Schism
He remembered waking in the crisp night air to his father snoring and his brother face-up beside him dead asleep. His eyes opened to the inside of the plastic tent, the crinkling of it with the softest disturbance of wind. Lying on an air mattress and beneath it the bare dirt and grass ground of southeast mountain country. Camping, yes. A long weekend right after the end of tenth grade. Memorial day, it must've been. And still it was near freezing. Teeth clattering and fingernails blue even this late in May. In this remote wilderness, this high precipice. He recalled some subversive curiosity animating him that night. Considered an arbitrary whim of hormonal post-adolescence, perhaps something else. He’d gently risen from the air mattress and tiptoed to unzip the tent. A slight rustling from dad but nothing more. Hunched over he stretched his legs in long circumspect strides over him and his brother and stepped outside in not much more than his socks and orange sweatshirt into a n...