#(and is getting double decker s'mores which sound wonderful)

[victorluvsalice]

"When his mom first casually mentioned the “annual McFly family camping trip,” he’d thought she was making a joke. He’d been camping a handful of times, but never with his family.

Never with his family."

Oooouch. :( I'm glad it gets happier by the end, but ouch!

McFly July Day 13: Campfire

Lone Pine timeline

Marty scooted closer to the fire, reveling in the warmth it provided in the chilly night air. He was bone tired from the day’s activities, and the thought of crawling into his sleeping bag sounded amazing. But he resisted, knowing full well that while his body was thoroughly exhausted, his brain hadn’t quite gotten the memo yet. It was still swirling with thought, pulling his attention in ten different directions at once.

The last time he’d sat by a campfire and slept outside, he’d been in 1885, his entire future hinged on one big decision and a fragile plan.  

Now he was home—or, at least, he was back—having spent a full day hiking and fighting to set up his expensive tent and collecting wood for the fire Dad and Dave built.

When his mom first casually mentioned the “annual McFly family camping trip,” he’d thought she was making a joke. He’d been camping a handful of times, but never with his family.

Never with his family.

Except these people were his family, and Mom hadn’t been joking. They’d all, minus him, reminisced about past trips on the drive to the campsite, unknowingly providing him with small pieces to add to the slowly growing mental puzzle of this timeline’s version of him. Of the life he did but didn’t live.

Last year, they’d had a race to see who could assemble a tent the fastest: parents versus kids. Mom and Dad had won.

Two years prior, it’d stormed so fiercely that they had to leave the first night and stay at a nearby motel.

Marty had learned that during their 1978 trip, he’d somehow managed to lose his balance during their hike and end up in the river—twice.

“You were like a little drowned rat,” Mom had said through a laugh. “Remember that, Marty?”

No, he didn’t. But he’d returned her laugh, along with the dozens of others shared during the car trip.

It all sounded nice, the stories they swapped. It sounded like the kind of stuff he’d longed for as a kid.

His quiet ruminations were interrupted as Linda dropped into the folding chair beside him. Even after a day spent out in nature, she still looked put-together, as if prepared for the possibility that she might have to hurry off to meet a date at any moment.

Linda bumped him with her shoulder. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“You’ve been weird today.”

A chuckle worked it’s way from Marty’s throat at the blunt, but accurate, statement. He met his sister’s eyes, seeing the mixture of teasing and concern.

“Just today?” he asked with a smile.

“Weirder, I should’ve said,” Linda clarified. “What, are you too cool for these trips now?”

“No. I’m having fun.”

“Could’ve fooled me. What’s the matter?”

“Nothing, Linda.” Marty held his hands out toward the dancing flames and focused on the heat and the crackling logs. He felt her gaze on him still—observing him as if he was some riddle to be solved. Some unknown specimen that needed dissecting.

Just as her staring approached unbearable, it stopped, releasing the tension that had been building in Marty’s chest. Linda reached into a bag beside her chair and pulled out a bag of marshmallows, a box of graham crackers, and some chocolate bars.

“Wanna make some double-decker s’mores?” She offered a wooden skewer to Marty.

Marty’s breath caught at her words—at the memory that they brought to the surface. Not from this timeline but from the old one. From his timeline. A memory of him, Linda, and Dave making double-decker s’mores over the stove on a rainy autumn night after their parents had gone to sleep. Of setting the marshmallows on fire and melting chocolate dripping onto the countertops and graham cracker crumbs scattered across the floor. Scrambling to clean it all up and leave no evidence of their late-night sugar fix.

Had that night happened the same way here? Or had it come about some other way, maybe even during one of their camping trips?

He supposed maybe it didn’t matter how, just that it did. That he’d found one of those rare connecting threads—woven through both timelines and providing him with a brief feeling of being anchored.

Giving him hope that, over time, maybe both his memories and this place would feel like home.

Marty took the skewer, then got to work helping Linda tear open all the packaging. He thought of the stories he’d heard of past trips, how he’d had nothing to contribute or look back on fondly along with his family. Maybe he’d never gain any memories, though he hoped he would, but he figured it wouldn’t hurt to make some new ones of his own.