I love you. I will always hope you’re okay, that you’re healthy and safe.
But I’m not going to wait for you anymore.
Alexei
Unsent
Mile 1,255
***
July 29
Lex,
I got your letter, the one about Jenn and John Muir, and showed it to Carolina. I watched her read it. She smiled, and bit her lip like she does when she’s concentrating. When she was done, she just sighed and said, “Let’s get ice cream and watch a sad movie.” So we did.
A lot of this summer really hasn’t been that bad, Lex. Work has been helping me. I feel more confident, I think, knowing that I’m learning things there, that I’m doing a good job. Ted is a really good boss. And I’ve gotten to spend so much time with Carolina. I’m still sad I didn’t get to finish the trail, but it’s getting easier each day, letting it go, and I wouldn’t give up this time with Carolina for anything. I can’t believe she’s leaving in just a few weeks. I don’t know what I’ll do when she leaves. Finally move out of my parents’ basement, probably.
I’ve gotten better at letting go of the trail. But the one thing that hasn’t gotten any easier is missing you.
There’s another patient at work, Sana. He can still talk, just chooses not to most of the time. Kind of like you. Anyway, any time one of his family members comes to see him, they bring him origami. And his eyes light up every time. I had his sister show me how to make a few things. I was pretty bad at it at first—it made Sana’s sister laugh a lot—and I still can’t do the more advanced shapes, but I’ve at least mastered the crane. At night, sometimes, if I’m having trouble sleeping, I’ve been staying up and making all these cranes. Every time Ma comes down here and sees all these paper cranes everywhere she looks at me like maybe I’m unwell. And maybe I am.
But every time I make one of these silly paper birds, I wonder what birds you’ve been hearing lately, and it makes me feel a little better. A little lighter, just like your birds.
Ben
Unsent
Chapter Twenty-Seven
August 15
Ben,
The most amazing thing happened today! I ran into Ruby!
I almost didn’t believe it, when I saw her hunched over her sketch pad on the side of the trail, just like always. She skipped the High Sierra, got back on trail near Lassen here, said she wanted to see “the weird volcanic shit.” (And some of it isso weird, Ben, but so interesting. I wish you could see it.) I sat and looked through all the drawings she’d worked on since we saw her last, and I swear, Ben, it felt like a piece of my soul was restored.
She says hello. She asked where you were, and I told her you’d gone home. And then she asked if I was okay. I said not really, because it always felt right, being honest with Ruby. And then we were quiet a while, and a Steller’s jay flew to a low branch right across from us. I don’t know if we ever got to see one of those together, Ben, but they are gorgeous. Just the most brilliant blue. It took my breath away. Even Ruby was impressed.
And then I asked her if she wanted to walk with me for a while. And she said, not really. And we both laughed. And it felt so incredible I almost cried. To be around someone who gets me again. Someone who knew me when you were with me. Even if five minutes later I said good-bye, even if I probably won’t ever see her again. She’s getting off the trail again soon, she said. Said she was feeling ready to go home. That she’d listened to her body enough. That it had helped.
But seeing her was really important for me, I think. Just like knowing you was important, too, Ben, even if we never see each other again either. I still don’t connect with 80% of the people I pass on the trail, like I had a hard time connecting with people in the real world, too, before this. But I met Ruby. I liked Faraj and Ryan and Leon and still think about them sometimes, how they’re doing. I met Jenn. I met you.
There will never be anyone else exactly like Ruby. And there will never, ever be someone exactly like you, Ben Caravalho.
There will also never be anyone else to take the place of my parents. Some parts of myself will always be missing.
But you taught me I can find people. That there will be other people I meet in my life who will understand me. Who will love me. Who will show me how wonderful and surprising the world can be.
That is a gift I could never possibly repay you for, Ben, no matter how badly I want to.
I think of how it felt to let you in, to meet Ruby and admire her drawings, to play the piano in London’s apartment, to laugh with Jenn. It makes my soul feel vast and full.
And then I think about how many people you let in. Every single day. Whether they are the people in your permanent circle, or the people you only meet for a few minutes. I’ve been thinking about the new patients you’re working with in your new job, the stories they probably tell you, how comforting it must be for them to know you are listening with your whole heart.
I think about all the people you let in, and I think you must feel like the sun.
