t h i r t y
*
The heat only grew as Young-mi and I lounged at the base of Yosemite Falls, until it was unbearable even when we were sprawled out doing nothing. We were forced into the relative shade of the tree-lined path, which continued the trail away from the falls, carrying us into Yosemite Village. We ended up in the visitor centre's theatre for the respite of the air conditioning, before overpaying for sandwiches and fizzy drinks.
Somehow, we whiled away hour after hour as we talked and explored the village, and I managed to remember to write a postcard to Flo when we wandered past a post office. That, I admit, took quite a while. I tend to avoid writing by hand if I can, and when I do, it's virtually illegible to anyone but me – and my dad. He's developed a knack for understanding my scrawl, which looks like my own language.
Once I had painstakingly written out each letter of each word to Flo, I bought a global stamp and sent it off, and Young-mi and I ended up wandering back to our campsite.
We've been here for more than an hour now, and when it hits four o'clock, I realise it's been ten hours since Arjun tripped over my foot on his way out this morning, when he mumbled an apology and told me to go back to sleep.
"Reckon they're all ok?"
Young-mi looks up from her book, a Chinese novel with a convoluted plot that I couldn't follow when she tried to explain it to me.
"Yes. Is long hike."
"But ten hours?"
"It is very hot day, maybe they go slow. Or take long rest at top." She turns the page, her eyes drifting back to the Chinese characters that I envy her ability to understand instinctively.
"Hmm."
"Don't worry, March. I can feel your worry like spiders all over me."
I'm not worried so much as ... gentle concerned and curious, wondering what everyone else is up to right now. They must be down from Yosemite Point by now; they're probably getting food or they're on the shuttlebus, or waiting for a medevac to Modesto...
"Ma-arch," comes Young-mi's sing-song voice. She throws a pinecone at me, and these are no measly English pinecones. Yosemite fir trees are bigger, and so are their cones, which must be five times the size of the ones I've grown up around.
"Young-mi-i," I mimic. I throw the cone back; it bounces off the back of her thigh.
"Stop fussing. Arjun will be back soon; I will go and you can kiss him."
"Ok."
She smiles triumphantly as though she's just won an argument, and she goes back to her book. I plug in my earphones, and I go back to mine.
*
The book is really good. I need to remind myself to download the sequel with next month's free audiobook credit, and I also need to skip back a bit because I'm pretty sure I just fell asleep listening to it without setting a sleep timer. I've got it down to an art, now. I've figured that it usually takes me twelve minutes to fall asleep once I've gone to bed and started the audio, so every night I set it to fade out once that time's up.
But it's not night and I didn't set a timer, and I've fallen asleep on a mat in the middle of the campsite with my earphones in and my phone on my stomach. I'm jerked awake by the spiky thud of a pinecone landing on my thigh and my earphones rip out when I jump, twitching away from the impact.
This time, the pinecone isn't thrown by Young-mi, because she's not here anymore. It must have come from the tree looming over me because the only other person I can see is Arjun, and he's fast asleep on his front, just a metre away. His back rises and falls slowly as he snoozes, the occasional quiet mumble escaping his lips.
I pause my audiobook and sit up, disorientated. Where did Young-mi go? When did he get back? Clearly long enough ago to lie down and fall asleep next to me, and he can't have been alone when he returned – that'd be breaking Sam's main, and pretty much only, rule.
As though he senses my movement, he moves his head to face me and he looks up, squinting at me. He lifts himself up on his elbows and finds his glasses, his vision clearing when he can see properly, and he lets out a yawn before he says, "Hey."
"Um. Hi. When did you get back? Where is everyone?"
"I got back with Kristin and Klara about half an hour ago. They went off somewhere with Young-mi and I figured a nap seemed like a pretty good bet, seeing as you were flat out." He shifts onto his side and pushes his hair off his face.
"The sun makes me sleepy. How was your hike?"
"Stunning. I wish you could've been there, but it definitely would've killed you. Ten miles, half of which is a ridiculously steep and dangerous uphill slog, and the rest is even more dangerous on the way back down. But, wow. Phenomenal." He sits up fully and takes out his phone, opening his gallery and handing it to me.
His photos are incredible. Blue sky and tall trees, and then the most amazing vistas across the top of the park, mountains and peaks rising from the ground, waterfalls crashing down. In a few photos of him at the top of Yosemite Point – which looks so unsafe, it makes me feel a bit queasy – he actually looks sweaty and there's a dark red tinge to his cheeks, but he's grinning maniacally with his arms up.
"Young-mi said you guys had a great day, very chilled," he says. There's no judgment or teasing in his tone. "You went to the bottom of the falls, right?"
"Mmm. Amazing. I can't believe you made it to the top."
"It wasn't easy. At one point, I wasn't sure I'd make it, and the twins almost turned around after the first three miles or so. But they made it. God knows where Young-mi's dragged them off to, though."
"I have no idea," I say, and I really don't. She said she'd make sure Arjun and I were alone, but I'm not sure what she's done with herself and the twins. "What about everyone else?"
He takes his phone back and shoves it into his pocket, lifting his hips slightly for the right angle. "Carrie and Ade went to get food in the village; Sam and Brannan went off to do another trail, I think. Probably the one you did this morning. So it's just you and me now."
He's not wrong there. We're alone together. Exactly what I said I wanted, what I said I needed in order for me to make a move, but the prospect is fucking terrifying. I've never been scared of rejection before, but this is different. To get rejected here would be to be humiliated with a few days left together, nowhere to hide.
"I was thinking of doing the Mirror Lake trail," I say, pushing my nerves aside.
"Well, you can't break Sam's cardinal rule, no hiking alone. Especially not you."
"Obviously I want to do it with you," I say with a laugh. "If you want to do it? It's only a short, flat one, if you're not too exhausted. Apparently it's a nice lake with a pretty cool view of the Half Dome."
"Sounds good to me." He stands and brushes down his shorts, and I do the same. When we're almost eye to eye, him a little taller, he peers at my forehead. I can feel his eyes on my healing wound. "How's your head?"
"Haven't had any complaints."
Arjun's eyes go huge and I hear what I just said. Oh, fuck. It's a reflex response, a stupid thing George used to say, but it's definitely not what Arjun was asking about. He spots my embarrassment; he laughs anyway.
"Well. All right then," he says with a cough. "Good to know."
I'm a speechless fish, mouth open with no words. I cough and cringe and say, "Sorry. Uh, I mean, my head's fine. My forehead is fine. My wound is not problematic and I don't need any further medical attention."
He eyes me, up and down, cynicism beneath his brows. "Nice save," he drawls. Then he holds out a hand and hauls me to my feet, and the forward momentum almost has me toppling into him. "Right. Mirror Lake, then?"
*
The shuttle to the Mirror Lake trailhead arrives as we get to the stop and it isn't long later that we get off in a quiet part of the Yosemite woods, where foot traffic seems to be dying down at this time of day. It's getting on, almost six o'clock, and the sun is still hot and bright and high, but there are far fewer people around.
Arjun consults his map after the shuttle pulls away and says, "I think we just follow our noses."
So that's what we do. We set off into the trees, through which a dusty path is cut, and I notice he makes sure he matches my pace, slowing himself down for my comfort without having to ask or point it out.
"Hey, about yesterday," I say when there's a lull in our conversation, which has flowed for the past ten minutes as I tell him about the trail and my day with Young-mi, and he tells me about his hike.
"What about yesterday?"
"If you ever want to talk, you know you can, right?" My words come out stilted and awkward even though that's the opposite of what I want. "About your brother, or ... anything, really. You said you don't get to talk about him much, and that must really suck. But you can talk to me if you want; I'll always listen."
Warmth floods his eyes, a soft gratitude in his face. "Thanks, March," he says. "I don't have much to say, to be honest, and I hate to think I made anything awkward. I didn't mean to lash out at you."
"You call that lashing out?" A laugh bubbles from my lips. "Not even close. And you're totally right. It's a stupid, meaningless saying. I was only clinging to it because it made me feel better about the whole breakup situation, but it's pathetic."
"Not if it helps you," he says. "Just because I hate it doesn't mean it can't work for you. I know it's a bone of contention between my parents. Dad's all about science; Mum's spiritual. She'd agree with you, probably."
We're the only ones on this whole path, as far as I can see and hear. Nothing but the crunch of our footsteps on twigs and the tweeting of the birds flying around above us.
"Anyway." He flaps his hand, dismissing the conversation. "Right now, I'd rather focus on where we are than on the senselessness of the universe. I really appreciate you, don't get me wrong, and I'm sure I'll take you up on the offer at some point, but I'd rather focus on where I am and who I'm with than talk about my dead brother."
"Sorry." The word is so small and useless but it's all I can think to say in the face of his blunt words, which strike my ear all wrong.
"You know, you apologise a lot," he says, giving me a wry look, the hint of a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. "You really don't need to. At least, you could probably cut down by two thirds and still be doling out plenty of sorries."
"Well, now I want to apologise for being over-apologetic," I say. "You've got me in a corner."
"How about," he says slowly, kicking along a stone until it disappears between the trees, "you stop worrying that you've done something wrong, and you just do what you want to do."
Does he know? Does he know that all I want to do is kiss him? Is that a hint? I have no fucking clue. I have never been good at reading between the lines when I can't read the lines in the first place.
So I just nod. "Ok. Message received. Will do."
Our conversation slips back to the normal, the every day. What we've done on the trip; what we've got left to do. What happens when it's over. The thought alone makes my stomach clench into a lead ball, a heavy weight that drags me down.
"We'll still have a couple of days together," he says, "and then I fly back home on Monday night. San Francisco to Heathrow."
"Me too."
"Oh yeah?" He cocks an eyebrow at me. "What time?"
"God knows. I want to say ten p.m. Definitely a night flight."
"Maybe we're on the same one," he says. My heart flutters for a moment at the thought of being with him that little while longer, even if we're just asleep on the same plane to the same city.
"All I know is that it's a night flight on Monday with Virgin Atlantic."
"Oh. I'm British Airways," he says.
Hopes dashed. I try not to let it show on my face, how pathetically excited I got about the offchance we'd share a flight. Of course not. What were the chances?
"Better make the most of every minute before we fly, then," I say, tucking my thumbs into my pockets, trying to be cool. It's not a good idea, though, when it offsets my balance to be unable to swing my arms, and I almost take another tumble.
I'm done with making a fool of myself in front of Arjun. I'm done with tripping and falling and feeling sorry for myself. The only falling I want him to concern himself with is the fact that I am falling for him. Scratch that – I'm pretty sure I fell for him a whole week ago.
After half an hour of amiable wandering at a nice, slow pace – during which time we've only spotted a handful of people heading in the opposite direction – the path widens and the trees cut away, the horizon opening up to a small, shallow lake surrounded by pines.
"Wow," we say in unison.
The lake itself isn't that impressive – at this time of year, it's almost dried up from the unforgiving California heat – but mirrored in its muddy, rippling surface is the reflection of Half Dome.
From behind a craggy mountain looms a sheer cliff face, what looks like a completely vertical rise. The top of the dome is almost a mile off the valley floor, and I get dizzy just looking at it.
"Fancy hiking up there?" I joke.
"I would genuinely love to," Arjun says, "but you need a permit, and they're pretty hard to get. Otherwise, I totally would've done that today."
"Really?"
"Oh, yeah. How amazing would it be to have been to the top of Half Dome?" His eyes are huge and wondrous behind his glasses, fixed on the flat side of the otherwise rounded mountain that gives it its name.
"It would be cool, if I could guarantee I wouldn't be descending in a body bag."
"You wouldn't," he says. "No way they're getting you down the mountain if you died – they'd have to helicopter you off."
"Jeez, thanks. That's so reassuring."
He flashes me that grin that weakens my knees. "Pretty fucking incredible, isn't it?"
"Mmm. So, is that El Capitan?" I ask, pointing at the mountain in the distance.
"Nope, that's Mount Watkins," he says. "You can't see El Capitan from here, I don't think. We saw it from the top of the falls, though. Absolutely breathtaking. Did you see that film about the guy who climbed it?"
I must be pulling a face, because Arjun laughs. "I saw the adverts," I say, "and they gave me the heebie-jeebies."
"I watched it and I swear, I was clenching the whole way through," he says. "Seeing it in person makes it all the more real and horrifying and astounding."
"I honestly can't even bear to think about it." An involuntary shudder rolls through me. "I think I'd rather paddle in a shallow lake than tackle any sort of climb."
As if to prove my point, I slip out of my sandals and dig my toes into the sandy shore of Mirror Lake, shunning my bag as I head towards the water and wade in. I stop when it's knee deep, and I marvel at my surroundings.
The calm, still water. Mount Watkins in the distance. Half Dome towering above us. The trees all around, reaching up to the clear sky. The silence.
This, I'm sure, is perfection.
Arjun wades in beside me, so close that I feel the soft sand move. Disrupted silt floats in the water like a dusty ballet, settling over my feet, and his elbow brushes mine before he rests it on my shoulder. We stand like that, close, connected, staring at the same sky. I wonder what he's thinking right now; I wonder if we're looking at the same patch of blue or grey or green.
"This is the life," he says quietly, almost as though it's a thought he didn't mean to voice out loud.
I glance at him. He's looking off into the distance and the sun is beating on his face, bathing brown skin in an orange glow that seems to cast a halo around him. The light bounces off his glasses and his arm is warm on my shoulder and I don't think the moment could be more perfect.
My heart is going to actually burst out of my chest and flop into the water in a minute, thrashing in the lake like a starved fish. The tension in my chest is unbearable and I ache to kiss him, and I can hear Young-mi's voice in my head telling me to just do it. I will. I will. If he turns, if he looks at me and our eyes meet, I will.
I'm on the cusp of combustion when Arjun turns his head and he catches my eye, and he holds my gaze, and I just know. This is the moment. The moment is right. I swear he knows it too, because his arm drops from his shoulder as I turn and he's staring straight into my soul. My eyes drop to his lips. My heart has either stopped, or it's beating so fast I can't feel my pulse anymore as I pivot in the water.
And I drop.
My foot sinks into the slippery sand beneath the surface, red-hot pain radiating up my leg when my ankle rolls. I go down with an cry of agony when I lose my footing and splash into the lake, scrabbling to clutch my ankle and try not to drown but the slip and the pain is a shock to my system. I flail my arms, spluttering on dirty water.
Just like that, the moment's gone. I'm soaked and choking and my ankle's throbbing with the familiar burn of a swelling sprain, but irritation and devastation rises above the pain. I had my chance, and I fucked it up.
*
considering some of you were mad after yesterday's cliffhanger, you're gonna hate me after this one! reckon y'all can wait until wednesday?? (not sure i can tbh!)
p.s. here's a photo of a big-ass yosemite pinecone featuring my friend alyson