Sheila never formally moved in with me, but brought a few clothes and personal items every day until her apartment was empty except for the furniture that had come with it. Sheila didn’t have much, but that would change once I was officially divorced.We were together for almost a month when Ben phoned to ask me to dinner. “I hope you’re not going to fix me up again.”“Well….”“The reason I bring it up is that I’ll gladly come, but only if I can bring a date and I think we should get moving on the divorce.”“A date? Anyone I know?”“You might have met her in the pharmacy. She works for me and before you get any ideas…absolutely nothing happened until six months after Gail disappeared.” We chatted for a while until he assured me he’d have the papers for my signature later in the week.I signed Friday morning then made one more stop before going to work. Sheila and I closed up, made the night deposit, and drove home. She walked in first and waited while I locked the door. I was on one. In the morning, we would have just three more miles to travel on the river until we arrived at the public campground where my fiancée’s sister would be meeting us to take us back to reality, back to society and bills and jobs and traffic jams and innumerable rude people in the city. I was not looking forward to that return. I was also not really looking forward to wearing actual clothing again. For the entirety of our journey, my ‘attire’ had consisted of swim trunks and sandals, and occasionally a t-shirt at night. Aura’s ‘attire’ had been similar: bikini, sandals, perhaps a t-shirt at night, and the silver belly chain which she always wore regardless of the occasion. Dinner finished, the tent erected near the tree line, the canoe firmly beached on the sand, the meager food and other smellables hung up in a bear bag, I returned to the small fire built earlier by the river. Aura sat watching the flames dance before her, her forearms resting upon her knees with her chin resting.
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