Lighter

Billy cursed his lighter as it kept sputtering and flickering poorly in the darkness of the cave.

        “You decided to bring it…”

        “Zippos are always worth bringing, especially if they work which they do when someone refills the damn…”

        Barbara had no response to that, and he knew that he should just stop. It was her responsibility to get all of their equipment together and ready for this trip. Their annual hikes into the Lister Caves was supposed to be a pleasant way to pass a few hours, and to fix a relationship that seemed to be meandering and unraveling. Backpacks were filled with towels, handkerchiefs, extra clothes, pills, utensils, food…and flashlights. At least she had not demanded to bring along a cell phone.

        She did wonder about one thing: why did her husband always insist on bringing his lighter with them, and using it when they had all the other equipment? By that point, the trails inside the cave had become popular with out-of-towners who somehow got the local government to install well-distanced lights within the longer passages that had to natural source of sunlight. That seemed like a miracle, as would getting her beloved Bill to use a proper flashlight.

Sentimental value? It was hard to imagine a bank manager having that as a reason for hanging onto a silver lighter with no sports team logo or half-naked woman on it. The thing was at best hit or miss when needed. It always seemed to fail when it was absolutely necessary (barbecues were often an embarrassment and required her full patience not to grab the bowl of matches she kept in the garage). And Bill did not even smoke. So why, every time they needed this, were they doing the same old thing?

Why the waiting…?

“You have your flashlight…”

He said it as a statement and Barbara was already holding up a small metal cylinder that gave off a very powerful halo of light on the damp walls around them.

“Had to keep it close. Always.”

“Right.” Bill looked around. Most of the other “explorers” (Barbara’s and certain customers’ word for the others, not his) had moved on ahead and they could have caught up with them if they hurried. But those were all those out-of-towners he could not stand; tourists who had heard of this particular “spelunking special” (Bill could not understand why his wife never found that phrase amusing). The season was limited from late May to early October, and Billy knew exactly which holidays and long week-ends to avoid if they wanted to not be part of the crowds. Barbara at least appreciated his ability to avoid the worst of them. Some people became hysterical when they realized that the tunnel was heading straight down in some sections for over thirty minutes of their hike (if they were in shape, he thought). The lights were a good idea, but they were not always guaranteed to be functioning. That was why one woman had to be carried out past the group one season in the grip of a guide and a man who must have been her husband or boyfriend. Her eyes had turned up their sockets and her face was as red as a Coca-Cola can. Complete breakdown, they both thought privately. Barbara saw enough of this at the clinic to not be shocked and Bill had a relative who had the exact same features when she “cracked” (he never liked his mom using that term to describe his favourite aunt).

        Every year…

        “We could run up to the group that just passed…”

        “Let ‘em go. We have time.”

        Bill was right, once again. There was plenty of time for this, especially on a weekday. Barbara could see no one approaching them from either direction. All the visible lights both in front and behind them revealed empty space. There was some noise ahead of them, dying as an echo as they moved deeper and deeper into the Lister. They were on their own.

        “Perfect time for a scare. Bogeymen and goblins.”

        “Always. Some people might actually look forward to such a thing. A change or anything.”

        “Right…” Now he knew that he was in trouble.

        “Can I ask you something?”

        Yeah, he was in trouble.

        “Anything at all, my dear.”

        She hated it when he tried the Prince Charming voice. At least there was enough darkness around them to hide her scowl as she turned.

        “You’re gonna ask, so ask away…dear.”

        Barbara did not point the flashlight at him. She turned it up and he could see her face in the beams. A hard stare at him that gave her the attitude and look she wanted to convey.

        “Ha, ha, ha, Mr. Bill. A load of laughs.”

        Was he scared? Should he be?

        “Question?”

        “Why this?” They had made it to the next rest stop. “Why these hikes?”

        Not really what he expected, but still, he would have to be careful here.

        “You know why.”

        Barbara kept staring at him. “No, I do not. Not really. That’s why I’m asking.”

        They had made it to the next rest area, the light from the sepia-tinted bulbs above them contrasting wonderfully with the darkness and the simple wooden slats of the bench built into the rock.

        “And they say that men aren’t romantic…”

        Barbara shut off her light, sat down and rested her backpack on the wall of stone and soil. “Meaning?”

        “How did we meet?”

        She was going to put the flashlight away, but stopped at his question. Instead, she wiped her face down with a blue handkerchief and looked up at her husband.

        “Really? That’s why?”

        “So, you remember…”

        “Of course I remember. Just so stupid to think about it…”

        Bill looked down the trail ahead of them, taking in the amount of space around them. Some stalactites – stalagmites? He could never remember the proper terms – were visible in the glow of the artificial light. He could also hear his own breathing and how it matched up with his wife’s attempt at resting for the journey to come.

        The moment was perfect.

        “School trip. You were with that convent group with your uniforms and beads…”

        “Rosaries…” Barbara was beginning to smile.

        “Right. Rosaries. We ended up with our school at the exact same spot. And the people in my school ended up talking to the people in your school about what to do. So what did we do, my dear?”

        She was still smiling. He had to go on.

        “Just like a bunch of hooligans, we immediately begin to entertain the Catholics in the bus across from us.”

        Keep smiling. Was he safe?

        “We could not really talk to you all, so we had to sing. And it is amazing how we all got in sync on our side. Not so sure if anyone on your side joined in.

        “Some did. But we liked to hear your group acting like idiots.”

        “Drove our driver mad. The teachers who came over and heard us threatened to put all of us into detention. And you were all laughing. Except for one of you…”

        Barbara smirked and looked away (he loved it when she did that). That memory was working on them both in the silence.

        “I was a good Catholic schoolgirl.”

        “You were.”

        “I was also in charge of our group while they talked to your group. We had to behave.”

        “Did you all get the memo?”

        “Not really.”

        She adjusted the backpack and stood up. Bill deserved the kiss he got for that one.

        “Still as dark as ever in her, even with the light.”

        “And that’s why I passed it to you in the dark. Still can’t believe they let us walk with you in these tunnels. Anything could have happened with a nice Catholic girl.”

        Barbara slapped him playfully. No, he was in the clear now.

        “We should keep going, Mr. Bill.”

        They walked deeper into the tunnel and she felt him slip the lighter into her pocket. They would probably keep these hikes going for a little while longer.