Out of the Woods

by Hannah Bonam-Young

“I think this could be good for you. Seven days, no distractions, a little bit of couples counseling in the great outdoors. Might give you some time to think. To talk. To dream about what you want out of life. What’s the worst that could happen?” “I squat to take a shit in the woods and my vagina grazes poison ivy.” She blinks at me, stunned. “Wow, your mind didn’t even hesitate to come up with that scenario.” “We both know how sensitive she is,” I say, looking down at my lap. “I’ll be nursing her back to health for the rest of my days. Now that wouldn’t be good for my marriage.” “We’ll get you a collapsible bucket to shit into,” Win says, reaching for her drink. She uses her tongue to fetch her straw, takes a long, drawn-out sip and then sets it back down. “Ooh, and one of those lady urinal things.” “So according to you,” I hold up both hands to perform air-quotes, “to save my marriage,” I drop my hands into my lap, “I have to shit in the woods? Or piss into a funnel?” “People have done a lot more work for a lot less reward.”