The Easy Part of Impossible

by Sarah Tomp

  “Home. I live at 6571 Quartz.”

  She pulled back onto the road. She wondered why he had a minimum schedule, but if she asked, she’d have to talk about her own reason, which didn’t exist anymore.

  “These need water.” He’d picked up her wilted bouquet from the floor.

  “I guess so,” she agreed. “My boyfriend gave them to me.”

  “Sean.”

  She wasn’t surprised that Cotton knew Sean. But she hadn’t known he’d noticed she was dating him.

  “So it doesn’t really matter if they wilt,” he said.

  “It doesn’t?”

  “No. Because that won’t change their function. He gave them to you to show affection. They’re already dead.”

  Ria laughed to hear him say what she’d been thinking. Then she felt guilty, like she was making fun of her boyfriend who’d only tried to . . . show affection.

  Cotton didn’t live far from her. The streets required a few twists and turns, but by the time they looped back and around, she recognized the part of the trail that ran behind his house.

  He opened the car door as soon as she stopped at the curb. His house was big, with pots of brightly colored flowers on the porch. He turned to her and said, “Thank you for the ride. I’m sorry I thought you wanted to kidnap me.”

  As he got out of the car, she did, too. She met him as he shut the door, careful to leave plenty of space between them. “I want to go caving.” To clarify, she added, “Today. Now.”

  “Leo and I go on weekends.”

  “But we have time right now. Please? I don’t have anywhere else to go.” It was the truth. Maybe with someone else, she might have worried about sounding desperate, or pathetic, but here with Cotton, she simply felt honest.

  There was an excruciating pause while he stared at something behind her. She studied the way his fingers fluttered against his thigh, wondering if he was sending her a secret message and if she could crack the code.

  “Is the cave closed right now?” she asked.

  “Of course not. It’s not a commercial attraction. It doesn’t open and close.”

  She waited, not wanting to push, but also knowing he wasn’t easily persuaded. She couldn’t make him do anything he didn’t want to do. He’d been so excited talking about the cave the other day. He had to want to go again. Even if it meant bringing her.

  “So if it’s not commercial, does that mean it’s a wild cave?”

  “Wild?”

  “Yeah, wild.”

  He finally looked at her. Tilted his head, and then, surprisingly, laughed. “Yes, it’s wild. It’s completely untamed.”

  She laughed too, sensing she’d won.

  “Yes,” he said. “Let’s go caving even though it’s not the weekend.”

  He led her around the house to the backyard, past a crooked play structure and an open sandbox. He walked straight to a wooden shed built against their chain-link fence, dumping his backpack on the ground. The heavy door opened with a creak and he stepped inside while she waited nearby. The contrast of the sunlight and the dark of the shed made it hard to see what he was doing, but then he reappeared with a large duffel bag.

  “You can’t go in a dress.” It felt like he hadn’t even noticed what she was wearing until that moment.

  “Can I borrow something?” As soon as she said it, her words seemed ridiculous. Her head barely reached his broad shoulders.

  “You’re about the same size as Leo,” he said, making her feel like she’d been measured. “You could wear his coveralls. They’re in our gear bag.”

  He pulled two heavy green suits out of his bag. He handed her the smaller one, then said, “I’ll see if I can find you some shoes, too. Your sandals are impractical.” He started toward the house, then looked back. “Do you want to come in?”

  Ria shook her head. She didn’t want to see his mother. Even though—or more accurately, because—she felt like she knew Mrs. Talley after seeing her on television, hoping for the return of Esther, she wouldn’t know what to say to her. “I’ll wait here.”

  As soon as he disappeared inside, she kicked off her sandals and stepped into the coveralls. She pulled the thick canvas suit to her waist, then inched up her dress, slipping her arm out of it, then into the coverall sleeve. The second arm was easier, and then she pulled the dress over her head, slipping the zipper up with the same movement. She’d had plenty of experience dressing and undressing in public situations. The fit was surprisingly close to ideal. But rough to the touch. And heavy. So much fabric.

  Cotton returned with a pair of old leather boots and blue socks, along with a couple of sandwiches. “Turkey or cheese?”

  She shrugged, then took the cheese one.

  He took a bite of the other one and half of it disappeared.

  Ria turned the sandwich over in her hands. She took a tentative bite. The bread was incredible. She hadn’t even known she was hungry. She ate it slowly, taking bites in between putting on the boots, which felt slightly lopsided from wear.

  Casually, Cotton picked up her dress from where she’d set it aside. He turned it over in his hand, examining it from different angles. She saw the moment he realized what he was holding. His eyes met hers, then ran over her body. She couldn’t read his look. It wasn’t like he thought she was being sexy or inappropriate. She felt more like something under a microscope than any kind of object of fantasy.

  She took the dress from him and placed it on their back step with her sandals.

  He stood and grabbed the large duffel, throwing it over his shoulder. “Let’s go.” He led her behind the shed, where he undid the combination lock easily with one hand and opened the gate. He was strong in an unfamiliar way. Because of his size, lifting and maneuvering seemed effortless.

  He relocked the gate and headed down the trail. As she caught up, Ria glanced at him sideways. He moved easily, strolling, or even gliding, but his steps were wide. Somehow their pace matched up precisely.

  “I saw you dive once. During a swim lesson.” He hadn’t turned to look at her, hadn’t changed his pace, so she didn’t answer. A few minutes later he added, “It was an impressive defiance of gravity.”

  She let his words hang between them for a minute. Felt the pride of being someone who could do something special. Even if she wasn’t that person now.

  “I don’t dive anymore.” She pressed the tender spot on her chin and added, “Gravity always wins.”

  Eight

  The cave was only a twenty-minute walk from his house, probably thirty from hers. The borrowed coveralls felt thick and bulky. She was already sweating, and they hadn’t even done anything yet. She wished she hadn’t bothered with the sandwich. It was mixing with Benny’s smoothie, all churned up with anticipation.

  “Did you change your mind?” he asked.

  “No.”

  Cotton pulled two helmets from his bag and handed her one. “Then put on Leo’s helmet.”

  “Do I really need this?” She turned the surprising weight of it over in her hands.

  “Yes. You really do.”

  The helmet made her feel top-heavy and hyperaware of every one of her movements.

  “Now we test the lights.” He turned the knob and the tiny bulb in the middle of his forehead glowed.

  She reached for her own light, trying to copy his motion. Her fingers fumbled, unsure of what piece did what, until he moved in to help. As he guided her hand to the knob, he didn’t seem to mind being close to her, but she held her breath, keeping still.

  “It’s working.” He raised her hand in front of her forehead. A tiny beam shone on her palm.

  “We can stay in the cave for eighty-five minutes. That’s when I told my mother we’d return.”

  He’d always been a rule-follower. Very absolute and literal. But it made sense that Mrs. Talley would worry. She must always think the worst, after what happened with Esther.

  “What do I need to know?”

  “I’ll lead. We’ll stick togeth
er.”

  A tremor of adrenaline thrummed through her at the simple not knowing of what to expect. It made her eager and impatient to see if the feeling would last.

  Cotton ducked his head and entered the cave with Ria close behind him. The opening was narrow, but after a few steps in, they could walk upright. The air felt cooler and smelled wet and heavy.

  Her helmet light seemed brighter. The tiny beam that had been inconsequential in the sunshine now shone several feet out from wherever she directed her face. She could only see one stream of light’s worth at a time, making it hard to get her bearings. This place was eerie. Mysterious.

  It wasn’t Fear whispering to her, exactly, but his cousin, Doubt, had arrived. Once again, she’d charged into something she didn’t understand. Leap first, look later. She reached out and touched the gritty, not-quite-sandy walls on either side of her.

  “Are there any lions or tigers or bears in here?”

  “There are no lions or tigers or bears.”

  It was weird how his voice sounded quiet and muffled from ahead, but also echoed behind her.

  “Is there anything else living in here?”

  “There is a micro-environment of cave-dwelling creatures. Most are difficult to spot.” He walked faster. “But, around this corner . . .”

  She almost bumped into him when he stopped.

  “Look here.” He pointed to an opening in the rock at his shoulder level.

  “I’m too short to see in. What’s there?”

  “Climb up.”

  “Just tell me.”

  “I think it would be more satisfying if you saw it yourself.”

  He could be stubbornly rigid. He wasn’t going to let this go. Even though she was feeling wary, she wondered, too. She scrambled against the rock, feeling a rough scraping at her knees. Her fingers grasped at the slippery dampness. Then, his hands were on her waist, lifting her the last few inches. She braced her weight on the damp rock and leaned forward on her elbows.

  Weird little teardrop objects hung from the ceiling. One fluttered, stretching its webby wings. She pulled back in reflex. “Are those bats?”

  “Yes!” His enthusiasm sent off a wave of vibrations through his chest and into her arm. He was right, this was something she’d had to see for herself.

  “There’s gotta be a hundred of them.” She let her light run over their small furry bodies, but they ignored her. She breathed out, making more room for the awe growing inside her.

  “It would be best if we didn’t wake them up.”

  She tried to imagine what that would look like, but she’d never seen one bat fly, much less a whole flock or herd or—

  “What do you call—”

  “A colony. It’s a colony of bats.”

  She scooted down the wall, returning to the solid stone ground.

  As they made their way around a sharp turn, Ria’s helmet hit the wall with a hard thunk. “Whoa. Watch your head.”

  “Yes,” he said. “I have been.”

  The path turned slippery as they headed onward. The unfamiliar shoes added to her uncertain steps. She held her hands out to both sides, using the increasingly rugged stone walls to keep from sliding downhill into him.

  “Are you okay?” He sounded out of breath.

  “I think so.”

  “Yes. Sometimes it’s hard to tell.”

  A few minutes later he stopped.

  “Leo calls this section ‘baby time.’ We’ll have to crawl.” He took off his helmet, wiped his forehead, then used its light to illuminate a low, narrow opening. “Or we could turn around and head back.”

  “Not if there’s more to see.”

  “There’s always more to see.” On his knees, he disappeared.

  Ria bent down and peeked into the tunnel. She could see the glow from his helmet, and the shadow shape of him crawling. She took a deep breath and followed.

  The ground was rough, and hard on her hands and knees. Her helmet kept slipping. Walking, she’d been able to pace herself, but she had no idea how to take bigger crawl-steps to keep up. Her reach only went so far. A vague sense of worry settled in her mouth, her stomach, the back of her throat.

  She heard Cotton panting, as well as occasional scrapes against the wall. Ahead, their lights crisscrossed and overlapped, bumping up and down. The result was dizzying, but maybe that was as much from the exertion and earthy smells as anything else. Her heart pounded and her jaw ached from gritting her teeth. “How much farther?”

  “Depends where we’re going.”

  This was a mistake. She shouldn’t be here. This was a certifiable unnecessary risk. Danger crowded in, like the too-close walls. Fear made it hard to breathe.

  “Stop! I’m done.”

  “Keep moving.”

  “No! I need to get out of here.” She twisted and strained against the rock wall. “There’s not enough room to turn around.”

  “That’s why we have to go forward.” His voice had moved farther away.

  “I want to go back.”

  “Keep moving.”

  “Damn, Cotton. You aren’t listening!”

  “I hear you. You want to turn around. That’s not possible until you reach the end of the tunnel.”

  Now she was back to thinking about Esther. Her disappearance had terrified Ria. She’d slept between Mom and Dad for months. She hadn’t wanted to play outside anymore. There’d been too many orange-vested strangers everywhere, searching all over town.

  Eventually, the hunt had slowed down. Ria started diving for Benny. Exhausted from the workouts, she’d moved back to her own bed. She spent the summer at the pool under his careful watch. In the fall, she went back to school and Cotton was there. He’d grown several inches in every direction. Basically, he was the same boy she’d always known. Sometimes it was hard to believe anything bad had ever happened.

  Until now. Now it felt real again.

  “Please, Cotton.” Stupid tears.

  “Count to twenty,” he said, his voice maddeningly stuck in neutral.

  She took a deep breath and counted, first in her head, then out loud. “Three . . . four . . . five . . .”

  Counting was good. It was simple and predictable. By the time she got to seven, her breathing felt more even. She kept her head down, not wanting to see the walls and ceiling too close. She wasn’t sure how he fit in here. The idea of the walls pressing on his back and head made her squirm and feel light-headed again. The urge to stretch and move felt painful, inescapable. But, at the count of eighteen, he said, “We made it.”

  He stood, and she, right behind him, scrambled up, happy to get off her knees. She could feel the space of the room even without fully seeing it. The walls were far enough apart that her light strained to reach them. “Wow,” she said, and the word disappeared into the shadows.

  “Is this better?”

  “Much. But, damn. That sucked.”

  “Claustrophobia is a common side effect of caving.”

  “Sorry I yelled.”

  “Fear can look like anger.”

  She studied his face, looking sideways so as not to shine her light in his eyes. “Don’t you worry about getting stuck?”

  “If I can fit in one way, I can get out. It’s a matter of measurable space.”

  It made sense, and yet, she wasn’t convinced. It was one thing to know it, another to believe it. “Are we going to have to go back that way?”

  “Yes. It’s the only way out.”

  She liked that he didn’t fake it or apologize.

  “Have some water. It’s important not to get dehydrated. It’s cool enough that you might forget you’re thirsty.” He handed her a metal canteen.

  That was like diving. Surrounded by water, rookies always dried up at their first meets. She took the container from him. The lukewarm water tasted metallic, but she was surprised that she didn’t mind.

  To her right, all along the wall, were raised formations. Matching ones hung from the ceiling. “These look like t
eeth.” She ran her hand over them. “We’re in a mouth.”

  “That’s because there’s so much water. They’re formed by mineral deposits.” He paused, then asked, “Am I being too geeky? I do that. You can call them teeth.”

  “Wait! I remember this. The ones on the ground are stalagmites. They have to grow up with all their might. And the other ones”—she pointed to the ceiling—“they hang tight. So they’re stalactites.” She was glad she couldn’t see his face from here. Cotton already knew all that. Everyone knew that. “They feel solid.”

  “They are. They’re rock.”

  “So the rock gets dissolved in water, but then reappears and makes new rock? It gets a do-over.”

  “A do-over?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “A second chance.”

  “I never thought of it that way. But yes. The minerals get a do-over.” He paused. Then said it again, “Do-over. Do-over. Do. Over.”

  Ria laughed. It was a weird word. Especially the more times he said it. “Do you ever worry about getting lost?”

  “We’re careful. That’s why we’re mapping it.”

  “How do you do that?”

  “We wear pedometers. And do laser calculations to help measure and triangulate.” He pulled a laser pen from his pocket and shone the red light on the rocks across the dark space. “Put it all together with our notes and we get the depth and mileage—both bird’s-eye and actual step-by-step. I have a computer program that converts it all. It’s pretty awesome. In a geeky way.”

  She could tell this was something he’d been told. It was probably true, but she had to add her own opinion. “Geeky is good, Cotton. Geeky is smart.”

  She stared into the darkness, trying to imagine what hovered beyond the tiny beam.

  “Have you gone farther in?”

  “Oh yes. From here, there are two ways to go. This way, and—” He swung his light from one corner of the room to the other. “That way. We’ve only started mapping the lower part.”

  “Let’s keep going.”