Solitude

Carla saw the movie version of Annie when she was seven years old. Despite all the singing, dancing and cute orphans, the part that struck her was when Daddy Warbucks took Annie to see a movie, and he bought out the whole theater so they had it to themselves.

“Why did he do that?” she asked her mom.

“Well, he’s got lots of extra money. I guess he didn’t want to deal with other people.”

Carla thought that was the best idea she’d ever heard. She decided right then that she wanted the kind of money that meant she never had to deal with other people.

Unfortunately, she discovered as she grew that earning money usually entailed dealing with other people, and she wasn’t very good at that. Carla didn’t end up with the kind of money that allowed her to buy out theaters or rent amusement parks for her own use. She did, however, have the next best thing. She discovered a picnic area that no one else knew about.

There was never anyone there.

Never. Anyone.

It was true the place was hard to find. She kind of had to hold her teeth right and squint at the perfect moment to spot the dirt track running off the main road. Carla never would have found it if she hadn’t been desperate to be somewhere secret, somewhere she could be alone.

The first time she went there, she was enchanted to see a picnic area that seemed to have been reserved just for her. She figured she’d hit it at an off time, though. Surely it wouldn’t always be deserted.

The second time, when she took a picnic out there on her lunch hour, she was thrilled to find she still had it to herself. She started taking her lunch out there every day. She always found blessed, peaceful solitude. It seemed the place really had been reserved just for her.

Eventually, Carla started packing her dinner and going to the picnic area after work, as well. She began thinking of it as her own place, something she’d bought with a currency more powerful than money. When the idea came to her that she ought to buy a tent and spend the night there, too, it seemed perfectly right. Even then, no one bothered her.

Finally, Carla stopped leaving. If the place was magic, as she half suspected, she might leave one day and not be able to find it again. She’d rather die out there than risk that. She’d gradually brought in supplies, so she had everything she needed. She could build a fire. There was water on the other side of the hill. She ate wild dandelions and native pecans and the squirrels she managed to catch.

No one ever found her. No one ever bothered her. And that was just fine with Carla.