Ten

                                    

                                          
Ten 
                          
63 days until the wedding 
                          
     I've got my phone and my phone charger. A portable charger for my phone and a charger for my portable phone charger. I have my tablet and my tablet charger because I figured bringing my laptop would be a little excessive. I have my yellow whistle that I keep in my purse to keep away potential muggers and the miniature bottle of hairspray I pretend is pepper spray because I think it'd be just as effective if need be. Even though the things that I may be threatened by this weekend are hairier than your average man.
                          
     "Honey, did you finish packing?" 
                          
     I hear the echoed words before my mom appears in my bedroom doorway which is how I officially know they were directed at me and not my dad. 
                          
     "Almost," I chirp even though it's a complete lie. 
                          
     In my opinion packing is a hazardous task. You say you're only going to bring a little because "less is more," but then you end up trying to stuff an old lava lamp you've had stored in the back of your closet because you worry something terrible is going to happen, and it'll be your only source of light even though it's been broken for years. 
                          
     Or maybe that's just me, but either way, like most people, I tend to avoid it until the last possible minute. Then I slowly coax myself into starting the measly task by starting with the things I value most: my pajamas and my electronics. 
                          
     "Oh, didn't Aubrey tell you? We're making this an electronic free weekend."
                          
     My head draws back as I give myself a double chin and raise my eyebrows. "Say what now?" My mom only laughs and slaps my arm, slapping my weird expression away, but I still feel a whine crawling up my throat. "I thought we were just staying at Ben's dad's cabin." 
                          
     "We are, but since Ben and Aubrey are the ones who planned this trip and are the ones getting married, we must respect their wishes."
                          
     "But mom," I drag out the title like a spoiled little kid, but my mom just reaches over and rubs my arms while planting a quick kiss to the side of me head. 
                          
     "I have to go make sure your father packed his underwear, and your grandmother didn't pack my expresso machine."
                          
     I laugh at the thought as my mom retreats from my room before my eyes land back on the items I had sprawled out on my bed. "But what if there's an emergency and someone gets eaten by a bear!" The yell is halfhearted, but I yelp when my mom pokes her head back into the room. 
                          
     "That's not going to happen, but if it did happen the Coopers have a landline and we'll just have to hope for the best."
                          
     "Whatever you say," I sing-song back before she disappears, and I turn to face my bed again. I slip my whistle on my wrist and grab the miniature hairspray, holding it out in front of me as if it were a gun. 
                          
     Watch out grislys,' Avery James is coming for ya! 
                          
**** 
                          
    I don't do well with people, or their body parts, but as we pull up to Ben's dad's cabin after a four-hour drive, I seriously find myself considering gynecology. 
                          
     The dirt driveway led us right to the back of the log cabin, but no literal logs make up its structure. Instead it's all dark wood with a big open floor deck expanding from the back of the sliding glass door. Through the door I can already see an open first floor with a den area on the left and granite countertops that make up a kitchen on the right.