The Urn Carrier

by Chris Convissor

  “Awesome hike,” the teenage Mormon boy says. He’s standing directly behind Tessa, and his energy is buzzing into her. His hand is on the back of her card table chair. Just like with Paul. She turns and looks up at him, being careful not to show her cards to the others.

  The boy smiles down at her. He may be her age, or a year younger. “It’s high, but passable. The weather is supposed to be good tomorrow. There’s chains and stuff, if you don’t like heights.”

  “Chains?”

  “Yeah. There’s some sections that seem narrow and have drop offs on both sides, but it’s easy.” He shrugs.

  “We hike it every time we come,” his father adds.

  “I’ll go with you,” Jen offers. “If you want to.”

  “Okay.”

  “Murphy might want to stay with us, for that one,” Bill suggests.

  “Really? You’d be all right with that? Because I don’t want him to get hot.”

  “Yeah, it gets hot up top, that’s for sure,” the boy agrees.

  As the fire dies down for the older folks, the kids decide to continue a campfire in an empty site on the edge of the campground, by some rocks and the river.

  More young people from various sites join them and pretty soon it’s a party. Everyone’s dancing and laughing. Some are drinking beer, and some are hooking up and wandering off. The Mormon boy tries to engage her, but Tessa just keeps speaking with Jen. They talk about all their travels and where they’ve been and where they are going.

  “I can make myself scarce if you need me to,” Jen offers, nodding over to the young guy.

  “Thanks. I’m not interested in hooking up with anyone. But don’t let me slow you down.”

  Jen smiles. “I don’t usually find someone else my own age traveling alone.”

  “Do you get a lot of shit on the road?”

  “You mean, because I’m not white?”

  Tessa nods.

  “No, not really. Just like Bill and Dianne, people are pretty friendly. You get one or two idiots along the way, but they are the exception. Just trust your gut instinct. It really develops out here on the road. I’d say ninety-nine-point-nine percent of people are pretty awesome.” Jen pauses. “I’m glad you want to go hiking tomorrow. It’s always more fun with another person.”

  “Have you ever done Angel’s Landing?”

  “No, but I want to try. I like early starts, if that’s okay with you. I don’t like heat of the day hikes.”

  “Neither do I.”

  “Cool.” Jen has deep dimples when she smiles, and Tessa relaxes in a safe space with her.

  “Murphy is like the coolest dog ever.” Jen is petting him as he lies sleeping between them. “I’m running to my rig for another beer, want one?”

  Tessa shakes her head no.

  “How about a water?”

  “Okay.”

  As Tessa waits, she reflects that at both bonfires a blend of folks she might not normally hang with, like the Mormons, surprised her. Everyone striving to find common ground in conversation, hearty laughs of self-told mishaps on the road, enjoying new stories and histories together. She tells the one about her first dumping tanks mishap when the hose wasn’t fitted into the dump station correctly and everything went flying everywhere. How helpful all the folks at the dump site were. Everyone around the campfire claim it has happened to them too. She feels they are just being nice, but it’s good to laugh about it.

  The music out of the old-fashioned boom box starts playing “Rock Around the Clock.”

  And she and Jen start dancing. Tessa is young and free, alive and alone, and yet, not lonely at all.

  “I’M GLAD YOU still wanted to go hiking today.”

  Jen is leading up the well-worn switchback path. It’s red and has rocks alongside. While steep at times it’s not too bad. And just like the Mormon boy said, there are chains every now and then as they gain steeper access. Even for early in the morning, many people are on the trail. Most are going up; some have already been up and are jubilantly climbing down. Their faces a healthy blush and excitement that they “made it.”

  Curiosity propels Tessa and Jen higher.

  A blend of folks here too, just like at the campfire. People from France, Germany, South America, Asians, First Nation. Just as Jen nods especially to other black people, Tessa nods to First Nation, and they grin and smile when they see her, sometimes arm bent at the elbow, a fist up in the air as a hello.

  Lots of children attempt the climb, and a few elders who say, “I’m only going so far.”

  Some benches are spaced at intervals for folks needing to rest. Then they get to the top, or so they think and realize as they make the turn, there’s actually a lot further to go.

  Jen starts out on the ridge that has fifteen-hundred-feet drop offs on either side. Tessa starts and gets about thirty yards before she freezes. Although the ledge is wider than it looks, she can’t do it. The drop offs on either side make her dizzy, and a little nauseous, like she’s suspended in the clouds. Maybe on a different day this would be less threatening. Today she simply stops.

  In the middle of the eight-foot wide and sometimes less wide ledge, is a chain the whole length of the mostly barren ridge line up through to the other side where there is vegetation again; a high path with trees. At the very end are people, stick people it looks like, standing on a wide open flat surface, overlooking the park, the highway, and the other high points of the mountains. Their little jubilant stick figures jump up and down and their happy shouts of achievement waft over to Tessa after a considerable delay. Then, there’s a long drop arch to another, lower platform rock. Tessa is unsure if the trail ends there or up top; she can’t see that far.

  Tessa makes room for the others behind her, and once they pass, she moves off trail. Jen returns to where Tessa is sitting on a rock well beyond the path of other visitors.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I can’t do it.”

  “It’s okay. We don’t have to.”

  “I don’t want to hold you back. I can wait here.” Tessa has tears in her eyes and hates her fear of heights. “I want to be able to do it.”

  “Well, let’s just sit here. It’s a good time to have water and a bite to eat.”

  They sit in silence and watch group after group come up and make the turn and keep going.

  “Is it just me?”

  “No, it’s really scary, even though eight year olds are doing it.”

  Tessa laughs and shoves her.

  Suddenly a family with two boys, about eight and eleven, make the turn. The younger boy sits down.

  “Get up,” the father tells the boy.

  “I don’t want to do it, Dad.”

  Tessa’s heart twinges.

  The dad pulls his son by the arm, standing him up. Others pass by as the mom and older boy wait. It’s a constant parade of hikers willing to try the ridge.

  “Man up, Garth. I’m not going to have you embarrassing this family.”

  Tessa flinches. It’s all she can do to calmly stand and walk over and in a polite voice say, “He can stay here with us.”

  “No!” the father barely regards her. “He is going to learn to face his fears, whether he likes it or not. I’m a primary electric lineman. I climb poles all day. He’s going to learn how to do this.”

  “Let him be.” The words erupt from her belly.

  Jen is beside her in a flash. “Easy there.” She puts her arms around Tessa and pulls her back into her body.

  The father looks around at Tessa and something in her eyes moves him backward a step. “I mean. I’m sorry. It’s nice of you to offer, but he can’t just not go.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, because we’re going . . . as a family.”

  “It’s not for everyone.” Tessa’s voice is still deep. She’s almost growling.

  She’s re-living. Her fists are clenched. She’s ready to take this man’s head off.

  For a moment everyone freezes. The mom a
nd older brother are staring open mouth at her. The little boy is looking up hopefully toward her. The father is shrinking away, his face red, as if he is embarrassed, or, very frightened.

  “C’mon, son,” is all he says, and he marches the boy forward.

  The boy whimpers and looks back at Tessa, with a plea in his eyes.

  “I’ll hold onto you,” the father says, a little more kindly.

  “Let’s go this way.” Jen guides Tessa to their shady spot and they sit back on the rock. “Man. Now I know what it means to see a person’s eyes turn yellow. Girl, you transformed. That guy was scared of you. Everyone was scared of you. That’s some deep shit.”

  “It’s not right, making that boy go when it’s obvious he didn’t want to. That’s fucking abuse. I’m sorry.” Tessa puts her head down. “It’s just wrong. I don’t know where that all came from.”

  “You went somewhere else.”

  Tessa nods.

  “You’ve got power. Just another thing I’m attracted to.”

  They sit in silence a moment.

  Last night, at the fire, Jen had leaned in for a kiss and it felt good. It felt more than good. They kissed for what seemed like hours, but Tessa couldn’t go any further. Despite her raging hormones, she kept seeing Dina’s face.

  “That girl better know how lucky she is,” Jen says, referring to Dina.

  “Oh, you like the growly Tessa?”

  Jen laughs. “Oh yes, ma’am. I would love me some of that growly Tessa.”

  They nudge shoulders.

  “Let’s go up this way.” Jen indicates away from Angel’s Landing. “We can get just as high, if not higher, and you can take a picture, paint it, and send it to me sometime, yes?”

  “Yes,” Tessa agrees.

  As they stand, she places her hand on Jen’s forearm. Electricity jumps between them and for a moment they both just stay still.

  “Thank you. For everything. For being sane back there when I wasn’t.”

  “My pleasure. If nothing else, I’m a good foxhole friend. I’ve got your back.”

  “And I’ve got yours.”

  “You can whoop ass too. I see that.”

  They high five and climb higher than Angel’s Landing.

  THE AHRENS HOST another campfire with a rousing game of euchre. Tessa begs off early so she can hook her truck and rig for her departure the next day. No sooner is she asleep than a loud knocking on the camper begins.

  “Park Ranger! Everyone must evacuate in fifteen minutes. The dam has broken. The river is going to flood the campgrounds.”

  Tessa jumps to her feet. In a matter of minutes, she moves along with all the other campers. Lights on, engines running. People picking up camp. After Tessa throws her camp chairs in and gets Murphy in the truck, the awning up and the stairs stowed, she checks on the Ahrens and her other neighbors. Everyone is moving forward skillfully.

  The vehicles follow each other like a well-organized parade. Up up up the highway they go and eventually they all begin turning, where a regular person, a camper, stands with a flashlight, waving them in. This side road also goes up a steep grade. A woman with a flashlight, no park ranger, is guiding people in. Once the vehicles enter a large area, other campers are helping vehicles park. When her rig is situated safely, Tessa sees if she can help. She guides vehicles of all shapes and sizes, illuminating their path, with her lantern. She reminds herself of an old railroad guide, swinging the bright LED lantern so drivers can see the way clearly.

  “Stack ’em in as close as possible so we can fit as many as we can. We’ll sort it out in the morning,” calls one of the other guides. Tessa raises her light in acknowledgement and parks each one as close as she can and as organized.

  Soon, everyone has been moved to higher ground and in short order, engines switch off, lights go out, and an eerie silence overtakes a hundred rigs parked in the high desert.

  The next morning, Tessa works her courage up. After seeing Angel’s Landing, she decides the rooftop of her rig is not that high. She climbs up, still tenuous, but manages to take a picture. She is one of the first ones awake. As she climbs down, Bill Ahren is there with a cup of coffee for her.

  “Why, howdy do, young lady.”

  “Hi. And thank you.”

  “Fine morning.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “You know,” he waves his coffee cup at the sight before them, all the rigs parked in orderly fashion, everyone safe, “this is why I don’t believe all the doomsday people, the politicians, The Corporate Run Nation that we are becoming. Ordinary people do extraordinary things. In crisis, the best of people come out.”

  “It’s awesome how everyone worked together. I didn’t see any official people last night.”

  “Nope. One experienced soul led us to higher ground and once we were all here, we helped each other fit in. Yep. It’s a fine morning indeed.”

  He strolls back to his rig.

  Tessa takes in yet another lesson and friends from the road.

  Chapter 17

  THREE DAYS BEFORE she’s to meet Dina, their evening FaceTime call comes in. Tessa frowns. It’s a regular call.

  “No FaceTime? “

  “Oh, baby, I couldn’t bear to look at your face.”

  “What’s wrong?” Acid pours into Tessa’s stomach.

  “I was really trying to avoid this . . .”

  “What is it?”

  “I have to postpone our plans . . . but just for a week. Good thing I got flight insurance.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Oh, sweetie. I wish I could reach right through the phone right now. I can feel your disappointment. No one is more disappointed than I.”

  I doubt that.

  “JR broke her leg playing coed softball. The lead professor of the cyclotron asked me to come in and babysit the last reports. This could be a real step up for me.”

  Tessa is speechless.

  “Johnson is out because he got caught shooting meth. Can you believe that dickweed? Totally blew his scholarship for next year. Handed everything on a silver platter and he upends it. Fucktard. And Muriel Jubb is out because she decided to go to that seminar in Pittsburgh, which leaves me. I’m totally on for this. Baby? Are you there?”

  Tessa nods, realizes what she’s doing and clears her throat. “Yes.”

  “I’m soooo sorry, but really, it’s just a week. JR can crutch it in after that. If it wasn’t so important I would never do this in a million years. I took all the measures so it won’t mess up your timing too. I rerouted myself through Seattle. We have two whole weeks together. It’ll be awesome. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “You’re not saying very much. That means you’re mad at me.”

  “I’m not mad at you,” Tessa lies.

  “Okay. You’re mad at the situation.”

  “I’m disappointed.”

  “Oh, I know. Me too. But I promise, I’ll be there in Seattle. One week and three days. Baby? I’ve gotta go. It’s three hours later here and I am beat.”

  “Okay.”

  “I love you, Tessa.”

  “I love you more.”

  She can see Dina smiling all the way from Michigan.

  “Bye for now, punkin. Sweet dreams.”

  THE NEXT TIME Dina FaceTimes her Tessa doesn’t answer. She lets the little ringtones on the iPhone go on and on. Fifteen minutes later, Dina tries again. Tessa looks at the time on the phone. Ten p.m. here, one a.m. Michigan. She lets it go again. The phone doesn’t ring again. She suffers a little guilt, because she knows she’s being petty, but something won’t let her pick up.

  She continues watching Fried Green Tomatoes, one of the DVD’s she found under the bed in the storage compartment. It’s the good part, in the restaurant, as Idgie is saying, “Believe me when I say, I’m as settled as I ever hope to be . . .”

  After the FaceTime goes unanswered, Tessa waffles about calling back and instead shuts off the phone.

  SINCE DINA
IS not flying into San Francisco, Tessa changes her route so she can see part of Yosemite. She decides to touch the southern edge and takes a hike up to a stand of ancient sequoias.

  Here too, pictures she’s seen in books do no justice to these otherworldly trees. Their sheer size and age, their space and intense presence is palatable for her, overwhelming her. A deep sacredness permeates this ground. How can people even think of cutting these beings?

  Some of the sequoias have large open areas at the trunk. She touches the bark with both her palms. If she relaxes she senses a low vibration under the bark. From this stand of sequoias, she can overlook a huge valley. She snaps a picture of the valley. Then she snaps a picture of the first sequoia she met. It seems to beckon her.

  It isn’t on the agenda, but Tessa is moved to leave a little bit of Aunt Sadie inside the trunk of this sequoia. She believes her aunt doesn’t mind at all.

  She’s grateful she can walk pain free. She sees so many others struggling with limps or packs or weight. Her young legs and lungs carry her into the higher atmosphere and she remembers. She’s supposed to call Paul before she goes into the Canadian Rockies. Something about adjusting the carburetor and timing for the higher altitude of the Rockies. She could have a garage do it. But something inside her wants to be independent, free, and Paul said he’d guide her through it.

  Paul answers her FaceTime right away. “Your hair is getting long.”

  “Think so?” she turns her head side to side. She’s flirting lightly and they both grin.

  “So what’s the best thing you’ve seen so far?”

  “Well, the Grand Canyon is definitely awesome, but so are the Gila Cliff Dwellings, and even the City of Rocks.”

  “City of Rocks?”

  “It’s a primitive campground way out in the middle of the desert. It’s about thirty miles from the Mexico border.”

  “Dangerous? Drug runners?”

  “Nooooooo. It’s all desert, and then from nowhere these huge monolithic rocks spring up. The sunsets are amazing there. And the stars at night? Brilliant. I didn’t know there were so many stars in the sky. The sequoias at the edge of Yosemite are spectacular. They are like people to me.”