We chose a spot near the cemetery for our campsite.
I was in a foul mood as we set up camp. Bumble had called Myth “Babe” one time too many in my opinion.
There he was, drinking from his flask as he sat upon a log a little ways away from our campsite. Meanwhile, Myth was preparing our dinner. And I was collecting wood for the fire. We were working. And he was doing nothing. Women’s work—that’s what he called any activity that did not involve drinking.
I threw down the wood I had collected. Well, I thought, I’m going to deal with that vulgar pixie once and for all.
Muttering to myself, I marched over to him.
“Ho! Ho! Ho!” laughed Bumble. “The Frigid One pays Bumble a visit.”
“Listen you,” I said, pointing a finger at him. “Stop calling Myth ‘Babe.’ She doesn’t like it.”
Bumble took a swig from his flask. “Babe’s lips may say, ‘No.’ But her eyes say, ‘Yes, Bumble, I am your Babe.’ ”
“No, they don’t. Myth thinks that you’re a lout. And you’re making her uncomfortable.”
“Uncomfortable, is it? And how do you make Babe feel?”
“What!” I shouted. “I don’t make Myth uncomfortable.”
“Oh, really,” replied Bumble. “What about how you always follow Babe around, never giving her a moment’s peace?”
“Th-that’s different,” I said, but my confidence waned a bit. I did ignore Myth’s feelings when we first met, I told myself. Maybe I still am. And maybe my selfishness is preventing me from seeing how uncomfortable I am making her. I’m just silly, old Izzy, after all. Myth is too exceptional for the likes of me.
“And the way you always sit beside her at dinner,” said Bumble.
“I-I don’t do that,” I said, knowing it was a lie. I always sat beside Myth at dinner. I thought she wanted me to, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe she is too polite to tell me to sit somewhere else, I wondered.
“Yes, you do,” replied Bumble. “I’d sit next to Babe, but I’m afraid you’d become violent.”
I did not know how to respond. And it did not matter anyway, because Bumble’s despicable attitude was not my main concern anymore. What he had said had made me much more worried about my own behavior. Am I bothering Myth? I asked myself. Should I give her some room? I had a lot to think about…
Oh, do you want to ask me something, Buster? Well, go ahead…
Ah, that’s a good point, Buster. Myth had already told me that she enjoyed my company—several times, actually. So why did I persist in doubting what she had said to me?
Well, I thought the world of Myth; you have probably figured that out by now. And sometimes, when you really like someone, it’s difficult to accept that that person enjoys spending time with you. I just could not believe that Myth cared about me, because I did not think that I was worthy of her affection. So basically, I was being silly. Everyone is a bit silly when it comes to romance. Like I said earlier—romance is a pain in the bum.
Anyway…
Pointing a finger at Bumble again, I declared, “I’m watching you. So behave yourself around Myth.”
Then I marched away, feeling utterly bewildered as to where I stood with Myth.