2020-02-05 - Winter Camping

Spring is a long ways off in western Washington, but Itzhak is sick of literally everything to do with Gray Harbor. So he asked Isolde if she'd like to go with him for a short trip up the coast, to a little campground August told him about. Camping? Itzhak? Well, it's his style of camping, which is more about emulating an actual comfortable environment than sleeping rough. He likes the gear. Because he's just a gearhead like that.

It's not a long drive, a couple of hours, faster in good weather. Itzhak takes it slow--slow for him--since the roads aren't great. The campground itself is only ten or so spaces, with firepits, and a couple bathrooms in a tiny cinderblock building. (Actual bathroom with running water, though, because Itzhak really is too much of a city boy to tolerate anything else.) When they get there, it's late afternoon. The place is thickly forested with towering ancient cedars, and the ocean is visible through them, roaring and muttering. It's not too snowy, but it is quite cold.

Isolde hadn't ever been camping, so when the offer was brought up to go she was totally down for it. She did bring Fred the frog along because, well, he was practically like a second pillow but also because it was good to have something else comforting on hand in an unfamiliar situation. She let Itzhak handle what they would need gear wise, but she insisted on taking care of the food. So they had a cooler of sandwich stuff and some drinks and snacks.

She's bundled up in jeans, fur-lined boots, a thick sweater and a winter coat and gloves. Now they were in the camp ground and Isolde grinned. "It's so pretty here." Exhaling with a white cloud of breath. She set the cooler down so she'd be able to help with anything else that was needed. "I'm glad that we were able to come up here. Thank you. For inviting me."

"Figured you might be tired of people, yannow? Even though it's a small town. The winter here ain't like in New York. New York, you always have someplace to go. Not here." Itzhak lets Isolde handle the cooler as he bounces up into the back of the big pickup. "Hope you're not tired of me, though," he adds, flashing her a lopsided little quirk of a bashful smile. Then he sets to getting the tent up. It's a tent that's made to fit on the bed of a pickup truck. What won't they think of next?

"Honestly not really been around a lot of people besides the odd jobs," Isolde admitted, "But always nice to have a change of scene. Out of the gray for a bit." She leaned up to steal a quick kiss before he went to get the tent. "Never tired of you, Itzhak. " Isolde assured him. "I love spending time. With you." She starts collecting up some stray twigs and sticks nearby that they might be able to use for fire wood. "How have you been?"

Itzhak brought firewood, too! (Because August gave him a list.) As Isolde kisses him, he tips his head down to let her, smile a little less bashful. "Mmm." His hand strokes her back, before he lets her go. "Good. That you don't get tired of me. God knows I get tired of me," he adds in a wry mutter, and goes back to figuring out how to put the tent up. Luckily he's a genius. In his own weird and very focused way. "Been, uh, well, garage is still ferkakt. Alexander gave me a talkin' to. Roen too. ...Everybody given me a talkin' to. Telling me to get my ass in gear already." Itzhak grunts, pulling arched tent supports up and lashing them into place. "I guess they ain't wrong, just, fuck. You know?"

"Kinda." Isolde agreed about knowing. She put the twigs she'd found in the pit and then went to retrieve the wood that Itzhak had bought. Some of it at least. "I mean, I know I kinda gave. You one too." She breathed out in a chuckle. Kneeling down to start arranging wood, she looks back up at the man. "What's stopin' you though? I mean...something has to be...right?" Because if not then he would have started working on things again. Right? Those wild blue eyes lingering on Itzhak a beat longer before focusing back on the fire pit.

Itzhak grimaces. He tugs everything into place. The tent goes up, neat as a pin. "You did," he agrees, still wry. "Ehhh. Just. I dunno." He stands back, eyeing his work, and nods, satisfied. With the tent, anyway. Then he comes over to stick his nose into what Isolde's doing, dropping to a crouch beside her, long legs folding up. "The place is kinda a dump anyway, and it's not what I really wanna be doing. So I hate it." His tone goes flat, his eyes the same. "I put so much work into it to get it operational, and now..." Fingers flick out in a Yiddish dismissal.

Isolde gives him an affectionate nudge when he settles next to her. The fire pit has been neatly stacked with wood in a sort of tepee formation with the extra kindling at the bottom. "Hand me your lighter?" She asked, holding her hand out. "Or did you bring a fire starter thing?" She quirks a brow, wondering if he might have since he brought the wood along. Then she leans over to kiss his temple. "You shouldn't do what you hate. Even if it pays bills. Should do...either what you want...or what you don't mind." Seemed pretty simple to the red head! Then again, he knew by now she generally tended to see a lot of things in black and white.

"I didn't bring a firestarter. Just a lighter." Itzhak hands it over. "Maybe I shoulda?" Oh no, maybe he overlooked something! He rubs her back as she works over the fire. And sighs. "I have to, baby. Even though I hate it. There's...I got my reasons."

"I think lighter is okay." Isolde shrugged and smiled again as she used the lighter to start working on lighting the fire. A thoughtful little noise made. "I dunno...I guess." Clearly not sure if she agreed with that but she wasn't going to press it. "Have you...heard from Pwill? Or any of the good ones There?"

Itzhak doesn't answer immediately. He watches her work at lighting the fire, just crouching there. (He'd planned on doing that, Roen taught him how, but what the heck, if she wants to, she gets to.)

"It don't belong to me," he says, quiet. "Not really. My name's on the paperwork, but the place really belongs to Felix Monaghan. And so do I."

Isolde, like Itzhak, doesn't immediately answer. Processing that tid bit of information as the fire gets lit. She straightens up, handing him his lighter, studying him for a moment. "...Felix Monaghan is a bad thing." Alexander had said so! She looks worried then, "Is he going to hurt you? Because the garage is messed up?" She knows better than to try asking about what he does for Felix and for now also how he got wrapped up with him. She's dealt with bad things like Felix before. Maybe not quite that high up the ladder but, after all, Itzhak isn't the only one on this campground with a criminal record in the campground!

"He's a very bad thing," Itzhak murmurs. "Eh, he don't care about the garage. He cares he gets paid on time. More specifically, Joey Kelly cares he gets paid on time. The garage is just the way I get him paid. You'd think that'd be motivation enough for me to get shit fixed, right?" He drops his forehead against her shoulder. "I hate it. I hate him."

Isolde wraps her arms around Itzhak as his head drops on her shoulder. Those thoughts twisting and turning as she stroked her fingers across his back. "....How much do you owe him? Or are you in for...life?" The question asked a bit cautiously, softly. Trying not to let on how worried she actually was about this situation. Get all the information first before you freak out. Or...try to get it at least.

"Don't have to be for life. Just. Probably is gonna be." Itzhak sighs. He hugs Isolde, kisses her forehead, and stands up, moving restlessly. "I...guess there's other ways to get it paid off. Like I won a pretty decent share when that guy hired me to build his racing engine." That's what he was doing, when he was gone for a week. "Ain't reliable, though. I just...shit, Izeleh." Running his hands through his curls, he sighs again. "I made a real fuckin' stupid decision and it's in the way of everything."

Isolde leaned back a bit as he got up, watching him pace. Then finally pushed herself up to her feet. "How can I help you? Let me help you Itzhak. There has to be...something What decision did you make? Every problem. Has a solution. How much are you in for?" Brow furrowed a touch as her wheels continued trying to turn. She stays in place, eyes continually tracking him though in his moving.

Itzhak says, unhappily, "I don't know. Okay? I don't know how you can help. I don't know how anybody can help. I'm stuck." He's pacing around, but he stops and looks at Isolde with distress. "I keep telling myself I'm gonna get you in trouble if I keep sticking around. Gonna get Bex in trouble. But I'm too selfish to give you up."

When he stops, Isolde closes the distance. Her hands resting on his cheeks, pulling him in closer to her. "I wouldn't let you. Give me up." She murmured. "Just...count frogs with me?" It was the signature Isolde way to calm down after all. "One frog...two..." And if he goes a long with it she would count to about 6 and then, "...Tell me the situation you're in with him."

Itzhak is pretty good at counting, too. Except he counts by prime numbers, as Isolde touches her frog charms one by one. "Two," he murmurs, touching the charm as well. "Three. Five. Seven. Eleven..." sighing, he relaxes a little into her arms, winds his around her and holds her tight. "All I do is fall apart on you, frosheleh. I'd think you'd get sick of it."

Taking in a breath, closing his eyes he goes on. "Took a loan from him. For my sister." Who Isolde knows has cancer. "Our family's not so well off. You know how expensive cancer is to treat? It's really fucking expensive. Naomi's ex is worthless. Ma's too old to work. I...didn't go to him. Someone came to me. And it just seemed like, hell, I've been worthless too, but I can do this. I can give Naomi a chance."

Isolde nuzzles against him as he pulls her in, her cold nose pressing against his somewhat warmer neck. "We all fall apart." She's fallen apart more times than she can count, so she gets it. <<Never sick of you>> He would hear the whisper of the words against his mind. Fleeting but reassuring. Not trying to fully entangle their minds together at the moment at least. "Do you know how much you have left in the loan?" Probably too much. Sounded like a loan shark situation. Isolde had some first instincts and all of them were likely not smart. "You were trying to do the right thing."

"It's a lot." Itzhak cradles the back of Isolde's head in one big palm, rocking her gently. "Like. A lot. I was trying, but Christ. I just fucked everything up more." His mind twines with hers, grateful for the touch, violin music singing in the link. Discordant, scrapey, but there. "Let's not talk about it right now, huh?" he murmurs. "I wanted to spend time with you and not worry about nothin'."

Isolde hugs him tighter and nodded. "On the shelf." She agreed. Set aside for the rest of this trip at least, though surely Isolde would be thinking about it. About ways she might be able to help Itzhak. But for now, she tried to push the thoughts on her own mental shelf. "Do you think we'll be able to see stars tonight?" Tilting her head to look up towards the sky. "I brought stuff to make s'mores too!" Because no camping trip was complete without having s'mores right?

Itzhak smiles down at Isolde, a little wavery, and tips his head up to follow her glance at the darkening sky. It's clear at the moment, but, "I tried to pick a day it'd be clear, so we could. You never know in this state, but," he looks back down at her, smile a little more real. "Maybe we'll get lucky. Hey. I have a present for you."

"I think we will." Ever the optimist this one. Isolde's eyes widened just a touch. "A present?" Looking curious. "What kind of present?" She took a step back from him, not quite letting go yet but loose enough to where he could slip away if he wanted.

Itzhak has the present on him, it seems! He dips into a pocket and comes out with a flat cardboard jewelry box. "Here ya go. Saw it, had to have it for you."

Inside is a beautiful, colorful frog brooch, poised with one leg outstretched. A faceted peridot-green gem dangles from the stretched toes. The metal is bronze. The rainbow-layered gems are glass, but it's lovely and sparkly to look at. "S'an antique, from the 20s," Itzhak says.

Isolde looked intrigued as he produced the box. Carefully accepting it and opening it up. "Oh...!" A soft little gasp of delight and awe as she saw the brooch within. Lifting it up and watching as it caught the remaining sunlight. The peridot gets a gentle tap. as a grin is given to Itzhak. "I love it! It's so pretty! Beautiful." She carefully put it back in the box, not wanting it exposed to the elements out here. Then she wrapped her arms around him again to pull him into a deep kiss. "It's perfect. You're the best."

Itzhak laughs low and pleased, and kisses Isolde gladly. Deep. Lingering. The heat between them grows intense, as the dusk grows very cold. He murmurs to her, "Glad you like it. I love you, sweetheart."