Page 18 of When The Mountains Held Us

Inearly collide with Tonia as I rush through the door of the office. The woman is clearly on her way out, if the canvas tote bag slung over her shoulder is any indication.

“I’m so sorry, dear! I didn’t see you there.” She gives a light laugh, and I return it with an awkward one of my own.

“Completely my fault.” I shove a hand out between us. She looks down at it like it might bite her. “I’m Oakley,” I clarify, praying that she won’t make this any more awkward than it already is by asking, “Who?”

“Oh! It’s so nice to meet you.” Her hand is warm and delicate in mine, and a bit of my nerves ease with the gesture. “I’m actually on my way out, but I have a few minutes for us to chat.”

Dread pools as my stomach plummets, and I already know what she’s about to say before she even opens her mouth. You’d think having a worst-case-scenario mind would prepare you for rejection like this. But if anything, it makes the lingering minutes between what you know is coming and the actual delivery of the bad news utter mental and emotional torture.

Tonia gestures to a brown leather armchair, and I take a seat, clutching my hands together in my lap while picking nervously at my cuticles.

“I’m sorry I missed our appointment yesterday. I didn’t know there was construction on Maple Avenue, so I had to go around. But then I got lost, and I⁠—”

She stops my rambling with a gentle hand on my knee as she leans forward in her chair.

“I’m the one who should be apologizing, Oakley. When I left you that voicemail, the apartment was still available, and I had every intention of showing it to you today. But on my way out, another potential tenant approached me and offered the entire first year’s rent plus security if they could move in today. I’m sure you’ve noticed, but this is a small town, and well, business doesn’t come around too often.” Cutting straight to the chase. No warmup. Cool.

I try to tamp down my irritation that she didn’t think to—I don’t know—call me back to let me know the apartment is no longer available? My heart sinks to my toes as her words settle over me like a suffocating blanket. In the span of a few minutes, my carefully crafted escape plan goes up in flames. I swallow past the lump in my throat and nod my head, giving her what I’m sure is a pained smile that probably suggests I have a stomachache rather than reassures her that I understand.

“No, it’s alright, Tonia. I completely understand.” I’m lying through my teeth, but she appears visibly relieved at my acceptance, letting out a puff of air as her shoulders drop. The words taste like ash on my tongue, and there’s a faint buzzing in my ears as I try to beat back the panic thundering in my head.

It’s not okay. Nothing about this is okay. She pats my knee before standing and giving me a sympathetic look.

“I’ll hang onto your number, and if any other apartment becomes available, you’ll be the first to know.”

I nod absently and follow her out the door, my body moving on autopilot as I climb back into my car. Tonia gives a small wave as she passes me and speeds down the main road in her silver Lexus.

Yeah, tough times.

I thought I hit rock bottom when I came home from work to find my kitchen littered with empty beer bottles, only to be screamed at when I didn’t have more in my hands. I thought I hit it the first time Travis got so angry with me for staying out late studying at the library that he’d smashed his fist through the window right next to my head, glass raining down around me and cutting my face. I thought I hit it the first time he ever hit me. And then again the next time, and the next time, and the time after that. I thought I hit rock bottom every single time I believed his saccharine words of apology that somehow always ended with him inside me, whether I wanted it or not.

But this? This feeling of finally having the courage to leave and take back control of my life, only to have my carefully crafted plan crumble around me? Having a miniscule taste of freedom only to be set back at every single turn?

This is my real rock bottom.

It feels like there’s no way up and out from under the waves of my own circumstances. Maybe that’s the thing about rock bottom. The farther you fall, the higher the pressure, and the harder it is to rise back to the surface. I thought I was well on my way to freedom—to light, to air, to sky—and to a normal life again.

But now, all I feel is the crushing weight of the waves around me.

It seems like such an insignificant thing to splinter over after everything I endured for months, but I guess that’s the thing about rock bottom.

You never know what will finally break you.

I spend the rest of the day sitting on the lumpy motel mattress and staring at the wall. I can practically hear my parents in the back of my mind spouting some inspirational bullshit that they think will suddenly fix all my problems. If only they knew.

With nowhere else to go after leaving the apartment complex, I made my way back to the motel and handed over the credit card I saved only for emergencies, asking the attendant—a young college kid named Adam—to book me for an indefinite stay. Clearly, I have bigger problems to worry about at the moment than credit card debt.

Only when my stomach rumbles do I remember that if I actually want to live another day to figure my shit out, I should probably start with taking care of the basic needs. I have somewhere to stay right now. It’s a far cry from the homey apartment I had my heart set on, but it will have to do. Sure, the motel is outdated, but it’s mostly clean, safe, and for the time being, mine. Plus, it’s situated right in the center of town and within walking distance of the small grocery store and other local businesses I’m excited to check out once I’m more settled.

I stand from the bed and grab my car keys, deciding that I’ve spent more than enough time sulking.

Over the next half hour, I empty my car and bring all my belongings inside, then head to the store to stock up on some essentials.

The grocery store is small, but has everything I need. Surprisingly, the prices aren’t as expensive as I would have expected for the only gig in town. I stock up on some basics: cleaning products, coffee, and enough ramen to feed an army, along with some miscellaneous toiletries, and a bag of chocolate chip cookies locally made here in North Creek, according to the packaging. I sneak one out as I finish up my shopping and moan as the cookie practically dissolves in my mouth, the chocolatey goodness melting over my tongue and lighting up my tastebuds. I’m going to have to grab another bag of these. I’m not convinced they’re going to survive the three-minute drive back to the motel.

On the way to the checkout line, I pass a small display of souvenir signs and stop to browse, riffling through them. Each one is different, and I find it strangely charming that each is only one of a kind. After some digging, I find a rustic wooden one that reads, “The Mountains Are Calling And I Must Go” in looping letters, with the silhouette of the Adirondack Mountains behind it. Beneath the quote sits the name “John Muir.” I have no clue who that is, but he might have been on to something.

The saying is so fitting that I place it on the conveyor belt with the rest of my items before I talk myself out of spending the money on it.