“You’re going to be eating my dust then.” She swings her leg over the cross bar and takes off.
She’s faster than last time, and I push myself to keep up. This time we’re not last and end up in the middle of the pack. The ride is more technical and strenuous. Halfway up a long incline she stops and pulls off to the side. I stop with her.
“Don’t stop for me.” She waves me on.
“My lungs are about to explode.”
“You’re lying.”
I wipe my forehead with my arm. “I’m sweating like a pig.”
She releases a long breath and looks at her watch. “Do pigs even sweat?”
“We can find out.” I pull out my phone. “Hey, Siri, do pigs sweat?”
“Here’s what I found on the web for do pigs sweat,” Siri’s voice tells me.
I click on the top link and paraphrase the text. “Pigs do have sweat glands, but they don’t work well enough to cool their bodies, thus the mud.” I add the last part on my own.
“Okay, Mr. Encyclopedia, I’m thinking the comic routine bit is also for heart-rate-lowering value.”
I can’t help the smile spreading across my face. “No, it’s totally my thing. I told you I was funny, right?”
“Yes, you did. Okay.” She looks at her watch again. “I think I’m good.”
We restart the climb. It’s harder when you don’t have momentum, and I need to stand up. Summiting the crest, I see the group at the bottom.
The trail is wider on the decent, and she yells back to me. “Race you!”
“You’re on.” I pump my legs and fly past her.
“You’re heavier than me.”
I slow up and let her catch me. Coasting side by side, we reach the group. I make a quick stop in front of Jeff.
“Show off.” He rolls his eyes.
“More like an out-of-shape wimp.” I laugh.
We break for water and then continue on the loop. We’d started earlier, so it’s hotter, but we get in a longer ride before dark.
“So, you working on your cardio to reduce your heart rate?” I ask Liz as we walk to our vehicles.
“Yeah, the only thing I really did back east is run. I’m trying to mix up my workouts, get in shape for the canyon hike. I want to be prepared for the altitude change.”
“You’re taking this pretty seriously.”
“I want to enjoy it. Getting sick would not be fun.”
“I guess it’s good we’re going up the night before. Swimming is good for cardio.”
“And it’s not ten-thousand degrees. I may try that.”
We reach her truck, and I take a deep breath, imagining my most casual voice. “Hey, who are you riding up with?”
“Isabelle and Jeff asked me and Josie to ride with them.”
“Great, I’ll see you later then. Volleyball?”
“Yep.” She nods and lifts her bike onto the carrier.
With the week’s gruesome schedule, I find myself looking forward to seeing Liz again. On Wednesday, we chat a little between games.
I follow Liz across the parking lot. “Am I being a stalker?”
She notes my truck beyond hers, and I’m happy she recognizes my vehicle. Then, she asks if I’ll join in the Saturday hike, and I tell her I’m working. I count it as a plus that she’s asking about my schedule. I wonder if I should ask for her number, ask her out to coffee or something. I consider checking in with Mayo, as I haven’t been there in weeks, but that feels like over-the-top stalker behavior. After the trip, I’ll be caught up money wise, and I can relax my hours. Six days in the canyon did not come cheap, even with packing in our own gear and food.
On Sunday when we meet up for the bike ride, I’m a zombie.
“You look like hell.” Liz stretches as she greets me.
“I feel like the walking dead. A few more days, and we’ll be in Grand Canyon heaven though.”
“Six days in the wilderness with no real amenities is your idea of heaven?”
“Okay, I may amend that.” I smile at her.
She’d instigating the conversation, and I like that, even if it was to tell me how horrible I look.
Wednesday morning comes, and I sleep in and get in a workout before we’re supposed to meet up at one. I’m practically bouncing out of my skin from excitement. I’ve been dreaming about this trip since I moved to Phoenix. We’re caravanning to Flagstaff, bunking in hotel rooms for the night, and meeting at the rafting outfit the next morning. We have five days going down the river, and then a day to hike up to the North Rim.
A few people look stressed, but most seem pumped for the trip. I put the back two rows of seats down in my truck, and we pack a lot of gear in the back. John says he’ll ride with me, and I figure he’s pretty good company. The two-hour drive passes quickly, and we pull into the motel lot. I’m paranoid about things getting stolen and carry all the gear up to the room. We kick around the small town and grab dinner.
I try to snag a spot beside Liz at the table. It seems a couple of the guys have the same idea, and I miss out. I tell myself it’s not a competition, but part of me feels it is. Josie slides in the booth beside me.
“How was your drive with John? Are you all religioned up?”
“He’s a normal person.”
“I know that.” She pushes her elbow into my arm.
Many are drinking, but I stick with water. I notice Liz does the same. On the walk back to the hotel, she falls into step with me. “Hi, you survive your marathon work week?”
“Yes. And we’re finally here.” I motion to our surroundings.
“You’re really excited about this. You don’t think you’ve built it up too much in your mind, do you?”
“Worried about me being disappointed?”
“My only worry is the sun and snakes.”
“Snakes, there are snakes? Never mind, I’m going home.” I make a U-turn and head back the other way.
Her carol of a laugh fills the air, and she hooks her arm in mine. “You actually are a little funny.” She releases me.
I point at her. “I told you.”
We change into suits and take a swim, lounge by the pool, and hang out in the hot tub. Liz wears a two piece that is more like a tank and brief. She has nice curves, and I like that she’s not too showy with her body. Unlike Josie, who has leaned towards me multiple times with half her boobs uncovered. Maybe if she weren’t so pushy, I would like her more. I’m not sure how else to give her the hint that I’m not that into her. I’ve known her for over two months. If I were going to ask her out, I would have. Then I think maybe I’m moving too slow on the whole Liz thing. The trip should help with getting to know her better though.
I wonder if a year ago I would’ve asked Josie out. Certainly, I appreciate the female form and she has nice curves. But I never went for pushy girls, and I would have had to be honest about what I wanted—sex and nothing more. Josie didn’t seem like the type I could have a clean relationship with. I shudder at the thought of being intimate with her.
The next morning, we grab breakfast as soon as the complimentary buffet opens and head out with bagels in hand. We get to the launch point by eight and unload. I hang out by Liz, hoping to share a boat. Josie trails me, and with the gear, we end up only four to a boat, which makes it Liz, Josie, John, and me, plus the guide, Mike. Mike seems okay, if not a little over-muscled and under-shaved. As he gives instructions, he tells us he makes his living on ski patrol in the winter and rafting in the summer. From his bloodshot eyes, I figure he probably does other recreational type things too.
Liz slides over to me as we approach the boat. “Are you comfortable with this guy?”
“He probably knows the water. He looks strong enough. I checked out the company. They have good reviews.”
“Yeah, I did too. Okay.” She nods her head, as if assuring herself.
The safety talk and instruction course are an hour, and I get tired of sitting.
After, we load our gear and decide
where to sit in the boat. John and I take the front. Liz and Josie have the middle, and Mike is in back. Figuring the front person is most likely to go in, I feel better with Liz and Josie in the second row. Liz grabs the space behind me.
The river is broad in the valley and slow, and we amuse ourselves with races and a quick swim. Like the canyon walls, the water is milky red, but the sky above is a deep blue. Although hot, it’s not as warm as in Phoenix. While the water is refreshing, the swim yields shorts full of dirt. Within a mile, the Paria River feeds in, and we experience our first white water. My heart pounds as the boat topples over the first dip and we maneuver around rocks. As the river widens again, I look back to the crew behind me.
“Everybody good?”
Liz is smiling from ear to ear. “That was amazing.”
“Might want to pay attention up there,” Mike calls and tilts his head up.
I turn to see another stretch of falls in front of us and focus on our path. We spend six hours on the water with a break halfway. I’m glad to be on dry land when we stop.
We eat and explore the area. There’s a clear waterfall that makes a good shower but for the frigid temperature. Everyone comes out shriveled, and we dry ourselves in the sun. Before dark, we pitch the tents and then huddle around a fire as the night cools.
“I feel like we should be singing ‘Kumbaya’,” Josie comments.
“Whatever happens, Zack does not get to sing,” Jeff pipes up.
I spin to face him. “What?”
“Remember the first time you came to our house and we did karaoke?”
“And you wonder why I didn’t want to go back.” I push him into Isabelle.
Jeff points at me. “But he can dance.”
I stand. “And that is my cue to turn in.”
The group breaks up. Near the river the air is cold, and I leave my sweatshirt on as I slide into my sleeping bag. Gurgling sounds from the water are a constant, and I am asleep within minutes.
Light wakes me, and I turn my wrist over. My watch reads after five. I’m used to getting up early and slip a shirt and shorts on and exit my tent. No one else is up, and I go exploring. When I return half an hour later, coffee is brewing. Using the hot water, I hydrate my oatmeal and take a seat beside Liz and Josie. “Good morning, ladies. You guys sleep okay?”
“Like the dead.” Liz takes a sip of coffee.
“You’re lucky we have the river for a backdrop,” Josie comments. “I snore.”
The guides corral everyone, and we’re given the option of making more time on the river to have an extra day at Bright Angel campground at the bottom of the canyon. Everyone votes for taking the extra camping day, and we break down our tents and load the boats.
We keep the same boat teams, and Liz takes her position behind me again. “So, you can dance?” she asks as we lift the boat to the river.
“I’ve been known to have some moves. You like dancing?”
“Yeah, love it. Do you know a good club?”
“You’re right by one of the biggest clubs in town at the ball field, Bar Smith,” Josie puts in.
“Oh, right, you went to college here, right?” I comment to Josie.
“Yeah, most of the hip clubs are downtown.”
I can’t imagine Josie with her alternative vibe at a hip-hop bar. “Can’t picture you there.”
“You gotta do them once when you’re twenty-one, right?”
Thinking the only way I’d enjoy the club scene now is with a girlfriend, I push out the thought that Liz is twenty-one. She’s out in the world on her own for the first time. We are light years apart. The thought sobers me. I roll my eyes. I’ve already psyched myself out.
“Are there good clubs in Philly?” I ask.
“Yeah, there’s a pretty good singles population. It’s different when you live at home, though.”
“You lived at home when you were in college?” Josie asks as we get in the boat.
“It was close and cheap. I have”—she bites her lip—“five younger siblings.”
“That’s a lot of people to put through college,” John comments.
The first portion of the ride is slow, but we pass through Marble Canyon and the speed picks up. It feels like a constant roller coaster for a bit as we hit dip after dip. The thrill of the pace is equal to my trepidation of what would happen if we flipped.
“How often do you have someone fall out? Have you ever flipped a boat?” I ask Mike when we stop for a break.
“This late in the season, never, unless someone isn’t paying attention. Earlier, when the river is fuller, all the time.”
“That would be wild,” Josie comments, and I’m surprised that thrills don’t entice me like they used to.
We pass under stone archways and snake through narrow canyon walls, stopping for lunch and then making camp at the Little Colorado River. Unlike the bigger river, the water is clear, and swimming is appealing. There’s a pool with a rock jutting out some ten feet above, perfect for jumping. The water feels refreshing for a bit, but the sun dips low, and we get cold.
We hike to the summit before the sun passes the horizon. The clouds glow pink and orange in its wake.
“Sweet idea,” Josie comments, and I realize she’s inches from me.
I aim my eyes at the sky, fighting the urge to move away.
We hike our way down using flashlights and hover around the campfire. Someone starts a spooky story contest. I listen until ten when my eyes grow heavy.
I wake before five and, seeing no one about, hike to the summit to watch the sunrise. I hear scraping rocks behind me as the orange ball rises from the canyon rim and turn to see Liz.
“Good morning,” she whispers and sits down a foot from me.
“Good morning,” I whisper back.
We sit there a minute in silence. I’m not sure whether to speak or not when I’m ready to leave, so I stand and turn to go.
I hear her rise. “I’ll walk back with you.”
“Wasn’t trying to be rude. Just didn’t want to bother you.”
“That’s nice. No, I’m good.”
Waiting for her to proceed, I follow.
“You’re so polite.”
“It’s the Midwesterner in me. People aren’t polite on the east coast?”
“Are you kidding? Have you been to Jersey?”
“Not really, only through it,” I tell her. “So, you didn’t like it there?”
“No, it’s not that. It’s different than here, faster pace, louder, more crowded.”
“Phoenix is pretty densely populated.”
“I think the lack of trees makes it feel more open.”
The path widens out, and we walk side by side. Approaching the campsite, I hear Josie’s voice. “Where were you guys?”
Liz points to the sky. “The sunrise was amazing.”
Josie crinkles her nose. “Yeah, I caught some pink clouds. They looked cool reflecting off the water.”
I huddle near the fire to warm up and grab some coffee and my breakfast staple, oatmeal. We break camp and head out, trying to make the Bright Angel campground by sunset. The speed of the water ebbs and flows, and I pull out my camera when we have breaks.
“That must’ve cost a pretty penny,” Josie comments as I seal it in the case. Even though it’s waterproof, I’m not taking any chances. I figure one hard hit to a rock and it’s gone.
“I used some pre-birthday tokens,” I tell her.
“Sweet, when’s your birthday?”
“September.”
“No way,” she swats my arm. “Mine too, what day?”
“Twenty-first.”
“Twenty-third. We’re nearly twinning.”
The thought of us related in any way makes my skin itch. We reach the campground before sunset. After twelve hours on the river, every muscle hurts.
“I could use a spa day,” Josie comments.
“Well, you’ve got two days to rest up,” the guide tells us.
We heat our
meals and eat in silence. As soon as it’s dark, most everyone—including me—crawls into our tents.
In the morning, it feels good to sit in the sun and sip coffee. We break up into groups based on activities of interest. There are a couple of cool hikes from the campground, and Liz and I join in those. After dinner, I take my camera and hike upstream. Making my way back to our tent sites, I spot Liz standing in the middle of the stream.
“Perfect location to view the sunset,” I say.
She turns and smiles at me, and I snap a picture.
“Hey, no fair.” She holds her hand in front of her face.
“You’ll thank me when you have proof you were here.”
“Isn’t that what that photographer guide person is for?”
“Mine will be better.”
“You sound pretty confident.” She ventures out deeper, and I follow.
“I took a course.”
“Really, when?”
“Okay, I watched a video.” I stick my tongue out at her.
“That’s not childish at all.” She splashes me, and I take another shot. “Stop.” Her hands graze the surface, throwing more water my way.
“My camera is waterproof.” I inch towards her.
“Well, at least take a picture of the sunset.”
I stop and face west. The few thin lined clouds near the horizon have turned pink, and I depress the shutter once and rest the camera on my chest.
“This is an amazing trip,” Liz comments and turns to face me.
“It’s the best place I’ve ever been.”
“What is number two?”
“My family went to the Badlands National Park in South Dakota when I was twelve. That was cool. We didn’t travel that much though.”
“Yeah, me either.” She steps to the bank and slips. I reach out and steady her.
“Thanks.” She teeters and regains her balance. “And thanks for letting me borrow the gear. I wouldn’t have been able to afford this trip without it.
“Happy to help.” I release her hand.
She looks into my face and smiles. “You’re a nice guy.”
“I like to think so.” My lips form a smile. “You’re pretty cool yourself.”
Her eyes pan the sky. “I didn’t say you were cool. Quite the opposite, I think you’re kind of a nerd.”
Deepest Scars Page 7