My Hiking Partner Said My Bad Knee Needed Easier Trails—Except There Was Nothing Wrong With My Knee

PART 2

Joanne opened her mouth, but Benita called everyone to the chairs before she could answer.

“After orientation,” Joanne whispered.

“No,” I said. “During orientation, I am going to sit three chairs away from you so I don’t say something unhelpful.”

She looked wounded.

That irritated me more.

I sat beside Priya Shah, a retired chemistry teacher I had hiked with twice. Benita reviewed weather, turnaround times, water, and the lodge rule against muddy boots in the dining room.

I heard perhaps half of it.

When the group broke for dinner, I caught Benita by the map board.

“I need one factual question answered,” I said. “Has Joanne said this before?”

Benita hesitated.

“That means yes.”

“She asked for the easier option on the May wildflower hike.”

“For me?”

“She said your knee was acting up.”

“My knee was not acting up in May.”

Benita looked unhappy now, not careful.

“There was also the August river walk. She asked whether the shorter route could be the default for both of you.”

“Because of my knee.”

“Yes.”

I remembered August. I had thought the club had changed the route because of heat.

“And you believed her.”

“She’s your regular hiking partner.”

That was fair enough to make me angrier.

Not at Benita.

At the fact that Joanne had used being the person closest to me as evidence.

“Please don’t announce anything,” I said. “I’ll choose my own route tomorrow.”

“Of course.”

I found Joanne outside under the lodge awning, looking toward the wet parking lot.

“How many times?” I asked.

She shoved her hands into her jacket pockets.

“Amy—”

“How many hikes have you changed because of my fictional knee?”

She looked at the ground.

“Three. Maybe four.”

The rain fell harder off the roof.

One clumsy protective lie could have been a bad moment.

Three or four was a system.

“Which outings?” I asked.

Benita named them. The May wildflower hike. An August river walk. A September club day I had skipped because of work, when Joanne had asked in advance whether the October weekend could include a gentler option for both of us.

That last one bothered me in a different way. I had not even been there to look tired.

“Please don’t fix this by making an announcement,” I said.

“I wasn’t planning to.”

“I mean it. I don’t want tomorrow to become The Day Amy Proves Her Knee Works.”

Benita nodded. “Pick the route you want. That is all.”

It was exactly what I had wanted from the beginning: an ordinary choice.

The fact that it now felt loaded belonged to Joanne and me, not to the club.