by Will Hobbs
This was turning into a great party, and I meant to enjoy it. I popped a beer, then another. It was such a relief after all the work and all the anxiety. Whatever happened tomorrow, I felt absolutely grand tonight.
When I finally said my goodnights to Kit and the others, I found myself walking back not to my tent but in search of Troy. Tipsy-toeing to Troy’s little clearing in the boulders. He needed consoling, that’s what I was telling myself.
I found him awake, lying on top of his sleeping bag, shirtless as usual, with his hands behind his head, and looking up at the moon. I paused in the shadows; he still hadn’t seen me.
He looked so alone … no one to care how he was feeling. I felt bad about that. I thought about how hard he’d been trying to “make good again that which has been spoiled.”
I swallowed and stepped into the moonlight. His head turned my direction, I saw his smile. I came the last few steps.
Now that I was there, I didn’t know what I was going to say. I could see he was pleased that I’d come. I said, “I just came to say good night.”
“I appreciate it,” he said, tapping his tarp alongside him. “Sit down for a minute.”
“Just for a minute.”
I realized my balance was off. I felt like I was still on the raft, and it was rocking in the water. It was common to get those on-the-water rushes when you were onshore at night, but now it was compounded by wooziness from drinking. I got down on my side, propped myself up with my elbow.
Troy put the index finger of his right hand to my chin. “Rough day on yours truly,” he said.
“That’s why I wanted to see you,” I said. “To tell you not to feel so bad.”
“I appreciate it, Jessie. It looks like it’s turning out that you were the ant and I was the grasshopper.”
“What do you mean?”
“Learning that move. That was clever of you, and took a lot of persistence.”
“All the same, I was lucky today. From here on, who knows what’s going to happen.”
“We’re into the end-of-the-world big stuff, all right. It’s good to see you on top of your game, though. That’s what I wanted.”
His face looked so sincere, but I had my doubts. On the spur of the moment, I said, “Sometimes I thought you wanted me to flip.”
He looked hurt. “Why would you say that? What are you talking about?”
“Forget it,” I said. “I never know what you’re thinking.”
“You know what I was thinking about just now, before you came by?”
“W-What?” I stammered.
“Hiking out tomorrow, from Phantom Ranch, up the Bright Angel Trail.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously, I had it all planned. The rental guys could send somebody to hike down and row the raft out.… I was seriously bummed.”
“But you aren’t thinking about it anymore, are you? I thought we were both determined to make it all the way through this time.”
“That’s not my main thing, but hey, what am I gonna do once I’m out—go home and watch golf on TV?”
“I’m starting to think we can make it.”
“You and me?” he said with a little laugh.
I gave him a slight push. “That’s not what I was talking about.”
“So am I doing better than last time, or what?”
“Of course you are. You know that.”
“My therapist would be proud.”
“You’re really in therapy?”
“In L.A., everyone is. Even the therapists have therapists.”
“You’ll have to tell me about it, some other time.”
“I will. Time is exactly what I wish we had. Everything’s going so fast. We never get any chance to be together. It’s all work, work, work.”
“That’s it,” I said. “Bop till you drop.”
He looked so … perfect. His blond hair, every feature of his face.
I watched the approach of his eyes, his lips. I didn’t pull back. His kiss tasted sweet.
Then, like the heroine in a really bad soap opera, I pulled back and looked away, revelations of common sense washing over me as quickly as waves breaking in the river.
He whispered, “I’ve really missed you, Jessie. We’ve hardly had the chance to get reacquainted.”
“Oh boy,” I said. I got up on my knees and then stood up. I felt dizzy. “Troy,” I pleaded, “I’ve been drinking. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any of this.”
“Sure you did. Sit down, Jessie, let’s talk. We have a lot to talk about.”
“I’m sorry, Troy.”
“Later, then,” he said.
“Later,” I agreed, and practically ran back to my tent.
Star was in there waiting for me. At the door, I said, “Make way for a fool.” I got inside, zipped up the netting as far as it would go—the zipper had been sticking—and collapsed.
Star had a superanxious look on her face. “What happened?”
“I drank a few beers, went over to Troy, and wound up kissing him.”
“It’s not the end of the world,” she said. “He’ll get over it and you’ll get over it. It’s not like you killed somebody.”
Of course Star would try to reassure me. What else was she going to say? Every way I could look at it, I’d dug myself a great big hole.
To punctuate the whole episode with the ludicrous ending it deserved, I felt something furry and scratchy jump right on my face. I let out a yelp and brushed it off. Star said, “What is it?”
“A mouse! There’s a mouse in the tent!”
Chapter
13
The heat accumulating inside the tent woke me up. I heard the clang of a pot, not close enough for it to have been one of ours. After a moment of disorientation, I heard voices upriver and realized that Canyon Magic was cooking breakfast. A fresh wave of remorse swept over me when I remembered my disastrous visit to Troy. Had I been out of my mind? Our chemistry had been so complicated before—what was going to happen now?
I tried to sit up. My back had been stiff every morning, but this morning it felt as flexible as a slab of rock.
Then it came to me, the cost of sleeping in. We’d lost our chance to run Horn Creek, Granite, Hermit, and Crystal with Canyon Magic. We should have been up at the crack of dawn to make sure we were ready to run when they were.
Our kitchen wasn’t even set up.
I must have moaned. Star struggled to consciousness and peered out the door at the bright sunlight on the crags of the gorge. “What’s that cooking, bacon?”
“Yes, but not ours. Those geezers have more stamina than us.”
“No doubt.”
I must have been looking awfully worried. Star looked at me and said, “Jessie, don’t worry so much. Remember, the universe is unfolding as it should be.”
“I’ll try to remember,” I said. “What happened last night may have been synchronicity all right, but I have a feeling it was bad synchronicity.”
Star and I got the kitchen set up, and we started cooking pancakes. Breakfast was an uncomfortable event with no shade to be had and the beach broiling. Everybody seemed depressed; no one was even mentioning the big rapids coming up. Troy and I were avoiding each other’s eyes. Adam finally woke up enough to comment that we were doing a great impersonation of cows eating pancakes.
Rita finally kicked in. “Hey, you guys, look alive! Big day on the river, or did you forget? Jessie, Troy, eat some more pancakes, eat some more bacon! You have a little rowing to do!”
“Hup-hup-hup!” Pug chanted.
We all turned when we realized someone was standing there. It was Kit, in a clean outfit of tank top and shorts. She’d brought something on a paper plate covered with a paper towel. “Psyching yourselves up?” she asked.
Adam said quickly, “No, those are the only three words he knows. Just kidding, Pug.”
The Big Fella looked a little sheepish.
“Hey, Magic Lady,” Rita sang, “join us for pancakes.”<
br />
“Actually I was hoping you could help us out with these leftovers.” Pug was following especially closely as she folded back the paper towel. “Some apple strudel to go with your coffee?”
He whistled softly, then, “Wow, still warm. What a lady!”
She winked. “Is that a proposal, big guy?”
Pug was so taken by surprise, he forgot how to talk.
“Time to say good-bye, guys. We’re about to pull out. Maybe we’ll see you at Phantom—we’re going to stop and mail postcards. I just wanted to wish you luck.”
Kit said that with a special glance in my direction. I nodded back, but in front of everybody I said nothing beyond a mumbled “Thanks.” She turned to go.
A few minutes later we watched their boats start to slip down the river.
Suddenly Kit was gone. I felt abandoned. The terror accompanying those words “Horn Creek,” “Granite,” “Hermit,” and “Crystal” came creeping back from the edges where I’d pushed them. I’d thought Kit was going to take care of us. But of course, I knew better. Kit had a job to do, and we weren’t her charges.
Back on the river finally, and only a half mile downstream, we pulled out for Phantom Ranch. No trace of Canyon Magic. We took the short walk under the giant cottonwoods, past a mule corral, to a tiny store and a string of rustic cabins. Somehow we were expecting more. We availed ourselves of our chance at cheeseburgers and wrote apocalyptic messages on postcards.
“Be sure you hit ’em with your rubber stamp, like the ones in the mailbag,” Rita told the guy at the counter. “ ‘PACKED OUT BY MULES FROM THE BOTTOM OF THE GRAND CANYON.’ I want my brothers to see that.”
A park ranger walked in. We asked if the releases from the dam were going to go down anytime soon, or if they were going up, or what they were doing. “I don’t think anybody knows,” he said. “Take a good look at Crystal.”
“Oh, we will,” we assured him, except for Troy, who said nothing. Troy was brooding.
Back at the boats and suffering from the heat, we took a plunge in the river. Even Troy did. He looked so nervous I thought he might shatter. As we were about set to launch again, Troy asked me how I felt. I was relieved that he was talking to me. I said, “My jaw feels like it’s wired shut, I’m light-headed, and my stomach is doing loops. Other than that, I feel great. How do you feel?”
He managed his killer smile. “Not like watching golf, I guess. Good luck, babe.”
I thought, Did I miss something? He just called me “babe”?
“Keep your sunny side up,” I said.
A few minutes later we were bobbing down Bright Angel Rapid under the footbridge, with hikers waving from above. I stayed off the big rollers down the right. We raced through Pipe Springs Rapid and fell in behind a group of boats that had just put onto the river, probably after their lunch stop.
Star had the guide in her hand. “One mile to Horn Creek Rapid,” she announced.
We realized we could already hear it. Adam stood up in the front and waved his rubber sword menacingly downstream. “We’ll trim its horns, I say!”
Troy and I bumped boats for a second. “Let’s stick with this other group,” he said. “If they don’t scout it …”
I understood his point already. “Then we won’t, either,” I agreed. “It would be awful nice to have somebody below us.”
It was all we could do to stay on the writhing current line as we shot between the narrow walls of the gorge, jagged and black. Close to river level, the walls had been smoothed into intricate, fluted shapes, but I had no time to admire the natural sculptures. It was all we could do to stay close to those other rafts.
We heard the call passed back, from one of their boatmen to the next: “Read and run!” Apparently the boat in the lead hadn’t been able to find a place to scout from the shore.
We saw that lead boatman slide down the tongue and disappear. A half dozen seconds later he showed up on the summit of a wave, and then disappeared again.
One by one, the rest of their boatmen disappeared down the tongue. Finally Troy did the same. What was down there?
Standing up on top of the cooler, finally close enough to see, I was amazed. Horn Creek Rapid was so narrow. Take it down the center, bow first, and shoot for the very top of each wave. Hit a shoulder and I’d slide off into disaster.
I sat down, then started to push the boat forward. The tongue was fast, so fast. It led down, down into a trough, and then we were looking up in the sky at the top of the first wave. I kept pushing to go over the very crest of it, and we did.
Instantly we were plunging, almost free-falling, into a trough that seemed bottomless. When we got there, which didn’t take long, we were looking up to the top of the next wave, easily twice as tall as our raft was long. All I could see up there was sky, and I had little hope of climbing all the way up. But I kept pushing, and the current was surging powerfully underneath us—we sailed clean over the top, and down into the next trough. Way below me suddenly, Adam and Star were hanging on for dear life. Adam had that ridiculous sword in his mouth.
A few heartbeats later and they were high above me, almost straight up, it seemed. Star was screaming with delight and terror, just like she was on a roller coaster, which we were. We climbed five of those liquid mountains in all before the rapid spit us into the whirlpools. Eight boats counting ours, all sunny side up, eight bail buckets in action, whitewater-happy passengers all cheering, boatmen struggling to get the rafts under control.
Our boat bumped with Troy’s. Pug threw his five-gallon bucket of water squarely at Adam. Adam retaliated in kind. Troy’s smile was wider than his face, and I remembered that there was someone in there I liked. “Horn Creek!” he yelled triumphantly.
Shortly thereafter we saw Canyon Magic camped on the right, at the mouth of Trinity Canyon. There was no one to wave to. We guessed they were taking a hike up the canyon.
A few minutes later we could hear the River Thunder announcing Granite Rapid, also marked as Granite Falls on our map, one of the steepest rapids in the Canyon. The camp on the left at the head of the rapid wasn’t taken yet. It was only two in the afternoon, but we decided to stay put. With the fast water, we were at least a day ahead of schedule. We could rest up here and wait for Canyon Magic in the morning.
The camp was a tamarisk jungle, with shade everywhere, a big kitchen area, and plenty of sleeping spots. The constant roar of the rapid was intimidating, but we wouldn’t have to deal with it until the next day.
“Wait a minute,” called Troy. “Who’d rather run Granite now?”
For a second I was afraid he was serious, and so was everyone else. A slight grin appeared on his solemn face. Rita, who was about to buckle her life jacket to a tammie, threw it at him.
Finally a chance to rest. A chance for Star and Rita and me to get away from the guys for a while, and really take care of ourselves. We showered and shampooed and scrubbed until we discovered our former selves. When we were dry, we set up our lawn chairs in a little clearing in the shade and passed around a huge bottle of lotion. The sun had been especially hard on our hands and feet.
Rita had been wanting to braid Star’s hair for her, and Star was delighted. Rita knew I could French braid and wanted to learn, so I got her started, then coached her from time to time. Mostly I watched the lizards, fat and scaly, play their lizard games as they chased each other around the tammie branches.
Rita claimed that the lizards doing push-ups had to be males. “Look, that one looks just like Troy,” she said. “Flashy blue belly, orange highlights, lots of attitude.”
I wasn’t taking the bait, but Rita wasn’t daunted in the least. “He still has a thing about you, Jessie.”
I knew he did, but I sure didn’t feel comfortable talking about it with Rita. There’d be no predicting what she would do with anything I would tell her. “I don’t think so,” I said. “That’s all in the past. We burned up all those sticks, remember?”
“Mark my words. I’ve seen the wa
y he’s been looking at you.”
“What way?”
“One minute he wants to kiss you, the next he wants to hit you.”
“Hit me?”
“Hey, let’s not pretend that some guys don’t have it in ’em. Ask my mom. Ask Pug’s mom.”
“Troy doesn’t have to be like that,” Star maintained. “Pug, either. Pug told me he’s not going to be like his stepdad, and I believe him. It’s up to the individual, Rita.”
“Yeah, yeah, gotcha. And a leopard can change his spots, too. Excuse me for saying so, guys—I really love you both—but sometimes I think you both just fell off the turnip truck.”
“I may have,” I said. “But not Star. She’s seen it all.”
“So much so she took to wearing rose-colored glasses?”
Star looked over her shoulder at Rita and said to her, “There’s more to all of us than meets the eye, isn’t there, Rita?”
I wondered, had Star just agreed with her or disagreed?
“Exactly,” Rita said. “That’s exactly what I’ve been saying. There’s all this stuff going on that doesn’t meet the eye. Some of it I worry about, like what’s going on between Troy and Jessie.”
“Don’t worry,” I assured her. “There’s nothing going on.”
“Then you’ll have to explain something to me,” she said, and she reached for her personal ammo can.
Star and I exchanged glances as Rita pulled out a folded piece of paper from under her instant camera.
She handed it to me, and I unfolded it. It was a photocopy of my Web home page, with my picture and all on it. “Hey, where’d you get this?” I asked.
“I found it by accident in Troy’s ammo can this afternoon. I was going to borrow some lip stuff—I hate asking him for it all the time.”
“Troy had this?”
“Sure did. So what’s the deal? You guys have been in touch all this time? The two of you cooked up this trip together, or what?”