Chapter 135

He found a bridge spanning a thin part of Osoyoos Lake and walked underneath it, immediately starting to feel better as soon as he was free of the stress of being near Kurtis, and now that he was cool under the shade of the concrete structure, near the water.
He stuffed his cumbersome camping backpack into an alcove, under the bridge and went for coffee at a nearby café with air-conditioning.
It felt so good, just to sit down and read the newspaper.
His horoscope in the Osoyoos Leader said he was about to meet the love of his life, and that it would mark the next stage of his life. But he was warned though, to be careful, because this new lover could potentially swallow him up, like that female spider that devours her mate, post-fucking.

After a couple of hours, he went back to the bridge.
His backpack had already been ransacked by vandals. They didn’t even open it up by the zipper, but ripped it open along a seam running all the way down one side, so it could never be used again.
Fucking assholes.
His clothes were scattered all around the rocks, and soaking in the shallow water of Osoyoos Lake, like dead bodies.
He did a quick inventory. Some things were obviously missing, like his electric razor.
But luckily, he still had his small knapsack he kept folded up inside the big one, to use on day trips.
He took the things he most needed, like his thermal blanket, and put them in the little bag, then pitched the rest of his junk into the river.
His new pack felt light and free on the shoulders, and he grew intensely happy at having purged himself of most of his possessions. They belonged to his old life anyway.
He didn’t need them anymore.
A middle-age man was walking down the bank, under the bridge and stood over by the water. He seemed to be looking for something. Suddenly, he turned his head back and saw Rawle.
“Oops, didn’t see you there. I just came down to take a pee.”
“I’m cleaning up my knapsack. I left it here ‘cause I had to get out of the sun for awhile,” Rawle rambled. “I think I have heat stroke, but somebody friggen trashed it.”
The man was a short, plump, ugly man with a moustache and jeans. When he finished pissing, he asked Rawle if he needed a place to get out of the sun for a while, maybe get a shower and have a cold beer.
Rawle was basically delirious. A strange man was asking if he wanted to come back to his place, and Rawle thought nothing of it.
“Sounds like a plan!”