“I was clean-cut and had a good bit more meat on my bones back then. I noticed her giving me eyes a few times while I was working, so after I finished the project ahead of schedule and under budget, I asked her out on a date.”

 

“And the rest,” Sarah said, “is history.”

 

I smiled at the two of them. After the pain and darkness I had seen over the last couple of years, the obvious love between these people was like the beacon of a lighthouse over a stormy sea. All doubts about whether or not I was in good company faded from my mind, drifting up into the trees with the rich smoke of the campfire.

 

“You guys are so lame.” Brian said, shaking his head.

 

Sarah pounced on him and dug her fingers into a ticklish spot on his ribs. The boy squawked and twisted, falling out of his chair. Sarah stepped away grinning as she pointed a finger at him.

 

“Let that be a lesson to you, calling your parents lame.”

 

Tom shook his head and gestured at Brian with a metal spatula. “When you’re done rolling around in the dirt and getting your clothes filthy, how about you make yourself useful and go set up the table.”

 

Brian picked himself up from the ground and brushed off a newly acquired layer of pine needles and bark. “I’m on it.” He said, and ran off toward the tent shelter.

 

Sarah walked over to check on the beans. “These are about done, honey.” She said, looking up at Tom. “How much longer on the venison?”

 

“It’s ready.”

 

Brian came out from under the tent with a white plastic folding table. He set it up on a flat part of the clearing before ducking back inside to fetch a stack of multi-colored plastic plates. Gabe helped me move our log stools over while Sarah placed three folding chairs for her family around the table. Tom pulled the venison off the grill and brought it over on a large metal pizza pan.

 

“You fellas have one of these at your place?” Tom asked, noticing my furrowed brow as I looked at the pan.

 

“No, we don’t.”

 

“You should scrounge one up, they’re great to have around. I use it as a serving platter, a cutting board, a table—hell, I even used it as a griddle once.”

 

“Huh. I might have to do that.”

 

“I’m afraid this isn’t going to be very fancy.” Sarah said as she took her seat, “We don’t have much in the way of silverware.”

 

“No problem, we brought our own.” I replied.

 

Gabe and I dug our mess kits out of our packs to retrieve our aluminum cups and forks. Once everyone sat down at the table, Tom used a hunting knife to carve up the roast tenderloin and laid out a thick portion on each plate. It was all I could do not to tear into it right away. To avoid looking like a starved pig, I waited until Tom finished serving up the meat and Sarah had finished doling out scoops of beans.

 

“Alright, everybody, dig in.” Tom said.

 

He didn’t have to tell me twice. I used the knife on my multi-tool to cut up the steaks into bite-sized pieces. When my teeth sank into the first morsel, I had to suppress a moan of pleasure. It was tender, juicy, and cooked to perfection. It had a bit of gaminess to it, but I didn’t care. After spending the whole winter subsisting on jerky, smoked fish, canned food, and MRE’s, fresh meat slow-roasted over an open fire was freaking orgasmic.