now
Maybe it’s only people in Lithia who’ve vanished. There’s plenty of gas in the Subaru, so I head through downtown and toward Route 13, which snakes around the lake.
I’ll try Nicholsburg, the next town over.
I drive over a bridge.
A thing you should know about our town is that it is cut through, divided.
With rivers, gorges.
Rich people, poor people.
College kids, townies.
I come down the dip on the highway that leads to Tanner Falls, right outside the Lithia town limits. There isalwayssomeone at the falls, even in the winter. People snowshoe and cross-country ski the trail; they take photographs of the water all year long. Frozen. Thawed. Spring flow, summer swimming. And it’s a perfect evening right now, prime time for people to gather. I can practicallyseea dad with a baby in a carrier, a woman with a dog, a group of teenagers in cutoff shorts and swimsuits, a family with a picnic, everyone packing up or staying to feel the last of the light. They’ll be there. For sure.
So what if there are no other cars on the road, either coming or going? It means I can floor it and get there faster.
I come down to the lowest part of the hill, to where it’sabout to swell back up. I don’t even care who I see first, whether I know them or not, I am going to throw my arms around them and hold the hell on.
But.
The car is no longer moving, even though I’m pressing—hard—on the gas.
There’s no wall, invisible or visible, nothing I’ve hit, but I can’t go forward, or see past the rise in the road.
I canhearthe waterfall, the low sing of it audible now that almost every other sound is gone.
I pull the car over. I put it in park and get out.
I try to walk up the road instead of drive.
Same thing.
I can’t move forward.
It is very,veryweird to walk and walk and not gain any ground at all. I feel like I’m walking in place, the same terrain cycling beneath me like I’m on a treadmill.
Maybe it’s just the road. The road has a problem. I can still get through. I can still find my way to the falls and to people, to a spot outside of my town.
I make my way into the forest, past the tangle of bushes that lines the road and into the deep green shade of the trees. Somewhere in this forest is the border between Lithia and the rest of the world. On the road, it’s clear where that boundary is, but in the woods, not so much. Leaves cover the ground, thick, and I have to push through the bushes and branches.
Maybe there’s a secret path. Maybe I can trick whatever it is that’s done this, and it won’t see me if I’m not on the road.
All I have to do is try hard enough, and I’ll find my way out.
12.
Therapist:Did you make your list? The one of ways to be okay?
July:Yes, I did.
Therapist:Would you like to share it with me? You don’t have to.
July:Okay. [reads list out loud, except the last item]
Therapist:That’s a great list. Did it feel helpful?
