I lunge up the steps, the same terror that momentarily held me down now driving me forward. Fear is like gravity in a topsy-turvy world.
I can see the summit. Eyes on the prize, right? We catch up with the grandma and grandkids.
A middle school–aged boy jumps from rock to rock along the side of the ties, as if the main trail isn’t challenging enough. Meanwhile, Grandma struggles along hand in hand with an elementary school–aged girl.
The boy points up. “Come on, Grams. I can see the top.”
Two middle-aged ladies limp down steep steps from the direction he points, one clutching her back, the other clutching her side. Only they’re laughing over their obvious pain.
It’s not fear that seems to drive them, but adventure. They’re doing it for the story.
The one wearing a khaki hiking hat catches the grandma’s eye. “I hate to break it to you, but it’s a false summit. There’s still another seven hundred steps to the top.”
Seven hundred? My heart can’t handle that, and not because of my heart rate.
The other woman wipes her forehead underneath her visor and points to a gradual trail off to our left. “Last chance to take a chicken-out trail.”
The term seems fitting since the ladies cackle the ways hens cluck. The rest of us aren’t so cheerful as we contemplate our life choices. Well, everyone else may be contemplating. I want to drop to the ground and kiss the dirt path that’s here to rescue me. If that makes me a chicken, then bok-bok.
The little girl whimpers as if she’s about to cry.
I give her an empathetic smile. “I feel ya.”
Grandma sighs. “Brent.” She waves the boy down from where he’s already started up the next set of stairs. “Your sister isn’t going to make it.”
And this is why my dad didn’t take me with my brothers to hike Half Dome.
“Awww, Grams,” he laments, but he follows her down the path after the middle-aged women.
I would gladly trade places with him.
Nathan joins me under a shade tree but looks up the mountain rather than down the trail. “We’re so close,” he says overconfidently.
“Nathan.” I put all my hesitations into my tone, hoping that I won’t have to speak them aloud and he’ll be the one to suggest we call it a day.
He faces me, thumbs hooked on the side of his backpack straps, strong jaw lifted in exuberance. I could take a picture of him and sell it toTrails Magazine. He makes hiking look fun. Not like the torture I’m experiencing. “If you stop here, you’re not going to get to attain the top-of-the-world feeling.”
If we were really on top of the world, we’d have great cell service. “It’s not as hard as I thought, but it’s taking too long.”
He slides his aviators off. Whether it’s to study me closer or so I can see the conviction in his eyes, I’m not sure. Either way, his dramatics put Horatio Cane fromCSI: Miamito shame. “Didn’t flight attendant training feel long too?”
“Yes. And if I could have gotten out early, I would have.”
“I’m sure some did.” He tilts his head sagely. “But aren’t you glad you made it to graduation?”
I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t passed, so right now I’m kind of wishing I hadn’t. Ironically, this adventure is exactly what I’d been hoping for back when I was stuck at my desk all day. Still, I suppose he’s right. “Yes.”
“One step at a time. It’ll be worth it.”
I shake my head, but mostly at myself. Because he’s right. One step isn’t hard. It’s when you can’t see them all to know where they end that each one becomes overwhelming.
“Come on. I’ll tell you more stories to speed up our climb.”
I resign myself to follow. Partly to make him happy. Partly out of curiosity. No part of me thinks he’s right, but at least the hike will be over.
I hear about how Nathan’s dad remarried right after Nathan’s breakup, and how he’d refused to go back home for the wedding because he’d feared it would make him feel more alone. Especially with his new stepmom, Sarah, having three boys of her own. Not only did his dad’s newfound relationship highlight Nathan’s loss, but he also felt replaced as a son. I’m sympathizing—feeling his pain more than mine. Then somehow we’re there. And the top-of-the-world view wipes all the fear from my mind.
We’re looking down at the thousands of stairs we climbed and the valley so far into the distance that I could almost be on an airplane. Only it’s better because none of the strangers here are yelling at me about orange juice.
