“Never mind, I can leave!” I playfully hold my hands up in surrender. “A guy knows when he’s interrupting!”
Emma tugs at my elbow, smiling conspiratorially as she pulls me in closer. It’s a little more familiar than I’m comfortable with, but I don’t resist.
“You can totally stay, it’s fine. We were just talking about Brittany and Matteo—”
Brittany swats Emma’s shoulder. “There’s nothing to talk about,” she says, but her eyes say otherwise. “He’s just easy to talk to, that’s all.”
“He has a girlfriend,” I say flatly, and her face falls.
It’s abrupt, and maybe a little too rain-on-her-parade. If I’d thought for justhalfa second before speaking, I probably wouldn’t have said it—
But Brittany seems nice, and Matteo really shouldn’t have spent the lastthree hourschatting her up without telling her about Blair.
“He did mention a girl,” she says, shrugging. “But maybe I misunderstood—he said she was in Peru.”
“They’re still together,” I say. “I’m sure he didn’t mean to give you the wrong impression.”
Who am I,defendingMatteo? And defending Matteo’s loyalty to Blair?
Old habits die hard, I guess.
But if there’s one thing Matteo isn’t, it’s a cheater—he’d never purposefully lead anyone on, or do anything to compromise Blair’s trust. Then again, I also thought he’d never betray me like he did.
The rest of today’s hike is a blur.
Exhaustion sets in for most everyone around midafternoon. Matteo and I are acclimated to this level of activity, but we work in an extra break to accommodate the group. Quiet sets in, too, the icebreaker pairings reaching their conversational limits.
It’s a good thing we only have a little over a mile to go. We’ll be staying at Mackenzie Lake for two nights, where everyone can have a good, long recovery from our first few days on the trails. We’ll fish and kayak and have ample time for rest before continuing on to our next stop.
Mackenzie Lake is one of the places out here that’s burrowed its way into my soul. The bad memories are outshined by the good ones—but even those are bittersweet.
The first time I can remember coming out here with my dad, I was around six years old. We went fly fishing and caught more rainbow trout than I’ve ever caught since; he has an uncanny talent for fishing that I didn’t inherit. Most of the trout we released back into the wild, but we feasted on the rest: I remember watching in awe at the skill with which my dad cleaned and prepared them, his movements swift and precise. When I told him I felt sad for the fish, what he said stuck with me:Everything has its purpose, son. Flowers don’t live forever, and neither do fish. Neither do we. Out here, you can see the circle of life in action—nature as it was meant to be.
At the time, I didn’t really grasp what he meant byneither do we.
Now, though, I know. The fact that he hasn’t been able to see Mackenzie Lake, or any part of the park, with his own eyes for the last few years speaks for itself.
I have these little traditions all over, things I do in his honor that only I know about—things he can no longer do for himself now that his breathing’s gone downhill.
I take note of his favorite birds in Valerie Forest.
I carve out a moment of silence at the scenic overlook of Helen Theresa and the Two Sisters.
I quietly count the steps at L’Heureux Falls.
And at Mackenzie Lake, I always look for the perfect stone—something smooth and heavy and relatively flat that fits neatly into the palm of my hand—then send it skipping out over the crystal-clear water.
There are more things along the way, little rituals that make him feel close. I don’t get to see him often these days—he moved out to San Francisco to be closer to his lung doctor, and my work schedule means my trips to the city are few and far between. He’s in a relationship now, at least, so I’m pretty sure I notice his absence more than he notices mine.
It got a little lonely out here, if I’m honest, when Dad and Matteo and Blair all left within months of each other. I’ve been around people, sure, my job being what it is—but lonely’s not the same as being alone.
By some miracle, we make up a little time in our last hour, even with Hunter stopping to photograph mushrooms, moss, and another bird perched up in a tree. It’s been a long day, but I have to admit: the coffee this morning made a difference. Even I’ve had more energy out on the trail, and I’m positive it’s helped the others push through.
It was good, too.Reallygood.
Another thing I’m finally—reluctantly—admitting to myself: I miss Sadie.
Joshua and Trey are nice guys, sure. But if I hear one more story about shark diving (howdid they talk about it for three hours straight without repeating anything?)…I cannot be held responsible for my actions.
