, even. Once, they ended up talking long into the night, well after everyone else had wandered off to their tents. They parted ways with a hug, Andy patting Moira’s back like she was his little sister. Night, kid, he’d said. She was sure that the fact he hadn’t made a move on her meant he wasn’t interested.
It took more for Moira to lose her focus out in the land, though, when her bags were heavy with trees and her only thought was of emptying them. She rammed her shovel into dirt as though it was responsible for the sense of failure she carried, waking every morning at five forty-five in the morning to shake off dreams of her father. In those dreams she was supposed to be planting trees. Her father—the version of him leftover from her childhood, before her mother left—would show up at the cut block saying he needed her help with something. Then he would lead her through the land, reassuring her over and over again that they were getting closer, they’d almost found it. Moira would grow more anxious every second she didn’t plant a tree, seconds that were gone forever, so that when she arrived at the block each morning she already felt the need to make up for lost time, to redeem the day.
She earned a reputation for being the first planter in the land in the morning and last to come out when the day was called at five. Ten minute cache breaks in rain, hail, extreme heat. For Moira, there was no such thing as pushing hard one day so that she could relax the next. Moira pushed herself every day, no exceptions. By mid-June, she’d already planted 3K twice, which was rare for a planter in her first year, especially on that contract.
When the season finished in early July, she was named rookie highballer at their crew’s last party. With the title, she, too, gained an aura of godliness. It seemed like every time she turned around there was a guy ready to light up a Belmont for her, pour her next shot of Jamieson, or try to seduce her on the dance floor. But Andy wasn’t one of them. The crew bosses were off celebrating in the office trailer. Moira waited for the moment that Andy would appear, hoping that he might congratulate her for the award. But the night dragged on, until Moira felt so exhausted that she worried she might simply collapse under a table on the concrete floor of the mess tent if she tried to stay up any longer. She stepped outside, pausing for a moment to look up at the sky, which was starting to lighten.
And then Andy was beside her.
“I have something to show you,” he said, taking her hand.
Moira followed him to the forested area at the edge of camp. He gripped her hand tighter as they ducked into the brush where his tent was.
“Look,” he said, pointing towards the stump next to his vestibule.
Moira could make out a humongous pair of antlers open before her like the wings of a butterfly. They projected out from a narrow skull that ended in a gaping hole at the snout. The off-white bones seemed to glow in the half-light.
“I found it in the land,” said Andy.
“It’s amazing,” said Moira, turning to face him.
They kissed then, with the moose skull looking on.
***
Andy steers the truck out of camp, turning onto the Caine bush road.
“I was thinking,” says Moira.
“Yeah?” says Andy. “What?”
“Oh,” she says, “I don’t know. I was thinking that maybe since we have to work tomorrow morning, we could have a quiet night just the two of us. But then I thought, no, you probably don’t want to.”
“What?” asks Andy. “Why would you think I don’t want to?”
“I don’t know,” says Moira. “I guess we just haven’t spent that much time together this season.”
“That’s because I have to work all the time,” says Andy.
“I know you’re not working the whole time,” says Moira. “You’re just getting drunk and shooting the shit with Leif.”
“Oh come on,” says Andy, “that’s how we work.”
“Sure,” says Moira, turning to look out the window.
“Look,” she says a moment later, “I don’t mean to accuse you. I guess I just miss you.”
Andy drives, silent, one hand on the steering wheel. When they get to the reefer, he backs the truck up next to it so that they can pass the tree boxes directly from the refrigerated container to the back of the truck. Moira goes to open her door, but Andy reaches for her arm.
“You’re right. I haven’t been around. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” says Moira.
“We’ll stay in tonight,” he says, nodding as he hops out of the truck. “I think it’s a good idea.”
Back at camp, preparations for the Valentine’s Day party are in full swing. In the mess tent, a sound system and speakers are being set up. A group of girls are stringing cut-out pink paper hearts from the ceiling, while on one of the tables someone paints a banner that reads “GET LAID!” in bright red letters.
Moira and Andy hover at the entrance of the mess tent, watching the flurry of activity. Moira slips her hand in Andy’s.
“Come on,” she says, tugging him. She leads him towards the wooded area where their van is parked. He glances back over his shoulder as they enter the trees.
They open the sliding door and climb in. Moira pulls Andy’s frame against hers and holds him, swaying a little. She lifts her head to look him in the eyes. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but Moira kisses him before he does. She angles her hips into his as she slips both of her hands under his shirt, lifting it over his head and arms. Then she removes her own plaid button-down shirt and jeans, and lies down on their bed, propping herself up on her elbows as she looks at Andy. He is too tall to stand straight up in the van, so he bends his neck to one side, smiling down at her as he undoes his belt, steps out of his pants and boxers. He climbs into the bed, his body over hers, his head pushing into her neck as he kisses her. Moira reaches for the light switch, pressing it to make them both invisible to the outside world.
After they make love, Moira lies her head on Andy’s chest, stroking his neck at the edge of his stubble. His eyelids droop with sleep, while music pulses in the distance. She feels calm but alert, as though something in her has been restored by the intensity of their lovemaking. See, she wants to say to him, we can skip one party. But Andy’s body sinks deeper into the bed and his breathing slows as his lips fall open. Moira lies down next to him and closes her eyes.
***
When Moira wakes, she has no idea what time it is. It’s still pitch black outside. She sits up in bed and looks out the windows. The door of the van opens and she can make out two shady figures in at the entrance.
“Who is it?” she calls out, pulling at a blanket to cover her chest. Andy groans beside her.
“Andy,” comes Leif’s voice, “we’re making a hot tub—we need you.”
“What?” says Andy, still half-asleep.
“A hot tub, in the back of one of the trucks.”
“I’m sleeping,” says Andy.
“Let us in you anus-licking piece of fairy shit!” yells Nuke.
Andy turns on the light, revealing a scowling Moira as she slips on a t-shirt and pyjama pants. Leif looks like a giant baby clad in a pink spandex thong with rainbow suspenders. He gets in and sits down in the passenger seat, which has been spun around to face the interior of the van. Nuke is shirtless, paint splattered all over his torso. He slumps down on the floor among the pile of clothes that Andy and Moira shed on their way to bed.
“I’ve got a special present for you, for being a good wittle boy,” says Leif, his trance-like gaze resting on Moira though he’s speaking to Andy. He digs into his pocket and pulls out a small plastic bag half-filled with white powder, shaking it like a bag of dog treats.
“Son of a bitch!” says Andy, a brazen smile appearing on his face as he sits up in bed and reaches to the floor for his boxers, yanking them out from under Nuke’s butt. He stands up, fully naked, and pulls them on, while Moira sits still, looking on from the corner of the van in disgust. She reaches forward, brushing Andy’s back to get his attention.
“I’m not doing this,” she mouths when he turns to face her. “You can, but not here. I need to sleep.”
Past Andy, she watches Leif dump a pile of powder onto the counter and start divvying it into lines.
“Don’t be like that,” says Andy in a whisper. “One line. We’ll go to bed in an hour. It’ll be fine.”
She wants to believe him, but for once she can’t. He opens their cooler and grabs two beers, then hands one back to her. Holding the full can, Moira feels an urge to chuck it at the back of his head. This is her fucking van. She paid for most of it, since Andy was perpetually broke. Still, she doesn’t want to embarrass him in front of Leif, which might threaten his position in the camp. So she opens the beer and chugs it.
She gets up from the bed, pushing past Andy. “Ladies first?” she says, gesturing towards the coke.
“Why not,” says Leif.
Moira’s face hovers over the fattest line before she presses her index finger to her nose and inhales. Numbness coats the inside of her nostril, but the high is instant, warmth that swells inside until there is no room for any other feeling. It doesn’t matter what Andy does or what Leif does or what anybody does. She feels too fucking great to care.
In her memory there is only one other time in her life when she felt as happy. Moira was four or five and her mother and father took her on a ferry ride to Hornby Island. She stood between them, hooking her little hands into their big hands, like they were all links on a chain that could never be broken. The three of them were standing by the boat railing looking out over the water when they saw a rainbow. And then they realized it was not just one rainbow but two rainbows, one above the other. As Moira looked out at the sky, she felt her parents squeeze together above her. They were leaning in for a kiss. What could be better? Two rainbows and two parents. Fantastic.
Moira watches Andy bend over the counter to take his line. She feels she is finally seeing him for what he is, without the illusion of who he could be if he’d just love her a bit more than he loved getting fucked-up. Maybe she thought she could save him from himself, like she’d tried to save her father. Maybe he was supposed to be her second chance. Andy sits down beside her on the bed and she turns to him and smiles one of those sad smiles that tend to come before terrible news. She clutches his hand tight for a moment, then releases it.
“I have to go,” she says. Nuke looks up from his line as Moira jumps from the door of van and disappears into the forest.
“What are you doing you fucking whale cunt!” calls Nuke. She can hear laughter from inside the van as she runs off.
She runs across camp, all the way to the edge of the lake. It feels more wonderful than ever to run, like being carried on wings. No one is around. There is an island out on the water, but it is barely a silhouette in the night, the only light coming from the mess tent behind her in the distance. As she looks out over the water, she feels herself being pulled down, further and further, the happiness escaping out the top of her head. Moira wobbles and falls to the ground, hugging herself until she realizes she is sobbing, her body convulsing with grief. A long time passes before she feels ready to get up, and then she is shivering. At last she stands, noticing a shadow moving on the shore of the island as she turns to walk back. But when she looks again, there is nothing there.
***
The sky is purpler than a bruise when her alarm goes at six-thirty. Smoke from the nearby forest fire has collected beneath the clouds, blocking out the sun. Out of the van, Moira finds Andy passed out on a folding chair in the middle of an enormous puddle, the water from the hot tub he made in one of the truck beds drained overnight. She shakes his shoulders to wake him up.
“It’s time to go,” she says.
The other planters recruited for the special mission materialize one by one, chucking their gear into the back of the truck and plopping down in the back seat of the cab. They leave at exactly 7:03, with Andy behind the wheel. When they turn off Highway 97 onto the North Fraser, it is still pitch black outside. Moira watches Andy’s eyes flutter as he holds the wheel. The other planters are dozing, too, their heads all the way back. When Andy’s head starts to droop, she seizes his arm.
“Stop the truck,” she says. “I’m driving.”
“You don’t know how,” says Andy, his words slurring a little. Still, he pulls over on the gravel road and brings the vehicle to an abrupt stop. Jolted, the planters in the back look out the window to see they haven’t arrived, and then resettle into sleep.
“You’re going to fucking kill us all,” Moira whispers. “I know how to drive. Move over.”
That was only half-true, though. Moira’s father was teaching her how to drive when he had the accident. He’d taught her the basics, but she hadn’t practiced in years—not even since they bought their van. Moira walks around to the driver’s side and heaves herself up, nudging Andy to the passenger’s seat. Then she does what she’s seen Andy do hundreds of times: she adjusts the seat, checks her mirrors, and turns up the dial on the handheld radio so that she can listen for traffic on the road. Still, she’s nervous. Her head is throbbing from so little sleep. Moira turns to look at Andy, who is already slumped in the front seat, his eyes half-shut. She takes the truck out of park and presses the gas.
The bush road is narrow and winding, with a ditch separating the road from the forest on one side and the Fraser River on the other. They’ve had a lot of blocks down this way this summer, but Moira has never seen the road so dark. The shadowy stillness is eerier than something from a horror film. Moira drives slowly, her clammy hands in a death grip on the steering wheel, her heart pounding against her chest. It’s impossible to see what lies beyond the truck’s lights. Moira sees the sleek mahogany fur, oblong snout, and sullen eyes before the moose appears.
