Mojitos with Merry Men (21 page)

I can't believe she came back! What does she want from him? Will they fall back in love? Did he ever stop loving her in the first place?

I run and run and run until I realize I've come to the hideaway, the love nest that Robin built for us. Just looking at the structure fills me with fury, and I kick and kick it until the roof gives way and collapses inward. I've destroyed the place where we shared that sweet night in each other's arms.

But that was just a lie, I remind myself. Me just fooling myself into thinking he actually loved me. That he actually cared about me. That I wasn't second place.

Selfish jerk. I can't believe he made me pretend I was a guy all this time, made me live a lie for him. All so he could keep his job. His dignity. And for what? When Marian showed up, his men seemed totally cool with him hooking up with her. If they only knew what a jerk he was.

I stop and look at the destroyed nest, now a blatant symbol of our shattered love. We shared so much. I told him things I haven't told anyone. And what am I left with? Nothing. Just like with Danny.

I collapse to my knees and let sobs overtake me. They wrack my body, stealing my breath. How am I going to learn to live without him? Whoever made up that crap about it being better to have loved and lost should get his head examined.

I hear my cell phone ring, followed by a crashing in the bushes as unseen animals flee the futuristic sound effects—they're clearly spooked by a sound they never should have heard in their short 12th-century lifetimes.
Sorry, Arcade Fire. I really need to put the thing on vibrate
.

I look down at the phone. At first I'm tempted to not answer. What do I have to say to Kat, anyway? Beautiful, vapid Kat who goes back in time and wins the legendary knight Lancelot without a care in the world. I bet Lance never lied to her, never cast even the remotest glance at Guenevere once she was in the picture.

But the phone keeps ringing, and I realize if I don't talk to someone I'll probably go insane. So I reluctantly push the button and put the phone to my ear.

"Hello?" I croak. She's definitely going to know that I've been bawling like a baby.

"Chrissie? Is that you?" Kat's voice demands. "It doesn't sound like you. If you're some bad medieval person who stole Chrissie's phone, well, you'd better return it to her, or I'll so time travel back there and kick your butt."

I start laughing. I can't help it. Kat's just so…so…well, Kat.

"No, Kat, it's me. Sorry. I've just been… I mean, I think I have allergies. Living out in the woods can wreak havoc on your sinuses."

"That doesn't sound like an allergy to me, girl," Kat says. "That sounds like you've been crying. So spill. What's going on out there in Sherwood Forest?"

Realizing she's the only person I have to talk to, I start spilling my story. The silver arrow. The contest. The accidental "I shot the sheriff " moment.

And, of course, Marian.

"That wench!" Kat squeals over the phone, so loudly I have to pull it away from my ear for a moment. "How dare she try to steal your guy?"

"Well, honestly, I don't think she has any clue he's my guy. If he even is." I shrug. "She hasn't seen him in years."

"Uh, ye-ah. 'Cause she left him. Duh. She's got absolutely no right to show up now and try to take him back. That little Sherwood slut."

"Well, I mean, I don't even know if that's her goal," I protest, not having any idea why I'm suddenly defending Marian. "She came to the camp to bring Robin the silver arrow."

"Yeah and the kiss she never got to give him, right?"

"You're not helping."

"Sorry. You're right. I'm sure it's fine. You just have to trust your man."

"Easy for you to say. You have the most loyal knight in the history of knights. And you haven't seen how Robin looks at Marian. It's like he's some lovesick cocker spaniel."

"Are you sure? Or are you just imagining it 'cause you're being insecure?"

"I'm sure." Am I? Am I really sure? Or have I been projecting? I try to think back to Robin at the tournament. No, I've got to be right.

"Have you talked to him about it?" Kat presses. "I mean, I totally accused Lance of cheating on me with Guenevere. They went to this cottage in the woods together and everything! But it turns out he was just protecting her out of a sense of duty. He never even thought of her in that way."

"But my situation is different. Robin and Marian were lovers."

"Uh, yeah, like a billion years ago. We all have exes, Chris. Even you. How do you think you'd react if Danny showed up at the camp?"

Ugh. She's got a point. How would I act if Danny had been the arrow delivery boy? Would I immediately tell him to eff off? Or would I want to spend a few moments alone with him to talk?

Whoever thought Kat Jones would be the voice of reason?

"You're right," I relent. "Maybe he just wants to get some closure or something, find out why she jilted him like she did. Who knows, maybe he's dying of boredom back at camp as she titters on and on. Maybe he realizes what a self-absorbed wench she was all along and doesn't remember what he used to see in her."

"Yeah. Sometimes that's all it takes," Kat says. "I know when someone dumps me, I always end up putting them on this stupid pedestal in my mind. Every time I think of them, they get more god-like and grandiose. And why? Not because they were anything special. I mean, you should see the losers I dated before Lance. Can we say, 'Living at home in their parents' basement playing video games all day 'cause they're too lazy to find employment' much? But because they rejected me, I immediately filed them in the Better Than Me category in my brain. And then, when I finally run into them again, I'm like, what the heck was I thinking? This guy's a total dork. He has no power over me."

I wonder briefly if I'll think that about Danny when I see him again. Have I built up our relationship as something more special than it was just because he betrayed me? How much did we really have together? Sure, we dated since high school, but we barely saw each other the four years I was in college. And when we moved in together after graduation my day shift and his night shift completely conflicted.

With Danny there were no long talks, no shared emotional or intellectual ties. We had great sex, and he made me laugh, and together we were able to cohabitate. But did he ever take the time to know the real me? Did he even care about my hopes and dreams? Did I ever care about his?

Maybe Kat's right. Maybe it's the same with Robin. One talk with Marian and he'll realize he outgrew his childhood crush long ago. That now he wants to be with someone who he can really connect with. Who won't leave him for a jeweled necklace. What Robin and I share is special. We have long, deep discussions. We bond on a higher plane than I ever did with Danny. Surely he feels that way about me as well.

I hope.

"So, uh, I guess I shouldn't even bother asking about King Richie, then," Kat says, bringing me back to the conversation.

"Uh, oh, sorry," I apologize, realizing I've been lost in thought. "No, no sign of the guy."

"Totally lame. But okay. Well, we'll keep hanging here in the 22nd century, I guess."

"Sorry."

"Meh, it's not all bad. I've gotten this great job as a fashion designer for this really amazing company. I'm bringing back a little 21st century to the masses. And trust me, they need it! These people think acid-washed jeans are the latest in couture."

I laugh. "Sounds like you've got your work cut out for you."

"You too, babe. But don't give up on Hood Boy just yet. I'm telling you. From what you say, he sounds pretty special. You don't want to let something like that go."

"Thanks, Kat," I say, almost reluctant to let her off the phone. It's so odd how this adventure has totally bonded me to a girl I used to hate. But she's different now. Or maybe I'm just finally giving her a chance.

We say our good-byes, and much cheered, I head back to camp. I can't wait to see Robin. To tell him how much I care about him. How I'm excited about our relationship and I want to make it work. How I totally understand why he'd need some closure with Marian.

But when I get back to the camp, I'm dismayed to see that they are still talking. Eesh. How much closure does this guy need? From the outskirts I watch as they whisper, nearly face to face, in low voices. Then, to my shock and horror, Marian leans forward and plants a small kiss on Robin's lips. Worse, he doesn't get mad or pull away or anything remotely smart and deserving of my love like that.

Instead, he pulls her into an embrace.

I stare at the two hugging figures for a second, wanting to pull out every hair in my head—or preferably every hair in Marian's perfect mane.

Obviously, Kat was wrong about the closure thing. On the contrary, these two look like they're about to totally hook up. Maybe they made peace with each other. Maybe Marian apologized or made some stupid excuse as to why she's ignored him this past year. Maybe the idiot actually accepted her apology.

Maybe they're back together.

Maybe Robin and I are done, forever.

Tears blur my vision, and I rush back into the woods, unable to watch the scene a moment longer. I knew it! I knew he still had feelings for her. He was just using me until she came back.

I should have known this would happen the second he suggested we keep our relationship a secret. I mean, hello? He was too ashamed to even tell anyone that we were dating! That's so got to be one of the golden
He's Just Not That Into You
rules. If he really loved me, if he really wanted our relationship to last, he would have sung it from the rooftops like Ewan McGregor in
Moulin Rouge,
despite the potential consequences.

Unfortunately, knowing this in my head doesn't make my stomach hurt any less. Or my heart, for that matter. As the song says, "love bites
.
"

I run and run and run, not looking or caring where I'm going or what I'm going to do once I get there. As long as I'm away—out of proximity of the lovebirds—I'll hopefully be able to breathe again. That, in and of itself, seems like it will be a major accomplishment at this point.

The forest thins, and I step out into a darkened meadow. A full moon illuminates the landscape, casting stark, frightening shadows at every bend. I look around warily, feeling like I've just stepped into some cheesy slasher flick. The home audience is screaming at me, begging me not to go off alone into the night. Not leave the safety of the camp, while Jason Voorhees, Freddy Kruger, Michael Myers, and Leatherface all lie in wait, having joined forces to participate in my ultimate demise.

Um, yeah. Imagination running wild, I know. But sadly, it's almost more comforting at the moment to dwell on potential psycho axe-wielding killers than rerun my mental YouTube video of Marian kissing Robin for the ten-thousandth time in my brain.

I try to catch my breath, hands on my knees. What now? Where do I go? What do I do? I certainly can't go back to the camp. Not now and probably not ever. After all, it would be way too torturous to sit around and watch Robin and Marian falling deeper and deeper in love as each day passes. To sit and listen to his trite apologies. His excuses.

It's not you. It's me. Can't we just be friends? I need some space…

Yeah, I'd pretty much rather pull out my own toenails one by one than listen to that load of bull.

Problem is, if not back to camp, where do I go? I'm now stuck in the same situation I was in when I first arrived in the 12th century. Out of time. Trapped in medieval England until King Richard returns, and who the heck knows when that may be?

I shiver under my thin tunic. It's cold out here on the moors, and in my haste to get out of Sherwood Forest all I grabbed was my camera bag instead of a much more practical warm cloak. At the same time, it's too dark to wander far. What if I tripped on a branch or slipped on moss or fell in a hole and hit my head on a rock? I'd be totally SOL.

Resignedly, I gather up some stray sticks from the forest's edge and clear a spot to make a fire. Luckily, the Merry Men taught me to light one the old fashioned way—without a Bic lighter. Otherwise I'd probably freeze to death. Nice thought.

It takes me a few tries—rubbing two sticks together to spark a fire is so not as easy as they make it out to be in the movies—but in the end, I manage to get a small blaze going. The process of feeding the fire, bringing it crackling to life, is somewhat soothing and takes my mind off my situation temporarily.

But when it's lit and I sit down beside it, holding my now sooty hands out for warmth, all my pain comes rushing back, my brain flooding with instant replays and unwanted memories. My stomach aches, and I feel like I'm going to throw up.

I'm lost. I'm freezing. I'm probably going to be eaten by some random animal I don't even recognize, and once again, I've fallen for a man who would rather be with someone else. Who took me and used me and emptied me just because I was convenient, because I was there. And when he was done, he cast me aside. He reunited with his true love and left me alone once again.

Okay, I need to get a grip here. I can't keep playing the victim. I purse my lips and try to remember what the self-help books told me. How I need to own my own power, not give it away to someone unworthy. That my destiny lies in my own hands. That I am a complete, wonderful, beautiful goddess who doesn't need a man to complete her.

I am woman. Hear me roar.

So how come all I want to do is whimper?

*   *   *

I awake the next morning curled up beside the black coals of the burnt-out fire, soaking wet from the dewy grass I fell asleep on. Ugh. I sit up and try to brush myself off. Thank goodness no one's around to see me. I'm rumpled, tear-stained, and smell way too ripe—not exactly the beautiful goddess the self-help books want me to channel.

Still, the sun is shining high in the sky, casting glittery light on the wet grass. A nearby bird twitters gaily, perhaps blissfully happy about the early morning worm he managed to score by not sleeping in. A warm breeze tickles my face, sharing the sweet scent of honeysuckle and wildflowers with me. And to top off the Disney-esque moment, I notice an adorable little spotted fawn a few yards away, casually munching grass next to her big brown-eyed mother. I watch as they enjoy their breakfast, seeming not to have a care in the world.