Out of the Woods

“Not before bed every night, as her parents so rigidly instructed her, or at a Sunday mass, or to apologize for a laundry list of transgressions that one didn’t need to feel all that sorry for. Instead, my mother, the no-nonsense woman that she was, taught me to treat my one-way calls to the big man in the sky as more of a crisis hotline and less as a suggestion box.”

The anecdote here establishes that Sarah’s family history involves religious trauma. Her grandparents—who are not in her life—were “rigid” and obsessed with notions of sin that Marcie came to find unimportant. Marcie, in contrast, sees God as a kind of emergency beacon. Sarah is skeptical about the value of this practice, as she treats contact with a deity as entirely “one-way.” The anecdote introduces Marcie in the past tense, showing early on how the power of Sarah’s grief and her memories will act as motivational forces for her.

“It’s the cursed roles we’ve been stuck in since the eleventh grade. The gallant knight riding in on his white horse is here to save me once again. And shit, if being the damsel in distress isn’t getting old.”

Sarah references fairy tale tropes to convey her exhaustion with their relationship dynamic and with this quote, introduces the theme of The Tension Between Personal Growth and Marital Stability. The adjective “cursed” conveys the sense of desperation and hopelessness Sarah feels— her marriage is no longer a source of strength but instead a trap, like a spell she cannot escape. Her analogy illustrated that their marriage is not a relationship of equals but one of highly gendered codependence. Sarah’s use of an expletive stresses her emotional fatigue and desire for change, setting up marital dynamics as the novel’s core emotional story.

“‘You worked so hard for tonight, Sar…What was I supposed to do?’ 

I scoff. He just doesn’t get it. ‘Nothing, Caleb. You were supposed to do nothing,’ I say, a little too loudly. I only register that because Caleb’s eyes move sharply to the crowd beyond the stage with a hint of panic.”

Caleb’s question at this moment suggests both that his loving concern is real and that he is intensely protective. Sarah’s derision, indicated by the word “scoff,” paints Caleb as willfully ignorant and ignoring her needs. She focuses on his concern for the reactions of others, seeing it as another sign that he is more focused on their public image than her emotional needs.

“But…I’ve also had seventeen years to love and learn Caleb’s ways. That man loves you—whether he’s always great at showing it or not. I think if you tell him you want to try and go fix this weirdness between you, he’ll be on board.”

Win’s speech here is a testament to the power of found family—Caleb’s role in her life is nearly as important as Sarah’s. Win does not hesitate to declare her love and faith in Caleb, in sharp contrast to Sarah’s skepticism. Win refers to their marital conflict as “weirdness,” displaying her faith that the crisis is resolvable, and her more optimistic vision of Caleb establishes the extent of Sarah’s depression and anxiety, as she has come to see her spouse more in terms of his deficits.

“‘I love you a truly stupid amount.’ And I understand what he means by stupid because I’ve come to the same realization…We are far too young to be feeling this way. Far, far too young to give ourselves over to someone else this much.”

Caleb’s open confession of love in the past timeline helps establish the emotional power of the novel’s “marriage in trouble” trope. The younger versions of Caleb and Sarah are open about their emotions, and Sarah has no doubts about his feelings for her. The repetition of “too young” here emphasizes Sarah’s awareness of her vulnerability. Whether a long history together is a benefit or a drawback is one of the tensions connecting the novel’s past timeline to its present.

“Caleb quietly moves to wrap his arm around my hips pulling me closer to him. It’s unexpected, but not totally surprising. He’s far less extroverted than I am, and often seeks out touch for comfort. I like that I can offer him that, even still.”

Caleb’s gesture here confirms that he still trusts Sarah with his emotional safety and security. That she finds this “unexpected” adds weight to the recent emotional chill between them. Sarah’s relief that she is still a refuge for him, however, demonstrates that she truly does hope for a reconciliation on their trip, despite her unresolved anger and doubt.

“I laugh so hard that I snort as my legs start to burn and quake, nearly giving out. Caleb laughs too, purposefully exaggerating his grunts and moans as he stretches for my benefit. And damn it feels good to laugh with him like this. Even if we are truly fucked.”

At this moment, Sarah and Caleb are honest about their shared predicament. Their ability to laugh at themselves, and Caleb’s choice to make himself ridiculous for Sarah, create a moment of unity. The change of setting has helped them relax somewhat, as they are equals in their disadvantage in the more physically demanding environment.

“‘I brought it and a solar charger. I didn’t want you to lose your reading streak. Downloaded a couple of extra books too.’ 

I gasp. I actually, audibly gasp. I would have never admitted such a thing out loud, but I was devastated that upon our return my eBook reading streak would’ve been back to zero.”

In this scene, Caleb establishes that he still knows Sarah’s values, hobbies, and interests. She initially pursued him because of their shared interest in reading, and Caleb’s dedication here confirms that this aspect of their connection is unbroken. Sarah’s gasp establishes her genuine surprise at his care and also highlights that Caleb is highly observant, even if Sarah currently feels unseen and uncertain.

“I didn’t have the heart to tell my mom that it wasn’t the right fit—both literally and figuratively—when she said she loved it and began to tear up. Mom had always been an incredible seamstress. I didn’t want her to know that her daughter’s wedding dress needed to be hemmed shorter just weeks after she’d lost all motion in her dominant hand.”

Sarah’s memories set up her wedding as a memorial to her mother more than a celebration of her and Caleb’s relationship. She chose her dress because Marcie liked it and fought to protect her from the knowledge that it was imperfect in any way. Sarah’s efforts to spare her mother any emotional pain help establish the true devotion between them and set up Sarah’s tendency to sacrifice her comfort for Marcie’s.

“Mom shushes me, over and over, as I shake against her, apologizing a hundred times for everything that’s happened in the last week, for not having good news amid this shitstorm. For failing her when she needed me to succeed the most. It keeps coming out in those same two words. I’m sorry.”

Sarah’s obsessive apologies imply that Marcie’s illness has made her feel responsible for her mother’s happiness, since she cannot change her prognosis. She felt obligated to present her mother with a triumph and sees herself as “failing,” rather than experiencing a routine setback. Sarah’s family tragedy adds weight to Cecilia’s criticisms, and young Sarah internalizes them as a deep source of shame and guilt.

“‘Fuck me for being happy, I guess,’ he says exasperatedly, standing up in a fury. He paces as if he’s intending to walk away but turns back around to say one last thing. ‘This has always been enough for me, Sarah. You have always been enough. But I guess I know where I stand. I’m not enough for you. Clearly nothing ever will be.’”

Caleb’s anger and choice of expletive illustrate how he has internalized Sarah’s discontent as a personal failing. He sees Sarah’s eagerness for change as a condemnation, highlighting the tension between personal growth and marital stability. The sense of hopelessness in his tone emphasizes the depth of broken trust between them.

“I write onto a blank page before folding it into a paper airplane. However, as soon as it’s folded, I realize I have more to say. So, I tear out another page. You’ve always been enough, I write on this one, then fold. Then, again, I realize I’m still not quite done. You don’t have to fake it anymore. Tear, write, fold. I am sorry for not telling you how I’ve been feeling. Tear, write, fold.”

Sarah’s return to writing confirms that the camping trip is a healing journey for her, where she recovers the art form she once loved most. Her return to writing and choice of paper planes underscores that she is reconnecting with her younger self in service of her adult values, highlighting Creativity and Art as Key to Healing. The repetition here is a way of rebuilding her connection to Caleb, as she apologizes and addresses his fears.

“And as for my potential…I know now that Cecelia had the guts to tell me what no one else in my life would. I can’t say all of this to Mom, however, without causing her more worry—and that’s the last thing she needs. I have to be strong for her.”

Sarah’s palpable despair here underlines how much the strain and loss in her life color her entire perspective. She sees Cecilia as having “guts” rather than being unspeakably cruel. She conceals her pain from Marcie, insisting to herself that emotional isolation is strength.

“I want to restructure the business, downsize our life, and help you figure out what you can do with that brilliant, generous, kind, sharp mind of yours. The legacy I want is that I was the type of guy who would show up for people, cheer people on. The guy who was…present.”

Caleb’s declaration here acts as a renewal of his marriage vows. He notably focuses on their family as a joint project, emphasizing “our life” and cataloging Sarah’s best qualities as assets to nurture. His repetition of ways to be there for others is a sign that the retreat has connected him to his compassionate side, allowing him to turn away from the materialism he was raised with.

“‘We have the rest of our lives to fuck each other’s brains out. I’m here to get your heart back first.’ He lays his palm over my chest, right above my rapidly beating organ. ‘I know that your body is always mine but this, this is what I want most.’”

Caleb’s heartfelt declaration here suggests that, while the abstinence rule on the retreat is a prank, it has brought him genuine clarity. He tells Sarah he has no concerns about their sexual chemistry, insisting that emotions matter more. Most tellingly, he now sees the retreat as his own personal mission, rather than a task Sarah has imposed on him.

“‘That’s it, baby. Make it so good that I suffer. Make me jealous.’ I don’t even have to exaggerate my sounds to add to his suffering. I’ve been so not in the right mind space to touch myself for so long that my body is immediately brought back to life, panting and moaning, tensing, and heaving for every touch, tap, and movement.”

Caleb’s focus in this scene is entirely on Sarah’s pleasure, showcasing his fundamental selflessness. Sarah reflects that her recent struggles have impacted her libido, setting up desire and intimacy as forces that should be in balance. Her body is “brought back to life” underscoring that the retreat has reconnected her to her own needs as much as it has brought her closer to Caleb.

“Having you in my arms like this. Feeling you…feeling you come around me. Being out in the open. I think I’m dead. I think heaven might be real. I think it’s you.”

Caleb’s repetition of “you” here underlines how single-minded his focus on Sarah is, setting up a stark contrast with his earlier distance. He sees the change of setting, and their sexual bond, as an overpowering, almost supernatural force. The romantic declaration here returns to the theme of spirituality: Caleb sees Sarah as all the paradise he could need.

“Bo is not supposed to look so solemn. Gus is never supposed to see us afraid. I was never supposed to cling onto Win in a waiting room ever again. Caleb should certainly not be in the ICU.”

Sarah’s repetition of “supposed to” is a litany that illustrates the betrayal that she feels as being back in the hospital with Caleb now as the injured party. Her entire universe has been upended, as her entire family is in an unnatural setting, far from their usual comfort and ease with one another. The emphasis on “ever again” establishes that Caleb’s injury is bringing back past trauma, evoking Sarah’s memories of Marcie and forcing her to face her past in a more visceral way.

“So, before I finish, I apologize to them for their lack of control. I commiserate with them, knowing that we must feel the same. I thank them for their time. For the slight relief I feel, having laid the hurt out for them. And, I say goodbye. For now, and forever after, I will have to stand on my own two feet. Amen.”

Sarah’s attempt at prayer here sets up God as in need of her support, rather than the reverse, emphasizing her newfound strength and resolve. Sarah’s gratitude is for emotional openness and the power of confession, not for confirmation of her mother’s faith. Her insistence that she will “have to stand on my own two feet” is an embrace of adulthood, with prayer as a childhood legacy she does not reject but also chooses not to rely on.

“Better yet consider getting on your buddy’s private jet and flying back here. Or at least offer to do so like a goddamn father should! Also, her name is Michelle and it’s a beautiful fucking name, you cantankerous, self-indulgent dick!”

Sarah no longer feels defensive about her role in Caleb’s life or his family’s wealth, seeing Cyrus’s devotion to business as a moral deficit. She openly calls him a failure as a parent and suggests he regards his wife as an extension of him. Her anger and open contempt in this scene are another sign she has embraced her own agency and values.

“‘I missed you so damn much.’ 

‘I’m right here.’ 

‘I know but you scared us. I love you. I love you a truly stupid amount.’ 

‘I love you too, baby,’ he whispers back to me, a sleepy smile pulling at his lips.”

Sarah and Caleb’s reunion is warm and tender, confirming that their renewed commitment is intact. Sarah repeats the phrasing of Caleb’s initial confession of love for her from their youth, integrating the novel’s flashback sequences and its main narrative. This emphasizes that she has integrated her past and her present, no longer doubting that her choosing her first love was the right path.

“And I think you were right. I think we do. I think we have them. I think Marcie would be very, very proud of us.”

As she did at the beginning of the novel, Win uses her role as Sarah’s chosen sibling to affirm that Sarah is strong, capable, and can direct her own life. Her repetition of “we” indicates that their whole family unit is strong, and a credit to Marcie’s values, just as Sarah has always wanted. It also highlights The Power of Letting Go of Grief, as fear of Marcie’s disappointment had always held Sarah back.

“Human Helen, as she’s now referred to, gets a kick out of it too. So does her granddaughter, Libby, who has dog-sat for us between college semesters when we’ve gone away. We see them all often, though we never did go back to Reignite. We decided, following Caleb’s accident, that we are officially not outdoorsy people.”

Sarah’s reminiscence establishes that the retreat leads to lasting relationships that she still values, giving her a firmer foundation beyond Caleb and Win. Their choice not to return to the retreat is cast in humorous terms—the change of setting did not alter their fundamental natures. It provides assurances that their core conflict has been resolved, as the retreat is no longer needed in their lives.