Dahlia walked ahead of me. She poked at the ground and was sure of her steps as though we were following a path.

There was no path in sight.

This was a forest.

The car had broken down only once we were on the loneliest road in possibly the entire state, and we were surrounded by trees. I had suggested that we just follow the road back into the town we passed a few hours back, but Dahlia insisted we cut through the forest.

“It’s a shortcut. See? My phone-the map on my phone shows it being a shorter distance.”

Her phone was frozen on a map that I knew was not the one to describe our location. It was the first town we stopped in on this road trip. Dahlia had only shown me the screen for a split second before turning it away. Her phone had no signal, and she was trying to fool me into following along with her plan.

So here we were, following an imaginary trail. If we had stayed on the road, we could tell the first people we saw where it was. Since we cut through this forest, we’d have no way of showing them whatsoever.

Our spring break plans were quite possibly ruined. This was going to be my only break for a long time. I was going straight back to school after this and working on the weekends. The next few breaks I’d be at the hospital to visit--

“It’ll be fine. We’ll find the town soon. The road was u-shaped, right? We’ll be there in an hour, maybe.”

She poked the ground again with the stick she had found. As we walked forward, the sunlight leaking through the leafy ceiling danced on her head and in her hair. The look on her face was calm, entertained, and curious. Truly, she had no idea how big this forest was or when we’d reach the town, if we’d reach the town. Dahlia was just looking for adventure.

Dahlia never liked plans, or knowing for sure about what would happen next. She liked the rush of just taking whatever life gives you and running with it. I, on the other hand, loved plans. I always had something in mind that I was ready for, and Dahlia normally ruined all of those plans. This often caused me to feel a small pang of resentment towards Dahlia, though I never really felt it was actually justified.

“Erin?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you having fun?”

I looked around. All around us was dense trees and bushes, vines and stalks, brown and green. The forest was probably the most beautiful place I’d ever been to, but we were lost. It was that desperation that made me uptight and unable to enjoy this little ‘hike.’

“Not really. Are you sure you know where we’re going?”

“Nope.”

I looked over at her and stopped walking. She really had no idea. We didn’t know what was beyond the next ten feet of trees and the ten feet after that or even the mile of what was beyond that, and she had no idea where we were going, “Aren’t you worried?”

She shook her head. Dahlia looked back at me with that thirst for adventure in her eyes. It glinted like a shiny quarter in a blue wishing fountain.

“That’s the fun part. We don’t know what’s ahead of us.”

That made my heart jump. I remembered the bitter taste of resentment and knew that it was because I hadn’t planned to fall in love with Dahlia.

I never planned for liking her; I never wanted to always want to be with her, and I’d certainly never in my life imagined myself falling in love with Dahlia.

She was everything I hated; unplanned, unprepared, adventurous, and maybe ditzy. Maybe she wasn’t ditzy, and maybe she actually planned to never prepare.

Despite this, for some reason I still wanted to tell her. I’ve never even bothered to try because to me, the situation felt that it would be impossible to plan for.

“Erin?”

“Yeah?”

“When do you think we’ll get there?”

“Where? We have no idea where we’re going.”

Maybe that was why I fell in love. Life was teaching me to learn to take what is given to me, and to try and go with the flow. Maybe that was why life was so hard on me; why the car had broken down; why we were lost in the woods.

We have no idea where we are going, and we have no idea when we’ll get there. There’s no predictions about the future, either. I stared at her a while as we walked, studying her eyes as they stared off into the thick forest, lost in thought but lit with the excitement of ‘adventure.’

There was no hope for the future, but there was no dread while we waited for it, either.

There was only this suspension in waiting for what would happen; this excitement for what might happen, the anticipation for what could.

Maybe life was trying to tell me that I couldn’t plan for everything.

“We might be heading nowhere, and we don’t know what’s ahead, but I guess there’s something for certain I’d like you to know.”

“What’s that, Erin?”

There were a lot of things I was uncertain about. Being uncertain was my biggest fear, not knowing when and not knowing why; not being prepared for an unforeseen disaster. I want there to be one thing that I’m certain of.
I glance one last time at the ground and take a deep breath, tasting the woodsy air and its lack of the taste of civilization.

“Dahlia?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

The silence between us roared in my ears. I could suddenly hear all the birds, all the summer bugs in the afternoon chorus, and the sound of our footsteps crunching on once silent leaves, twigs and vines suddenly was the drumbeat to the song of the forest. The deafening footsteps came to a stop. For a moment I could hear nothing, time had slowed down and the forest song seemed to get louder and louder, Dahlia turned, the sunlight shining in her eyes, illuminating them like glass window panes and the smile on her face a light source on its own. Her lips moved in slow motion, but I couldn’t hear her over the beating of my heart.