THE TENT SHE LEFT EMPTY

Lately, the red marks and bruises on my wife's body were more obvious every time she came home from a hike. She said the trails were rough. A few bumps and scrapes were inevitable.

But I couldn't understand it. If she came back looking like that every time, why was she so excited to pack her gear the very next day, insisting on going out again?

Chapter 1 Six months earlier, my wife's department had gone on a teambuilding hike on Pine Ridge Trail in eastern Tennessee. She came home hooked.

She started researching gear and joining all sorts of local outdoor groups. At first, I was supportive. We'd been married for four years, and she'd always been quiet and reserved.

On weekends, she either tended her plants at home or read. It was unusual for her to find a hobby that got her out of the house.

I didn't just encourage her—I bought her plenty of gear, too. But after she joined a group called Trail Companions, she started going out more often and staying away longer.

Day hikes turned into twoday weekend trips with an overnight stay. Now she wanted to do some fourday, threenight trek, carrying all her supplies on her back.

I'd suggested that, with a rare long weekend coming up, we could take a little road trip around the area. But she always said she'd already made plans. Next time.

The previous Saturday, she'd gone on a newly scouted route up a creek. She said she'd be home before dinner.

I waited until almost one in the morning before she finally came through the door. She looked exhausted.

She was walking a little strangely, mud spattered all over her, her pants torn. “What happened to you today?” I hurried over to take her backpack, asking casually, “Didn't you say this was supposed to be easy?” “Don't even ask.” Her voice was a little hoarse. “We took a wrong turn on the second half.

It got dark, and the slopes were all loose rock. I fell a few times.

Honey, I'm going to take a shower.” She headed toward the bathroom with a hand braced against her lower back. “Leave your clothes here.

I'll throw them in the wash.” She pulled her quickdrying top over her head, took off her compression tights, and wrapped herself in a bath towel before going into the bathroom.

I bent to pick up the clothes she'd dropped on the floor.

There was a huge green grass stain across the back of her top. “Honey, how'd you get grass stains all over the back of your top?” I walked to the bathroom and knocked.

The water stopped for two seconds. “Oh, I slipped on the way down and rolled a few yards down a grassy slope.” “You fell? Are you hurt?” “I'm fine.

Just a few scrapes.” “Let me come in and look.” “…Hang on.

I'm almost done.” More than ten minutes passed before she came out in her towel, wet hair clinging to her neck, her face slightly flushed from the steam.

I had her lie facedown on the bed so I could put some antiseptic on the scrapes. But when I pulled the towel down, I froze. There were two long red marks around her shoulder blades.

Farther down, just above her buttocks, were several bruises, some darker than others. “You got all this from falling?” I dipped a cotton swab in povidoneiodine and dabbed her wounds.

She hissed and clutched the pillow. “That slope was really steep. There were loose rocks everywhere.

They dug into me when I fell.” Once I'd finished her back, I moved around to check her front.

She instinctively tugged the towel up over her chest. “Your knees.” She slowly straightened her legs. Both knees were bruised. “Open your legs a little.

Let me see if you're hurt anywhere else.” She didn't move. “You don't need to. My legs are fine.” “You were having trouble walking just now.

Let me look.” She hesitated, then parted her legs slightly. Chapter 2 There were two more red marks on her inner thighs. They didn't look like injuries from a fall.

They looked as though something had rubbed against her skin.

I stared at them, my hand going still. “How did you get these?” She glanced down and answered matteroffactly. “Sweat and chafing. I was walking all day. It happens to women.

Wear compression tights on a long hike in summer, and they rub against your crotch.” “Chafing?” “Yes. You've never done a long hike. You wouldn't know.

You sweat a lot, the fabric keeps rubbing, and this is what happens.” I didn't say anything.

What kind of chafing left marks in exactly that spot? “What?” She looked up and met my eyes. “What's that look supposed to mean?” “Nothing.” “What do you mean, nothing?” She yanked the towel over her legs. “I come home hurt all over from falling, and you're inspecting my clothes and my legs!” “That's not what I meant.” “Then what did you mean?

You think I'm seeing someone, don't you?” She sat up, her eyes a little red. “No. I just think it's too easy to get hurt doing this. Next time, don't go somewhere you don't know.

It's too dangerous.” “You can't do outdoor stuff without getting a few bumps and scrapes. This was an accident. Besides, new trails are what make it a challenge.” “But…” “Come on.

I'm a married woman. Who's going to be interested in me? They're just hiking friends.” She had a point.

My wife was already in her early thirties and still took decent care of herself, but she wasn't the kind of woman a man would fixate on at first sight.

Besides, she'd always been so conservative. When we were dating, she wouldn't even fool around in the car. She said it wouldn't look good if someone saw us.

I should have felt reassured. She set the iodine bottle on the nightstand, then lay down with her back to me, the covers wrapped tight around her. I knew I was in the wrong.

I moved closer, wanting to put my arms around her from behind and kiss her neck, to make up the way we usually did.

She hunched her shoulders and pulled away. “I'm tired.” “I just want to hold you.” “I'm really tired. Everything hurts.” “Honey, I'll be gentle.” “I said I'm tired.

Don't you understand?” I pulled my hand back and lay flat on my back, staring at the ceiling.

Before, no matter how tired she was, she'd roll over and snuggle into my arms, mumbling, “Honey, hold me,” before falling sound asleep. I couldn't sleep that night.

My wife and I had met on a blind date, but we'd clicked surprisingly well. She was gentle and liked her peace and quiet. So did I.

When we were dating, holding hands at the movies was about as intimate as we got. On our wedding night, we'd both been nervous.

It took a lot of tentative exploring before we finally managed to do it. I'd always thought that was how we understood each other. Nothing exciting, but happy and secure.

So I'd always respected her, cared for her, and supported her. But now she'd changed. Her Facebook posts used to be nothing but flowers and plants.

Now they were all collages of nine outdoor photos, arranged in threebythree grids.

In the center was a solo shot of her on a mountaintop or beside a creek, wearing a quickdrying top that really showed off her figure.

Come to think of it, her taste in clothes had changed, too. She used to love long cotton and linen pants and skirts.

Now her closet was full of technical compression tights and sun jackets so thin and light they were almost transparent. I'd asked why the sudden change in style.

She said this was what everyone wore outdoors. The clothes wicked sweat, dried quickly, and felt comfortable. I didn't understand the appeal of hiking, either.

Walking all that way, getting exhausted, being out in the wind and sun. Chapter 3 But she said they were just people who loved nature.

They walked mountain trails and took pictures of the scenery. Even instant noodles tasted wonderful when you cooked them beside a creek.

Two weeks later, she said the group was planning a twoday, onenight hike through a gorge in the next state.

I suggested she take me along this time. “Everyone going is experienced and in good shape. The trail's pretty wild, and you can't drive up there.

You have to walk the whole way.” She stuffed her sleeping bag into her pack. “You should sit this one out. You wouldn't be able to keep up.” I wanted to say I was worried about her.

The words almost came out, but I swallowed them. We'd already had an argument about this. I didn't want to upset her again. On Saturday morning, I drove her to the meeting point.

Several SUVs were parked there, men and women loading gear into the backs. Olson, the hike leader she was always mentioning, was there, too.

He was bent over, strapping down a sleeping pad. He nodded when he saw me. My wife ran over with her pack on her back.

Everyone was chatting away, while I stood beside the car like an outsider. Before getting in, she turned and called to me, “We might not have service up in the mountains.

Don't worry. I'll be back tomorrow!” The convoy drove away. I went home to an empty apartment. That evening, I sent her a message on Messenger. No reply.

I called, but her phone was out of range. At one in the morning, my phone vibrated.

She'd sent a photo: a sky full of stars above several glowing tents pitched on the grass. [The stars up here are so beautiful.] [Good night, honey.] I stared at that photo for a long time.

The orange tent in the corner wasn't zipped all the way shut. Through the gap in the outer flap, I could just make out the shapes of more than one sleeping bag.

I told myself sharing a tent was normal. There were plenty of women in the group. Two or three of them squeezing into one tent to stay warm was perfectly normal.

On Sunday afternoon, I went to pick her up. I waited almost an hour at the same meeting point before the SUVs turned in from the intersection.

My wife climbed out looking radiant, her cheeks flushed from the sun and her eyes bright.

When she saw me, she ran over and hugged me. “Miss me?” “I did.” Olson got out, too, his big expedition pack on his back. He nodded at me. “Hey, you're here.” “Yeah.

Thanks for taking care of things.” “No trouble. Your wife's getting fitter all the time.” He smiled and walked past her.

On the drive home, she scrolled through her phone, smiling the whole way. “That happy?” “Yeah. The sunrise at the summit was gorgeous.

Olson took a bunch of pictures of me.” She swiped through them to show me. They really were good. He'd put thought into the lighting and composition.

In one, she was sitting on a boulder at the edge of a cliff.

The sunlight on her hair and face made her look even prettier. “This hike leader really looks after you.” “He looks after everyone.

Everybody in the group says he's a sweetheart.” She pulled the phone back, scrolled a couple of times, and started typing nonstop. That smile came back.

It was early evening by the time we got home. She set her pack down and went straight into the shower.

I could hear the rush of water from the bathroom; her phone sat on the coffee table. I didn't touch it. I leaned back on the couch and lit a cigarette.

Soon she came out wrapped in a bath towel. The hot water had left a faint pink flush on her already fair skin. She tilted her head, drying her hair with another towel.

As she lifted her arms, the bath towel rode up, exposing a little of the very top of her thigh. “I'm exhausted.” She leaned sideways against my shoulder, curling her legs up over me.

The towel hung loose, as though it might come undone at any moment. The milky scent of her skin filled my nose.

Chapter 4 She tipped her face up toward mine, her eyes soft and glistening. I swallowed and put out my cigarette. That night, she took the initiative.

Before the lights were even off, she rolled toward me and wrapped herself around me, her arms circling my neck.

She pressed her lips to mine, urgent and hungry, with a wildness I'd never seen in her before. She'd always been a little shy in bed.

Turning the lights off wasn't enough; she had to pull the covers tight around herself, too. Tonight was different.

She held me tight, her voice soft and sultry. “Honey…” “Yeah?” “I want it.” She kissed me again. Something I couldn't put into words took hold of me.

I moved with her, even harder than usual, but for some reason that photo of the tents kept flashing through my mind. Afterward, she snuggled contentedly against me.

Soon her breathing evened out. I took a cigarette from the nightstand, got up, and went out onto the balcony.

I pulled my phone from my pocket, downloaded Telegram, and registered an alternate account. Then I found her Trail Companions group and tapped to join.

There were already over a thousand messages. Even at that hour, the things they were saying were shockingly explicit.

Someone had posted a closeup of two hands with their fingers intertwined inside a tent late at night. The caption read: [It's tentsharing season again.

If you know, you know.] Everyone underneath was egging them on. A woman had also sent a voice message.

I tapped play and heard a slightly drunken voice. “I'm telling you, if my husband were half as attentive as he is, I wouldn't be running off to the mountains all the time.

Out here, I actually feel like a woman…” I scrolled back through hundreds of messages.

People were arranging to share tents, recommending secluded trails where nobody would bother them, and swapping excuses to get away from home.

An account named Olson had posted several photos of the campsite. The women in them wore compression tights that showed every curve.

Someone had commented underneath: [The girls Olson brings out are getting hotter all the time.] I kept scrolling and found one of my wife sitting beside Olson, very close to him, his hand resting on the back of her chair.

A group member had posted the caption: [Olson and her kind of have that marriedcouple look in this photo.] Every reply was teasing. [Don't talk nonsense.] [They're perfectly respectable hiking buddies.] [Hiking buddies are one thing.

Tent buddies are another.] I didn't snap out of it until the cigarette burned my fingers. Could my wife be involved with Olson?

But he was older than me, and his looks… I didn't consider myself handsome, but compared with Olson, I definitely came out ahead. “Honey.” “Yeah?” “The group's hiking Stone Creek Mountain this weekend.

Two days, one night.” Another overnight trip? I said nothing. She looked up at me. “We can bring our partners this time.

Olson says the trail's easy enough for beginners.” I was taken aback