His laughter eventually turned into hiccupping giggles as he rested his forehead on the slightly tacky bar, and God help him, Alexei didn’t feel anything in that moment but a light-headed happiness.
A burst of laughter from Ben joined Alexei’s giggles, and Alexei looked over at him.
“You were being too nice to me for me to really absorb it at the time,” Ben said in between his laughs, “but I’m just remembering how you called TumbleweedThistlewhistle.”
Alexei laughed harder.
He laughed until his stomach hurt, and Ben clapped him on the back.
“All right, Lex. Now that”—Ben scribbled his signature on their bar tab before sliding off his stool—“is the sign of margaritas and rum well had. Let’s go sleep for twelve hours.”
Chapter Eleven
By the time they’d breathed in the fresh air of Big Bear City again, strolling through the early evening twilight back to their motel, Alexei felt better than he had in a long time. Alexei, maybe, felt the best he had ever felt in his whole entire life.
Thisplace. This trail, this state, this world was so mind-guttinglygorgeous, full of more than you could ever know, peaks and valleys and seriously,so muchsand, and Alexei was almost starting to feel affectionate toward the desert. And each day they inched closer to the Northwest, to moss and ferns and redwoods and trilliums and roses and banana slugs, and oh, he couldn’t wait to see it again. Everything about the natural world made sense to him, from bedrock to oceans to an entire sky filled with birds, and paying it respect was the only responsibility in the world Alexei truly had at the moment. A moment of grace, a blessing made visceral. His body felt stronger now. He couldn’t wait to get back on trail.
Only a few minutes had passed when they walked by a gravel parking lot filled with hikers. The crowd was gathered around a man sitting atop a picnic table outside a shuttered café, strumming a guitar.
Alexei stopped abruptly.
“I can play the guitar,” he said. “Did you know that?”
Ben’s mouth twitched. “I did not.”
“I’m better at the piano, though.”
Ben’s smile grew. “Naturally.”
They watched the guy, playing an old Dispatch song, for a few seconds more.
“I’d love to hear you play sometime,” Ben said.
“Think that guy’d let me borrow that?” Alexei asked. Ben wanted to hear Alexei play; he’d hear him play.
Ben looked at him, a funny look on his face. “You serious, Lex?”
The scruffy bro finished his song ten seconds later. Alexei stepped forward and cleared his throat.
“Hey,” he said. The crowd turned toward him. “My friend doesn’t believe I can play.” Alexei pointed at the guitar. “Would you mind if I borrowed that for just one song?”
The guitar player looked up.
“You guys on the PCT?”
Alexei nodded. “Yeah.”
“Then of course, man.”
As Alexei adjusted the strap around his shoulder, strumming a few chords to get his fingers reacquainted with the instrument, he glanced at Ben.
“I honestly have no idea if this song is cool or not, or whatever,” Alexei said quietly, just to him. “But you know I didn’t have much access to pop culture, so.”
And without further ado, Alexei launched into “Wonderwall.”
It was almost funny, how not-nervous he felt, even as he opened his mouth to sing the first verse. He felt good. He feltreallygood.
It didn’t matter that Alexei hadn’t touched a guitar in months. He had played this song a million times, in secret in his old bedroom, even though he was only supposed to be practicing the guitar for church. He knew it like the back of his hand. He knew it like he knew the skin around Ben’s eyes was crinkling right now.
