The Wrong Side of Twenty-Five

by Dionne Abouelela

  “You mean you didn’t stop here for Arches? You really just stopped for BurgerBarn?” the animal tamer behind me questioned over the squeaking of her almost flattened crocs, toddling towards the counter to pay for the largest soda I had ever seen. The container was punctured by a neon green plastic bendy straw sticking out of a thick plastic snap on lid, and the cup, no the jug, had a handle built into the side. She was buying so much soda she had to have a handle to hold the cup.

  “That’ll be $1.42,” the clerk said.

  My jaw dropped. I had never seen anything so glorious and yet so disgusting at the same time. “Wait, did I hear that right? $1.42 for that huge jug of soda?”

  “Yup. But only because she already had the jug. She’s just getting a refill.”

  “How much is the jug?” I asked. The curiosity and excitement rested heavy on my tongue.

  “$2.75.”

  “I’ll be damned,” I spat. I raced to the soda counter, pulled down a huge jug from on top of the machine and watched as the soda machine went from dingy and syrupy to a shining beacon of golden light crying out to me to relieve my thirst from its well of flavors. I stood there, debating between neon yellow diabetes and dark purple liver failure, feeling the closest I had ever felt to any sort of god in my life, and decided choosing just one flavor was much too difficult. I forcefully stuffed the jug under the ice pit, filling it 1/3 of the way — just enough to keep my drink cool but not enough to water the drink down too much or take up too much space. And then I did the only logical thing. I went down the line and put a little of this and a little of that in the jug until it the liquid threatened to spill out of the top if I even thought about inserting the tiniest of straws. “Screw you, choices,” I laughed. “I win this battle today.”

  The lid screwed tightly over the concoction, squeezing the overflow up the massive straw, which I greedily caught with a sip while turning back to the counter. “Not bad, not bad at all,” I whispered with a pat on top of the jug, trying to figure out exactly what the mixture tasted like. There was a little cherry but a little bitter, a little carbonation but a little smoothness, and each sip hit the tongue in a rotation of flavors sparking inside of my brain. I was now hardwired for adventure, at least until the sugar crash.

  “That is the nastiest thing I have ever seen,” the animal tamer called.

  I remembered Tyler writing ‘Arches: Must see for peace’ on the list I crumbled and tossed out. I saw the lady’s recommendation I must visit as a sign, but the only arches I wanted were the bright green triple arches leading into BurgerBarn. The Arches parking lot was filling; families and couples spilled forth with their backpacks, camera equipment, and blankets, heading towards the trailhead.

  I poked through my car, surveying what I may need for another hike, relieved this path looked to be void of any greenery capable of furthering the rash on my legs. I lathered my ankles with some sort of cream I pulled from Tyler’s emergency medical kit, and set off, thankful the small box had been safely stashed under the passenger seat. My flip-flops clacked against my heels and I joyfully sipped on the toxic concoction in my oversized jug.

  “Wait! Hey, you,” I heard a man call from behind me. His voice was accompanied by heavy thumps, shuffles, and thick breathing. I turned around to face a giant. This man was dressed in all black, easily 6’5”, and weighing enough his belly extended heavily over his belt line, but his biceps indicated he religiously worked out. The site of him confused me, my body freezing without any assurance for how to continue. He was jostling a tri-pod under one arm, two heavy camera bags under the other. “You’re not going out there like that,” he said through heavy breaths after his shuffling feet finally caught up to me. “You can’t possibly. It’s pretty warm, the hike is a good 1.5 miles on some incline rock paths. You’re just asking for dehydration and an injury with flip flops and…that…” he continued, pointing at my liquid abomination.

  “Oh, I’m totally fine. I’ve hiked before,” I replied. Perhaps I brushed him off out of embarrassment I was an obvious novice, or perhaps my action was due to my stubborn need to find everything out for myself. I looked around and noticed schools of children moving towards the path. How hard could this walk be? “Thank you for your concern. I hope you get some great shots today.”

  “Okay… But I have to tell you I come out here quite a bit. You really shouldn’t take any chances, especially with your hydration levels. See this bag here?” he replied, pointing to a thin tube near his left shoulder running into an extremely small backpack tucked under his equipment bag. “It’s full of water. Better safe than sorry.”

  “I promise you, I’m going to be fine. Thank you for your concern,” I replied curtly, turning towards the trailhead and walking my stubborn ass towards the hamburger free arch supposedly capable of changing my life. Small twinges of shame echoed in the back of my mind, telling me to turn around, to grab some water, to change my shoes, to grab a plastic bag full of some kind of survival tool, but my ego shouted any rational thoughts down and pushed me forward. You would think by now I would recognize signs and omens.

  You would think.

  I flopped and flipped my way down the trail, marveling at the red dirt and rock formations. If I was able to walk on the bottom of the deepest parts of the ocean, or if I ever have to escape to Mars because humans have finally destroyed the earth, I was sure they would look like this. Slightly boring, but strangely beautiful at the same time. Sadly, neither of those martian landscapes would have a gallon jug of carbonated liquid candy.

  Soft thumping approached from behind and I recognized the sounds of multiple feet quickly hitting the dusty rock path. A young couple bounded past me, perfectly in stride. His tanned skin was glittering with the thinnest layer of perfectly placed sweat, his t-shirt tied in a knot around the straps of his daypack, firmly tightened on his svelte frame. Her long auburn ponytail swung perfectly with her stride, her geometric print leggings complimented by a neon green sports bra, sticking out like a beacon of health against the dull red rocks.

  “Sit-ups,” I whispered to myself, taking another slurp out of my jug. What just grazed past me like two endangered rare antelopes was exactly what I wanted: to be part of a beautiful couple engaged in activities together, keeping perfect pace with each other, who didn’t show up eleven years too late or abandon each other. I watched them growing smaller, and when the browned god took a large skillful leap over a medium sized boulder, a small silver square leapt in perfect synchronization out of his pack and down to the ground. They didn’t notice; too in sync with each other, too focused on their exercise, and kept jogging down the path towards our final goal.

  My pace instinctively quickened, small puffs of dust clapping alongside the slaps of my rubber soled flops. My eyes tightly locked on the lost item I would find, return, and thus be granted entrance into their world of perfection, if only for a moment. With each step and each sip, I had visions of our future as friends firmly planting themselves in to brand new manifestation practice.

  “Remember when we met? You found our lost object on that trail! Yes! What a savior you were. We never would have known and our lives would have been ruined,” they’d say and we’d clink wine glasses on the front deck of a yacht, somewhere in the Pacific…or Caribbean…

  “Damnit!” I cried, pain shooting up my right ankle, my limbs twisting underneath of me and sending my body hurdling to the ground belly first. My chin barely escaped direct contact with the rocky path thanks to my chest, the first time in my life my small breasts came in handy. My eyes remained locked on the tiny silver box, now just slightly out of reach from the ends of my outstretched fingertips. What had been ¾ a gallon of soda now splashed out in front and underneath of me, mixing with the normally dry dust of an ancient Wild West footpath, and formed a pool of sticky sweet mud, slowly sucking my body down just a little bit lower in to the muck.r />
  The intensity of the mystery surrounding the miniscule metallic object and the opportunity to meet the mysterious people packaged in humanly perfection disengaged my mind from my feet. I stopped considering the terrain, and certainly didn’t notice the medium sized rock monsters that popped up and grabbed my ankles, pulling me down, tearing my flip-flop into two pieces, and left me laying in soda mud resembling a sticky flounder. A thin line of blood trickled down the top of my right foot, adding to the misery of injuries resulting from me trying to free myself. If this is freedom, I’m starting to think I was born to live in a cage.

  My fingers snaked over the small prize, feeling the smoothness of the outer wrapping, smiling at a perfectly coiffed little bow on top. I instinctively knew this item was special. My mind knew what was inside, what secret was hidden under the perfect miniature lid. The moment every person dreams of, and the moment some of us have to resign ourselves to constantly watching other people obtain.

  I scooped up my now empty jug, my dirt covered straw and the shattered plastic. My destroyed flip flop fit perfectly inside the massive cylinder, and for good measure, I tucked the remaining functioning flip flop in as well before setting off once more.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Excuse me,” I shyly said to the back of the tanned man perfectly carved from the mind of every deity on earth and beyond. He furiously fished through his pack with his picture perfect other half standing to the side, questioning his feverish movements. I knew what he was looking for, of course, because his treasure was tucked tightly in between my two rolled up flip-flops. “Excuse me,” I coughed, louder this time.

  “Not…not now,” he frantically replied.

  “No, Sir, I think you want to talk to me,” I paused. “I…umm…I have what you’re searching for because I watched it pop out of your pack down the trail.”

  The words settled quickly upon his panicked mind before his head spun on its axis with speed that would make a racecar driver jealous. Every muscle in his body tensed and a curious scowl laced with disgust trickled over his face, slowly simmering to his nostrils, and pulled his brows together with an invisible thread.

  Warmth spread over my cheeks and I winced. I could feel the tears pooling as shame once again became a part of my life. “Can…can I talk to you over here? I know I look rough…it’s been a rough hike,” I whispered, my voice trembling. Neither replied, neither moved. I thrust my cup towards the man, every vision of friendship I carried quickly escaped into the sky like a balloon let loose by a careless child. “Please, just look inside…in between the broken flops,” I coached.

  “Ah!” he exclaimed, relief setting over his face. “Oh my God. How did you…where did you…” He looked at his girlfriend and nervous wrinkles began to deepen and creep in over his forehead.

  “What in the world is going on, Chris?” she asked, hands on her hips, eyes surveying me furiously, bouncing back to his face for only brief seconds.

  “I, um, I should go. If I could just have my stupid cup back so I can try to repair my shoes, please,” I whimpered. Every time I started to think I was learning how to be strong, or who I was, or what I was made of, life was there to tell me I was getting ahead of myself. Way, way, way ahead of myself.

  “Wait. Where?” Chris asked.

  “On the trail. You two ran past, and then you hopped over a rock. I saw…it…bounce out when you landed.”

  “Oh, hah. Yeah, that was a bit of a bounce. So you saw…it…and decided to come find us? All the way out here?” He cocked his head, curiosity written over his face, his eyes still deciding which part of my visual mess to settle on.

  “Yes. Well, sort of. I saw the…thing…bounce out and in my rush to get there I fell, face first, on my big ass jug of soda, broke my flip flop and cut my foot. But…I found…that, and well, you don’t just hand…that…to someone and expect them to do the right thing,” I replied, biting my lip. “If you could please just hand me my flip flops, I’ll head out. You can keep the jug. Your…thing…may be a little sticky, but I didn’t have any choice. I’m so sorry.”

  “No, no apologies. You are amazing for this.“ He sighed.

  “Will someone please tell me what in the world this is about?” his girlfriend cut in.

  “Tess, this isn’t how I wanted this to be, but I’m not sure how to explain this any other way now,” he began, slowly getting to one knee before pulling the small silver box from the empty jug, wiping traces of sticky syrup from the outer edges.

  “Oh my God,” she whispered. “This is happening? You found…that…and brought it back to us? You walked here barefoot to find us?” Tears started steaming down her face and my body instinctively opened up in response, the floodgates torn down.

  “Yes,” I sobbed. “And the rest of the hike wasn’t easy. I have poison ivy on my feet and ankles, I never knew those tiny rocks could hurt so bad, and the final rock hill was really…really hot. And the only clean set of clothes I have is now ruined by a stupid jug of soda, when I don’t even like soda but I had to buy the damn thing because I wanted to know what it was like to have one.”

  Silence sat heavy between the three of us followed by a quick burst of deep, stomach stirring, genuine laughter. I couldn’t help myself. The story was beyond ridiculous and if a barefoot dirt covered girl approached me after a decent length backcountry trail, I’d probably hesitate as well.

  “If you don’t mind,” Chris cut in, “kneeling this long is a little rough on the knees. Can I finish this real quick? We’ll get back to you in a moment.” He turned to his girlfriend, smiling the moment his eyes settled over the face he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. “Tess…I had a speech prepared, but I hope you can understand I just don’t have any words at the moment. Will you marry me?” he asked in between chuckles.

  “Absolutely!” she cried out. Cheers echoed around us from those who were watching the scene with morbid curiosity. “This will be an engagement story no one will believe.”

  “You better take a photo for proof,” I joked, mortified when my words were met with agreement and we were quickly set up for a snapshot.

  “Do you want me to send this to you?” Tess asked, her excitement beaming from every word and every inch of her face.

  “I don’t really check my e-mail or have a smart phone,” I replied, once again shocking them.

  “Girl, you need to sit down. Let’s get your shoes fixed and I need to hear more about someone who doesn’t seem to believe in modern life, is having a jug of soda for the first time and decides to do a distance trek in flip flops.” She plopped down on their thin red flannel blanket and fished out a small kit with a few safety pins, duct tape, and a few other items I didn’t recognize. “If you’re going to be in the outdoors, you should always be prepared.” She winked. “By the way, are you thirsty? I imagine you’d be dehydrated from soda, let alone walking in this arid heat with no water.” She handed me a small bottle of water before I could answer. I was thankful because I was extremely parched but too embarrassed to let them know. “We always carry an extra just in case. You’d be surprised how many times one bottle of water comes in handy.”

  My eyes drifted over the crowd filling in on the smooth rock cropping around us, laying down blankets in free spaces, setting up tripods, and fiddling with lenses. “People come out here to just…sit?” I asked.

  “Sometimes, but we’re all here for the sunset,” Chris chimed in.

  “I bet that would be beautiful out here. It’s so…quiet. I’ve never been anywhere like this before.”

  “Oh, it’s magnificent. When the sun drops, the rocks seem to illuminate. The sunsets are really quite spectacular. We like to come out here after a stressful week. The sheer beauty just resets your priorities, gives you focus.”

  “So I keep hearing,” I replied.

&nb
sp; Tess reached over and handed me my once broken flop, now tightly hanging back together with some bits and bobbles carefully taped into place. She quickly moved to explore the small cut on my foot and smoothly wiped it down with a tiny square of gauze pre-dipped in alcohol. The soft sting felt comfortable, almost cleansing, and I breathed a deep sigh of relief. I told the newly engaged couple about my adventure, leaving out as much as I could, but biting hard into my lip when my discovery about Uncle Ray slipped forth. I felt liberated, but ashamed. Brave, but impish. Cleansed in mind, but dirty in body.

  The colors began to creep up from the horizon, shooting brilliant pinks fading into a soft lavender before retreating into a fierce red. With all the frustration this trip constantly threw towards me, the beauty of secret corners continued to amaze me. I never knew the open lands and alien landscapes of the west existed. My hunger for exploration grew and my mind growled in anticipation of the next landscape fit for consumption. The setting sun brought a chill and as I watched the darkness creep over the majestic red rock arch, another question popped in my mind with the same clarity as the millions of stars now peppering the inky night.

  “I didn’t realize I’d still be out here this late,” I whispered, trying to not disrupt the majestic calm resting on our shoulders. “How exactly do we get back in the dark?”